Blais Runner.

Chances are, you have probably heard of Richard Blais. Most likely from television. Most likely from reality television: Top Chef, Top Chef: All Stars, Life After Top Chef, Top Chef Masters, Iron Chef, and his own show on the Science Channel, Blais Off.

But here's why you should know Richard Blais: he received an AOS in culinary arts from The Culinary Institute of America and has studied under chefs Thomas Keller, Daniel Boulud, and Ferran Adrià. Blais also studied at Chez Panisse. He currently runs four restaurants, three in Atlanta: The Spence, Flip Burger Boutique (also one in Birmingham), and HD-1 (also known as Haute Doggery). In 2011 he released his cookbook, Try This atHome: Recipes from My Head to Your Plate. And, finally, he is slated to open another spot in San Diego in December.

It looks like he's also running marathons as well - Blais Runner (I had to do it). With a wife and two daughters, Blais is a busy man, to say the least.

So you can imagine my good fortune to be able to catch him for an interview recently to talk about the South, pimiento cheese, vinegar and his perfect picnic.

FFF:   I’m curious about how you got to Atlanta.

RB:   I’m a native New Yorker and I was dating a girl whose dad was a restaurateur in Atlanta. I was working in Manhattan at the time at Restaurant Danielle and the restaurateur asked me to come down there and take over the restaurant and I did.

FFF:  When was that?

RB:  That was a long time ago, 1999-2000.

FFF: I know that you’re not known necessarily for Southern anything, but I’m curious where you see the trajectory of Southern food and how you fit into that and what’s happening in the South, food-wise, right now.

RB:  It took me a while to really embrace Southern food as a stubborn Yankee, self-admittedly.  I think the thing about Southern food is that it is not a trend.  It’s all about heritage, ingredients and recipes.  There are a lot of young, modern chefs that are now bringing back heirloom seeds.  It’s never going to go out of style.  Southern cuisine happens to be the trend at the moment but it’s not molecular gastronomy or small plates - it’s history and tradition and it’s not going to go away.

FFF:  What do you think the great Southern food cities are right now?

RB:  A few I haven’t been to that I want to visit.  Certainly I think Charleston is a great food city.  Obviously, I’m a little biased to Atlanta - I think Atlanta is great.  I have not been but I need to get to Oxford, Mississippi.  I think that is a place that is just calling me, and I need to get out there. There are so many cities now.  It's not just about one place. There are great chefs and great restaurants in every city.

FFF: Any specific restaurants or chefs that come to mind?

RB: I'm a fan of all my colleagues and peers. I think Sean Brock (Husk in Charleston), who is a good friend of mine, is one of my favorite Southern chefs. He's from Richmond. I think Hugh Acheson is doing a great job. There are just so many. I mean certainly (Steven) Satterfield (Miller Union in Atlanta) and Anne Quatrano (Star Provisions), who I don't think a lot of people know. She is a chef in Atlanta and one of the best chefs in the country, if not the world. You don't hear her name a lot but she's been around.

FFF: I want to know what you're cooking/playing with right now that's seasonal or that's just weird and crazy that is really inspiring you.

RB: Herbs and flowers and the idea of what happens after we pick them: rosemary flowers or blossoms on other herbs. The whole seed to stalk thing. Cooking with the seeds as well as the stems as well as the blossoms. Herbs and flowers are what I'm into at the moment, but it changes every day.

FFF: I've been hearing a lot of buzz about Peru and ingredients sourced from the Andes. Do you think that is the next big thing? If not, what do you think is?

RB: It's funny you say that because I'm opening a restaurant in San Diego in December and my business partner and I are taking a trip to Mexico City and Peru. So, yes, I don't know if it's the next big thing, but people definitely want to know what's going on there.

FFF: I feel like right now the egg is the new bacon. I'm wondering, what is your ideal preparation of an egg, if you had to pick just one?

RB: It's not going to be as romantic as you would want. I like a good sunny side up egg, but cooked really hard on one side. So the bottom is crusty and all browned on the edges. I'm a native New Yorker, so Egg on a Roll style. I mean, who says roll anymore? No one says that except for my dad. But, yes, cooked hard on one side.

