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Bay Area Bites

Culinary Rants & Raves from Bay Area Foodies and Professionals

• Tarte Tatin: A Promise Kept.

  Posted by Michael Procopio

  on Nov 06, 2009

  The other day, I received an email from my friend Ron, who had recently returned from a long weekend in Paris, which is something people who live in New York can do without killing themselves, time-wise:

  "I had such a good time in Paris, and am so inspired to cook! I was thinking about you when I was there, and I almost bought a tarte tatin pan, but they were so expensive, and I realized I probably didn't need to get it there.

  So, I thought i'd ask for your opinion on a good pan. Do you have a recommendation? I'd also LOVE to get your recipe as well. You were always going to teach me how to make one and we never got around to it. So, perhaps, i could at least get your recipe."

  I thought for a moment. There he was in Paris, inspired to cook, looking at expensive tarte Tatin pans. He must have been to E. Dehillerin's, a mind-blowing, intoxicating cookware store that only those with a severe allergy to copper or eating could leave without the purchase of something shiny or, at the very least, without inspiration.

  I am delighted and somehow unsurprised that Ron managed to leave the store without the pan. Delighted because I would become extremely jealous of any friend outside of easy borrowing distance who owned one, unsurprised because he's one of the best bargain hunters ever. He also has one of the tiniest apartments in the universe, which I think has been officially documented. He would hang that document on his wall, but he would most likely think it would take up too much wall space.

  It is precisely due to this lack of space that I would suggest to Ron that he not invest in a one-use pan. Some folks swear by non-stick sauté pans, others by cast iron skillets for making this upside down apple tart. I happen to lean towards cast iron, because I'm just plain folksy. Either will do, so take your pick.

  A Promise is a Promise

  I had forgotten my promise of teaching him how to make Tarte Tatin, since it was about two lifetimes ago. I do, however, like to think of myself as a man of my word. So, Ron, though it's about six or seven years after the fact, and you now live on the other side of the continent, I will do my best to answer your questions. By opening this up from a simple email into a blog post, I encourage others with more Tarte Tatin expertise to weigh in, if you like.

  I initially hesitated when offering up my recipe, because I thought it produced inconsistent results. It seemed a bit odd that something static-- printed and frozen on glossy paper-- could be inconsistent. It was I who was inconsistent. And the ingredients. Would I be vigilant and make a perfect caramel, with apples well-cooked and brown, but holding together? That is sometimes me. Or would I wind up with what my goddaughter Zelly referred to as "apple mush tart" when I decided to make one for her while trying to keep her 4 year-old little sister away from the knives and hot caramel? That is, unfortunately me, too. I'm glad it was the tart that wound up overcooked and not the child.

  

  And what about the ingredients? I've made this dish at least two dozen times during my adulthood, but never with any sort of frequency. Somewhere along the way, I got it into my head that Granny Smith apples were the best, owing to their tartness and name-sharing with Dame Maggie. I had forgotten the better results I'd had with Golden Delicious a few years back and jumped back to the Smiths. which also happens to be the name of one of my favorite bands in high school. Unfortunately, while yielding great flavor, the Smiths yield an attractive-but-depressing mush, not unlike the music of the aforementioned band. I vote Jonagold which has inherited the firm flesh of its Golden Delicious mother, but taken on a little of it's father's (Jonathan) tartness.

  I hope Ron has fun experimenting with this dessert. Especially in New York where the Autumn apples are better than anywhere I've had.

  If he messes one up, it will still more than likely taste good, because how badly can you screw up apples, butter, and sugar? Well, I might suggest he watch Julia Child making one of the biggest goofs of her television career.

  Suddenly, mine doesn't look so bad.

  Tarte Tatin
  Serves 6 to 10, depending on how you slice it.

