Porkey Pete

This is the first meal hosted by Thursday Club NYC's very own executive chef. With the mounting pressure to perform, Porkey Pete was understandably nervous. Thursday Club NYC ("TCN") had become something like the culinary equivalent of "fight club", and to attend means you must host. And this is very intimidating. Let's see: so far, TCN for me, a newcomer, involved having a ball (literally) at Teddy's offal night and liv(er)ing it up at Boogie's with some serious southern cooking. Instantly I was convinced that this group takes food and the culinary arts seriously. But step into Porkey's kitchen and you see this man is downright bonkers. I don't know how long he has been collecting these various cooking related utensils and appliances, but he could easily run a first class restaurant out of his home. Anyway, the topic of Porkey's kitchen contents should remain to be discussed in a separate thread describing his vocation. But suffice it to say that the expectations arose as soon as I saw the vast confines of his kitchen and gear. So now Porkey saw the look in our eyes which said: "hmmmm, so let's see what you can do with all this fancy shit ...". Needless to say, Porkey knows his shit folks. Nobody I know ate as well as we did that night.Technically 9 fucking courses if you include the informal starters. Porkey - how do I compete with that when my turn comes up?

So let's get started. Porkey's friend Dan had brought over some truffle honey and so we started with this, crackers and a Cayuga blue goat cheese from the Finger Lakes region of NY. This was quickly followed by Amuse Bouche of Crepes with Smoked Trout, Apples, and Horseradish Crème Fraiche (picture below). A mild taste was followed by a nice kick in the mouth from the horseradish. At this point, I knew we were in for a special night. So we sat down for the meal and the show began.

On a beautiful piece of wood that Porkey obtained from an old restaurant (the picture below does no justice here folks), we were served a trio of shot glasses: 3 types of soup. The first was a Vichyssoise which was served cold and carried a creamy, velvety texture with the mild flavor of chicken broth. Then we took the shooter of Gazpacho, with flavors of tomato, vinegar, red pepper and Persian cucumber. The tangy flavor of tomato went well with the aftertaste of the Persian cucumber. But my favorite of the trio was the warm spring pea and wild mint soup. This was ridiculously good and I would have downed a pitcher of this stuff, even though the fat content of these soups was increased ten fold to obtain maximum flavor from the shot glass quantity. Butter emulsified into cream? Love it.

So, what better now then fried pork rinds? A duo of cracklings: (1) Berkshire truffled Fritons de Porc and (2) Gribinis (Pete’s version is kosher chicken fat cracklings) and liver mousse. The pork rind was delicious: crisp, salty and fatty served with a balsamic to cut the grease. But Porkey had previously apologized for the recurring chicken liver theme. Yet the chicken liver mousse was so incredibly delicious, that I only wish I had more. The fried kosher chicken cracklings were perfect when bathed in copious mounds of the rich mousse. And Porkey made it sound so easy: "oh, just roast the liver in chicken fat and add hard boiled farm fresh eggs, chicken fat, shallots - blend...". Well, anything I have ever touched with liver turns out horrible. I shall learn this recipe one day... Technique, technique - go to Porkey Pete!

Check out these lovelies below:

Now the next dish was really quite amazing. As Porkey began heating his blades across a flame to cut through some roll of fatty goodness, I knew we were in for something special. Terrine of Hudson Valley Foie Gras topped with Lychee caviar, surrounded with roasted pistachio nuts and toasted brioche toast points. The foie was so smooth like butter, with such a superb taste with perfectly toasted brioche. Lychee caviar is apparently made with Sodium Alginate and requires a PhD in Chemical Engineering and 3 years of experience in one of Ahmadinejads underground lairs. Or that is what it sounded like to me, 8 drinks in.























By this point, we're all stuffed, but Dan, Grant and I are amazed by Porkey, who still has all the energy and swiftly moves into play on the raw fish, namely Tuna and Escolar “cru” with Caper Berries, Calamata Olives, and Shaved Fennel with Meyer Lemon and Toasted Fisele. I believe pickled ramps made the way on the plate too (bravo Porkey - was wondering when the ramps would make an appearance).





Carrying on with the fish theme, we next have Pan-Seared Arctic Char with Sautéed Ramps and Medley of Spring Vegetables with Black Truffle Vinaigrette. Perfectly seared, crispy skinned Arctic Char on a bed of ramps, peas, fava beans and asparagus tossed in truffle vinaigrette. Fucking hell this was good. I have since tried this at home using Porkey’s techniques and it turned out quite good (although I can’t get the perfect sear Porkey got - check the sear out below).












































Such a simple combination was so perfect. Going again to Porkey's understanding that simple knowledge and technique is more important than show. But then, just to make sure we knew he can put on a show, he breaks out with pork cheeks. Apple Cider and Calvados Braised Pork Cheeks with Quinoa and Morels to be exact. Braised 4 hrs in a apple cider and calvados (French apple brandy) concoction, with fresh tarragon, morel mushrooms that were perfectly crispy on the outside and Quinoa (pronounced Keen-Wah), a high protein / low carb grain grown in the Andes mountains of South America and once a staple food of the Incas I am told. Oooooh... These large cheeks were so sweet and tasty I would have kissed each bite if I was alone. The fatty flesh of pork cheeks braised in such a lovely juice had created a wonderful aroma in the home and tasted just as good as it smelled.

