Category: Food and Drink

I never expected to find love at a roadside market. In Florida, no less. But there, down an aisle from stacks of bright oranges and piles of juicy grapefruit, was a small, plastic tub of guacamole so smooth and delicious, so perfectly spiced, that I fell head over heels. It’s uncommon to find guacamole that truly lives up to the beauty of a fresh, buttery avocado. Most end up as blobby, over-whipped, mousse-like concoctions that carry no punch. Yet, this roadside gem was a chunky mash of silky avocado pieces and bright bursts of citrus, with a subtle undercurrent of heat. It’s unfortunate that I have forgotten the name and location of the market, because I fear that the memory of that guacamole will never go away.
I’m not alone in my devotion to the odd, nubby fruit and its offspring dip. The avocado has been thought to be an aphrodisiac for ages. The Aztecs saw it as a fertility symbol, naming it ahuacatl, meaning “testicle,” most likely because of its shape. Some stories even relate an ancient custom of locking up the virgins during harvest time. The sexy fruit’s reputation has proven hard to shake. It wasn’t until the 1920s, when American growers spun a virtuous public-relations campaign, that good citizens felt able to purchase the fruit without fear of damaging their reputations. There’s little doubt that the avocado has hit the mainstream: more are consumed on Super Bowl Sunday than any other day, including Cinco de Mayo. On that special Sunday, it is estimated that fans will consume nearly fifty million pounds of avocado, enough to cover a football field with close to twelve feet of guacamole.
There are two main varieties of avocado grown in this country, Fuerte and Hass. The Fuerte tree is largely credited with creating the California avocado industry, which supplies roughly ninety percent of the country’s crop. Among a group of such trees once brought up from Mexico, only one survived the great freeze of 1913. It was named Fuerte, the Spanish word for “vigorous.” All Hass avocado trees can be traced back to a single “mother tree” planted in La Habra Heights, California, by a mail carrier named Rudolph Hass, who patented his tree in 1935. The original tree, which spawned thousands more, died of root rot in 2002.
It’s important to understand the splendor of avocados beyond guacamole. More than a few Californians have recounted memories of eating the fruit from their own backyards, simply scooping out the flesh with a spoon and maybe adding a dash of salt. In solid, un-mashed form, a slice of avocado on a piece of crusty bread lives up to its Chinese name of “butter fruit.” The beauty lies in its mild flavor and soft-yet-firm texture, which provides a welcome contrast to a salty Cobb salad or a thick turkey sandwich.
To the world and its chefs, the avocado is a much-loved ingredient. Who doesn’t adore a sushi roll that contains a sliver of avocado? Balanced superbly with raw tuna in the Four Seasons roll from Bagu Sushi, the avocado nicely complements a swath of flying fish roe. In the restaurant’s French Kiss roll, plump with crab, asparagus, and cream cheese, it adds just the right touch of buttery lightness. Though I haven’t found a great example locally, one of the most refreshing desserts I’ve ever had was a Filipino drink made with avocados and ice cream.
Sometimes it’s simplicity that helps the avocado shine. The linked restaurants of Zelo, Bacio, and Ciao Bella have a salad called the Brasiliana, in which cubes of ripe avocado mingle with small palm hearts, chunks of tomato, and slices of onion and celery in a tart lemon vinaigrette. In each simple-yet-elegant bite, the avocado nearly melts with the citrus and softens the slight crunch and tang of the palm heart. While not intricate, the dish celebrates the avocado’s strengths. The 112 Eatery offers a more surprising use of the fruit that is no less graceful. Their crostini, with white anchovies and avocado, pits the dusky and briny against the fresh and bright, creating an engaging bite. If you’ve fallen hard for guacamole, and all other uses for the avocado seem ridiculous, I hear you. For ease and accessibility, as well as freshness, you can’t do better than Chipotle. Squelch your hate of chain establishments: Their bright green guac is made often and made well. If the need is less urgent, and the situation calls for a more refined atmosphere, Masa’s Guacamole Picado hits the mark. Tart and chunky, you’ll want to eat it with the chips, the veggies, and even a spoon. For a good show and a little instruction on perfect mashing, check out the legendary tableside guac at Tejas, where they know how to work the mortar and pestle.
It’s rare to find two people who like their guacamole exactly the same way. The key to having great guac may be the key to all great relationships: Keep it fresh. Possibly the best option is to bring home a bag of avocados, tuck into the kitchen, and create your own guacamole, one that will keep you coming back for more. Just don’t over-mash.