I think scrambled in a microwave probably would be my second. Using the microwave is pretty inspiring to me at home. People give it a bad knock, but it's usually the food that goes into it, not the technology itself.

FFF: You're on your way home in Atlanta traffic at about four o'clock in the afternoon and you get a call from your wife announcing that four of your friends are coming over for dinner in two hours. What are you going to do?

RB: Pasta. For sure. I'm on a big extruding pasta kick so we always have a number of shapes ready in our kitchen. Our kids are even making it. So I would say a pasta of some sort with some garlic, some vinegar, some fresh herbs and a little touch of butter.

FFF: Pimiento Cheese.

RB: Love it. I love it on a sandwich. I also love it on a cracker. As a matter of fact, I just did an event in Napa a couple of days ago where that was my dish. It was a big, fancy Napa Valley wine auction and I served it pretty much like a grilled cheese. I did a riff on it using Jack cheese and poblano peppers instead of pimientos, and a little bit of horseradish and chiles.

FFF: Duke's Mayonnaise?

RB: I love Dukes Mayonnaise! I'm a big fan of Duke's Mayonnaise. It's got more of an acidity to it. I like it on white bread, too. Soft, white bread... I'm a convert of the pimiento cheese sandwich and we eat it a lot. I even buy it sometimes, prepared from Whole Foods, and I have no shame in that. I also like it as a topping for a burger, a pimiento cheese burger.

It's such a simple thing, but most people don't know about it. It's got this sort of mystique to it, like it's a very famous French cheese. But it's just some chopped up cheese with some peppers and mayonnaise in it!

FFF: What is your ideal picnic and what is the one must-have that you are going to take on that picnic?

RB: Wow. Well, I'm not as much of an experienced picnic-er as I should be. Not to just recycle the last answer, but I would probably bring some pimiento cheese sandwiches. And some carbonated beverages – soda for myself, I'm a big soda freak. I actually do work with a soda company (DRY) as the creative director, which uses only four ingredients like natural sugar – so we're packing some cucumber soda for our picnic. And crudité! And, hey listen, leftover fried chicken is not a bad picnic thing. Some chili vinegar. I usually do a buttermilk-vinegar soaked chicken, a couple dredges of flour. Vinegar is my favorite ingredient in the world. That's the one. Vinegar makes food great. A lot of people think it's fat or salt, and those are important, but it's really acidity and vinegar.

And, so, as we have deemed June Picnic Month here at F for Food, we decided to make Richard Blais' 'ideal picnic':

Pimiento Jack Cheese Tea Sandwiches

Crudité: Radishes with Salted Butter and Heirloom Tomato, Cucumber, Red Onion Salad

Cucumber Soda

Double-Dipped Buttermilk-Chile Vinegar Marinated Fried Chicken

Chocolate Chunks

Everything was sensational. I even like his version of pimiento cheese (I can feel my mom's eyes rolling out of her head right now). I think Blais would be pleased - we used vinegar in almost everything. I even made my own chile infused vinegar for the salad dressing and the chicken marinade. But the recipe I want to share is that of the fried chicken. That was the star. The chile vinegar added a really nice back end heat with every bite, and the double dredging ensures a super, extra awesome crackly, crispety, crunchety skin. And that's the whole point, right?

Happy picnicking!

Double-Dipped Buttermilk & Chile Vinegar Fried Chicken

Serves 4

2 cups buttermilk

3 tablespoons chile vinegar

1 tablespoon dijon mustard

2 teaspoons tarragon, divided

½ teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon plus ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

1tablepoon plus 1 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon plus 1teaspoon ground pepper

1 chicken cut up into 8 pieces

3 cups all-purpose flour

Vegetable shortening & vegetable oil, for frying

Combine the buttermilk, chile vinegar, dijon mustard, 1 teaspoon tarragon, paprika, ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper, 1 tablespoon of the salt, and 1 of the pepper in a nonreactive bowl large enough to contain all of the chicken pieces with at least 1 inch to spare. Add the chicken and turn to coat fully in the marinade. Cover with plastic wrap and marinate in the refrigerator for at least 6 hours or overnight. Remove the chicken from the refrigerator about 45 minutes before frying.

