Serious Eats

Reality Check: The Big America Burgers at McDonald's Japan Are Back (and Bad As Ever)

2012-02-08T16:15:00Z

[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

America may be the home of McDonald's, but Japan is where its hamburgers go to spread their wings and take off into flights of fancy, combining flavors that no American would dare combing, stacking to unusually great heights, dousing themselves in ever-more obscure sauces, and, of course, all coming with a side of genuine smiles and service. Seriously. You see those smiling faces on the tray liner under the burger in the photo above? That's really what every McDonald's employee in Japan looks like.

We've seen McDonald's Japan tackle Korean flavors with the KBQ—two beef patties topped with sweet & spicy bulgogi and gochujang. We've seen its mechanically-recovered meat tread where no mechanically-recovered has dared trod before with its double-stacked, Big Mac meet Little Tokyo Mega Teriyaki Burger. It's even put its stamp on the ol' U.S. of A. with it's Big America burger series last year and the year before.

Well hey, looks like Big America is back this year with four all-new burgers in their lineup, each one available for a few weeks at a time.

Grand Canyon (no longer available) combines beef with a round Egg McMuffin-esque egg disk, cheddar and mozzarella cheese (two staples of Arizona cuisine... right?), crispy onion bits, and a smoked soy steak sauce, all stacked Big Mac style in a double sandwich.
Las Vegas (out now) comes with sliced beef and onion salsa (that looks remarkably like the beef mixture on their KBQ burger), lettuce, cheese, and a cream cheese sauce because nothing screams "Vegaaaaas!" like cream cheese...right?
Broadway (out in mid February) is bound to be a...er, hit...with mozzarella, bacon cured pastrami-style (why is nobody serving this here?), mixed vegetables, and a mustard and cream cheese sauce.
Beverly Hills (out in March) is perhaps the most geographically appropriate flavor-wise, though I can't imagine loving an egg-topped burger with guacamole, cheese, and Caesar Salad dressing (yes, you read that right). Remember that classic episode of 90210 when Dylan takes Brenda out for an avocado-Caesar burger? Neither do I.

The day I was there, the Grand Canyon burger was on the menu and it arrived looking better-constructed than your typical American McD's burger might, but it was still a far cry from the glistening seared beef in the photograph.

Biting into the quarter-pound patty reconfirmed something that I've always felt about McDonald's burgers: Bigger is not better Clearly, the worst part of any McDonald's hamburger is the weird, pasty, flavorless beef patties, and the bigger they are, the more their bland weirdness overwhelms the other things in the sandwich.

Not that the Grand Canyon burger didn't put up a good fight. Lots of cheese and a smoky, sweet, and savory barbecue sauce are plenty flavorful; they're just not the kinds of flavors I want to actually be putting in my mouth.

I suppose one can forgive the strangeness of the culinary mashups and the odd associations these burgers have with their monikers (I mean, just look at what we do to Japanese food over here!), but here's to hoping that the Big America burgers are not what comes to mind when the Japanese think of American food.

About the author: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt is the Managing Editor of Serious Eats where he likes to explore the science of home cooking in his weekly column The Food Lab. You can follow him at @thefoodlab on Twitter, or at The Food Lab on Facebook.

Kitchen Apprentice: A View From the Pasta Closet

2012-02-08T15:45:00Z

I am not a morning person. I have a case of the Mondays almost every day of the week, especially on Sundays, when I have to get up an hour earlier to get to The Restaurant.

My alarm rings at 6:15 a.m., and I am so comfortable in a womb of blankets that I become irrationally angry when I finally peel myself out of bed and lumber to the bathroom. I've been starting at 8 a.m., which means out the door by 7 a.m. Weekend trains always seem to shift through the bowels of the earth at a crawl.

When I arrive at The Restaurant, I grab a set of whites from the linen shelf and get changed in the women's lockers, which double as a boiler room on most days. Rarely is there a full uniform in my size left on the shelves. I don't know why.

There is always a preponderance of clean, starched and folded uniforms when I leave. With a bigger jacket, I can fudge it a little: it doesn't need to be fitted, so all I have to do is roll up my sleeves another turn. Things can get tricky with bottoms: when they are too big, I button them up all the way (all the pants are kind of high-waisted, a wardrobe phenomenon I haven't cared to experience since grade school) and then roll down the waist once or twice to tighten things off. If they're still too long, I cuff the hems once or twice as well.

I am sweating already. I am cranky. My sprout of a ponytail is subdued at the back of my headbanded scalp. My pants don't fit. I clock in. I march, baggy-bottomed, upstairs and into the pasta closet to start my day.

And just like that, my crappy attitude melts away.

The kitchen is already filled with cooks prepping for brunch: vats of pancake batter and oatmeal are getting stirred, surfaces are covered in loaves of bread, fruit and flats of eggs, cooks are hustling up and down the aisles stocking their stations for service. I can hear silverware getting organized, sauté pans getting distributed all along the line. In the pasta closet, Jeff already has some Dave Matthews Band or Lupe Fiasco playing on his iPod. After laying out the day's production list, we begin to make pasta.

The repetition in pasta production allows a prep cook to zone out. In the closet, you're not cooking, just making. If you're not careful, you might get your fingers sucked into the pasta machine, though I've never heard that happen before. While you have to stay attentive to maintain consistency and quality, you can still zone out and hum along to music during your shift.

I love getting visitors in the pasta closet; it happens sporadically. The closet is off a little wing located in the back of the main kitchen, across from the staff bathroom. The line cooks regale us (or just Jeff, really, I eavesdrop) with snippets from their nights out while they wash their hands, or they moan into paper towels, dripping and red-eyed from all the smoke and heat. They bring us news from the front lines: what we're having for family meal, how many covers are pouring in, kitchen gossip du jour. Jeff plies them with game scores from his iPod.

On Saturday, my brother asked if I knew of any cooks who were taking the day off for Super Bowl festivities. I snorted. He seemed truly confused, and figured they must not be football fans.

You see, these cooks cook on New Year's Day, on Thanksgiving Day, on Christmas eve, and on Christmas day. They cook when the rest of the world is on holiday—it's what they do.

Was it such a stretch to think they'd be cooking Super Bowl Sunday too? Sure, there are plenty of football fans at The Restaurant, but they're awfully fond of their jobs as well.

It was a humbling moment, remembering that in between the pasta closet visits, in between the snatches of gossip and forehead mopping, these cooks busted their asses service after service. They get burned, sliced, nicked, steamed and bruised for hours on end. There will always be someone who came in earlier than me, and stayed later.

I didn't have to do this, I get to.

