Seattle Foodies

To know me is to hear me yammer incessantly about how Tom Douglas’ Culinary Summer Camp was the best week of my life. Or weeks, I should say, being a repeat offender. And yes, I’ve signed up for a third round this summer. Once again, summer camp is shaping up to be a week-long belly flop into all things foodie. While making great new friends, you’ll be pampered, challenged, fed, taught, wined, relaxed, stretched, partied, rewarded, and finally mystified at how much was packed into five days, all for a fraction of the price of any travel-somewhere foodie vacation. What more do you need to know?

Reducing a pint of dry sherry with butter and shallots.

It was raining, of course. A day for ducks. And a fitting start for Poultrygeist, our pre-Halloween celebration feast of all things duck. I mean, why do the kids get to have all the treats? The plan was simple: a seven-course, wine-paired dinner for twenty-four people. Add a sorbet intermezzo. Throw in a pumpkin-carving contest with alcohol-based prizes. In case that’s not scary enough, put the whole thing completely in the hands of amateurs. Still not frightened? Create most of the recipes ourselves. And then invite Tom Douglas, his business partner and Executive Chef Eric Tanaka (“E.T.”), his marketing manager Robyn, and several more of his chefs, just to raise the stakes.

Now that sounds like fun. (Or, I need a drink.) But first we’ll need a few groceries. Like five Moulard, two Muscovy, and two Pekin ducks. Eight more pounds of Moulard duck breasts. Five dozen duck eggs. A tub of duck fat. A case of blood oranges. And a couple cases of wine.

Roulades nestled in butter, herbs, and mirepoix.

Although, we started two weeks ago, we dug in Friday afternoon at Bruce’s house to get the roulade out of the way. Meaning “roll,” it’s a time-consuming dish that starts with skinning a couple ducks, boning them out, and grinding, chopping, and stuffing everything in the skin to be poached in a pound of butter and herbs. While that was in the oven, we finished the duck liver paté and turned the two carcasses into a brown duck stock. Not a bad start.

On Saturday we moved the work party to Becky’s home, and with a larger crew, the real heavy lifting began. Holly dove into a “ripening” tray of duck fat to retrieve our previously made confit legs, and working the wings into rillettes. Jordan took on the blistering work of cleaning out twenty sugar pie pumpkins. Becky made, broke, fixed, broke, fixed, and again broke a lemon ginger duck-fat mayonnaise before we decided to trim that unstable emulsion from the menu. We took a well-deserved “family meal” break to devour Trina’s salmon frittata and some duck sliders Bruce made from the leftover roulade stuffing.

A platoon of duck sliders. At ease, soldiers.

Back at the grinder, Dana transformed the Moulard breasts into fifty sliders (mini burgers). Trina made cherry jam, perfected her blood orange martini, and finished Chuck’s Asian plum sauce with homemade blood orange marmalade to pair with the ducks Bruce was packing with spices and more blood oranges for roasting Sunday. Most of the sauces, garnishes, and dressings made, or nearly completed. Fresh pasta mixed and resting in the fridge. Shallot rings and sage leaves fried in duck fat. Cracklings crisped. Cranberry, blood orange, thyme sorbet frozen. To finish the day, pear sabayon, spiced pears, and duck brittle.

Sunday was the final push. Ducks on the rotisserie. Breasts seared off and sliced. Beans for the roulade simmered with the brown stock, and the resulting broth reduced all the way down to finish a mustard sauce. Confit jelly coins. Twenty-five duck egg yolk raviolos. Menus printed, house decorated. Wine pairings ready (by maniacal foodie Kyle at Pike and Western). And everything portioned and ready for service, just in time for guests to begin arriving.

So how did it turn out? Click on the photos to start the slide show, and see for yourself.

(Huge thanks to Bruce for providing many of the photos.)

Poultrygeist is almost here!

When Chuck’s chickens stage a haunted coop, you know Poultrygeist is so close it’s scary.

The mayhem will continue at Becky’s this Sunday, with our day of mise Saturday. Can’t think of a costume idea? An apron or chef’s hat will do. Or follow my example and wear a body-sized bib.