Line a large baking sheet with aluminum foil. In a large, shallow bowl, combine the flour, remaining salt, pepper, tarragon & cayenne pepper. Remove the chicken from the buttermilk marinade and roll it around in the seasoned flour until completely covered. Set it on the prepared baking sheet; repeat with the remaining chicken. Dip the coated chicken pieces once more in the marinade, then again in flour. Return the pieces to the baking sheet (a few minutes’ rest makes for a sturdier, crisper coating).

Have a wire cooling rack set over paper towels ready. In a large, heavy cast-iron skillet, heat 1 1/2 inches of shortening & oil over medium heat until it reaches 350°F on a deep-fat thermometer. Using kitchen tongs, add a few chicken pieces at a time to the hot oil (crowding will lower the temperature, making for greasy chicken). Fry the chicken until the internal temperature reaches 180°F, about 10 minutes per side (watch carefully, it can easily burn). Transfer the cooked chicken to the wire rack. Serve immediately or at room temperature (don’t let the chicken sit more than 2 hours).

Do it Early
The chicken can be fried up to 2 days in advance, covered, and refrigerated. Serve it cold—a classic picnic food—or reheat on wire racks set on baking sheets in a 375°F oven for 15 to 20 minutes.

Tip 
If the chicken looks pretty dark before it is cooked through, transfer to wire racks set on baking sheets and bake in a 375°F oven until the meat reaches an internal temperature of 180°F on an instant-read thermometer. Keep fried chicken warm in a 200°F oven. Using a digital thermometer eliminates the need to stand over the chicken. When the alarm sounds, the meat is done.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Fresh Mint & Chip Ice Cream

Two years ago: An Evening in Gruissan.

Three years ago: Shiso Leaf Butter

Rainy Clouds

It all started in the second grade at John B. Cary Elementary School. Our class put on a school play. It was a production of Close Encounters of The Food Kind. Spencer was the Swiss cheese, Kelly was the Riboflavin, Laura was the fish, and me, I was the alien visitor narrator. I'll never forget my closing lines, “So, remember folks, when you want a snack that's nutritious and dandy, have a carrot instead of candy. Vegetables, fruit, bread and meat; these are the healthy things to eat. It's time to go, and now you know about the good things that make you grow.”

And curtain.

In high school my crew, my super crew, consisted of four people, Paz, Sam, Spencer and me. We were inseparable. I have so, so many wonderful memories. We loved each other but we were tortuous and cruel to one another. We all made each other do terrible, terrible things in Truth or Dare. I'm pretty sure I made Spencer lick the under side of a toilet seat. But he and Sam threw me out of the car, on the side of a busy road, screaming loudly for everyone to hear - that I was a prostitute, at lunchtime the day before.

In high school, Spencer moved to Brazil for a foreign exchange program. When he returned he had a serious staph infection on his thumb. Of course it was our duty to taunt him and make him feel like a leper: we chanted that he was bitten by a Tsetse fly. He almost lost his thumb. God, we were so evil. In addition to coming back with that thumb issue Spencer had fallen in love. With Brazil. He was obsessed. And one evening, after countless shots of a mixture of every single thing in my dad's liquor cabinet, and perhaps smoking a little of that devil's lettuce, Spencer professed he was going to move back to Brazil and marry a Carnival queen. I'm sure we laughed, pointed and made fun of him.

While Paz, Sam and I were in College in Ohio, Spencer noodled around doing this and that in Richmond. Then, when Sam took a quarter to study in Brazil, Spencer went to meet him. They travelled around together for awhile, and then Spencer found Eva. Though she was not exactly a Carnival queen, she was pretty close; she was a trapeze artist in 'Circo Escola', a government program to help kids get off the street via art. Spencer fell in love and married Eva. From Brazil to Richmond to New Orleans back to Brazil and then to Peru and then finally landing back in Richmond, where they have settled with their two beautiful daughters, Spencer and Eva are an enviable team.

And now, together, they have launched something very cool in Richmond, VACLAA: The Virginia Center for Latin American Art. It is a non-profit arts and culture education organization. Here is a great article outlining the organization in Style Weekly.