7 Ways To Spike Your Hot Chocolate

2012-02-08T15:00:00Z

From Drinks

VIEW SLIDESHOW: 7 Ways To Spike Your Hot Chocolate

[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

Winter might be halfway over, but round these parts it seems like things are just beginning to get really cold. We love our hot drinks around here, and if you're feeling really lazy (who isn't on a cold winter's day?), you can do worse than snuggling up with a cup of boiling water, a packet of Swiss Miss, and a bottle of rum. Go ahead and do it—we won't judge you.

But if you feel like fancying things up a bit, here are a baker's half dozen easy ways to spike your hot chocolate, complete with fancy-pants garnishes and measurements to boot!

Click through the slideshow above to check out each drink, or just jump straight to the recipes with the links below, then tell us: How do you like to spike your hot chocolate?

Orange Pisco Hot Chocolate brings orange liqueur and pisco together. It comes off with the scent of a jaffa cake and the flavor of a foil-wrapped chocolate orange—but better. Orange zest rubbed on the rim adds some fresh citrus aroma and candied orange peel makes for a perfect edible garnish.
Tequila Mint Hot Chocolate is the simplest combination we've got, but it's a winner. Peppermint and tequila come together for an icy-hot punch.
Salted Butterscotch Hot Chocolate could start with a commercial butterscotch or caramel base, but it's so much more fun (and tastier) to make your own out of real sugar, Scotch, and cream. Remember to reserve a little bit to drizzle over the whipped cream on top. If you've got some nice flaky sea salt, now would be the time to pull it out.
Better Than Baileys Hot Chocolate one ups the classic. It's easy enough to spike your cocoa with a couple glugs of sweet, creamy Baileys, but mixing in the individual flavors—almond, coffee, vanilla, and Irish whiskey—allows you to fine tune them just the way you like them (hint: try extra whiskey).
Guinness, Baileys, and Jameson Irish Whiskey Hot Chocolate: You probably know these flavors better by their explosively politically incorrect moniker, but changing the name doesn't make it any less delicious. Unless you enjoy curdled cement mixer-style Baileys, do not—I repeat do not—mix your Baileys with your whiskey until you've diluted it into the hot chocolate. The key to great roasty Guinness flavor? Reduce it on the stovetop into a concentrated syrup first.
Bacon, Bourbon, and Hazelnut Hot Chocolate is the obligatory bacon version. Forget wussy crumbled bacon on top. For this one, we emulsify bacon fat right into the drink. Drinkable liquid bacon? Yep. Bourbon is a natural pair for cured pork, and Frangelico adds a nutty sweetness.
Aztec Chile and Cinnamon Hot Chocolate combines classic flavors from the ancient home of hot chocolate. Made with bittersweet chocolate, this guy is rich, thick, and complex with a bit of heat and fruity flavor from dried ancho chiles, some cinnamon spice, and plenty of smokiness from a generous shot of mezcal. Don't have mezcal on hand? You can also try it with aged rum or tequila.

Pizza Obsessives: Michael Berman, New York Contributor

2012-02-08T14:00:00Z

From Slice

Those plugged into the pizza blog scene may already know Michael Berman from his own project, Pizzacentric. Now let's see what makes this pizza-loving man tick. —MS

Name: Michael Berman
Location: Brooklyn, NY
Occupation: Photographer, Writer
URL(s): Twitter @michaelberman; seriouseats.com/MichaelBerman; pizzacentric.com; msbphotography.com

What type of pizza do you prefer?

It depends. For a benchmark, I like to try plain tomato and mozzarella, and I usually prefer the quality of fresh mozzarella to that of low-moisture mozzarella. But plenty of places have toppings or combinations that stand out above and beyond plain.

The Pizza Cognition Theory states that "the first slice of pizza a child sees and tastes ... becomes, for him, pizza." Do you remember your first slice? Where was it from, is the place still around, and if so, does it hold up? On that note, has your taste in pizza evolved over time?

I don't remember my first slice. But growing up in the Maryland suburbs of Washington, DC, there were two pizzerias that I had often: Pizza Oven, in Rockville; and the Pines of Rome, in Bethesda. I'm pretty sure Pizza Oven is gone (they made rectangular pies with thin crust and elevated edges), but the Pines of Rome is still there—and still making great pizza, I should add. (If you go to the Pines of Rome, try both the red and the white pizzas.)

What's your favorite topping or topping combination?

Usually plain. But I like sausage when it's good, fresh garlic and basil are great, and mushrooms when they're thin and not canned. At Luigi's in Brooklyn (Fifth Avenue and 22nd Street) they bring amazing tomatoes from the father's Staten Island garden—unbelievable as a topping. I also love clams, so I am a sucker for good clam pizza.

Also, don't overlook condiments! South Brooklyn Pizza makes a couple of good ones in house (roasted garlic and marinated hot peppers). In Italy, if you ask for hot peppers, they give you hot pepper olive oil. It's great. I think Paulie Gee has that in Brooklyn.

You are in serious pizza territory with lots of great options, but do you have a go-to in your area?

My regular pizza for delivery is the "grandma" from House of Pizza and Calzone. I order it with fresh mozzarella. (I also add a side order of spinach sauteed with garlic, which gets spread onto some of the slices.) I use the toaster oven to reheat slices. It works great and requires no maintenance.

Do you make pizza at home? If so, how? What recipes do you use?

I like to make grilled pizza at home. The dough recipe I use is from Chowhound (here's the link.) I find it needs more flour than the recipe calls for. And you can make it by hand (without a stand mixer) pretty easily. The trick in grilling is to put coals only on one side of the grill (or leave one half off, if it's a gas grill) to prevent it from burning.

What one thing should NEVER go on a pizza?

Spaghetti.

I know we've seen that here on Slice before, but have you ever been in a position to try a pasta topped pizza?

I've never had spaghetti on pizza, I answered "spaghetti" because I tried to think of something that would be most ridiculous. We live in a day and age where chocolate and eggs can go on pizza (hopefully, separately). Those things aren't my cup of tea, but I'd try them if the opportunity presented itself. I think I tried a Nutella pizza somewhere sometime. It was good. But, you know, I'm just as good with a crêpe.

So, what is the most unusual pizza you've ever eaten?

I guess I don't take too many risks. Or maybe I haven't been anywhere weird enough. I like toppings to be good quality. I'd rather avoid industrial foods—which is what I suspect most pepperoni is, for instance. Maybe I'm naive about the sourcing of much of the sausage, but I like to think that it could be "homemade" by some local place, and that therefore it's a better choice in terms of meat toppings. For sure, there's more variety in sausage.