By this time we were stuffed. We all ate our pork cheeks though, except for Adam and Dan. So we passed all remainders on to the big G man who joyfully downed all remains. If I knew Adam and Dan a bit better, I would have smacked them for letting such perfect cheek chunks go to waste.

OK … moving on to Dessert. Let's go with something light fellas. After all, we each just downed 4 lbs each of pork rinds, fatty cheeks, truffle oil, cream, chicken fat, and butter. Nope. How about some Decadent Chocolate Terrine with Raspberry Coulis?Fan-fucking-tastic night Porkey!!

Marco Polo

There are few restaurants these days that are actually interested in real tableside service. Those places that make steak tartare and crepes Suzette at your table while you look on hungrily are all but extinct. You'd be really hard pushed to find one. That is, unless you find yourself in Carroll Gardens, in which case I can recommend a really good one.

Marco Polo's owner, Joe Chirico, arrived in the USA in 1964 buzzing with energy and entrepreneurial spirit after having grown up in San Martino in southern Italy. After two other successful ventures in the trade, Joe eventually opened Marco Polo (named after the great Italian explorer) in 1983 to cater to the multitude of Italians in the Carroll Gardens area.

Marco Polo has a huge asset in its Italian chef - Puglian Bruno Milone. As all good Italian cooks in America know, authenticity comes down to the use of top quality ingredients, simple preparation, and making the best use of nature's seasonal bounty, just like they do in the Old Country. The menu at Macro Polo changes every 3 months or so, and Milone takes full advantage of what's at it 's best at that time to produce a variety of hot and cold appetizers, salads, pasta, seafood and meat dishes. Chirico matches Chef's masterpiece dishes with a fantastic wine list from around the World, with a slight bias towards Italian vintages.

Service is top notch here. A well made Negroni, white wine and water are on the table almost before Mona and I sat down, and I was very happy with the amount of room we had to eat. In addition to a large and airy dining room, our table for two is big enough to hold a few plates with wine and water glasses, plus two pairs of elbows.

An appetizer of squid was just that - four white cones of beautifully cooked seafood, shining with a delicious extra-virgin olive oil varnish and dainty seasoning. Another appetizer of mozzarella wrapped in prosciutto was another hit. I should have asked where they got the stuff from (the cheese) because it's some of the best I've had. Slightly chewy with an aloof milky flavor, it stood up well to its salty cloak of cured ham. Mona confessed to feeling decadent when a pair of plump 'Oysters Rockefeller' were presented to us. My, oh my, what a great rendition they were, all briny and muscular, embellished with superb garlic cream freckled with pancetta.

Milone makes all the restaurant’s pasta on the premises, and has a special technique for making fettuccine. He mixes reduced red wine, eggs, semolina and olive oil to produce a pink pasta. ‘Fettucine al Vino Rosso’ is a signature dish at Marco Polo and I found out why. Our waiter brought out the cooked pink pasta and placed it next to a giant wheel of Parmigiano on a trolley, which was rolled gently towards our table. The concave wheel is scraped to yield some salty slivers, the hot pasta is tossed in with some olive oil. The heat from the pasta melts the cheese and it adheres to the fettuccine strands resulting in a brilliant pasta dish and it fills the restaurant with a mouth-watering vapor. We could feel lots of eyes on our table while the waiter went through the motions. This sort of showmanship is sadly absent from modern restaurants. We were also recommended the cavatelli with seafood, a sublime combination of mussels and shrimp tossed with little ears of cavatelli and tomato sauce, a dish and choice of pasta betraying the Chef's Puglian roots.

We selected a toothsome Sicilian Nero D’Avola 2001 from the sensational cellar to go with both of the pasta dishes, a decision we didn’t regret.

Milone demonstrated his Grandmother’s faultless fish cooking technique with a succulent whole sea bass, presented to us at the table and filleted skillfully before plating simply with some sautéed potatoes. In keeping with the chef’s seasonal ideal, an incredible plate of ‘Carre D’Agnello’ (rack of lamb, chops) hit the table, making both Mona and I practically weep in appreciation. The chops were mounted on spinach leaves, which had clearly been treated correctly in the kitchen retaining all their bitterness, seasoned perfectly and sparkling with just enough butter. A remarkable meat course.

Were we done yet? No, of course not. To complete this wonderful education in Italian cooking, we were treated to a light and airy chocolate soufflé, which tasted doubly rich when paired up with the remnants of our wine.

The chef has a polished touch with great ingredients. Joe Chirico is a wonderful host. He greets you like an old friend he’s not seen for ages. He will explain what’s great on the menu, he’ll make sure you’re having a good time when he passes your table. The waitstaff are proud of their restaurant and they smile. It’s the little things that make Marco Polo a great restaurant and it has them in abundance.