It is my honor to present my guest blogger, Eva, with a recipe close to her heart and home.

Rainy Clouds

I was born in rural Brazil and grew up with many cousins. You see, my grandmother had eleven kids, each of those kids had at least three kids of their own. My cousins and I treasured the countless adventures we had together on the surrounding land: climbing trees and hills, crashing watermelon fields, floating in the river of brown reddish waters of my state, Parana.

At age nine, I was already working picking coffee or cotton. I never thought of that as a job- I loved the touch of the cotton. We would walk miles to get to the fields.

So we were always moving.  Some of us would stop at the end of a long day.  We would lie down on the fields and observe the clouds. We played a game of finding forms in the clouds: “the first to find a bunny-like shape will be the first to be kissed…” and other ones like that, created out of the clouds shaped on the open blue sky. But there were rainy days; and on those days we were all stuck inside my grandmother’s house around her wood stove. She would shoo us away like cats or chickens to get us from under her feet.  She would often make a big pail of Rainy Cloud Cakes.  My grandmother would deliberately leave the mixture a little bit moist so it would create strange forms when fried and then toss them in powdered sugar so they resembled clouds. “It’s a heart,”  “It’s a bunny; I will be the first one to be kissed!”  We would play this way.

I made my own search in the clouds and rainy cakes… I believed that if I could find a male shoe, or perhaps a bus, or even a horse, it would mean my father would be coming home. I still look for that shape.

Rainy Cloud Cakes

Ingredients:

1 egg

1 cup of milk

1 cup of all-purpose flour

1/3 cup of sugar

1/4 teaspoon of salt

1/2 teaspoon of baking powder

1 quart of oil

Granulated and/or powdered sugar to sprinkle on top

optional: a pinch of nutmeg and/or cinnamon

Place dry ingredients in a bowl, stir together with fork.

Lightly beat egg; add egg and milk to dry ingredients and stir.

Mixture should be loose; add a little more milk, if necessary, to get the proper consistency

Scoop heaping spoonful of mixture and drop into hot oil:  fry, turning once, until golden brown.

Drain and sprinkle generously with powdered sugar, nutmeg & cinnamon.

For strange shapes let the mixture fall in any way- have fun.


Printable recipe.


One year ago: Creamy Green Garlic Soup with Bacon & Black Garlic Chips
Two years ago: Relate
Three years ago: Scallops & Shrimp over Linguini with Baked Feta
Five years ago: Tasca

The Red Hot Chili Peoples

It’s been hot. It’s been the kind of hot we don’t get too often here in Southern California. But it’s August. The month when almost everyone in the country can experience the same thing: sweat. This particular heat wave has been a bit of a doozy. I know, compared to the heat coupled with that added bonus of humidity happening on the East Coast, we have been fortunate. But we really have had hundred degree days over the past couple of weeks.

This is the kind of hot I both loathe and love. While I am slightly miserable roaming around during the day, worrying about getting sunburned and, of course, my social curse: the sweat moustache - the cool, arid, balmy, breezy nights are just, well, sexy. Perhaps it’s even more so because of enduring the day part, but it’s so exhilarating to feel that sultry, lustful air on my skin and in my hair on these evenings. And no unsightly sweat moustache.

Since it is right at that time when the thermometer outside is stuck at the “hot and sticky” mark, Fred and I couldn’t have picked a better time to move in together.

So, to heighten the challenge of endurance, Fred and I have spent the last two months moving his stuff out of an apartment he has occupied for ten years and relocating said stuff into a house where I have been residing for four years - during weekends, right in the middle of the day. Barrels of joy and without any bickering. No-sir-ee.

Another super smart and obvious choice to make in the kitchen department would be to eat a lot of salads and make ultra use of the grill. So last night we decided to throw a pot of oil on the stove, get it up to about 350 degrees, and fry stuff. It was just about the worst idea ever: scorcher of a day, no air conditioning, tiny kitchen, bare skin, scaldingly hot oil, really messy cooking experiment.

But also really delicious.