But pizza's not the healthiest food, and I'm 44, so I do try to steer clear of extra artery cloggers as much as I can. I love clams. I'd guess that 100 years ago clams on pizza might have sounded unusual. In the last decade or so, I think we've become very flexible in the range of ingredients we find okay for pizza.

What is the farthest you've traveled for pizza?

I've been to Italy a number of times but I go mainly to see friends. Pizza is of course a natural byproduct of those visits.

Here in NYC I will get it in my mind to try pizza from some place I've read about and I might drive for half an hour in a rainstorm, having already eaten lunch, because I have to know what it's like right away.

We look forward to getting the first-hand report on your impulse investigations for sure! What about places in Italy? Any favorites?

I've been to Rome several times because I have friends who live there. Several years ago my friend Alexia brought me to a place on the outskirts—it's called Angelo e Simonetta—where she said I've gotta try it because they win awards in Rome. True enough, there are trophies and certificates scattered around the place. And they make excellent pizza al taglio. I go there every chance I get. (I wrote a piece, which includes video, on pizzacentric.

There was a place on Campo dei Fiori that's not there anymore. It was a little room on the long side of the square. An older woman cut your slices to size (as is customary with pizza al taglio), and their mushroom slice was incredible. Room temperature. But that place isn't there anymore.

I haven't been to Naples, but I plan to go this summer.

What do your family and/or friends think of your pizza madness?

They all like pizza too—except for one friend I have who hates cheese. But we do need a break from pizza now and then. It gets to be a little too much from time to time.

Thanks for sitting in the hot seat, Michael! It's been a real pleasure getting to know a little bit more about you, and we look forward to having more of your pizza insights in the future!

Vegan: Chickpea, Potato, and Spinach Jalfrezi with Cilantro Chutney

2012-02-08T13:45:00Z

[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

Note: For the four weeks between January 14th and February 11th, I'm adopting a completely vegan lifestyle. Every weekday I'll be updating my progress with a diary entry and a recipe. For past posts, check here!

Ask any American what the most popular dish in an Indian restaurant is and you'll likely hear Chicken Tikka Masala—the British-Indian mashup of chicken cooked in a tandoor oven (check out our grilled version) and coated with a sweet, creamy tomato sauce. But hey, guess what! Turns out that Britons have cooled to the dish in pursuit of spicier fare. The number one dish in Britain's over 10,000 Indian restaurants as reported by The Daily Mail? Chicken Jalfrezi.

It's not as popular with the U.S. audience (yet), but it seems that as palates are shifting and folks are becoming more and more accustomed to spicier foods, jalfrezi is getting primed to win over this side of the pond as well. With its origins in China, jalfrezi is more similar in its cooking method to dry-fried Chinese dishes rather than the typical wet Indian curry.

It's made by cooking spicy green chiles (I use Thai bird chiles, you can use serranos or jalapeños if you prefer) along with onion, garlic, ginger, cilantro stems and red peppers. The key to great flavor development is to cook down the aromatics in oil until almost all the moisture is driven from them and they become sticky and begin to brown. To this flavorful base, a few spices are added (hot paprika, cumin, coriander, and turmeric), along with chopped tomatoes.

Chicken is the typical main element of choice, and while many vegetarian versions use cauliflower and chickpeas, I prefer the tender texture of potatoes. I'm always looking for more ways to get leafy greens into my diet, and spinach works very well in this dish. Traditional? Not at all. Delicious? You betcha.

A simple chutney of cilantro, garlic, chile, and lime juice finishes it off. (Also, keep that chutney around—it's great on everything).

Get The Recipe!

Chickpea, Potato, and Spinach Jalfrezi with Cilantro Chutney»

Get the Recipe!

Torrisi Italian Specialties, NYC: 20-Course $125 Tasting Menu That Manages To Be Flat-Out Fun

2012-02-08T13:10:00Z

From Serious Eats: New York

VIEW SLIDESHOW: Torrisi Italian Specialties, NYC: 20-Course $125 Tasting Menu That Manages To Be Flat-Out Fun

[Photos: Jessica Leibowitz]

Fun is usually not the first thing that comes to mind when I think of tasting menus. Expensive? For sure. Exciting? I hope so. Tasty? Better be. Show-offy? Often.

So when I went to Torrisi Italian Specialties for Rich Torrisi's freshly designed $125 twenty-course tasting menu, I couldn't help but wonder: could the chef's characteristic sense of humor make such a marathon meal a fun experience?

I knew if anyone could do it, it would be Torrisi, an insanely talented and impish young chef with serious cooking chops, a strong sense of what works, and a remarkable ability to be able to laugh at himself.

When chefs and friends Rich Torrisi and Mario Carbone (who had both put in serious time at restaurants like Del Posto and Cafe Boulud) opened Torrisi, they were serving the elevated Italian-American food at lunch they are now serving next door at Parm day and night. The chicken parm of our dreams was succeeded by a $45 four course tasting menu for dinner that is still served to most diners at Torrisi, albeit at $60 these days. Those menus gave us an inkling of the restless culinary intellect of Torrisi and Carbone. (If you're ever there when they're offering the pastrami-seasoned short rib you'll see why.) But the new tasting menu was not put together in a night. Rich Torrisi has spent the last thirteen months working closely with chef de cusine Eli Kulp and sous chef Dan Haar developing the tasting menu that you're about to read about. (Carbone is focusing on Parm at the moment, though according to Torrisi, his partner still supplied general direction and inspiration for the new tasting menu.)

Of course, the chefs realized that a $100+ tasting menu had to be served in a different setting than the original Torrisi. Rich Torrisi says:

The way I like to describe the new setting, food, and service is we changed a lot of things but didn't change anything. I believe the spirit and the soul of the restaurant to be a natural evolution of what was. We removed the deli counter and coolers and built a chef counter. We framed the deli menus so everyone will always know that's what it started as. We added a booth where the cash register used to be. In the end its the same number of seats, but everyone has a little more room to breathe. The room was polished and detailed, new lighting, new central air, new seats, new menus, new plateware, new wine list. Basically we sought to upgrade across the board; we also did a lot of kitchen renovation as well.

They also upped the service quotient: "Service was slowed down a bit; we started taking reservations to improve the guest experience; and we added more bodies to make sure things always get done properly." The changes are both subtle and substantial; service has been ratcheted up, but it felt right for the new setting. Our servers were friendly, unpretentious, and knowledgeable; the servers didn't feel the need to hit us over the head with how serious they were.*

*Full disclosure: everyone working at the restaurant knew who we were. But looking around, it seemed as if everyone in the restaurant felt well taken care of. To close the disclosure loop, we paid full price for our meal and received no additional courses or other comps.