  When I first had this dessert presented to me, I can't remember where I was. Was it at some high school French Club get together? A special occasion restaurant venture with my family? The quaint little Loire Valley farm house where I learned a lot of dirty words from the sons of the proprietress who were trying to describe what that wanted to do with one of my female friends? I don't remember, since I've had it in all of those situations. I just remember the shock I felt at my love for the dish, since I had always been indifferent to apple pie. And I remembered the name thanks to the way I remember most everything-- through word association. "A good Tarte Tatin," I thought, "should be tart and tan."

  The back story on this dessert is nearly as quaint as the tart itself. If it is to be believed, in 1888, Mlle. Stéphanie Tatin, owner of L'Hôtel Tatin in Lamotte-Beuvron with her sister either a) was not a very bright woman and accidentally baked her famous apple tart upside down in one of her frequent moments of confusion; b) became distracted during the making of said tart, let the cooking go a little too far, but managed to save the day by throwing a crust over the apples and baking them upside down; or c) was threatened with a smoldering cigarette to the face by a jealous Brett Somers, who suspected the Mlle. Tatin of having an unsavory dalliance with her then-husband, Jack Klugman, and therefore unable to reach the caramelizing apples in time to make a proper, right side up tart until La Somers was finished with her smoke.

  I prefer to believe version "c", because it is the better story, though choice "b" is much more likely.

  Ingredients:

  For the pastry:

  1 cup all-purpose flour

  1 tablespoon sugar

  A pinch of salt

  1/2 cup chilled, unsalted butter, cut into pieces

  1/4 cup ice water

  For the filling:

  6 tablespoons unsalted butter

  3/4 cup sugar

  6 apples, peeled, quartered, and cored. Jonagolds will do nicely. So will Golden Delicious. Go ahead and experiment with different varieties.

  A pinch of salt

  A dash of vanilla extract

  Preparation:

  1. To make the pastry, combine flour, sugar, and salt into the bowl of a food processor. Pulse briefly to mix. Add the chopped, chilled butter to the flour mixture and pulse until the the butter has been coated and broken into a million, pea-sized pellets. Sprinkle dough with enough cold water to make the dough barely come together. Turn the dough out onto a lightly-floured work surface and roll out into an 11" round about 1/4 of an inch thick. Transfer dough to a baking sheet, cover with wax paper or plastic wrap and refrigerate.

  2. Preheat your oven to 400 F. In an 10" cast iron skillet or non-stick frying pan, melt butter over medium heat. Stir in sugar until nearly dissolved (about 2 minutes or so). If it's lumpy, that's fine. Add the apple quarters, rounded side down into the bubbling proto-caramel using enough apples to fit snuggly. Reduce the heat to low and cook until the caramel is dark brown and the apples are just tender (about 15 minutes).

  3. Place pan in the oven to cook the apples a bit more (5 minutes). Remove pan from oven and raise the heat to 450 F. Gently place the pastry circle over the top of the apples, tucking the excess pastry inside the rim of the pan. Return pan to the oven and bake until the pastry is all brown and flaky-like (about 20 minutes).

  4. Remove from the oven. Run a knife around the inside edge of the pan, invert a serving plate over the pan and then flip over and pray that the tarte unmolds easily. Lift off the pan. And please, Ron, do wear oven mitts and sensible shoes. I'd hate to hear you spent the evening in a Manhattan emergency room being treated for caramel burns.

  5. Serve warm with sweetened whipped cream or with vanilla ice cream.

  
  

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• Fuyu Persimmon and Date Upside-Down Cake

  Posted by Denise Santoro Lincoln

  on Nov 05, 2009

  

  Once the weather starts to cool down a little, and the leaves begin to turn various shades of gold and red, I reconcile myself to the fact that the time for peaches and watermelons is over. Yet as much as I love summer fruits, I shed no tears at their passing season. By this time I've eaten my fill of all those lovely stone fruits and melons bursting with juices and flavors. I've eaten plenty of peach tarts, cherry pies, and apricots fresh and delicious. Sure, I'll miss them at times during the year (and I even have a stash of frozen cherries in the freezer for a holiday trifle I?ll make in about a month), but it is now time to move on. So instead of mourning the summer crops I have thoroughly enjoyed for months, I am embracing the amazing fall harvest. At the top of this list is the Fuyu persimmon -- hands down my absolute favorite fall fruit.

