Best Dishes of 2013

Not to miss out on the end-of-year listacles, a look back at my most memorable dishes from this year.  Note these are all restaurant creations.  If I had to include some of the wonderful home cooked meals I’ve been served and cooked myself, it would be a much longer list as the year was also full of great home cooking.  In no particular order….

17 dishes at Hotel the Village: On my second visit to Sri Lanka I continued to be impressed with the vast array of cooking techniques and flavor combinations that could be presented in a single meal.  However, nowhere have I seen more diverse, complex, vegetable-driven preparations than at Hotel The Village restaurant in Girithali, Sri Lanka.  We were awestruck by the bounty when we weren’t busy eating from the 15 different bowls of curried vegetables, dal, pork, lake fish, and sambal presented with two different kinds of rice. With juice, this feast came to barely USD$10 per person.

Cacio e Pepe at Lupa:  Mario Batali’s Lupa is no secret, and for anyone who has eaten there, neither is the Cacio e Pepe.  While it may have taken me a while to get on board with this program, I made up for it plenty going back four times this year.  When you find a dish that is “the best”, it is hard to keep away when the craving strikes for the perfect cheese and black pepper slicked pasta.

Rabbit in Salt Bowl with Courgettes at Duck Soup: Since stumbling upon this restaurant suggestion on a London food blog a few summers back, this has quickly become a go-to restaurant for John and me.  The small plates change constantly and we have been consistently impressed with their range. This Labor Day weekend it was a braised rabbit dish with baby courgettes served in a Himalayan salt bowl that captured my taste buds’ memory and insured that as long as Duck Soup is open, we will keep coming back.

Ddukbokki at Hanjan:  I love Korean, in no small way because I’m obsessed with pickled food and kimchi is perhaps the pinnacle of pickling technique.  Hanjan, a modern Korean newcomer to the Flatiron district makes kimchi all right, and it is a must every time I eat there.  Along with the kimchi, the Pork Fat “Ddukbokki” is now on my “must order” list.  Chewy rice cakes and briny sliced fish cakes mingle in a slick of spicy pork fat.  There is nothing quite like it.

Lamb Neck at Calliope:  I should be embarrassed how often I eat lunch at Calliope.  I can’t help it.  Eric Korsh and Ginevra Iverson might be making classic (and updated classic) French food better than the French in this Francophile city.  But if you go once, go for dinner, as that is where their food truly shines.  There is always a game bird on the menu, and it is always delicious.  Some nights I have been enchanted by specials such as a deconstructed cassoulet made with confit veal breast.  But make sure someone at your table orders the hot and sour braised lamb neck, served off the bone with pillow-light mascarpone agnolotti.  That is the stuff dreams are made of.  

Ceviche at El Camello Jr.: When two singing taxi drivers tell you that this is their go-to place for fish whenever they shuttle tourists the hour and a half drive from the Cancun airport to Tulum, you know the food has got to be good.  El Camello Jr. is owned by fisherman and attached to a seafood market.  The fish is so fresh you can watch the cooks cleaning the catch from an open window.  The “chico” fish ceviche was so not-small and so delicious that could have been a meal for two on its own, with a side of excellent chips and a cerveza, of course.

Adobada at Los Tacos No. 1: Los Tacos No. 1 changed my life.  This is not hyperbole.  As a native Californian, homesickness to me tastes like tacos.  I mean real tacos.  Not the fancy versions popping up all over New York from star chefs trying to reinvent the wheel.  I mean real, honest, homemade tortilla, fresh salsa, meat-on-a-spit tacos.  Then three entrepreneurs schooled in Tijuana-style tacos brought Los Tacos No. 1 to Chelsea Market, practically at my doorstep.  Now when I get the craving, a taste of home (washed down with an ice cold Jamaica) is only a hop, skip, and jump away.

Tri-color Pappardelle with Matsutake Mushrooms at Piora: I despise the word “fusion”, but even then, I have been hard pressed to come up with a word to summarize the style at West Village newcomer Piora.  So I won’t.  It is enough to know the food is wonderful without trying to hard (even if the service does try a bit too hard on occasion).  A special one night last fall of tri-color homemade pappardelle with Matsutake mushrooms, a varietal prized in Japan, seemed a classic mash-up of Asian and Italian sensibilities.  Whatever you want to call the cuisine at Piora, all you need to know is that it is delicious.