Torrisi tips his hand with the first couple of courses, bar snacks that are as whimsical as they are delicious. Torrisi is equal parts culinary historian, anthropologist, and chef, so I wasn't surprised when our server brought us a small bowl of freshly baked soft pretzel nuggets: perfectly baked, yeasty, and easy to dive into. Let the fun and games tasting menu begin. As an infrequent drinker who tends toward the nonalcoholic, I loved "The Americano," a mocktail based on a classic NY drink made with housemade bitters and a twist of orange.

Check out all the dishes in the slideshow »

Torrisi has the intellectual curiousity of a lay NYC food historian, so if he says his little dish of olives stuffed with a soft-poached quail egg is based on a turn of the century dish, who are we to argue. These olives are a little bit of culinary sleight of hand; in fact they are not olives at all, but rather a quail egg that's been dyed and compressed with black olive juice to look like an olive. These are extraordinary bites of food, accented with fresh sage, olive oil, and lemon peel, with the poached quail eggs literally exploding as they hit your palate.

And you don't have to be a smoker to appreciate these sable "cigarettes": gnocco frito with cream cheese, smoked sable, and poppyseed ash is an exquisitely rendered tribute to Jewish appetizing stores like the venerable Russ & Daughters.

A raw Peconic Bay scallop and a small local oyster (both sourced from Widow's Hole) tasted as if they came directly from the sea to the plate, accompanied by one jingle bell pepper and one tabasco pepper from the Brooklyn Grange urban farm in Long Island City. And escargot replace clams in Torrisi's Escargot Casino featuring house-smoked bacon. Another dish as tasty as it is clever.

I never really understood the appeal of the Chinese-American staple chicken and cashews, but the same cannot be said for the version of the dish here, featuring a chicken oyster (one of the two small, round pieces of dark meat near the thigh) that gets poached and fried then rolled in cashews and oyster sauce. And no Chinese restaurant I've ever been to would serve these with original Tiffany oyster forks, and the very juxtaposition of the dish and the forks made me chuckle.

A caviar course? But of course, though this is not your parents' caviar service: Royal Transmontanus caviar from California is served with a wink and a nod and creme fraiche atop tiny bite-size knishes stuffed with a molten potato puree with leeks that tastes like the best potato knish ever created. A bed of toasted kasha is a lovely textural contrast to the the smooth and creamy potato puree. Brighton Beets, "a nod to the people of South Brooklyn," are roasted beets, crunchy brussel sprout leaves, pickled apples, dill pollen, and a homemade cream made with pumpernickel bread. It's informed by tradition yet thoroughly contemporary, and so evocative of a New York neighborhood Torrisi's tasting menu might as well come with a subway map so that diners can get their bearings.

Here's a dish to convert any and all mackerel haters. Clean, fresh-tasting mackerel cooked in crazy water, tomato broth made with summer tomatoes that have been preserved, served with seabean ash. The amazing broth tastes like the best gazpacho you've never had.

Classically trained chefs love to play with foie gras, and Torrisi is no exception. Here the foie is poached in butter with a classic Newberg sauce (associated with an old-fashioned lobster dish that bears its name), made with cream, brandy, cayenne, and mushrooms. It's served with cured brandy maple syrup gelee and a little fresh tarragon, and comes with buttery toasted brioche. Spread the insanely smooth, rich and delicious foie on this brioche, and you will know things you didn't know before.

The foie arrives simultaneously with a Delmonico steak tartare, topped with the cutest mini-cornichon slices you've ever seen and an intact egg yolk filled with luscious bearnaise sauce. You will be tempted to just break the yolk, spread it over the tartare and transport it immediately to your mouth. That definitely works, but you can exponentially increase the pleasure you derive from the dish by spreading the tartare on the thrice cooked thick potato chips dredged in capers and salt that accompany the dish. My grandmother made these kinds of thick potato chips, but she never dredged them in capers. Both these dishes are served on original Delmonico's plates (Delmonico's was NYC and America's first fine dining restaurant that opened in 1837) that Torrisi bought six of at auction.

Ricotta gnocchi is the only thing on the menu that is also served on the $60 menu, but here it gets a more whimsical treatment, served with edible "leather" straps, though Torrisi says the straps that are served on the side are a little too tough to eat. (The leather is ground instant coffee, caramel, pectin, gellan, and tobacco water.) Cute? For sure. Memorably delicious, I'm not convinced.

Torrisi's dad is a court reporter in downtown New York courts, so it was at lunches with his Dad that he fell in love with Chinese food. The most Chinese of the dishes, Cantonese lobster, is served with lobster broth, chive blossoms, ginger, scallion, pork, fermented black beans, egg, bread crumbs all in a decidedly non-Asian Carbonara-like sauce. A little too busy and a little too cross-cultural for my taste, but indisputably delicious.

Back to the hood with Sunday supper, a beef ragu made with meat that's been dry-aged for 24 to 30 days, served with beef "ricotta" (actually rendered beef fat, with tapioca maltodextrin helping it achieve that texture) and homemade semolina twist bread. No utensils necessary, you use the bread to scoop and eat. They do offer you tiny silver spoons to make sure you get every morsel of the ragu.

Tomahawk cut of lamb (developed by Pat LaFreida) has a Manischewitz glaze, Jerusalem artichokes, macerated Concord grapes that taste like popsicles, fried mint and celery. It's presented quite ceremoniously with a smile before being sent back to the kitchen to be carved. It is also served with deer antler knives. The loin is very lamb-y; the other meat is deckle meat, closest to the rib bone, it tastes beef-like. Taken as a whole, this dish is big fun with big flavors that make perfect sense.

And bitter greens served with a bitters vinaigrette is a nifty palate-cleanser, its distinct bitterness preparing your palate for the array of sweets coming your way.

Check out all the dishes in the slideshow »

Most decidedly not your childhood bakery's cheese danish, this version is Torrisi's riff on the cheese course. A buttery, flaky housemade danish comes studded with crushed bits of black walnut, and then topped with preserved Brooklyn figs and cheese from upstate. The danish would merely be funny and diverting if it wasn't so delicious and powerful. Italian Ice is another old Torrisi touch, a paper cup full of Granny Smith ice for palate cleanser number two.

A three component dessert: a maraschino float made with housemade maraschino cherry soda sucked up with an edible evaporated milk straw is clever and funny, but doesn't quite deliver what the visual suggests; there's a funny and resonant malted root beer candy bar that has a distinct malty taste with a pleasant root beer finish; and sour cherry vanilla ice cream with pretzel breadcrumbs that was so good I wished I could have taken a pint home.