  As I mentioned in my Fuyu persimmon post last year, Fuyus should not be confused with Hachiya persimmons. Unlike the naturally astringent Hachiya, which needs to be so ripe it should look like a bag full of goop by the time you can eat it, Fuyus are sweet and firm when they're ready. With Fuyus, you can just peel and eat. They're amazing served fresh in salads or cooked in couscous and tarts. My favorite new fall dessert, however, is a Fuyu and Date Upside-Down Cake.

  

  I came up with the idea for this cake after eyeing a pineapple upside down cake recently. I loved how pretty the pineapples looked on the cake and then began to imagine how slices of Fuyu persimmons, with their natural star inlay, would look. As I had some fresh dates on hand, I decided to throw those in as well, along with some cinnamon and nutmeg to give the cake some spice.

  After setting the lovely sliced Fuyus -- which look like orange sand dollars -- in butter and sugar, I added some chopped Fuyus and dates to the cake batter. And of course I used my trusty cast-iron pan so I could cook the persimmons in the butter and sugar first on the stove top and then just add the batter and place the whole thing in the oven. The result was truly something you could only get in the fall months: the chopped persimmons and dates inside the cake gave the dessert a wonderful sweetness while the whole persimmon slices looked quite pretty on top.

  Raw or cooked, Fuyu persimmons are a special fall treat that will only be available for a short while. So take advantage of them up while you can.

  

  Fuyu and Date Upside-Down Cake

  Makes: one 8-inch round cake

  Ingredients:

  1 cup brown sugar
  1/4 cup butter (1/2 of one stick) softened
  1 egg
  1/2 tsp vanilla
  1/2 cup milk (preferably whole milk)
  1 1/4 cup flour
  1 tsp baking powder
  1/2 tsp baking soda
  1/2 tsp each cinnamon and nutmeg
  3 persimmons (2 sliced into 1/4-inch slices and one chopped into cubes
  1 cup fresh dates pitted and chopped
  1/2 cup chopped walnut or almonds (optional)
  2 Tbsp butter
  2 Tbsp sugar or brown sugar

  Preparation:

  1. In a medium sauce pan (an 8-inch round cast-iron pan if you have one), heat the 2 Tbsp butter until melted and bubbling. Add the sugar and caramelize until a light golden brown if using regular sugar or until melted if using brown sugar.
  2. Lay the persimmon slices in the pan. Turn off the heat and set aside. If using a separate pan for baking the cake, pour the caramelized sugar and butter into the baking pan first and then lay the persimmon slices on top.
  3. Beat sugar into butter using a stand mixer or by hand until fluffy.
  4. Whisk in the egg and vanilla until fully incorporated.
  5. Add the milk, mixing it in thoroughly.
  6. Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon and nutmeg in a separate bowl.
  7. Add the flour mixture to the butter mixture and mix until just barely incorporated.
  8. Mix in the chopped dates and Fuyu persimmons (and nuts if using) until the batter is combined, but do not over mix.
  9. Gently lay the batter on top of the persimmon slices in your baking pan, being sure not to disturb the pattern you made earlier.
  10. Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 20-25 minutes or until it is baked through.
  11. With a thin sharp knife, separate the cake from the edge of the inside of the pan. Lay a flat plate over the pan and then, using an oven mitt, flip the plate over so the cake falls onto the plate.
  12. Let cool and then top with powdered sugar.

  
  

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• Saigon Street Food

  Posted by Stephanie Im

  on Nov 04, 2009

  
  Making amazing snails in District 1, Oc Huong Pho Mai

  I've been eating myself silly the past 15 days -- I know, what's new. But no, this has been a really special kind of silly. The eating-my-way-through Vietnam kind of silly!

  Well, to be more specific, not quite all of Vietnam, since an unexpected detour to Hong Kong for a roundtrip price of $150 proved too tempting to pass up, but for sure, through a majority of Ho Chi Minh City (a.k.a. Saigon).