Here’s how it’s shaping up (costumes not required):

• reception: five-spice duck lettuce wraps, cilantro, plum sauce, sechuan pepper salt
• scary sugar pie pumpkin carving contest (categories: creative, scary, fun, elaborate, duck)
• duck roulade, cannellini beans, brown mustard sauce
• three preserves: crisped confit, rillettes, paté, toasts, greens, warm duck vinaigrette
• duck-egg raviolo, lemon sage butter, magret prosciutto, fried sage leaves
• sorbet (cranberry, blood orange, thyme)
• duck meatball sliders (2 sauces, sweet pickle chips)
• seared duck breast, red wine reduction, kale (duck cracklins), duck-finished thyme potatoes
• sabayon, pear, duck brittle
• pumpkin-carving awards – bottles of arancello (limoncello’s orange cousin)
• take-home bags (prosciutto, duck fat, confit)

See you there!

Nearly nine-pound whoppers: Moulard ducks.

Two weeks away from our First Annual Poultrygeist and we’re ready to get some advance mise out of the way. Also, it’s perfect timing to replay the previous day’s lessons from Rover’s Duck 101 class. Hosted by Bruce and Dana in their amazing indoor/outdoor kitchens, we tackled five honkin’ honkers: Hudson Valley Moulard ducks bought from restaurant supplier Select Gourmet Foods, meat supplier to the stars (such as Tom Douglas Restaurants and Rover’s). Lucky for us, Select Gourmet now has a retail outlet in Kenmore.

Being veteran Tom Douglas Summer Campers, we eased into the workday with a glass of Prosecco, followed Bruce’s terrific chili, topped with an egg poached perfectly by his immersion circulator, with corn-meal focaccia on the side.

Seattle Foodies love play time.

Then we broke down our five HUGE ducks. Moulards are such amazing creatures. Thick, gorgeous layers of fat, and deep, rich, meat, with mile-long breasts. We set aside three breasts for prosciutto, which is sacrilege according to The Chef In The Hat (he refuses to “waste” prime Moulard breasts on charcuterie). But heck, we’re worth it. Crime or no, we packed them in a pan of kosher salt for an overnight cure, then to be rinsed, dried, and dusted with white pepper and juniper berries before hanging in Chuck’s cellar. The other seven breasts were trimmed, scored, skin partially rendered, and packed in shallot, thyme, bay leaves, garlic, and cracked pepper, to be held in vacuum-sealed bags in Becky’s freezer, ready for finishing.

With the group suddenly hankering for a snack, Bruce came to the rescue with short ribs cooked sous vide (his immersion circulator again), and finished on the grill. I had picked up a pound of matsutake mushrooms at the Pike Place Market that morning, so he sliced and sauteed those for bedding (for the short ribs, not Bruce). A pan sauce, a little lemon and soy to finish, and some red wine for the glass. Amazing. So I ate two.

Bruce loads his culinary canon.

Right. Ducks. We cured ten duck legs and wings in bay, garlic, orange zest, thyme, and kosher salt. To make the confit, they’ll be gently poached in duck fat Tuesday for eight to ten hours, and then will ripen, packed in the fat until Poultrygeist. Speaking of fat, in addition to the 7.5-pound tub we bought, rendering down the fat from all five ducks will yield about ten pounds more (or about 2.5 gallons total). With so much of everything, there should be confit and duck fat souvenirs, as well as prosciutto to take home after the event.

And then there’s the swimming pool of duck stock made from the five roasted carcasses and mirepoix. Dana will reduce that down to a thick glace Monday.

But back to the food. Bruce fired up his pizza oven, with fennel seed crust, chanterelles, pork belly, and a whole host of terrific cheeses from the farmer’s market. Plus a few bottles of great red. And Trina made orange martinis with the juice from the zested oranges.

No Becky, that's not your cocktail. Trina's making arancello.

Speaking of oranges and alcohol, Trina sacrificed her last bottle of Everclear, and we zested eight oranges for a batch of arancello (limoncello’s cousin). Bottles will serve as prizes for the scary sugar pie pumpkin carving contest. Judging categories will likely be: creative, scary, fun, elaborate, and duck. There will be a fifteen-minute carving limit, and other rules to be announced soon, but get those wheels turning. There’s arancello at stake.