Green Curry ramen at Bassanova: Who can chose a best ramen in New York City?  We are spoiled for choice.  And though everyone seems to have a personal favorite for the classic variety (mine is Hide-Chan’s spicy ramen) we are just now seeing the innovation that has been happening in Japan migrate to our shores.  A great early example is the fabled Green Curry Ramen from Bassanova, originally of Japan and now in New York’s Chinatown.  Push the weirdly placed mesclun greens to the side and dip your chopsticks into the beautiful, oversized bowl to fish out springy noodles bathing in a rich, fragrant green curry.  It will make you wonder why no one on this side of the Pacific had thought of that already.

Afternoon Snack at Hasaki: The name “Afternoon Snack” was clearly designed to make one laugh.  This is “snack” fit for a giant, or perhaps an Olympic sprinter.  But for us mere mortals who get hungry at lunch time, this spread is a sampler of just about everything wonderful this authentic East Village Japanese restaurant serves: green salad, red miso soup, tempura vegetables and shrimp, grilled miso salmon, two seaweed salads, and the chef’s sushi and roll selection of the day.  At $18, it might just be the best value “snack” in New York City.

Wishing you food adventures and happy eating in 2014!

Note:  In my capacity as a wine salesperson I do business with Piora, Hanjan, and Calliope.  However, I paid for all food mentioned here and would have happily eaten at any of these restaurants regardless of my business relationship.

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

DIY Adobo Sauce

Tacos al Pastor with Adobo Sauce

Have you ever bought chipotles in a can and wondered, “What is that addictive sauce is the chilies are swimming in?”  The answer: adobo.

Got at thing for tacos al pastor?  Those delicious bits of pork on corn tortillas are the star of Mexico City street food.  What makes these pork tacos a deep shade of crimson and so darned tasty?  That’s right, adobo. 

Adobo is a rich reduction of blackened guajillo chilies, garlic, and spices, including a substantial amount of cinnamon.  As a marinade, the chili puree is mixed with vinegar or citrus juice imparting layer upon layer of flavor to whatever meat it touches. 

With a hankering for tacos eating away at my gut last weekend, I thought rather than try and salvage the sauce from several cans of chipotles, I’d try my hand at homemade adobo.  Adapting from a recipe in Richard Sandoval’s book Modern Mexican Flavors, I was able create a good imitation of the Mexican marinade I’ve loved for years.

This is not a lazy person’s sauce.  The process takes a measure of time, a good deal of attention, and a hefty helping of patience.  But give yourself the space to assemble a large batch of adobo and you will reap the rewards for weeks- the sauce keeps well in an airtight container in the fridge. 

I smothered a 3 pound pork loin in a thick coating of the finished sauce and let it sit for a good 45 minutes before roasting.  After the roast was cooked, I sliced, diced, and reheated the meat in a bit of the reserved sauce before filling my tacos.  Topped with diced onion, cilantro, and a squeeze of lime I was one satisfied taco eater.

Having mastered the basic pork in adobo taco, I might next try the sauce as a marinade for grilled chicken or stir a tablespoon in with ground turkey for a kicked up burger.  With this recipe for adobo under my belt I guess I can quit scraping the cans of chipotles just to get at the sauce. 