Parts of it did make sense. We used produce from the garden. The dish felt fresh and summery. It would probably go great with a cold beer and did go really well with a crisp rosé. It was snacky.

It was zucchini fries with poblano cream. The zucchini and the poblanos came straight from my garden - which is so happy this year. I guess it was just going through puberty for the past couple of years and is finally growing up. The Meyer lemon we used to squeeze on top was from a neighbor' tree. It was all so precious. And it was very good. The zucchini kept it's textural integrity and had a light, crunchy shell. I thought the poblano cream was the most exciting part. It was cool, light, creamy with a subtle, warm, roasty heat. I plan on using it to top a chilled heirloom tomato soup this weekend, and I can only imagine it is delicious, and versatile, enough to have a myriad of other applications.

So yes, thank you Los Angeles, for pulling out all the stops where the sunshine and heat are concerned. It’s sweaty, dirty, nasty stuff, even before all the moving boxes and the bags and the dust. But last night, even though we picked a peculiar thing to get kitchen concoctery with, everything worked out. We set the table, turned on the fan, poured ourselves a couple of glasses of rosé, plated up our dish and sat down across from one another - and our burn blisters - to enjoy a peaceful evening of quiet, still, snackery. Together in our home together. 

Zucchini Fries with Poblano Cream

Serves 4

Poblano Cream

Ingredients

8 oz. creme fraiche
1 roasted and peeled poblano pepper
1 tbsp sherry vinegar
salt & pepper to taste
Chopped celery leaves, to garnish

Directions

Blend creme fraiche and pepper in food processor and pulse until pepper is broken down and mixed in. Pour into small mixing bowl and fold in vinegar, salt & pepper. Stir until flavors are well integrated.

Top with chopped celery leaves.



Zucchini Fries

Ingredients

• 
  
• Olive oil, for frying
• 1 1/2 cups panko
• 3/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon paprika
• 2 large eggs
• 3 medium zucchini, cut into 3-inch long by 1/2-inch wide strips

Directions

Pour enough oil into a large frying pan to reach a depth of 2 inches. Heat the oil over medium heat until a deep-fry thermometer registers 350 degrees F.

Stir salt, pepper, paprika and panko together in a medium bowl to blend. Whisk the eggs in another medium bowl to blend. Working in batches, dip the zucchini in the eggs to coat completely and allow the excess egg to drip back into the bowl. Coat the zucchini in the panko mixture, patting to adhere and coat completely. Place the zucchini strips on a baking sheet.

When the oil is hot, working in batches, fry the zucchini sticks until they are golden brown, about 3 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the fried zucchini to paper towels and drain.

Serve with poblano cream for dipping.

Printable recipe.


One year ago: Bourbon-Vanilla Bean Banana Bread with Candied Walnuts
Two years ago: Classic Southern Deviled Eggs
Three years ago: The Lost Weekend

Another Walk on the Wild Side...

I have a bit of a wild side. I guess I always have. I think I get it from my dad. There have been times it’s been more prominent and times when it’s been more dormant. Admittedly, this side is in a welcomed dormant stage, and has been for a while now. This current stage was preceded by a particularly wild, wild streak. I can attribute that period, in large, to The Coach and Horses. I can attribute the current, dormant, period, in large, to the closing of The Coach and Horses almost two years ago.

The Coach, as we regulars called it, was an LA landmark. It had been around since 1931 (!!). Alfred Hitchcock and Richard Burton (not together) frequented the place. Quentin Tarantino and Tim Roth (together) scrawled scenes for Reservoir Dogs on the bar napkins there. James Gandolfini sent me a glass of wine across the bar once... 

It was a sad day when it closed. Sort of.

I drive down the stretch of Sunset where The Coach was almost daily (hence the main reason I was such a regular), and I have watched with anticipatory curiousity as the cold-molasses-running-uphill progress was made on the exterior of the building. It was like, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, a little something, a little more – wait – it looks open! It’s true, Fred and I were driving to my house after dinner about a week and a half ago, I saw lights and people and made us pull over. Turns out they were having their friends and family night and were not open to the public. But we were given a brief tour. I was excited. It looked beautiful. They told us they were to have a week-long soft opening beginning that Sunday.

