Showing posts with label deliciousness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deliciousness. Show all posts

Saturday, January 7, 2012

أكل

أكل - "eat"*


*Is this correct, The Canadian/Lebanese?


Herbs at a street market, downtown Amman


The food. Was. Exquisite.


Simple. Fresh. Flavorful.


The primary basis of our week-long food affair was hummus. And not like American hummus, which has a weak consistency too often jazzed up with oily canned vegetables like garlic and peppers. This hummus is thick, creamy, and intensely flavorful. There is an herb called zatar, which is sort of like an Arabic oregano, which gets sprinkled on the hummus with a drizzle of olive oil. Eat that shit with some fresh veggies or pita, and that's a meal in and of itself. I did not purchase any of the zatar while abroad because, well, it looks suspiciously like a certain illegal substance, but I lucked into a find at an international grocery in New York. I bought half a pound of it for three bucks, and I will still use it sparingly until I can locate a supply in Baltimore. (I also scored a bottle of white truffle olive oil there, but this is more a general jones of mine as opposed to anything Middle Eastern.)


Herbs at a street market, downtown Amman


Turkish coffee at a cafe on Rainbow Road
 And the coffee...Turkish coffee, rich and black, so strong that your spoon will stand straight up in it, anchored by the quarter inch of bean sludge at the bottom of the cup. Do not drink the bean sludge, by the way. Nobody has a good time.


Arabic coffee is strong too, but thinner, and spicier. The primary taste is of cardamom, which makes it unique to any other coffee in the world. You boil up a big pot of Arabic coffee, and let it stand for days, bringing it to a boil each time you reheat. I'm pretty sure we drank from the same pot of coffee on The Gentleman's brother's stove the entire week we were there, and it only got richer as the week went on.


Note: Jordanians; and, so I'm told, most Middle Easterners; like things sweet. We spent the week insisting we didn't want sugar in our coffee. If you consent to having sugar in your coffee, you're getting seven spoonfuls of the big-ass brown sugar crystals, and you will wind up with a sickly sweet concoction. Ask for no sugar. Add some yourself if it's too strong, but both Turkish and Arabic coffee are so flavorful by themselves, you really don't need any additions.

Melons, oranges, lettuce, and dried fruit at a produce market, downtown Amman
We made entire meals of hummus, veggies, and fruit. And it's completely filling. Sounds healthy, no? Not really - when you consider the amount of sugar in all of the dates and baklava we ate. Diabetes is a very real problem there. But antioxidants? Check. Vitamins? Check. Dizzying array of fresh colors and flavors? Check.

First snack time: hummus, peanut butter, apples, dates, tomatoes, zucchini, cucumber, pomegranate. And wine, naturally.

 Of course, one of the most interesting things about traveling abroad is the dizzying array of odd snack foods that one can find in another world's version of a 7-11. Europe is famed for its eclectic selection of crisp flavors, and that seems to have extended east as well.

Yogurt and herbs. Mmmm.

Anyone want some crack?

The candy bar for the most discerning of tastes.
The sassy, lady snack food. 
Because every wonder of the world needs it's own malt beverage with 10% alcohol.
Breakfast was, by far, my most favorite meal of the day. This is true in any country - I live for brunch in America just as much as I jones desperately for a full English. Because we spent the entire time staying in hotels, we were treated to astounding breakfast buffets every morning. Hummus, thick breads, breakfast cold cuts (German style!), dried fruits, fresh juices, and, of course, the best coffee in the world. I don't think I could recreate the effects even with the finest Whole Foods has to offer....




And let's not forget the tea...another delicacy that requires no addition of sugar, honey, or any sweetener. I particularly liked the sage tea they served in little stands along the trails in Petra.
Sage tea in Petra. Also, I want this mug.
 Some things, however, were not so good. The Arabic version of Red Bull (Bison) being one of them. Imagine a can of electrolytes, B vitamins, caffeine, ginseng, neon yellow coloring, and gasoline. Party time!
Bison. No.

We found this at the liquor store. The liquor store, located at the Christian end of one of the neighborhoods in Amman, was called "Babel" and apparently serves as the haven for all things forbidden by Muslim law. Specifically - Arbor Mist, Petra beer, and Pork Shoulder Picnic. All of which were on sale!
I got sick once. And while it was probably the result of a week of no sleep, jet lag, constant travel, and stupidly drinking tap water out of some potentially sketchy locations, my stomach still cringes at the thought of this:

Nothing says "pizza" like "mayonnaise."
This is Lebanese pizza. Deliciously light crust, flavorful mozzarella cheese, and a dumpfest of toppings including shaved ham, olives, jalapenos, hot sauce, and mayonnaise. I have an adventurous palate, and an iron stomach given all of the raw meat I eat on a regular basis, but something about this concoction did not sit right. The Gentleman proved himself again as Best Boyfriend in the World by running all over the hotel on Christmas morning in his sweatpants trying to locate anything resembling Pepto Bismol. Thankfully, the coup occurring in my innards lasted less than 24 hours, and I was alert and well enough for the rest of the trip, and for our Christmas night feast. Which I'll delve into in a moment. But first:  



 This also might have had something to do with my gastrointestinal distress. We made some delicious Christmas Eve sangria with this, to go with the Lebanese pizza, but once the sangria was gone we took to swigging this Produce of the Holy Land straight from the bottle. Possibly not a great idea.