Basic Adobo Sauce

Time: 30 minutes

Yield: 2 cups

3 T. vegetable oil

½ medium white onion

2 garlic cloves

1 tsp. black peppercorns

6 large cinnamon sticks

½ tsp. cumin seeds

4 cloves

10 dried guajillo chilies

4 cups water

½ cup orange juice

¼ cup red wine vinegar

1 T. honey

½ tsp. Kosher salt

Heat vegetable oil in a large sauté pan over medium high heat.  Roughly chop the onion and peel the garlic.  Break the cinnamon sticks in half.  Add onion, garlic, peppercorns, cinnamon, cumin seeds and cloves to the hot pan.  Cook for about 5 minutes, tossing the ingredients until the onion and garlic blister slightly but don’t burn.  Meanwhile, remove the stems, seeds and membranes from the chilies.  Cut each into chili in 2-3 pieces.  Add chilies to the pan and cook for a few minutes more until the chilies are toasted.  Add the water and simmer until the liquid is reduced by half.  Add a bit of the chili mixture at a time to a blender.  Pulse with each addition until mixture is smooth, scraping down the sides of the blender frequently.  If it is too thick, add a bit more water but not too much, mixture should be quite thick.  Transfer the blended chilies to a medium mesh strainer.  Use a spoon or spatula to push the mixture through the strainer.  Scrape the smooth puree off the bottom of the strainer into a medium bowl.  To the chili puree whisk in orange juice, vinegar, honey and salt.  This can be stored for several weeks in an airtight container in the refrigerator. 

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

Best Bites of 2011- Restaurant Edition

Spicy Cumin Lamb Noodles in Soup from Xi'an Famous Foods

It was a good year for lamb.  And spice.  Whether eating cross-legged at a street vendor in Indonesia, using newspaper as a plate in Sri Lanka, or sampling the latest creation from celebrity chef Jose Andres in Las Vegas, it was a year full of memorable bites.

In no particular order.... 

Head on prawns, a la plancha, anchovy butter, tarragon. The Bristol, Chicago. 

It had been about eight years since my last time in Chicago.  January in Chicago lived up to my weather expectations (bone rattling cold) and food (fantastic).  Even after a mind-blowing meal the night before at 16 filled with every high end food imaginable- truffles, caviar, Waygu beef- it was the shrimp at The Bristol that left the biggest impression of the trip.  Packed with deep flavor from the fatty head and the prawns came dripping in luscious herbed anchovy butter.  I licked my fingers.

Spaghittusu cun Allu Ollu e Bottariga.  La Ciccia, San Francisco. 

The meal that started it all- my obsession with Sardinian food that is.  Trying to break out of our Cali-Italian dining rut in San Francisco, I booked a table at this specifically Sardinian restaurant in Noe Valley for my boyfriend’s birthday.  The restaurant and the cuisine excel in creating complex flavors with simple ingredients.  Spaghetti with spicy oil and bottarga, or mullet roe, topped with golden breadcrumbs tattooed my tastebuds with the memory of truly excellent regional Italian cuisine.
On my Sardinian obsession: All Roads Lead to Sardinia

Duck Tongue Tacos. China Poblano, Las Vegas.

I’ll admit I was highly skeptical of this Chinese-Meets-Mexican concept at the new Cosmopolitan Hotel.  I should not have doubted Jose Andres.  His team deftly managed hand made dumplings in one corner while turning out hand pressed tortillas in another.  Sometimes the two cuisines met in the middle as with the bold flavors of the duck tongue tacos.
For the story on my meal at China Poblano, click here: From China to Mexico By Way of Las Vegas

Egg Hopper with Sambal. Night Market Stall in Kataragama, Sri Lanka.

Sri Lanka had already been wowing me for days with mouth numbing curries, melting dal, fresh fish, and endless preparations of vegetables.  But I was after a taste of the legendary egg hopper, a bowl shaped pancake made of fermented batter filled with a scrambled egg and spicy sambal chili paste.  At a festival in Kataragama, a woman with a huge smile dished up her specialty and wrapped it in newspaper for us to eat on the drive home.  Easily one of the simplest and most memorable bites and meals of my year.
On Hoppers and Curry Rice: To Create Trust First Eat the Fire

Oryx, Springbok, Kudu.  Namibia.

It is too hard to choose just one of these bites.  Therefore this is a tie between all the wild game we ate in Namibia.  At Joe’s in Windhoek.  Oase Guesthouse in Kamanjab.  Erich’s in Swakopmund.  And Sossusvlei Lodge in Sesriem.
More on wild meat in Namibia: The Pride of Namibia

Polenta with bacon lardon, Bagnes cheese, and tomato sauce.  Croix de Coeur, Verbier, Switzerland.