Gourmet Super Saturday

The ‘Thursday’ in Thursday Club lost a little bit more relevance this week when a bunch of fortuitous events aligned to enable a gaggle of TC regulars to meet at Teddy’s crib for what was advertised as Gourmet Super Saturday. For the downright miserly contribution of just $30, the Brooklyn Braiser put together a calorie-tastic menu of decadence for those fortunate enough to be either single or free from Macy’s duty for the day. The royal menu read…

Whipped Duck Egg Custard with Truffle, Chive Chip
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Panache of Sea Scallop & Calamares, Caviar, Tobiko, Sauce ‘Nero’
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Lasagne of Lobster, Sauce ‘Americaine’
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Risotto of Wild Squab, Duck Confit, Shaved Goose Foie Gras
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Crispy Confit Belly, Apple Gelée, Colman’s Mustard Sauce
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Chocolate Tart, Rum & Raisin Ice Cream

Now clearly such a menu requires a great amount of prep and hence Teddy spent his Friday night in the confines of his kitchen. The rest of us, however, continued about our regular Friday night missions of drinking our own body weight in ale (or Appletini’s in Adam’s case) and therefore arrived at the meal with a little less enthusiasm about the forthcoming booze and food fest than our host which really ate at him throughout the afternoon…especially when the Boogie’s now traditional twatnap became epidemic. But I guess it is important to note that this is always going to happen for a Saturday gathering (Teddy, tell me you wouldn’t do the same?!) and, on the plus side, we were all fairly wasted again after just a few glasses of plonk…happy days.

So we started with the obligatory speed-smoking and some bubbly (a great Cava that Adamski picked up for just $10…if he could post the brand then that would be useful) before moving onto an aperitif of Negroni. I think it had Gin, Red Vermouth and Campari in and whilst my mouth was enjoying the taste, my throat and belly weren’t of the same opinion but luckily (especially for Mike who was sat opposite me) my mouth won the battle and it stayed where I seem to put most things…in my belly.

Course one was a dish made famous by The French Laundry and Per Se’s Thomas Keller (considered by many to be the most talented chef on these shores, if not in the world…if there is such a thing) – Duck Egg Custard with Truffle and Chive Chip. Just one spoon full of this set the tone for what was to be an outstanding meal. The canary yellow, slightly warm custard was both smooth and luxurious and the not-so-subtle addition of the truffle oil was a real bit of food heaven with every bite. The chive chips provided some contrasting texture and were beautifully executed but they were really only The Pips with the custard taking the Gladys Knight role. My favourite course of the meal but there was some pretty stiff competition to follow.

Course two combined beautifully fresh scallops (compared to a recently showered Ariel’s undercarriage) topped with a touch of caviar with the petite tentacles of some calamari all swimming in a lake of Sauce Nero. Now despite looking like the aftermath of an oil tanker run aground, the squid-ink based sauce was a real delight with a nice balance between the inevitable fishiness and the aromatics in the sauce (shallots etc). The only downside to the dish was the dye effect from the squid-ink based sauce which left us looking like we’d just stumbled out of a Cure concert. Two dishes down and two home-runs.

The nice part of having this on a Saturday was that we were in no rush so proceedings so far had taken up the best part of three hours and we were still only 40% through the meal. The wine was taking a hammering and Mike was good enough to keep us up to date with the number of sheets to the wind he was at all stages (for the record, he finished 6 sheets to the wind). Next up was the Lobster Lasagne. Three sheets of pasta no bigger than a tennis ball were separated and surrounded by succulent chunks of freshly poached female lobster (Teddy wanted the eggs – what a man does in the confines of his own home is his business) and covered with a gruyere based béchamel which was then topped with Sauce Americaine made from the lobster stock. Just the picture tells you how damn good this dish was. Seriously, take a good look at it. You want to bite into it, don’t you? You want to lick the screen. Come closer and smell me. You’ve been bad haven’t you? Sorry, I got a bit off track there.

So, 4 hours in, 5000 calories down, half a pack of smokes each and easily enough booze to prevent legal driving for another 24 hours…and we’re still only half way through. Next came the dangerous course as there was basically an unlimited amount of fois gras to ‘shave’ and top our dishes with. Yes, you read that right – an UNLIMITED amount of fois gras…makes your breadsticks and salad offer at Olive Garden not seem so fucking special now eh? Now for me this was a mistake as I am undeniably greedy and I am sure that I had about 1/4 lb of the stuff but I was fascinated at the way that the frozen shards quickly melted into my beautifully pink roasted squab (which almost had a subtle liver-like flavour that surprised me) and wonderfully creamy risotto (with a nice amount of bite to the Arborio). A great dish but a meal in it’s own right and I think this one did the most damage to us as it was followed by a round of twatnaps. Furthermore, when I was awake and feeling rather nasty at 4am, this was the first dish that crossed my mind – not the gallons of booze weirdly. Not that it wasn’t a fantastic dish (because it clearly was) but it’s a bit like getting sucked off at a funeral – pleasurable in it’s own right but there’s a time and a place for that sort of thing.