The Christmas dinner, at an upscale Lebanese restaurant in Amman called Fakhir Ad-Din, was the meal to end all meals. It was a three-course prix fixe meal with cold appetizers, hot appetizers, and the meat course which included mansaf (lamb cooked in fermented dried yogurt and served with rice - absolutely delicious). My favorites: hummus as light and rich as cream, lamb tartare served with sweet onions and a whipped garlicky butter, and the hot pitas that were brought over and over again by servers with baskets full of them, fresh from the oven.

Lamb tartare and hummus - two things I now cannot live without, and are thankfully both available, and just as delicious, at Lebanese Taverna in Baltimore.

Dessert was a platter of fresh fruit, and figs and apricots drowned in honey. And, naturally, Turkish coffee. 

I'm hungry.


Thursday, September 29, 2011

Fiiiiiiiiiiine Dining

Apt as I am to be cynical of certain fine dining establishments and their massively inflated prices (read: egos), there's a reason why some restaurants are simply better than run-of-the-mill. While atmosphere has something to do with it, many restaurants try to get away with fixing huge prices on tiny portions, drizzling an infused sauce of some kind, and slapping it on the very best china served to you by staff who seem to think they are tipped on their ability to make you feel unworthy as a human being. I'd rather pay exorbitantly to eat exquisite food off of the floor than sub-par food off of a Royal Copenhagen plate.

I'd felt an aversion to The Charleston for this very reason. It's in a neighborhood I frequent, it's advertised in in-flight magazines as THE restaurant to hit while in Baltimore, and if you Google "Best Restaurants in Baltimore", it pops up BEFORE favorites of mine like The Black Olive and Cinghiale. Still, the pedigree isn't a guarantee. Pazo also appears but, quite frankly, the last time I went there I ordered what I thought was an array of different tastes and wound up with four plates of fried things with different sauces accompanying them. I can go to TGI Friday's for that.

(No, but seriously, I really dislike Pazo. I thought I would love it. I mean, the prime decor feature of the entryway are those fabulous couches where one can sip wine. Because sometimes all that's missing from the restaurant experience is feeling l
ike I'm at home on my couch drinking wine. No lie. But I hated Pazo. The food, that is. I've never been offered such a dizzying array of fried goods, and in my mind I have nicknamed Pazo "State Fair.")

But when a bunch of your friends decide to hit up a restaurant you've been avoiding, it seems rather silly to not tag along. Even if you're only going just to prove to yourself that your instincts were on par.

Mine were not.

I was dead wrong.

I had taken two sips of a pre-dinner Ketel One martini when I was presented with a bowl of truffle oil potato chips and a creme fraiche dipping sauce. Truffle oil is, quite possibly, one of my Most Favorite Things; right up there with boutique vodka, certain Oregon pinot noirs, and Ricky Gervais. If I were to somehow find myself floating gently in a sea of truffle oil, sipping organic botanical vodka with the good Brit entertaining me, this would not be a bad day.

And this, mind you, is Charleston's take on that free petri dish of salted nuts that takes up bar top real estate. I'm already ever-so-slightly on board.

Charleston's menu is prix fixe, which I actually like. It seems to me that most restaurants are really capitalizing on their chef's ability to prepare lots of little dishes (which usually means a handful of really great basic products, like seafood and beef, prepared a multitude of ways) as opposed to the Olden Days when you went to a restaurant and ordered an appetizer to share, an entree, and maybe some dessert. This type of formulaic menu seems so limiting now, in the era of tapas and prix fixe, and best reserved for steakhouses and other places that specialize in certain entree items.

I chose the 3-course option ($76; 4 courses are $88, 5 are $100, and 6 are $111), and selected these gems:
1st: grilled romaine and warm goat cheese salad with chive and basil vinaigrette
2nd: sauteed Hudson Valley foie gras with local quail's egg in brioche toas
t
3rd: grilled lamb tenderloin with eggplant "caviar"

The grilled romaine and the lamb tenderloin were positively succulent, beautifully presented, and decent-sized portions. The server had informed us as we were seated to be prepared for "tasting portions." I'm not surprised at this fine print. I imagine many of their patrons arrive, look at the prices, and are expected to be served their food in a trough. But; surprise, surprise; sometimes the more expensive the food, the smaller the portion. These however, were perfectly sized for one such female as myself who can pack away a decent amount of food when hungry enough.

And...the foie gras. Oh. My. God:



Look. I know what
foie gras is. I do. I swear. And, believe me, I am not so much on board with this practice and I completely understand why it's inhumane and horrific and torturous.

But...but it's so delicious...

It's incomparable. It's delicate, it's succulent, it's meaty and yet beautifully absorbs the flavor of whatever sauce it's wearing. It's the little black dress of meat products. And paired with brioche toast and the quail egg...it was rich and yet somehow light. Perfectly grilled, melted in the mouth.

I fricking love foie gras.

I didn't want to like The Charleston.

And I didn't.

I loved it.

I am going to have to get four more jobs and run ten marathons so that I can eat there at least twice a week, afford it, and not get fat.

I think it's worth the effort.