Somewhere in there we had a repeat of the chili and egg marvel. And since we were still feeling peckish, we made thyme and rosemary-scented fingerling potatoes, which were crispy finished in duck fat. But always quick to raise the bar, Bruce topped them with amazing hickory smoked Mangalitsa jowl bacon, and still more poached eggs.

So you can see the day proceeded with laser-like focus. We even got some advance planning in for Poultrygeist, and I’ll post details as we get them organized.

Lunchbox Laboratory's delicious monster.

Ah, delicious, languid Friday afternoons. A late-summer day, warmed by sun streaming through an open window, and pinned down by a humongous, monster burger in your belly. What a beautiful beginning for the Foodies First Friday Lunch Club. Starting today, and every first Friday of the month until the Sun burns out, Tom Douglas Summer Campers are reconnecting to share the previous month’s food exploits and, of course, to eat.

For our inaugural feast, nearly 20 of us “clubbed” the good folks at Lunchbox Laboratory, where we gorged on their burger creations using beef, lamb, buffalo, prime rib, even a duck and pork combo (“dork”), piled with 10-15 daily cheeses, bacon, and other reach-for-the-sky ingredients. Check the menu on their seizure-inducing website for advance build-your-own strategery, or just show up and choose from the innovative daily specials board. Make sure you bring enough friends to order all the sides (onion rings, skinny fries, sweet-potato fries, tater tots) and their assortment of specialty salts (smoked Asian salt, rosemary sea salt, and more) and sauces. And don’t miss their best-in-the-business milk shakes (served in lab beakers, of course). The hardest part of eating at the Lab is choosing, but don’t worry: there’s usually enough of a line to give you time to peruse all the options.

Shown above, the only burger said to be visible from space: my lamb and bacon Frankenstein. And what’s that in the background? The camera caught fellow foodie Bruce in the act of forking his dork! (Personally, I prefer to use my hands.)

Pastry chef Garrett Melkonian brought his Wagner power paint sprayer to Summer Camp. This quick video should give you a sense of his no-holds-barred approach to tiny confections (in this case, cherry pâte de fruit). Be sure to eavesdrop on Tom griping about the chocolate going onto the carpet.

If you’ve eaten at Tom’s Dahlia Lounge in recent years (you should) you’ve probably seen the “Little Tastes From The Sea Bar” headlining the menu. And if you’re like me, you always order the sea bar sampler so you can have them all. An assortment of whatever is excellent from Mutual Fish (a must stop if you love fish) plus a pair of chopsticks, each fish is paired with amazing sauces and condiments, their flavors and textures playing and contrasting with each wonderfully. (Hint: if you’re sharing, practice with chopsticks before you arrive at the restaurant.)

Laid out before Tom and Eric, a whole sockeye salmon quickly becomes gravlax (its fillets are packed between two sheet pans in a mixture of kosher salt, white and brown sugar, and ground paprika, juniper berries, fennel seeds, and cayenne; the pans are weighted and left to sit for 1-4 days, depending on the thickness of the fish). While breaking down the salmon, Tom explains that the salmon belly (usually with a white inner skin) is sometimes trimmed and discarded by people who don’t realize it’s the fattiest, and the best tasting, part of the fish. (In fact, salmon belly is prized for its richness among sushi aficionados.) He also slices off the collar, the forward part of the fillet just behind the head, but don’t discard that either. It’s also choice eating, and great marinaded for the grill. Finally, he skins the fillet and holds up the beautiful dark silvery strip. If you have the fish scaled before filleting, you can make salmon skin cracklings under the broiler (add some Japanese furakake seasoning, and don’t let it get too dry; you want it to crunch, not shatter). Is it any wonder Tom and Eric defeated Iron Chef Morimoto when they battled with secret ingredient wild king salmon in 2005?

For a quick-to-make sea bar bite, cut small chunks of smoked salmon purchased from Uwajimaya and serve with a dab of hot mustard (dry hot mustard, water, rice wine vinegar, and soy sauce).