OK, the end is in sight now – at least that is what I kept telling myself. Teddy is still slaving away and his complaints about the unappreciative audience (the majority of whom are asleep) are becoming more vocal with comments like “I’m not doing this again”. Still, out comes another humdinger of a course to send us all both a little deeper into food coma and a little closer to food heaven. The pork belly was perhaps not as crispy as it could have been but the firework display coming from the pan made it obvious that there was a good deal of moisture in the pork and fry-master Adam had a job containing the truffle-infused tater-tits (they were larger, rounder and more pleasurable to nibble on than their commercial cousins, hence their name) but the dish came together nicely when bathed in the mustard and tarragon sauce. This represented the last of the savoury dishes and, whilst I’m not tarragon’s biggest fan, it was subtle enough in the sauce to make the whole thing pleasant. This was probably my least favourite dish but this is only really because of the vast comparative strength of the rest of the menu and if I went out to dinner and paid $20 for this dish alone then I would by no means feel aggrieved.

Dessert was a rich dark chocolate tart accompanied by home-made rum & raisin ice-cream and a molten blob of raisin caramel that set to a fantastically gooey lump that was a real treat to eat (and continue to discover in my molars for the remainder of the evening and eat all over again). A strong finish (accompanied with a fruity little dessert wine) to an exceptional meal and not a Fererro Roche in sight. Great execution from the big guy – bravo.

Fortified with some coffee, we then went on to ruin Jessica’s birthday party and then a few of us went on to ruin some people’s night in Manhattan. Really a rather splendid and productive way to spend a Saturday if you ask me…

A Food Tour of the (Cold and Soggy) Islands

Riding the exposure of English chefs/TV personalities Gordon Ramsey (badass), Jamie Oliver (not so badass) and Rick Stein among others, the UK is making their cooking philosophy known and making a serious dent in the global culinary landscape. However, debunking the stereotype that the best England has to offer can be found in your local, yet "Authentic" Harry McDrinklots Pub is a tall order. Enter Grant. His menu was packed with UK classics with a few twists and turns. Here's what was on tap:

Amuse Bouche - Home-Made Guinness Bread Pinchos with Corned Beef and Mustard Glazed Cabbage (IRELAND)
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Appetiser - (Beef & Lamb) Haggis, (Pureed) Neeps & (Duchess) Tatties (SCOTLAND)
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Soup - Cawl (Leek) Shot with Welsh Rarebit on Home-Made Chili Bread (WALES)
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Main - Cod, "Balti" Chips, Minty Mushy Peas & Tartare Sauce (ENGLAND)
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Dessert - Apple & Blackberry Crumble Trifle (ENGLAND)

You can barely tell from the picture, but there's bread under the heaping mound of moist corned beef and sweet-tangy cabbage. The beef cooked slow and low for hours and hardly needed the knife treatment it received to shred it. Fingers would more than do the trick......an essential sign for a quality slow cooked meat.
The quintessential Irish dish, minus the need of silverware, and Guinness-based bread to get all the topping in our mouths......that, my friends is a good introduction to UK cooking.

Appetites intact and geared up for the next course, we dove into the haggis. I was well versed on haggis, what it is made of, the cooking process, etc. but never had the dish before tonight. Ground lung, tounge, heart, brisket meat, oats and spices were cooked in the oven instead of boiled in a sheep's stomach (a tough item to find in the city).

The obligitory dram of Scotch was replaced by half a bottle of white wine applied in the 'bottle to lips' technique. It did wonders for keeping the haggis moist. For people who lack the adventurous spirit to try haggis, but want to know what it's like.......I instantly likened it to a corned beef hash minus the potatoes.





Grant complied with the age old law that neeps and tatties are the only allowable accompaniments to haggis. Any deviation from this rules is punishable by a night in the box and 2 weeks on kilt scubbing detail *shudder*. The creamy pureed turnips and soft mashed spuds with a crisped, broiled top worked great with the richness of the various animal parts. Clearly, there's a reason for their eternity of partnership. Excellent dish.

The smell of yet another type of homemade bread wafted out of the kitchen, but this one was drowned in a creamy cheese sauce. Those little toasts acted like sponges and slurped up all the cheese they could handle.....don't worry, additional cheese was spooned on top to make sure no morsel was left behind. The rarebit and cawl combination was comfort food at it's finest. Halfway in between a stew and soup, the cawl was packed with intense flavors of leek, stewed shredded meat, and was really filling.

Based on my last showing at Grant's place, I was going to have to play my cards right if I wasn't going to end up on the floor.....again.

Some beautiful pieces of cod were portioned out, battered and ready to hit the fryer. The batter was thick enough to stand up to a scorching pot of oil, but thin enough keep the fish the star of the dish. Served Jenga Master style, the twice-fried chips stayed crisp and had true potatoes taste.....imagine that, right? A subtle touch of curry flavoring was a nice addition and brought in another common English flavor to the dish. Mushy peas not only added a bright green to the plate, but had a great clean and fresh flavor to balance the fried items. Malt vinegar was dribbled across everything and if the prior courses didn't pack every inch of my stomach would have been a treat to mop up with some more homemade bread.