No one told me about how good the food can be in Switzerland- the wine, the chanterelles, and Oh My, the cheese.  Also, I’m not sure I really grasped just how organized the trail system is in the Alps with convenient rest stops for food and drink seemingly every few miles.  At the end of a 9-mile trail run we celebrated with mediocre pasta and an over-the-top delicious plate of polenta.  It came out sizzling in a cast iron pan, topped with a chunky marina sauce, melted cheese from the valley below and thick slices of bacon lardon.  It may have been August but that is a wintry comfort food I would eat any time of year. 

Spicy Cumin Lamb Noodles. (Pictured above)  Xi’an Famous Foods, New York, New York.

I have fond memories of a solo trip to China many years ago, particularly of the food I ate in the Northern city of Xi’an where the spices of the East meet the hearty hand cut wheat noodles of China.  Xi’an Famous Foods does justice to the city for which it is named.  A sinus clearing, steaming bowl of spicy cumin lamb noodles brought back a flood of memories with every slurp.

Mie Goreng with Lamb.  Borobudur, Indonesia.

We escaped our plush hotel one night and its unadventurous tourist food for real local experience.  Sitting cross-legged on plastic mats, the hotel’s restaurant manager had brought us to his personal favorite restaurant in town normally patronized only by locals.  He ordered for us- plates of satay and mie goreng were washed down with warm beer from the convenience store next door.  The spice from the mie goreng- thin rice noodles stir fried with lamb- was so potent that we coughed and our eyes watered even from several meters away from the wok at the street side stall.  Our eyes watered still, this time with happiness, as we asked our guide to order seconds. More on Indonesian street food eating: Eating the Street and the Street Bites Back

Salsa. El Banco, Puerto Vallarta.

It is hard to choose a favorite part of this spectacular retreat on the Mexican coast far away from the crowds of Puerta Vallarta.  If I had to choose one thing, it might be the salsa whipped up daily by the villa’s chef.  We managed to overcome my lack of Spanish and her lack of English when she taught me how to make this salsa of blackened chilies simply by watching her work.  I now can have a little taste of Mexico whenever I get the urge.
Find the recipe for Olinka's Salsa Here: For Heat Loving Gringos

Herbs, Flowers, Foraged Greens, Curds and Whey. Forage, Salt Lake City, Utah.

“Forage” was certainly a buzzword of 2011 in the world of food, but this restaurant was enough ahead of the trend to actually name this small, sleek establishment after one of the methods through which these young chef/owners procure their food.  A simple salad of herbs and flowers from their backyard greenhouse and foraged greens from a nearby park was topped with milky whey and salty curds.  It sounded strange, looked beautiful, and tasted hauntingly of the land from which the dish came.
For a detailed account of my meal at Forage, click here: And the Winner Is...

Lasagna. Bianca, New York, New York.

Not new for me, the lasagna at Bianca was special precisely because it is an old familiar friend.  Our first night moving into our new apartment in New York after living in California for over five years, it was to Bianca we went to celebrate with paper thin sheets of pasta layered with béchamel and meat sauce- possibly the best lasagna anywhere in the world.

Stay tuned for the best of my year in cooking.  

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

A Foodie's Survival Guide for All-Inclusives

The idea of staying at an all-inclusive resort in Mexico sounded about as fun to me as being strapped to a chair for a four day Real Housewives of Orange County marathon while being force-fed an endless supply of Taco Bell gorditas. Fun for some, perhaps, but not for me.

But true friendship means sometimes doing things you’d never normally do, like spending five days at the all-inclusive resort Le Blanc, in Cancun, Mexico to witness the nuptials of two dear friends. It turns out I not only survived but also thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Le Blanc was beautifully appointed, well staffed with some of the best service I’ve ever received, and the food was edible at worst and good, if never quite great, at best.

There may be a time and place when even the most hardened food snob will find herself in such an all-inclusive food situation. Based on my first truly positive all-inclusive resort experience I’ve compiled a few tips for future foodie travelers.

1. The Resort Matters

Le Blanc, part of Palace Resorts, is a AAA Five Diamond award winner and it shows. The service is beyond gracious with no hidden motives as gratuity is also included in the price. Servers stealthily appeared to carry full plates from the breakfast buffet back to my table, to refill my iced tea while I did work in the lounge, hunt down a better Sauvignon Blanc than the one stocked in the bar, or set up an ice bucket with bottled water by my pool chair. Service with a smile and the near ubiquitous “my pleasure” will always make the food taste better.