So I called Maggie and we made a date (Maggie was with me a great deal during the last wild streak at The Coach).

And so, last Monday night Maggie and I called a cab (yes, we knew) and headed back to The Coach and Horses, newly dubbed The Pikey, headed up by bar owners and restaurateurs Jared Meisler and Sean MacPherson (Il Covo, Roger Room, Swingers, Good Luck Bar, El Carmen, Jones, Bar Lubitsch). Broken up into three spaces, each with their own vibe, The Pikey features a dining room (where the Curry Palace was), a dimly lit pub room with bar stool and tall-back booth seating (The Coach), and a smaller Maharaja room with another bar to be open most nights and available for private events (used to be storage as best I can recall).

Restaurant side.

I explained the set-up to Maggie and we decided to make a whole evening out of it: have dinner on the restaurant side and then amble on over to the Coach bar side and have drinks. Upon exiting the cab we immediately spotted one of the old Coach regulars standing right outside the door. We were somewhat bemused, but not sure why. We exchanged pleasantries and went in to have dinner.

The menu of classic British fare (served in all rooms until 2am) offers the culinary creations of Ralph Johnson, former Executive Chef of The Spotted Pig who twice earned the restaurant Michelin stars. We each began with a glass of Lambrusco, Lini, Emilia-Romagna, NV, ($10/36) and the Welsh Rarebit ($5), though confidently ordered (by me), I humbly admit to knowing nothing about the dish. It was good. It was melty, cheesy, mustardy bread. What’s not to like? (And I had nothing with which to compare.)

Then we moved on to a bottle of Entre deux Mers, Tetre de Launay, Bordeaux, 2010 ($10/36). We both kind of wanted red but their list of whites was infinitely more appealing. With this we ordered the Papardelle with Braised Oxtail ($15) and Mary’s Vinegar Chicken with Thrice Cooked Chips ($18). We then noticed two other old Coach regulars in the dining room (not together). 

Brass tacks: the papardelle was nice. The ragu was a little sweet, which Maggie appreciated. The pasta was fresh and very nicely done, which I really appreciated. But we both agreed that it should really be an entrée rather than a small plate. The chicken, which I was the most excited about, was stellar. It was moist as can be with an expertly crisped skin (it reminded Maggie of eating the marshmallow, with its perfectly crispety crispeties at a campfire) and its flavor was deftly enhanced by the vinegar. The thrice baked chips were amazing as well, crispy, salty, potato-y goodness. Maggie loved that the chips on the bottom were swimming in the rich juice from the chicken. We had fully intended to order the fish and chips, but we were absolutely stuffed. We actually even took a chunk of the chicken home – which they returned to us, ready to go in foil, artfully shaped like a swan!

We both felt that nicer wine glasses would be preferred. The catering world’s wide stem tulip glasses don’t work in an environment next to $14 artisinal cocktails. And while they get big ups for having lambrusco by the glass, someone should mention to them that it need not be served in champagne flutes.

We then changed-up our evening by moving over to The Coach side, where we immediately were greeted by about half a dozen old faces, occupying their half dozen old bar stools, PBRs in hand, in a room that looked shockingly the same as it used to (they did a really great job). Again, we were bemused. Until we realized we were there too, right? At least I didn’t have to drink the same "red wine" I drank back at The Coach. We continued with our glasses of Entre deux Mers. I think Maggie had a scotch at some point. But by then we had traveled down the rabbit hole - again.

No, I wasn't up until four in the morning doing that or that. Yes, it's true, perhaps I've been the last man standing more than most ladies would admit, but I do have unending energy. And an amazing constitution for wine drinkage. But, though Fred asked, we did not, in fact, close the bar down. I'm pretty sure we took the second cab home that we called and made it there by one thirty in the morning. Take that!

Coach side - with Regulars.

The next morning, as we attempted to put Humpty Dumpty back together again, we reminded ourselves of the relief of this appreciated dormant period. We cursed The Coach.

The next night Maggie returned and had the burger. She wanted the fish and chips but it was not available for some reason. And a glass of the Entre deux Mers. I love that girl.