Obviously, the night would not be complete without a traditional fruit crumble. This version was layered loaded with clotted cream so every bite had a touch of sweet and tart fruit, crunchy sugar mixture and thick creamy......uh, cream. With all the previous dishes being very savory, the sweet finale was hit the spot.




With a good number of our group hailing from England, it was good to see Grant keep it real with some solid English/UK grub. None of the meat was boiled until hitting Sketcher-type consistency, all of the vegetables still had taste and were recognizable, and I'm certain anyone who previously doubted the cuisine from the cold, damp islands across the pond would be pleasantly surprised with the results....and would owe a heavy drinking, violence prone nation an apology.

Great meal, awesome time......Slainte.

Gettin' dirty with Uncle Boogie

In this week's episode, JB decides to explore his inner Acadian and takes us off-piste with a culinary spin through the southern territories of Louisiana and E. Texas, scraping up wild vegetables and assorted amphibious life to cook along the way in true Cajun fashion. It would come as no surprise to see frog's legs and crawfish on the menu, as well as etoufee and a classic macque choux. More chicken livers (will we ever be set free?) and oxtail soup also featured, but sadly JB had circumvented the snazziness of andouille and boudin, the backbone of any good Cajun dish. That was OK, thought I, one of the chaps is bound to embellish their dining tables with a foisin of pork soon enough...

• Sauteed chicken livers Orleans
• Oxtail soup
• Crawfish etoufee
• French fried frog's legs
• Chicken macque choux
• Jelly rolls w/ coffee and Bourbon

This is the maybe the third time in as many weeks I've had to eat a plate of chicken livers. I do like them, I really do, but I think I've just overdosed on them recently. Grant forced a plate of them on us all a couple of weeks back, and as admirable as they were, it's difficult to eat half a pound of them. But here I was again, attempting to devour another plate of distorted chicken guts. They were pretty good if I was honest, creamy, crumbly, highly savoury, but for crying out loud, I'm just so bored of them.

Ennui turned into excitement the moment I caught a whiff of the oxtail soup. I must have looked like a Bisto kid. As a chap who dearly loves the arse end of the cow, my first instinct is to give oxtail a comprehensive braising and shred the results over mashed potato. I've never made oxtail soup, so I was well chuffed that JB set about doing something different with what is undoubtedly the magisterial prince of offal. What a noble soup it was too, a great pot of smoky brownness with a patina like bureau leather, and floating in it, gobs of melting tail meat.

I've seen Emeril make etoufees (literal translation - 'smotherings') on his annoying TV show, so I had an idea about the method. Make a blonde roux, bung in a handful of the 'holy trinity' mirepoix, perhaps tomatoes, crawfish, sweat down to create a fully flavoured stew. I was not dissapointed with JB's version, the craw meat was not overcooked, and the sauce had an orangey flavour with a delicate peppery heat - very authentic. I could have done with some crusty bread to mop up the juices because the rice really didn't do a good job. It tasted like it'd been cooked in a car wash. Perhaps, to save time, he simultaneously cleaned his car, washed his hair and cooked the rice on the back seat: top down, lots of soap for the fro, hot dry cycle. Instant mis-en-place, instant soul glow.

There is no better jacket for a frog leg than buttermilk and breadcrumbs, and in the skilled hands of JB, these blanche slivers of grenouille come alive and show off their intrinsic flavour. It pains me to say it, it does taste a bit like chicken, except that frog's legs have an aloof muskiness to them, which is hard to describe because it does not remind me of chicken....sort of 'marshy'. Really delicate flavour then, the frog leg, and it would be a great shame to overpower it with aggressive flavours. JB wisely applied a dollop of tame tartar sauce to our plates.

It has an exotic name, macque choux, I think, conjuring up for me visions of a high street in Martinique packed with natives glamourously hawking highly spiced food with wit and verve on every corner. I really don't remember exactly what was in it, so I looked it up and found out it's a classic Louisiana side dish containing onion, celery, green bell pepper (the Holy Trinity), jalapenos, garlic, cream, and of course, a shit load of corn, America's favourite crop. The result is a spicy/sweet side dish that's normally married to chicken or fish. JB paired his version up with chicken (which tastes a bit like frog) and I believe I thought it was tasty. The Thursday Club crew had been swigging wine for over three hours by now, and apparently I had been leading the charge. The various useless lobes of my brain were bobbing in a sea of red wine and macque choux with no land in site, without the mearest hint of a life raft, with the sun going down and several large dorsal fins on a rapid approach...

There had been some trouble with the jelly rolls (but happily not with the coffee and bourbon), and the understudy for tonight's proposed dessert had to be whipped up by chef a la moment, a joltingly sweet bananas Foster, keeping the Cajun affair alive. It's incredible what the combination of sugar, bourbon and wine does to a gaggle of drunken bastards, and we finished the meal with songs, whooping cheers, arm wrestles and ultimate cage fighting.

And then the inevitable happened. It was mooted whether we attack the local sake joint for a couple of 'signature' sake bombs. The outcome was all too obvious.