Finally, the cookie-pastry plate features a combination of old Torrisi favorites and some new ones developed for the tasting menu: the winners for me were the coffee cake with a layer of vincotto fig jam, the fresh ricotta mini-cannoli with orange zest and fennel, and (taking home the gold medal) the salt water taffy with bonito flake and dried seaweed. Sounds weird, but when you bite into it, it makes perfect sense. In general the sweets don't rise up to the level of the rest of the meal, but I must admit I will never forget the saltwater taffy.

Torrisi, his talented crew, and his surprisingly polished servers succeed in creating a different kind of tasting menu experience. They quietly but resoundingly showed us their chops in clever but convincing ways, while keeping a sense of humor about every bite. The ability to laugh at themselves, and share the joke with diners, is a rare one. Taste buds and humor have rarely been so closely aligned.

Check out all the dishes in the slideshow »

Curious to try yourself? Torrisi tells us that to make a reservation for the tasting, you have to call our receptionist from 9-5 Mon-Fri and book a table; they take bookings 30 days out. They serve anywhere from 8-14 people a night this menu.

Torrisi Italian Specialties

250 Mulberry Street, New York NY 10012 (map)
torrisinyc.com

For the Love of Coffee: 5 Great Valentine's Day Gifts

2012-02-08T12:15:00Z

From Drinks

[Photos: Liz Clayton]

There's no more romantic present than something shared—unless it's a cup of wonderful coffee brought to you in bed, that is. Assuming your favorite person already has that base covered, here are a few loving suggestions for the coffee person in your life.

Panama Finca La Valentina by PT's Coffee Roasting Co.

What says "I Love You" better than a rare, romantically named microlot of one of the world's most esteemed coffees? This crop of Panama Geisha beans, roasted by Kansas roasters PT's, hails from one of Panama's richest coffee-growing regions, the mile-high mountainsides of Boquete. Described with hints of white grape and honeysuckle with a high acidity, the small quantities and high quality of this coffee may result in a little bit of sticker shock (how much per ounce?)—but that just means you'll savor it together that much more lovingly.

Home Coffee Brewing Classes

We've finally acknowledged that manual coffee brewing at home is the proverbial jam, and most major cities have coffee companies willing to help you hone your skills. Give a romantic gift that keeps on giving (back to you) by sending your sweetie to a home brewing workshop, then demanding he or she make the coffee for as long as you can get away with it.

Shops like New York's Joe offer affordably priced pourover coffee workshops, as well as more advanced espresso and milk training, as do national companies like Counter Culture Coffee, and look for occasional classes at your local independent, too, like San Francisco Four Barrel Coffee. Be warned that your partner's new expertise may win them a few arguments about your pouring technique.

A Coffee-Themed Dinner

Whether or not you're near enough to Los Angeles to reserve a spot at a Valentine's Day dinner in Intelligentsia's Pasadena café, you can still take caffeinated inspiration if you plan to cook at home. From basic mole sauces to complex chilis to after-dinner liqueurs, you can move beyond the Valentine's cliché of plain-ol'-chocolate and keep your lover up all night. Due to sleeplessness, I mean.

Something for the Coffee Table

Are you and your beloved still brewing coffee at home in a crummy automatic drip machine? There are few things that express coffee's romance more visually than the iconic Chemex. The larger sizes (ranging from six cups and upwards) are perfect for brewing a couple of cups of clean, delicious coffee, morning through night. The six-cup one-piece Chemex with built-in handle makes pouring easy and...sure, we'll say it—kinda sexy.

Something for the Bedside Table

For many of us, our true love is coffee, but few have ever written such a love letter as Alon Halevy's new book, The Infinite Emotions of Coffee. Halevy, a senior research scientist at Google, has traveled the world romancing coffee while following the thread that connects the beguiling bean worldwide. Infinite Emotions documents its social implications through stories and pictures, told from a professionally-curious-person's angle, and a coffee lover's inspired perspective.

About the author: Liz Clayton drinks, photographs and writes about coffee and tea all over the world, though she pretends to live in Brooklyn, New York. She is currently compiling photographs of the best coffee in the world to be published by Presspop later this year.

The Vegan Experience, Day 24: Miracle Ingredients and New Pantry Staples

2012-02-07T23:30:00Z

[Illustration: Robyn Lee]

Days 24: Monday

Breakfast: Toast with Flax Seeds, Tomato Sauce, and Baked Beans
Lunch: Chickpea, Potato, and Spinach Jalfrezi (recipe coming), basmati rice, a clementine.
Dinner: Beet and Citrus Salad with Pinenut Vinaigrette, Polenta (flavored with miso), with olive-y, caper-y, pickle-y tomato sauce (kinda like a puttanesca).

As an omnivore, I always had a few staples on hand in my pantry that I used primarily as flavor enhancing ingredients. A range of fridge-stable stuff of which I could add a dollop or two to any dish to instantly amp it up.

It ranged from things like various compound butters kept in the freezer to blocks of stock or homemade demi-glace for glazing. Guanciale or chorizo or duck fat. Really great Parmigiano-Reggiano or frozen cured foie for grating. Anchovies or fish sauce.

You get the idea—simple, intensely flavored things in a wide variety of genres—enough of them that no matter what I was cooking, I could find something that would complement the flavor profile.

As a vegan of three and a half weeks, I've discovered that there's a whole new set of these ingredients,and I've gradually been honing my pantry, stocking up on my favorite ones so that eventually, I hope to have just as large a selection to choose from. Here are a few of my go-to's thus far:

Basic Store-Bought Sauces

Soy sauce and marmite are two of my favorite seasonings for the massive amount of umami-factor they can bring to soups, stews, and sauces, but I've recently been turning to Maggi Seasoning as well. Like marmite, it's main flavor comes from glutamate-rich yeast extract and salt, and it brings a nice savoriness to any dish while still blending into the background. It's the classic sauce for a Vietnamese sandwich.

Miso paste is another great savoriness-inducer. Again, soups and stews will benefit from its presence, but so will things like marinades, stir fry sauces, and (as I recently found out), polenta or risotto.

I keep a variety of East Asian sauces on hand to use as a drizzle over many dishes. My go-to's are Lee Kum Kee brand's Chiu Chow Chili Oil (sweet, hot, and oily), a jar of "Street Vendor's Noodle Sauce" I found at the local Chinese grocer (it's also hot and oily with a bit of Sichuan peppercorn in it), fermented chili bean paste, a couple types of ready-to-use Thai curry paste (I'll make it homemade for special occasions), and Huy Fung brand's Sambal Oelek (much better than their Sriracha), amongst others.