The night after that I dragged Fred in.  We ordered a bottle of the Entre deux Mers, the Crispy Pig’s Ear Salad with Young Kale & Mustard ($14), the chicken (again) and I finally got to try the Fish & Chips with Tartar Sauce ($15).

Oh, and Fred made it a point to order THE COACH AND HORSES: Shot of Ancient Age Bourbon and PBR “Tall Boy” Can ($8). 

*Picture at top of post.

Brass tacks: The salad was missing some component to bring the delicate greens and the crude texture of the pig ear together. The chicken was, again, awesome. The fish and chips, the main reason for this visit, was merely fine and not tremendously memorable. The chips were not of the thrice baked variety, but rather more in the wedge-cut arena. These fries were fine but pale in comparison to the thrice baked ones with the chicken. The fish, which, admittedly, I doused with malt vinegar and lemon upon its arrival was not confident in its identity of a good ole’ greasy London street style, or bougied American gastro pub style. But lest we forget: this is all still the soft opening, where, in my humble opinion, all is fair.

The portal between the two main rooms.

Which reminds me, The Pikey opened for reals yesterday. I, for one, dig it. I will return and, I imagine, eventually sample everything on the menu (which is not that huge (which is nice)). I imagine I will stop in for a glass of wine on my way home every once in a while. I imagine, every so often, I may have one of those nights there. But I no longer fear The Coach will carry me back to a wild phase. You see, it would appear that it’s grown up now. 

And so am I…

One year ago: Meyer Lemon Relish

Two years ago: Ludobites 4.0

The Blue Goat: RVA Goes Nose-to-Tail

 

As you know, I very recently visited my hometown, Richmond, Virginia. Richmond has pretty sweet restaurants and I have been lucky enough to sample many of them throughout my life. The city is flecked with small, intimate corner cafes and independent bistros with thoughtful food, kind staff and, more often than not, big windows and pressed tin ceilings. And, almost always, a welcoming bar where one can comfortably sit and eat.

To this day that is the style of dining experience to which I am drawn. I prefer small spaces with big food.

Prior to arriving on this particular trip, Paz, Dad and I decided to share a meal out together on my first night in town. We all settled on the Blue Goat, a new venture by Chris Tsui and chef, Kevin La Civita (Osaka, Sushi-O and Wild Ginger) with a nose-to-tail concept. Here in LA we are certainly not for want in this department. We have Animal, Sotto, Gorbals, Lazy Ox Canteen, of course,  Salt’s Cure (my favorite), to name a few. But for Richmond this is pretty damned cool. Their products are also all sourced from local farms including the much lauded Polyface Farm. I was excited.

We had 8pm reservations on a Friday night, rolled in right on time into a bustling scene, and yet were seated immediately by our welcoming and smiling hostess. Take that LA!

The restaurant is occupying what I grew up knowing as Peking, a Chinese restaurant that kicked around for 31 years. I remember their Peking Duck fondly. In a Grosse Point Blank moment, I was shocked to notice that it is entirely unrecognizable in any semblance of my recollection. But it does look pretty great. The walls have been stripped, leaving the original exposed brick. The wooden ceiling, once hidden by another layer of wood, is now exposed. That extra wood was converted into the restaurant’s refinished Douglas-fir tables and, after some digging, Tsui and company found and polished the floor that was used when the building was a grocery store in the 1930s. The space includes a bar that runs the length of the building, as well as spacious, cozy booths, high tables and even a private wine room that seats parties of up to 12 and has a window looking right into the kitchen.

The menu is vast. We were overwhelmed. We wanted one of everything. But we first ordered cocktails. Now y’all know I am by no means a cocktail person, but I figured I was back home and they were doing this whole she-she-la-la cocktail thing everyone’s got their panties in a bunch about everywhere, so why not? I went for the obvious choice as it was entitled, The Only Thing You Drink: Aperol Apertivo, St. Germain, Fresh Squeezed Lime, Rosemary Sprig ($9). I enjoyed it, actually. Dad ordered his standard martini and Paz ordered a glass of Albarino.