Our degenerate host, J. Saaki, doing what he does best:

The Offal Truth

By Mike "The Greek" Phillips

Anthony Bourdain once wrote that when you “…order lobster or steak frites…you aren't getting a chef's A-game.” The implication being any hairless ape with opposable thumbs can make those dishes in his sleep. It takes a real hero to create something delectable out of a calf’s nutsack or a cow’s stomach lining. And when we heard Teddy was going to take on an all offal menu we knew he would be bringing his “A-game.” Here’s the menu that had us all dreaming of balls (again!):

Honeycomb Tripe
deep fried, pickled shallot malt vinegar

Feet & Cheeks
braised trotter and pig cheek, sherry jelly, sauce “Gribiche”

Veal Sweetbreads
sweet onion compote, grapefruit, parsley and caper salad

Tongue & Balls
veal tongue and veal knacker ‘salad’, pistachio dressing

Blood Sausage
celeriac puree, sauce “Bontemps”

Lamb Bone Marrow
braised lamb shank and bone marrow ravioli, spring peas, mint oil, pea foam

Lemon and Mascarpone Tartlet
with honey

Pont L’eveque
with grapes

Eight fucking courses! Let’s get to it.
Teddy had said that while preparing for tonight his apartment looked like an abattoir. You could still detect the faint whiff of iron in the air underneath the aromas of glands, tongues, and feet.
First up was the tripe. Served in a communal bowl these deep-fried strips of stomach were hungrily gobbled up by everyone. The tripe had a smooth, creamy center encased in a crunchy, salty, deep fried outer shell. Dipped in a shallot/malt vinegar sauce this was like a party in my mouth. Instead of popcorn at your local multiplex they should serve deep-fried tripe strips. I’m talking to you Union Square Regal Cinemas.

The tripe tease kicked our frontal lobes into high gear as we waited for the Feet and Cheeks. From what little I understand about cooking pig’s feet the meat is braised and then the fat is used to create a gelatinous mix that holds it all together. Teddy went the added step and threw in some cheeks. It was a rich mixture of fat, flesh and collagen.

To me it looked like a hunk of gold flecked with meat minerals. Covered in a spiky vinegar and mustard sauce rife with cornichons and tarragon this blew everyone away. As I looked around people were using their fingers to lick up the sauce. Classy lot. Just lick the plate like I did.

Two for two so far with the Veal Sweetbreads up next. These surreal looking fuckers scare off most people. It’s one thing to eat a tongue or balls but a gland makes people squeamish for some reason. Teddy’s sweetbreads were cooked in classic style with a twist: blanched, floured in a honey panko, and fried. Sweet Jesus they were good. Spongy and crispy with a slightly gamey flavor, Teddy wisely paired them with a citrusy salad of capers and parsley to cut through these fantastic fat bombs. These were a highlight for me. I am definitely taking a Teddy cooking course so I can make these for the missus.

Time to “man up” gents! Here come the balls and tongue. I’ve never seen a group of assumedly heterosexual men get so excited about putting balls in their mouth. But like a Republican in a boy’s dorm we couldn’t wait to taste this forbidden fruit. As soon as I bit into them my brain’s warning alarms of “What the fuck are you doing?” were drowned out by my palette’s appreciation of the balls livery goodness. Smooth but with a bit of resistance like a good al dente pasta the balls were tender and succulent with a mild tinge of iron. The tongue surprised me by the way it almost melted in your mouth….like it was just a few atoms away from losing it’s shape on the plate because it was so creamy. Put this between a few slices of crusty bread and that’s a sandwich I’d like to eat. Have a Tongue Sandwich: the sandwich that tastes you!

Here’s where my brain starts to get as fuzzy as a dust bunny. Numerous bottles of wine have been guzzled, it’s nearing 11pm on a school night, and we’re only up to course number Five. Christ. Course Five was Teddy’s piece de resistance. His blood sausage.

I’ve extolled the virtues of what a mighty maestro of meat making he is so I won’t go into again here except to say: Market that stuff Teddy, you’re sitting on a bloody (get it?) goldmine. Sitting atop a delightful turnip mash surrounded by a sweet sauce “Bontemps” this was another addition to the “clean plate club” as everyone used whatever they could to remove every piece of evidence that there had once been food on the plate.

In what may be a nod to offal king Mario Batali, up next was the lamb shank and marrow ravioli with pea foam. For all I know, this dish could have been cooked by Batali himself because these babies marched down my throat so fast my offal-addled brain couldn’t keep up with my super-charged taste buds. I was starting to feel like an Aztec warrior gaining strength from eating the marrow of my enemy’s bones. Or, it could have been the booze.

Now, take a moment at look at this tart.

That, my friends, is perfection. Committed to making you appreciate your place in the universe. Simple, honest, delicate. Do you dare to disturb its serenity? I did. I picked that disc of hand-crafted goodness up, took a giant sweet-exploding, tart-slappingly intense bite, watched in horror as what was left crumbled in my hand, and then proceeded to gobble it off my palm like an autistic child on his birthday.