There's a big jar of Frank's RedHot in my fridge, though if our recent taste test has anything to say about it, I should probably keep a bottle of Tabasco Buffalo Style in there as well (I keep a small bottle of regular tabasco). I recently got a bottle of Bone Lee's Gourmet Hot Sauce which is somewhat like Frank's in heat and consistency, but with a bit more going on in the background. Good stuff.

My consumption of good extra virgin olive oil has gone up about fourfold since going vegan, as has my appreciation of the different varieties available. I have a can of walnut oil now that I use in various dressing or to drizzle on soup, as well as a jar of sesame oil and argan oil.

Acidity is something folks often forget about when seasoning food, but you won't if you keep a supply of various vinegars. Everybody loves good balsamic, but I usually end up reaching for the Chinese Chinkiang black vinegar or the Japanese brown rice vinegar (lemons and limes are good to have on hand as well).

Some Easy Homemade Sauces

Vinaigrettes are an absolute essential in a veg-heavy kitchen. With no pre-made vinaigrette, I find it tough to get myself to eat fresh green leafy vegetables (nutritional powerhouses that are the backbone of a good vegan diet). They're just so much work, measuring, whisking, tossing, seasoning, etc. On the other hand, with a vinaigrette or two on hand, putting a salad on the table is as simple as tossing and serving. If you've got some squeeze bottles with the recipes written on the side (check out the method here), then your life is even easier. I always have soy vinaiagrette on hand, along with one or two others.

Roasted Chili Oil has always been a staple in my pantry, even when I ate meat. Roasting dried chiles before steeping them in oil adds smokiness and complexity to the heat. To make it, I toast a large handful of small dried red Chinese chiles in a hot wok until fragrant, then pour oil over them and heat it until they start to bubble. Transfer the mixture to a sealed container, refrigerate it, and let it steep for at least a few days before using. As the levels drop down, you can simply add more roasted chilis and oil, using the same jar indefinitely. I've had mine now for several years and it's still going strong.

Mayonnaise is an amazing sauce, able to take on the flavor of anything it comes in contact with and spread it in a smooth, fatty wash over your tongue. Miso, hot sauce, coffee, chipotle peppers, you name it, it'll go well in mayo. Bad news is that the commercial stuff is not vegan. Good news is you can easily make it yourself at home.

Tare is a sweet Japanese sauce that's the backbone of many dishes like yakitori (grilled chicken), unagi (broiled eel), and teriyaki. The simplest is made by simmering equal parts by volume of sake, mirin, shoyu, and sugar (say, a cup of each) until a thick, glossy consistency is reached, but I like to add a bit of flavor by tossing in some carrot chunks, scallions, garlic, onions, and a tiny bit of ginger. Drizzle over roasted or grilled vegetables.

Cilantro Chutney: A simple sauce made from pureeing a couple handfuls of cilantro leaves with lime juice, a clove of garlic, plenty of salt, and enough water to get it going, it's best on its first day, but I add enough salt to give it at least a couple week's worth of life. It's equally at home on Mexican dishes (check out the recipe here), or drizzled over curries. I like stirring some into my beans, rice, or soup.

And Beyond!

This is obviously just a start and doesn't touch on many of the other greats. Tahini, gochujang, spice mixes like five spice or za'atar, to name a few.

Point is, if you want to lead an interesting life in the kitchen, whether you're a vegan, an omnivore, or a meativore, you've got to stop living recipe-to-recipe and instead invest a bit of time and effort into building out your pantry. In the end it'll not only save you time in the kitchen, but it'll make all of your food taste better as well.

Los Angeles: El Taurino's Salsa Rojo, Better Than the Actual Tacos

2012-02-07T22:45:00Z

Just around the corner from the King Taco outpost on Pico Boulevard sits El Taurino, an expansive corner taqueria that shares more than just a heritage with its nearby neighbor. Turns out, El Taurino is owned by the same folks as King Taco, and it shows.

At first glance, El Taurino has a leg or two up on its more well-known sibling taqueria. The interior is large and inviting, with multiple ordering stations, vibrantly painted walls, and a jungle of fake plants. The staff is friendly and the separate dining rooms at least give the impression of a fun, tasty time for all. The same can't be said for the tacos.

Chicken and carnitas.

At $1.25 each, most of the tacos arrived on lukewarm tortillas in a state of undress that would make the nearby mural of the Virgin Mary blush. The carne asada had long ago been let out to play, only to dry out in large, chewy chunks. Similarly, the carnitas may have been left out in the sun to fry. Juicy morsels with crisp edges were a rare porky find, but the majority of the taco quickly veered into chicharron territory.

Al pastor.

Only the al pastor offered any real remedy to the taco malaise. Well-seasoned with deep chili flavors and portioned off in large chunks, the pastor must have sucked up what little moisture the kitchen had laying around. Without the crunchy the bites of a true trompo, the pastor made the best out of a bad situation on the dense commercial tortillas.

Al pastor, carne asada, and cabeza.

El Taurino gets a lot of love online, although from the prepared meats it was hard to imagine why. Then, with a splash of bright red salsa roja, all became clear. The thin, vibrant red pools are deceptively fiery, giving even the most ardent hot sauce fan a run for the napkins to dab off the sweat beads.

If El Taurino were a monster movie, Tokyo would be the tacos and the salsa would be Godzilla. The movies aren't about Tokyo struggling to save itself against disaster. The movies are about that fiery, show-stopping Godzilla, overpowering everything in his path in true cinematic monster fashion. And everyone loves him for it.

Dabbed with pungent chunks of white onion or refreshing cilantro, these tacos are still largely a snoozefest. But El Taurino's masterful salsa rosa puts butts in seats. Late-night club kids, hard-working Pico Union locals and a few old-timers looking to recreate a past meal all cram in as the night wanes on, forming lines toward those inconspicuous registers. Here, the monster reigns supreme.

El Taurino

2306 W 11th St, Los Angeles CA 90006 (map)

Gluten-Free Tuesday: Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Bars

2012-02-07T22:00:00Z

[Photographs: Elizabeth Barbone]

Nothing makes me appreciate peanut butter more than baking with it. Maybe it's because most of my peanut butter consumption is done on the run. When I'm running late in the morning, which is often, I spread a generous blob on a rice cake and call it breakfast.

Baking with peanut butter forces me to slow down enough to enjoy its light, nutty flavor. In this recipe, brown rice flour subtly enhances that nuttiness and dark brown sugar brings out the natural sweetness of the peanuts.