  There is a good reason why even hardened eaters like Anthony Bourdain have fallen so in love with the cuisine of Vietnam. It's fresh, vibrant, varied, and satisfying without feeling gluttonously heavy.

  And, most often, it is cooked on the spot, right before your eyes, on the street, by someone who has been making that one particular dish over and over, for years, decades, quite possibly, generations.

  Since Hua's father and uncles are locals, we had the benefit of zipping about on the back of their motorbikes (amongst the unimaginable number of other motorbikes on the road), being led by the nose to some of the most delicious food I have ever tasted.

  That's a big statement, I know, but I stand by it. These local favorites are something special. Purveyors of food so good, so exciting, so complex in flavor yet simple in execution, I ate like I was starved (which is absurd because I don?t think I once felt the sensation of "hunger" the entire trip). I now pass this joy to you. Go seek these places/dishes out:

  
  Cha Gue, Nen Nha Dat

  Place: Nen Nha Dat
  While I don't think this is the real "name" of this vendor, this is what the sign says above the storefront where this little set-up is situated.
  Dish: Cha Gue (pronounced "chow gway")
  Translation: Pan-fried Rice Flour Cake with Egg
  Address: 91 Ha Ton Quyen (cross street: Tan Thanh) - P.15, Q.5

  
  Awaiting Cha Gue

  Located in District 5, sort of like the Chinatown of HCMC, Hua's dad took us here for a snack on Day 1. The bar was set high early.

  The dish consisted of thick, rectangular pieces of pan-fried rice flour cake. The perfect golden crisp on the outside is beautifully offset by the smooth, supple texture on the inside.

  When the rice cakes are nearing the end of their browning, an egg is cracked over them and the rich orange-hued yolk is broken. Throw a handful of minced green onion on the pan to warm through, and add bits of fried onion, fried pork skin (like little precious bits of chicharrones), and garlic. The dish is then served with a side of homemade pickled daikon and carrot slaw, and a savory dipping sauce of sweet soy sauce and a dollop of chili sauce.

  
  Cha Gue, Nen Nha Dat

  The Cha Gue, hot off the pan, had this corner bumpin', and even in the rain people were pulling up on their motorbikes and shouting their orders to-go from the street.

  Apparently, business is so good that the owner doesn't want to grow his operations because he's afraid he wouldn't be able to handle the volume. Interesting how this kind of success would inspire a very different response back home, as I envisioned a fleet of Kogi taco trucks multiplying like rabbits in the streets of LA.

  
  Wok-fried Snails, Oc Huong Pho Mai

  Place: Oc Huong Pho Mai
  Dish: Wok-fried Snails in a heavenly sauce
  Translation: Bliss
  Address: 37/3 Nguyen Cauh Chan - Q.1

  After day of shopping in Saigon Square we were carted off to rejuvenate ourselves with a little pre-dinner feast of the most amazing snails I've ever had.
  I was skeptical as we turned onto a tiny, dimly-lit, nondescript, side-street. It would have been a little sketchy if it wasn't for the insanely cute kindergarten class that was being held a few doors down.

  
  Cute kids near snails

  The set up of the shop was typical -- a kitchen (comprised of a few burners and a grill) that spilled out from the ground floor of someone's home onto the street, a few small tables and chairs along the street, and an extra bonus here, a lady squeezing fresh sugarcane juice right across the street! It couldn't have been better.

  
  Making fresh sugarcane juice

  We over-ordered of course, and out came dishes of small snails, large snails, clams, crab, even balut!

  For those unfamiliar, balut is a fertilized duck egg with a nearly-developed embryo inside that is boiled and then eaten out of the shell with a spoon. You heard right, a partial chick (please don't hate me). Since it was my first time trying this delicacy, I was advised not to look directly at it (kind of like that adage of not staring into the sun). The texture can be challenging if you're squeamish, and you can't help but look too closely, but the flavor was good. As expected, a combo of an egg and chicken, but all in one bite. A little dish of salt and pepper mixed with lemon juice added a nice kick of flavor, and of course, some herbage, coriander leaves.