As a sort of dare Teddy dropped a cheese plate onto the table flanked by some grapes and crispy crackers. I think it included a smoked Gouda, a pungent goat cheese, and a stinky blue. Seriously, I challenge anyone besides Teddy to name what was on that plate because at this point we were machines: testicle-fueled, pancreatically powered, wine-lubricated machines always pushing forward, always conquering, devouring more of what the rest of the world tosses away. It was Teddy that created us. He bears the responsibility. His mad genius has made monsters of us all.

Return of the Mike...

So it was Big Mike’s return to Thursday Club duty last week after an absence that he officially attributes to a post-wedding weight loss program. Doesn’t he understand that marriage signifies the time in a man’s life to cancel the Crunch subscription and to only ever eat food-stuffs with a higher fat content than Britney’s ass? He must love his wife or something…weirdo.

The Italian influenced, flesh heavy script for the night was…

Serrano Ham and Taleggio Cheese crepes

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Roman Style Onion Soup

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Oxtail Ragu over Tagliatelle

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Braised Pork in “the black” with Gorgonzola Polenta

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Chocolate Macadamia and Hazelnut Tart with Dulce de Leche ice cream


The night’s assault on the belly started with a fantastic amuse bouche of the Serrano Ham and Taleggio Cheese crepes served al fresco (standing up with the window open). Light, fluffy, home made savoury crepes filled with nice salty piggy and fatty Italian semi-soft cheese that served the dual purpose of taking the edge off my perennially hungry state and getting the drinking juices flowing (like they need encouragement).

The soup course was an Italian version of the classic French dish, onion soup. Rich brown in colour and laced with juicy plump onions accompanied by a veritable cruise-liner of a bread floater that I felt I was fighting in a battle of who could soak up the liquid faster. For the record, I won…and then ate my opponent. In your face carb chump. Top soup but I think most sane people call that a full meal.

Not Thursday Club members though so on we moved to the pasta course. Mike’s Oxtail Ragu was super-rich (spot the recurring theme here?) and uber-tender with enough sauce to coat the meat without bathing the pasta. Served on a mound of perfectly al-dente tagliatelle, this was another hearty course that had the table blowing and a few plates may have gone back with food on but that was more a reflection on the sheer volume of food rather than the quality which was, as always, top.

Continuing the meat and carb theme (don’t Italians do veg?), next up was the braised pork with the cheesy polenta. Mike was a bit worried about the pork in the run up to service but he needn’t have been as it was everything you want from a braising…fall-off-the-fork tender and juicier than velour track-suit. Polenta isn’t really my bag but the subtle addition of some pungent gorgonzola really made it work for me and I happily snarfed the lot.

Now this stage of the night is always tough as participants are full of rich food and fine vino yet low on energy but, fortified by a few smokes in the sub-zero temperature, we moved onto dessert. My memory of these events may not be the most reliable memoir but I remember a mound of chocoately goodness laced with golf-ball size macadamias accompanied by a blob of Haagen Dazs’ finest (did you know that Haagen Dazs was founded in the Bronx?).

Things get blurrier after this and I remember a bottle of unidentified Czech herbal booze being magically produced from the freezer and subsequently nailed. Magic Mike then produced a platter of fantastically salty Wisconsin blue cheese with slices of apple from behind someone’s ear and he finished his routine by putting his missus into a trance that nearly cost the life of a big-eared rat.
All-in-all a fantastic return to the fold from the Italian stallion. Cheers Mike…just need to convince you to come over to Manhattan for a night out now.

A Thursday, with Friday Style

So, I should have known I was in for an evening of delight when I got the missive "Gentleman, Start Your engines." I was running late, that fateful night (new job), and truth be told, I needed a drink. When I arrived the gang had been merciful: waiting to unleash the tasty bits until my big fat ass pushed through the door. Little did I know that my taste buds were about to be...ahem...serviced. Johnson delivered my medicine in the form of a sparkling red- yes, you read that correctly, a sparkling red, and we were off...

The first course was Pea, Ham, and Garlic Soup. The soup was very flavorful- both creamy in texture and complex in flavor. The 

roasted garlic gave up a much subtler flavor than I would have imagined: delicious. And who can stay mad at smoky hunks of ham? Anyhow, a great first course. 

The second course I was particularly looking forward to: Smoked Eel with celeriac, beet root, and horseradish remoulade. It is easy to overlook how regal beets look for presentation; Jon had pretty impressively (and uniformly) julienned the raw beets by hand, and created a tasty remoulade under the smoked eel. Again, great choice pairing that truly earthy root with the smoky goodness of the eel. All good. By the time we were winding down on the second course, we naturally sped up and completed our first series of wines. It is at this point that I realize how grateful I am that THIS Thursday Club is celebrated on a Friday. 

We uncorked a series of reds for the unveiling of the main course: Slow Roasted Lamb with minted mashed potatoes and Aubergine Caviar. Oh man. It was obvious that Jon took his time with this one--each tender bite just relented its former relationship to its bone, and fell right on to the fork. Just delicious. The minted mash was creative: mint is the perfect companion to lamb, but I don't think I've ever had the two combined.  I think the potatoes were boiled with mint and removed, then fresh leaves were later added, for a deeper mint flavor. The minced aubergine caviar was a good complement, as well- one would normally expect a standard "green" vegetable next to the meat and potato. The caviar was a great, light addition and departure to complete the plate. 