Before baking, I throw a handful of chocolate chips into the batter. Not so many that the chocolate overwhelms the peanut butter but enough so that a few chips dot each bar. But why stop at chocolate chips? Try adding a sprinkle of sweetened or toasted coconut, or chopped peanuts for an extra-peanuty bar.

And if you are peanut-free, you too can make this recipe! Simply swap the peanut butter with peanut-free spread, like pea-butter or sun butter.

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Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Bars »

About the author: Elizabeth Barbone of GlutenFreeBaking.com joins us every Tuesday with a new gluten-free recipe. She is the author of Easy Gluten-Free Baking. and the upcoming "How to Cook Gluten-Free".

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Video: A Community Garden for Refugees in Atlanta

2012-02-07T21:15:00Z

When traveling through Atlanta, The Perennial Plate stopped at a very diverse community garden called the Jolly Avenue Community Garden run by the Friends of Refugees. The collaborative garden allows refugee members to grow their own food and till their own land. You'll find vegetable patches of Iraqis, Burmese, Nepalese and many others, including a lovely Bhutanese family that shared their story and a home cooked meal with us.

For more videos and recipes visit www.theperennialplate.com

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Dallas: Jake's Hamburgers Deserves its Stellar Reputation

2012-02-07T21:00:00Z

From A Hamburger Today

[Photographs: Ewan Macdonald]

Jake's Hamburgers

5505 Belt Line Road, Dallas TX 75254 (map); 972-503-5253; 7 locations listed at jakesburgers.net
Cooking Method: Grilled
Short Order: Unlike many older joints, Jake's hasn't been overtaken by the recent burger revolution—its greasy deliciousness is as appealing as ever
Want Fries with That? Get the crispier, battered Jumpin' Jake Fries over the regular ones
Price: Jake's Special burger, $5.99; battered fries, $1.99; jalapeño bottle cap burger, $6.79; tater tots, $1.79; root beer, $2.50
Notes: Full bar. Breakfast available.

By north Texas standards, Jake's Hamburgers is positively ancient at over 25 years old. This local favorite predates the recent drive towards gourmet burgers with artisan toppings—it's very much a product of the fast-food age, albeit with some Texas quirks, and the menu reflects this. However, Jake's can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the best burger places in town.

We visited one of its newer locations, just off the tollway in Addison, to find it relatively quiet for a Friday evening. That's as much to do with the restaurant's design as anything else—spacious and bright, there are two bars and three seating areas, all distinct from each other but interconnected. For a joint that has to serve local old-timers their weekend beer fix as well as young families and out-of-town businesspeople, it does a great job of making everyone feel welcome in their own space.

The same goes for the waitstaff, who were both friendly and informative. Not that I needed much information: I knew what I wanted, which was the Jake's Special. That's the fairly classic fast-food formula of two quarter-pound patties of beef that's ground fresh daily, Thousand Island, cheese, lettuce, and tomato. No onion, no pickle—unusual for Texas, but there you are.

The first thing you notice about a Jake's burger is the bun. The puffy crown is absolutely coated in poppy seeds. The fruits of the papaver somniferum have never been so plentifully found outside an Afghan opium field, but arrayed over the puffy crown of a substantial, eggy bun, they're not unwelcome.

But the real star of the show is inside the bread. There are much better patties in Dallas, but the alchemy of Jake's burger makes it a force to be reckoned with. Or maybe by "alchemy" I just mean "grease." Either way, the two salt-and-peppered patties are so loosely packed and juicy that two in essence become one, melded by a yellow river of cheese. The cool sauce and lettuce and the juicy tomato set things off nicely, and there's a hint of crust on the burger to give a salty-Maillard fix at the end of the bite. The beef flavor isn't dominant, but there's enough of it that you know you're eating a damn fine burger. As with the best of fast food burgers, the Jake's Special is far more than the sum of its parts, and I was extremely glad that I'd gone for their specialty rather than trying one of their custom burgers.

Still, the amount of grease should not be underestimated. Even my artery-hardening youth in Scotland hadn't quite steeled me for this. It was thus that the Jumpin' Jake Fries, or battered fries, seemed like a healthful side option by comparison. These fresh, hand-cut fries were deftly seasoned, uber-crispy, and served hot and plentiful.

From my wife's side of the table, the skin-on regular fries, despite also being fresh and hand-cut, were nothing to write home about, although her turkey burger was itself delicious and—notice the pattern—liberally fattened so as to avoid even the slightest suspicion of dryness or mealiness.

It's for my own safety that I live quite a ways down the road from Jake's; were I close enough, I'd no doubt partake of the ultra-fatty but superlative burger far more often than is advisable. Those who live nearby could be forgiven for eating at Jake's regularly. It's very reasonably priced, and with bar seating and friendly staff it's clear that a lot of the clientele were regulars from the neighborhood. Jake's has worked hard to make both the ambience and the product worthy of such loyalty.

About the author: Ewan Macdonald is a soccer writer who will probably die with a hamburger in his mouth. Born in Scotland, he was lured to the Dallas area by cheap beef and a love of 100 degree evenings with 60% relative humidity.

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Dinner Tonight: Creamy Brussels Sprouts Gratin with Blue Cheese

2012-02-07T20:30:00Z

When cooking brussels sprouts, my go-to method is caramelizing them as much as possible. Often, I just start them cut-side down in a cast iron skillet until golden, then finish them in a blazing hot oven with a splash of balsamic vinegar. But that's not the only way to dress them up.

Who can argue with Nigel Slater's brussels sprouts technique, especially when he suggests a recipe as decadent as this one? Robed in a sauce of cream, blue cheese, and whole grain mustard, they're cooked down gratin-style under a blanket of Parmesan. It's the richest thing I've eaten in ages, and it took all my will to not slurp it up with a straw.

To make this into a main dish, toss it with cooked pasta.

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Creamy Brussels Sprouts Gratin with Blue Cheese »

About the author: Blake Royer is a food writer, photographer, and filmmaker based in Chicago; he has been writing for Serious Eats since 2007. You can follow him on Twitter @blakeroyer.

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Bottom Shelf Beer: Tyskie and Zywiec Polish Lagers

2012-02-07T20:15:00Z

From Drinks

I don't like to brag here, but I need you to know that last Thursday I pulled off the underprecedented quadfecta of working a full six hours, breaking a recreational sweat, making a precisely gravied shepherd's pie, and going to see live music. I'm usually more of a two-task-max kind of guy, and given that "play Scrabble on my phone until noon" is the one constant on my task calendar, it's rare that I manage to make money and dinner on the same day, let alone go to the gym and listen to a crazy New Orleans trombone guy yell about melting my ass like butter until midnight.