  That was probably the most exotic thing I tried on this trip, but the snails! Those may have been the best. Boiled first to cook through, then finished off in a wok, seared until some magical sauce evaporated and coated the shells.

  
  Bliss

  The snails themselves were meaty and succulent, but the sauce, now that was truly extraordinary: a little creamy and cheesy, with a touch of sweetness, and a tinge of heat that played on our lips. It was caramelized into almost a crust on the shells. We unabashedly licked our fingers clean while still reaching for more. The flavor teased us as we chased after it, wanting to savor it, have more of it, freakin' bathe in it.

  
  Hu Tiu Nam Vang, Tin Phuc

  Place: Tin Phuc
  Dish: Hu Tiu Nam Vang (pronounced "hoo tee-yoo nam vang")
  Translation: Pork and Crab Noodle Soup
  Address: 16 Duong Dinh Nghe (cross street: Cu Xa Binh Thoi) - P.8, Q.11

  
  Tin Phuc

  Tin Phuc is more of restaurant than actual street food, although, with its breezy architecture, you could technically drive right in if you really wanted to.

  Regardless, it is delicious. Only one dish is served so you can't mess up the order: Hu Tiu Nam Vang. (In Cantonese we call it "gum been fun.") You can order it "dry" but the soup is so good that you probably won't want to.

  Basically, hu tiu is a noodle soup similar to pho, but more seafood-based and with a light broth. Prior to this meal, I had never tasted it before, so I did some research on its origins. Vietnamese culinary expert Andrea Nguyen had much light to shed regarding this addictive dish. According to Andrea, "At its core, hu tieu signals a Chinese-Southeast Asian style noodle soup made with a pork bone broth and no fish sauce." But, there are many riffs on it, one of which is the Nam Vang style, "Nam Vang" being the Vietnamese word for Phnom Penh (the capital of Cambodia). Thus, Vietnam's proximity to Cambodia resulted in this Cambodian-Chinese concoction.

  
  Herbage

  Tin Phuc's rendition of Hu Tiu Nam Vang is divine. The soup is phenomenal, sweet and rich, made from the stock of pork bones and crab shells. The angel-hair-thin opaque rice noodles have just the right amount of springy chew to them. And the toppings are generous portions of pork meat, tendon and heart, crab meat, and shrimp. Tear up handfuls of leafy Romaine, Chinese celery and flat Chinese chives, add some crunchy bean sprouts, a touch of chili pepper, and you good to go.

  The result is soul-satisfying. Warm, comforting, full of umami, fresh and healthy feeling. I bet a bowl of this could cure a cold like nobody's business.

  The best part? Lunch for 5 people here rolled up to a mere $9.75 USD.

  
  Street Scene

  Back in September, Thy Tran wrote a great article on Street Food Beyond Festivals in which she compares the young street food culture in the U.S. to other places where it has been "long embedded into their daily rhythms." Witnessing the street food culture of Saigon brought that alive for me. Daily rhythm is right, it seemed like everyone eats out all the time whether it?s having your morning coffee delivered to your front door from the coffee lady down the street, getting some fruit to-go from the number of fruit vendors rolling around, or popping a squat on a little plastic chair at a tea-party-sized table for dinner. Sure, the convenience, affordability, and quality of product are all great. But it is the daily human interaction, the chit chat, the sense of community that comes with it, that makes this daily rhythm so soothing.

  Nen Nha Dat (for Cha Gue)
  91 Ha Ton Quyen (cross street: Tan Thanh) - P.15, Q.5
  Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam
  Phone: 0903380574

  Oc Huong Pho Mai (for Snails)
  37/3 Nguyen Cauh Chan - Q.1
  Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

  Tin Phuc (for Hu Tiu Nam Vang)
  16 Duong Dinh Nghe (cross street: Cu Xa Binh Thoi) - P.8, Q.11
  Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam
  Phone: 3.9627977

  
  

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