For dessert, Jon served up some Chocolate Pots : ramekins of deep, rich chocolate, served with cream. I was delighted to find that the dessert was not traditionally "sweet", but instead a true chocolate-lovers experience. After the chocolate pots, Jon served up a glorious Stilton cheese, and we cracked open a few bottles of Sauternes. That friggin' cheese was ruthlessly good. 

To polish of the evening Jon opened a special wine, courtesy of his father, and we toasted a fine-ass meal. All in all, a damn good showing. 

The night that Adam died...

It is with a heavy heart that I announce the passing of Adam Johnson; meat connoisseur, glutton & founding member of TCNYC. Towards the end of Grant's 6 course flesh-a-thon, Adam finally succumbed to a lethal overdose of meat. He will be missed.

Ok, jokes aside, Adam was seriously hurting by the end of course #5 & was flailing around on the floor like a beached whale screaming; "No More! No More!" Great stuff! Now onto the grub;

1. Crispy Olives Stuffed With Sausage
Adam, Teddy & myself arrived on time for a change & we were glad to see that Grant had everything pretty much lined up & ready to go. The olives were stuffed, breaded & waiting for a quick dip in the oil. A porky, olivey scent wafted in the air as we tucked into our first bottle of wine. The taste of the sausage was far more subtle than I had expected, but I particularly liked the 3rd degree burns I got on my tongue when I bit into these tiny little morsels. A perfect amuse bouche to keep us occupied as Daryll arrived & Teddy spun up some Gin & Tonics

2. Moules a la Poulette (Mussels with cream, spinach and shallots)
Steamed in white wine, shucked, served on a roasted half-shell & drizzled with the heavily reduced wine, cream & vegetable mixture, these were a real treat. I forget the name of the mussels that Grant used, but they were MASSIVE! Roasting the shells was a nice touch, but made them somewhat brittle, so we had to slurp & be careful where we bit down. The flavors were delicious & we moved onto the next course unscathed.

3. Roasted Tomato with Gruyère Toast
Course 3 was up next & I was pretty convinced that I would make it all the way to the end without internal damage. The soup was an incredibly thick & intoxicating when the Gruyère toast was dipped into it. Delicious!

4. Chicken Liver Salad
This is the course when I realized that I might not make it out of Grant's Apt. on my own steam. Chicken livers have a texture all their own which might be why I love them so much. Cooked till they were just pink inside & served on top of a salad, I was really enjoying myself. The portions were massive & I was forced to leave a few stray livers in my plate for fear of rupturing some unmentionable & most likely vital organ.

5. Asian Style Braised Short Rib with a side of Braised Cabbage & Smoked Duck Bacon
This was the nail on all of our coffins (Adam in particular). Even though we had a much needed 20 minute break after the last course, I was starting to get a bit dizzy. Grant's mass email with the menu on Wednesday had promised smoked bacon, but when I discovered that the cabbage was fried with a stick of butter & smoked duck bacon, I knew that I had to take one for the team & scarf the lot down! the short ribs were extremely tender (you gotta love braising), sweet & my personal favorite; fatty. Even though I felt that I was dying a little with every bite, I couldn't stop eating!

6. Home Made Éclairs
Bravo to Grant for pulling this one off! They were really sweet, incredibly tasty & the filling was to die for. The best part was Grant's 'Everton Topping' (no doubt to 'celebrate' their loss against Fiorentina).

All in all, a culinary tour de force. Nice one buddy.

Dear Food Network

Please, with immediate effect, take "Cooking with Sandra Lee" off the air.

Whatever possessed you to air such a disgraceful programme anyway? It's not even cooking is it? Just slopping together a few bits from the pantry, opening some packets and tins of stuff, slurrying things up a bit. Where's the love? The passion? I have nearly as much contempt for Lee as I do for the miserable cow who knocks out pap like this.

I checked out Lee's profile on Food Network's web page and I found some very interesting facts. She's the eldest of 5 children. She "offers savvy shortcuts and down-to-earth secrets for creating a beautiful, affordable and most of all, doable life." Fucking hell, who comes up with this drivel? She turned her home into the "American Dream". What? She turned a perfectly good building into cheap burgers and hot dogs and converted the back garden into a Nascar track?

Her biography is called 'Made from Scratch'. It should be called 'Made from Scrap'. After all, that's her idea of food. According to a review on Amazon.com, "Made From Scratch will make you laugh, cry, think, and embrace the grace and glory in every day." I know they mean. I laugh, cry, think, and embrace the grace and glory every time I drink a martini or let rip with a satisfying fart.

Quite possibly, her only endearing trait is that she's a raging wino, just like me, but I am sick and tired of her whining and cheating and seeing her minging blonde mug all over my TV. Why can't you use the silly bitch's slot for something else? Something GOOD? Something interesting?