That mustard, by the way, also pairs with honey soy cured mackerel. Fillets of Atlantic mackerel are marinaded (soy sauce, water, sake, brown sugar, garlic, ginger, scallion, and orange slices), grilled, and then served with sesame seeds, ocean salad (prepared seaweed, sesame oil, and rice wine vinegar), and mustard. The marinade is highly recommended for use with the salmon collar mentioned above. Tom also notes that mackerel is one of the high-fat content fish, which means it also freezes well.

We’re just getting started. And with all this fish being served, Tom suggests keeping an eye on the Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch’s sustainable catch list. After all, who wants to spend time learning to cook something that won’t be around tomorrow? (Not to mention the ethical problems with eating something to extinction…)

For something lighter, try citrus cured halibut (a ceviche-like dish of diced raw halibut marinaded in lemon, lime, grapefruit, and orange juices, Saigon cinnamon, salt, and pepper) with avocado sorbet (pasilla and anaheim peppers, cayenne, cilantro, lemon or lime juice, salt, and pepper). Two secrets: Saigon cinnamon is spicier and can be found at World Spice Merchants, and to make the sorbet, you’ll need to spend $3,500 to buy the amazing Pacojet plus upgrade to a four-star freezer (capable of -4 degrees F). The reason is the sorbet has no sugar, so it won’t freeze properly in a regular ice cream maker (sugar allows ice creams and sorbet to freeze soft and smooth, not icy). Those not inclined to spring for the Pacojet can simply spoon some of the chilled avocado puree with the halibut.

Another light dish is yellowtail sashimi with coriander oil (crushed and toasted coriander seeds macerated in grapeseed oil) and radish salad (julienned radishes tossed with celery leaves, daikon sprouts, and lemon) sprinkled with sea salt and aleppo pepper (to buy the latter, either go to Syria or World Spice Merchants).

Now take a deep breathe and keep eating.

Next, you’ll want to serve unshelled Alaskan spot prawns (sauteed in shallot and white wine) with Red Eye cocktail sauce (espresso, horseradish, lemon juice, Worcestershire sauce, and ketchup).

Hold the bus.

Tom’s using ketchup? Actually, no. He’s using one of his secret cheats: Heinz Chili Sauce. (For a simpler, quick cocktail sauce, just mix it with a bit of horseradish and soy sauce. And for God’s sake, don’t tell your dinner guests.)

Spot prawns. We were doing spot prawns. Arrange the prawns on a mound of lemon ice (lemon juice, sugar, water, lemon thyme), top with a little more lemon ice, and serve with a ramekin of Red Eye cocktail sauce (shhhh).

And to finish off your sea bar, try some tuna poke. Dice raw tuna or hamachi and toss with poke dressing (sesame oil, soy sauce, sake, garlic, ginger, sugar, chile oil, ogo or nori seaweed, scallion, sweet onion, and Hawaiian sea salt). Serve garnished with shredded daikon and shredded jalapeno, or fried julienned wanton strips.

Chopsticks ready. Set. Go!

Ordinarily, when a presentation on salads opens with a pan of carrot juice, one might be tempted to do something drastic (like thumbing last quarter’s bus schedule fished from your backpack) to stay alert. But when master chef Jerry Traunfeld began reducing a saucepan of carrot juice (with shallots and salt), I slid to the edge of my seat. I’ve been a huge fan of his herbal wizardry, inspired for years by his first book, The Herbfarm Cookbook. Do yourself a favor and find a copy. But be warned: you will be compelled to plant a new (or radically expand your existing) garden, and risk becoming an herb zombie.

While the carrot juice boiled, he whisked together lemon juice, olive oil, and minced red onion before tossing with fresh-picked Dungeness crab meat, diced avocado, shiso leaves, salt, and pepper. A quick emulsion of the carrot reduction with Champagne vinegar and olive oil (scant thanks to Tom’s red blender: Jerry thinks it sucks), and the carrot vinaigrette is ready to spoon around the salad on a plate or in a martini glass.

About that time, small plates of the salad, prepared by Tom’s secret elves in the adjacent kitchen, start appearing on the table in front of each camper. Moans of delight circle the room. It’s marvelous.