We went ahead and got some Pork rinds with gray sea salt ($4) to go with cocktail time. They were straightforward and genius. They managed to be light and airy without the greasy and heavy. The pork flavor came through absolutely and the gray sea salt only brought it forth one step further. I would appreciate a big bag of them now to snack on while I write.

Then we went a little bit crazy…

Daily Shellfish Selection $17 
Local Fresh Raw Oysters (selection of Chincoteague, Upper James & Sting Rays)

With Jumbo Carolina Head On Shrimp Paired

With house made pepper relish and mignonette sauces

This was exactly what it was: fresh, local, beautiful shellfish. I never bother with relishes, mignonettes or the like when I have raw shellfish before me. Just give it to me straight up, no chaser.

 Batter fried, julienne strips of Smithfield Farm pig ear, a sunny side duck egg with crispy Swiss chard ($12)

Oh my. This was decadence. This was my salt fest. Slice through that egg and let all of the textures and flavors marry and this is one hell of a dish. This dish would bowl over any of my pig ear-loving Angelinos, for sure. And most certainly Maggie.

 Hudson Valley seared foie gras over black mission fig quick bread, huckleberry

and plum compote and pomegranate reduction ($15)

Foie is one of my all-time favorite things to put in my mouth. This did not disappoint. It’s exterior was ever so slightly crisped to give way to a luscious, ethereal interior. I even triedit with the compote and didn’t drop to the floor in dramatic convulsions. Even I could see that the flavor profiles were matched beautifully. 

*For you Richmonders reading this: please note that “compromised” fruit is – and always has been - something of a fear of mine.

 Manakintowne mixed field green salad, Hanover tomato, strawberries, white anchovies, with a pomegranate mint vinaigrette ($7)

Two things in the description of this salad had me at hello: Hanover tomatoes and white anchovies. So much so that I threw caution to the wind with the strawberry factor (see fruit disclaimer above). The salad was perfectly conceived. The only criticism I have is that the tomatoes were either not entirely in season any longer or not ripe. Eagerly anticipating my first Hanover tomato in over a year, I was, admittedly, disappointed. Fantastic dressing, however.

 Fallen Oaks Farm rabbit pate “country style”, bruschetta and white truffle honey ($11)

This was an unexpected treat, brought over to us by the manager, Chris (could it have been my huge camera, perhaps?). I’m so pleased he brought this as it was a surprise hit. The white truffle honey was glorious and this dish’s smoothness and warmth added a perfect follow up to the anchovies and pomegranate vinaigrette. Thanks, Chris!

 House made Ravioli stuffed with braised goat, ricotta and swiss chard with sage brown butter and shaved Pecorino Romano ($11)

This was another I-must-have-this-immediately dish I spotted on the menu. I am somewhat fixated on hand-made pasta at present, and anything with brown butter is a go. Unfortunately the ravioli was a little bit too toothsome and a lot bit too oleaginous. The brown butter was not tremendously visible aesthetically or on the tongue. The braised goat, ricotta and swiss chard insides were remarkable, however.

 Braised pork cheeks over spaetzle ($15)

Hold the phone. Hold. The. Phone. This dish was RIDICULOUS. I wish we had ordered it earlier on in our gluttony as I wanted to savor each and every droplet in each and every bite. Dear Chef LaCivita, Pretty please ship me 284969 pounds of this tout suite!

We all agreed that this was our favorite of the evening.

If you can believe it, we also tried to order the Veal marrow bone with gray sea salt, bruschetta and black olive tapenade ($11) – but (thank God) they were out.

I can’t recall what Paz or Dad ordered in the wine department but I paired my meal with a glass of The Prisoner ($13) and a glass of the Petît Batard ($12) – and they were absolutely tailor-made for the meal.

Listen, the food was great. The service was great. The atmosphere, if a bit loud, was great. I totally applaud that Tsui and LaCivita are giving Richmond diners a bit more credit than they often receive.

I know my dad and Paz will be back, if they haven’t already. I plan to return upon my next visit to Richmond--VERY SOON. And Hell, I’m sitting here in Los Angeles writing about a restaurant 3,000 miles away because I think if you are able, you should go there, too.


One Year Ago: Pecan Shortbread
Two Years Ago: The Grilled Cheese Truck