Most of my friends in Boston are obsessed with New Orleans; I like the idea of New Orleans but I've never been, and since Bottom Shelf research coordinator Emily doesn't like humidity or watching me drink in the street before lunch, I'm not sure it's in my immediate future. But like I said, I'm quite supportive of the concept of a place like New Orleans existing, so when my friends' favorite New Orleans band swung through town I was happy to tag along, even though I tend to take my music a little less jammy and a lot less weeknighty.

The show was a great success because I liked the music more than I thought I would and also liked seeing so many of my friends gathered in one place on a day of such great personal triumph. I was happily high on pie and life when my friend Leah came over and said, "Congratulations!" so even though I was surprised news of dinner and the gym had already reached her, I just chalked it up to the wonders of modern technology and said, "Why thank you! Yes, I was tempted to do laundry today too, but I'd already accomplished so much that I thought it would be tacky to keep outperforming the rest of society by such a wide margin."

It turns out she was congratulating me on my recent engagement; I tried to change the subject, because I pride myself on being a thoughtful friend and oh my god how embarrassing for her to be that far off topic. But once the engagement cat was out of the bag again, the rest of my friends seized on the opportunity to demand a bachelor party in New Orleans.

There was a pretty good earthquake somewhere in the middle of the East coast last fall, and enough of it leaked into Boston to cause office buildings to wobble for a couple of seconds. It was freaky and awesome and then it was over and we all got on with our lives, which means we got on with the business of using every unusual event as an excuse to further our self-indulgence agenda.

The people who like to leave work early declared the building unsafe, the people who like to drink at inappropriate times ran out for midday whiskey to steady the nerves, the people who like to brag to the Internet wrote columns about withstanding the earth's attempt to swallow them whole. And a lot of my friends decided it was a sign that they were overdue for a trip to New Orleans on account of hey, all-day happy hour and no shaking buildings. So naturally my upcoming wedding means the same thing.

And I'm happy to provide them with a cover story for their next trip, but that doesn't mean I'm going to join them. I understand the concept of a bachelor party, but I don't think it's appropriate in my case. I have absolutely no reservations about leaving bachelorhood behind; I have led a pretty easy and Will-centric life, and it could be fairly argued that the last 12 years have been one long bachelor party. I'm done getting on airplanes without Emily.

The next trip I'm going to take will be my honeymoon, which it turns out is the most fun part of a wedding to plan because it's the part no one else gives a shit about, so you get to start the planning from scratch without worrying about friends and family and why it's so damn important that Grandma have a chair to sit in and silverware to eat with.

We want to go someplace neither of us has ever been, which leaves just about everyplace but New York and Maine and the Natick Mall. I've always been fascinated by Eastern and Central Europe, and one of the local liquor stores carries a wide range of beers from former Soviet satellites, so it only makes sense that we pick a honeymoon destination based on its beer.

We started our research with two of Poland's most prominent lagers, Zywiec and Tyskie. The were both about $2.50 per 500 mL bottle, which suggests a very favorable price on tap in Warsaw. Since they were cheap beers with cool names from a country I was looking for an excuse to visit, I went into the tasting with pretty low quality demands. If either of these beers was good enough to stomach for a long celebratory weekend, Poland would take an early lead in the honeymoon sweepstakes.

They're both fine, and maybe even better than fine on a hot enough afternoon. Zywiec has a quick, aggressive head that dissipates in a hurry and a nose dominated by malt with a little bit of grass and spice. The taste is less interesting than the smell, with a typically sweet-and-sour Euro lager profile but no hint of skunk and a very light finish.

I preferred Tyskie, which had a better head and a cleaner, drier flavor that was admittedly reminiscent of boring American macrolagers, but in a more interesting and rewarding way. My notes say it was "refreshing," which is an ominous sign, because isn't that a throwaway adjective people use when searching for an unwarranted compliment? Is it really only "more interesting and rewarding" than Miller High Life because it's cheap and Polish? Sure, maybe, but it made me happy all the same.

About the author: Will Gordon loves life and hates mayonnaise. You can eat and drink with him in Boston or follow him on twitter @WillGordonAgain.

The Nasty Bits: Pig Parts Salad

2012-02-07T19:15:00Z

[Photographs: Chichi Wang]

You may think you don't want simmered pork parts in your salad, but think again. This preparation has become a favorite of mine, a clever way to deal with the random meat parts that may be sitting in your freezer. Or, maybe you have a dish that calls for a gelatinous stock you'd like to make with a trotter, but you don't know what to do with the trotter afterwards. Pig parts, served at room temperature, dressed in a basic vinaigrette of olive oil, vinegar, and mustard, is the way to go.

This salad tastes even better on the second and third days. The vinaigrette will have further penetrated the rich gelatinous porky parts. A sharp vinaigrette made with a strong vinegar like red wine works best, along vegetables and additions that are hardy enough to withstand the hit of pork. I used butter beans, celery, radicchio, artichokes, and olives, but you could also use other chicories like Belgian endive and escarole, or frisée, and marinated mushrooms or roasted red peppers. The dish is such a textural pleasure—you get the acidity of the vegetables and the brininess of the olives, the starchiness of the beans, and every once in a while, a very satisfying bite of pork further enriched by the olive oil in the dressing.

As for what cuts of pork to use, a pig's foot is a very giving thing, indeed. You can eat everything off the bone—tendons, skin, and flesh. The bone itself, if you get your butcher to halve the trotter for you, contains a bit of marrow that will further enrich your stock.

And you can really milk those feet for all they're worth by deboning the skin and flesh after two or so hours of stewing, then tossing the bones and cartilage back into the pot and ramping up the heat. Boiling the heck out of those bones and whatever other fatty porky bits you'd rather not eat salad-style, will yield a rich, fat-emulsified stock that you can put to good use later on. (For how to boiled pork stock, see here.)

In addition to trotters, toss into the pot other parts that you need to use up. This time around I just happened to have on hand a few end pieces of smoked ham and trimmings from a pork shoulder. Other parts that would be wonderful served salad style: ears, snouts, hocks, and tongue. The salad is best, in fact, when you have a variety of parts you can add to the pot, for then each bite of meat is a surprise and will be different from the next. Just what exactly are you eating? A trotter? An ear? A tongue! There's only one way to find out.

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Pig Parts Salad with Radicchio and Olives »

About the author: Chichi Wang took her degree in philosophy, but decided that writing about food would be much more fun than writing about Plato. She firmly believes in all things offal, the importance of reading great books, and the necessity of three-hour meals. If she were ever to get a tattoo, it would say "Fat is flavor." Visit her blog, The Offal Cook.

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