2. Order the Entire Menu

More than one morning I awoke to find four plates of half-eaten food slowly congealing in the morning light, clearly ordered from room service in the middle of the night. Even at 2 am after a few margaritas my roommates and I knew, why order one dish when you could order four? There is a good chance you won’t like at least half of what you ordered so better to hedge the bets and order the whole menu, it doesn’t cost you anything more than you’ve already paid.

3. Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day

Even if tequila was part of the agenda the night before, resist the urge to sleep through breakfast as this will probably be the best meal of your day. It is hard to screw up eggs, hash browns, waffles and bacon. Add a selection of tropical fruits, fresh baked breads, and a short order cook whipping up omelets to order and eggs over easy one might even leave full enough to avoid ordering food again until dinner.

4. If you find something you like, order double.

This is similar to number two in that finding food you like might be a challenge and there is at best a 50/50 chance you won’t like what you order. So if you find something you like, such as the nachos covered in fake cheese that where oh-so-good for my hangover the day after the wedding, go ahead and order double. Or quadruple in my case as fellow recoveries picked up on the deliciousness of neon yellow cheese sauce and pico de gallo on tortilla chips, the salt and fat slowly melting away our tequila-induced headaches.

5. When All Else Fails, Drink

All-inclusive means all is included. A few top shelf cocktails and you’ll be sure to get your money’s worth. Plus a liquid diet never hurt anyone on vacation.

For Heat Loving Gringos

These days I find myself dreaming of Puerto Vallarta and the magical four days I spent there this past February at the blissful homes of El Banco on the Punta Minta peninsula. My Espagnol may not have moved much beyond "hola" and "gracias" during that time- ordering chilaquiles from the cook was never more difficult- but my salsa making vastly improved. After my boyfriend, John, and I convinced the staff that in spite of our gringo looks our taste for spicy food was more in line with the locals, the chili factor of our meals was taken up several notches. Most delicious of all was the salsa picante courtesy of our cook, Olinka- a smoky blend of chilies de arbol, onion, garlic, tomato, powdered chicken stock, and water. This simple concoction became our go-to condiment for everything from eggs over-easy to John’s steak fajitas.

Returning back to the States the first stop was my parent’s kitchen in Hemet, California. I talked my brother Andrew through whipping up a batch of our own salsa de arbol, substituting low sodium chicken broth for the powdered version to cut down on the salt and eliminate the MSG that comes in most bullion. After her attempts at talking me through the recipe failed miserably (why again did I take French in high school?), Olinka demonstrated that the key to the salsa is blackening the dried chilies, onion, and garlic in a bit of oil over a high heat first, before blending with a cooked tomato, and the chicken stock. Andrew and I made an admirable variation, although we agreed we were too timid in the frying and will take the blackening a step further next time.

My Spanish may still be no bueno but my salsa at least no longer betrays my gringa self. And for that, Olinka, muchos gracias.

Olinka’s Salsa Picante de Arbol
Time: 30 minutes

¼ medium white onion
½ large clove garlic
5-9 chilies de arbol, whole, depending on desired level of heat
1 plum tomato
3 T. vegetable oil
2 cups low sodium chicken stock
Salt (optional)

Cut onion into two or three large pieces. No need to chop fine as it will be blended later. Peel garlic and set aside. Remove stems from chilies and discard, leaving chilies whole. Heat a small pan over high heat with enough water to come half way up the sides of the tomato. Cook the tomato in the boiling water for about five minutes until soft when squeezed with tongues. Meanwhile, heat vegetable oil in a medium sauté pan over medium high heat. Add onion, garlic and chilies to the oil. Cook for 3-5 minutes until chilies are blackened and garlic and onion are deeply browned but not burnt. Transfer chilies, onion, and garlic to a blender along with chicken stock and cooked tomato. Blend until smooth. The mixture will be runny. Return blended salsa to the frying pan used to brown the chilies and bring to simmer over medium high heat. Cook for about 10 minutes until thickened to a desired consistency for salsa. Taste and season with additional salt if desired.