But time is limited, and Jerry has been working simultaneously on a lemon verbena fruit salad (honey, lemon verbena, lime juice, and sliced ripe fruit and berries), as well as a spiced chickpea-yogurt salad. For the latter he demonstrates one of the techniques he picked up during a year traveling India to research spices for his new restaurant, Poppy (slated to open this September on Capitol Hill).

The technique: heat peanut oil (hot) and toss in brown mustard seeds. Off the heat, when they stop sputtering, add chili flakes and two types of seeds: cumin and ajwain (smelling something like parsley, thyme, and caraway), and wait only 10 seconds before pouring over cooked chickpeas. (Jerry says canned are just fine, flinging my prejudice out the window.) Toss with lemon juice, salt, whole yogurt, chopped cilantro, mint, and green onion, and it’s ready. (Another hint: Tom suggests draining yogurt in cheesecloth for an hour to intensify it.)

The elves are keeping up with Jerry and two more plates arrive. A few bites later, and I don’t think I can wait until September. I refocus to hear him finish a plug for using rose and lemon scented geraniums. (Makes an amazing cream infusion for use in creme brulee, for instance. See his first book for an awesome rose geranium and raspberry version.)

But we’re not finished yet…while Tom’s staff do kitchen duty, Jerry moves to another table to autograph copies of his latest book, The Herbal Kitchen, that Tom has bought for all the campers.

Any ideas for what I should do with my other copy?

I always get nervous when a group is told to count off A, B, A, B, and so on, to split into two groups. I get even more nervous when the other team wins the coin toss. Okay, it wasn’t a coin. It was a Tom Douglas’ Rub With Love spice jar, with his picture glued to the lid, and a picture of Eric Tanaka, executive chef for all of Tom’s restaurants, glued to the bottom. In the air, you call it: Angel or Devil. (You guess who the Devil is. Hint: he sleeps a lot. A LOT.)

As a member of losing Team B, we go first. Tomorrow morning, we head to Etta’s at 8:00am, where we will be given breakfast, $500 cash, and Eric Tanaka to answer questions (but NOT to help). During breakfast we will need to plan. After breakfast, we head to Pike Place Market to shop. And finally, on to Palace Kitchen where we are expected to prepare a three-course lunch (including paired wines) for 22 people: the other team plus four judges, including Tom, Jerry Traunfeld, former executive chef of The Herbfarm (gulp!), plus two others TBD. Wednesday the tables are turned and Team A gets to feed us.

Lunch will be judged by five categories: Taste, Presentation, Restaurant Name & Menu Board, Use of Budget, and Originality. Lunch is to be served on a strict schedule, beginning at 12:30. Points will be docked if courses are late. And each member of the winning team gets five points add to his/her weekly total. Oh, and, no screaming.

Okay, the gauntlet has been thrown down. Reigning champion Ann Jun has returned from Camp 2007 to battle 33 other campers in the quest for foodie points. Like a Hogwarts school for would-be culinary witches and wizards, on top of super-saturating our brains, eyes, noses, and mouths with magical eats, points will be awarded daily for gastronomic achievement.

Daily challenges will receive prizes and, at the end of the week, the camper with the highest accumulated points will be memorialized with their name engraved on the giant camp trophy (under Ann’s name, of course). Besides glory, the winner will also receive: one night for six (three rooms) at the Andra Hotel (within two blocks of no less than five Tom Douglas restaurants), plus breakfast for six at Lola, lunch for six at Serious Pie, and (are you full, yet?) dinner for six at Dahlia Lounge. It’s what you’ve always feared: 6666, the number of the Feast.

Now for today’s daily challenge: shake and sniff. A row of large, silver shakers, packed with powders, lumps, or liquids. Go ahead. Give one a shake. Inhale deeply. Concentrate. You know it. Smells give you your most powerful memories. You just can’t remember the darn name for it. Close your eyes. Shake again. Sniff. Repeat. Don’t worry, there are only ten, and you have until 3:00 to identify them on your answer sheet…

P.S. Thanks to Chuck for the great picture of the trophy! (Can you tell he has a pro-style camera?)