Guacamole
3 ripe avocados
Juice from 1 medium lime
1/4 cup chopped white onion
3/4 cup freshly chopped cilantro
1 tsp. crushed red pepper
Salt and pepper to taste
Set aside one pit after scooping out avocados. Throw avocado and all other ingredients together and lightly mash with a fork. Depending on your preference, you may want to add tomatoes or use jalapenos. Add the spare pit (to help keep the guac green), cover, and let sit for a bit before serving.

SHOP TALK
If you haven’t checked in at Solera in a while, the new seasonal/neuva tapas list—modern small plates inspired by the cuisines of Spain—are worth a fresh visit. Included are wine-braised rabbit with chocolate and citrus and deviled eggs with blue crab and cumin. Yes, please! If, like me, you’re not keen on decisions, the chef will design for you a tasting menu of eight pieces for under $30 (solera-restaurant.com) … From February 23–25, the Minneapolis Convention Center will be packed to the rafters with noshers and snackers looking for the best bite our towns have to offer—in other words, it’s time once again for the Twin Cities Food and Wine Experience. See foodwineshow.com for details … Don’t forget that the St. Paul Farmers’ Market (stpaulfarmersmarket.com) has winter hours, Saturdays from 9 a.m. to noon. The bounty of local cheeses, baked goods, meats, eggs and chocolates will help remind you that there will be a thaw. … The culinary outings at Stillwater’s Outing Lodge (outinglodge.com) are both creative and tasty. This month’s “Food for Lovers” dinner on Valentine’s Day includes oysters and chocolate, while the Mardi Gras ball on February 20 celebrates that last great meal before Lent with lobster bisque, escargot, and foie gras.

CUISINE SUPREME
Temple Bar and Restaurant
A stellar Asian restaurant has been one of the major things missing from the downtown Minneapolis scene. Tom Pham, the force behind Azia, has filled the need with Temple. Sultry and opulent, Temple took over the old Tiburon space and kept the giant fish tank, now filled with huge, colorful Koi. The menu’s French/Indonesian focus is apparently inspired by Pham’s grandmother, but it also plays with other flavors. Small-plate standouts include the refreshing scallop ceviche with Asian pear salad, and the more decadent pan-roasted quail with duck liver ravioli. Tea-roasted pork tenderloin, a beautiful champagne-poached salmon, and amazingly tender Mandarin orange-braised short ribs are all great options for bigger plates, but pass on the stone-grilled Kobe, which doesn’t live up to the price. As at Azia, the saucily named drinks are just as important as the food: try the Innocent Geisha or When Anton Met Gwenevere for an interesting night. 1201 Harmon Place, Minneapolis; 612-767-3770; www.mplstemple.com

The General Store Café
Longtime patrons of this Minnetonka retail institution know that a perfect end to a flurry of spending is a quiet table and some freshly made fare. Hearty sandwiches on Breadsmith loaves, baked daily, are piled high with just about whatever you want. Soups and other specials change daily, although the ginger-laced chicken salad is so popular that it seems to stay year-round. For dessert, dense cakes and a legendary bread pudding are rivaled only by a well-rounded selection of Sebastian Joe’s ice cream. 14401 Highway 7, Minnetonka; 952-935-7131; www.generalstoreofminnetonka.com

Bascali’s Brick Oven
Sometimes the pizza is not the reason to go to a pizza joint—even when it’s brick-oven pizza. Because, while good pizza can be had everywhere, good calzones are rare. And at Bascali’s, a little hole in the wall in St. Paul, the calzones will capture your heart. Slowly baked in an imported Italian brick oven, the calzones emerge with a crispy outer crust and fresh ingredients inside that are tender and avoid the soupiness that plague lesser calzones. Especially recommended are the pungent California chicken version with pesto and garlic and the classic sausage- and pepper-filled Italiano; but the owners wisely include the option to create your own as well. 1552 Como Ave., St. Paul; 651-645-6617; www.bascalis.com www.bascalis.com

There are a few unwritten rules of food snobbery that come into play, especially when dining in a new hot spot or restaurant run by a big-name chef. One is for the dining party to order as many courses as possible, making sure to hit all areas where the kitchen’s repertoire is considered notable. Another prohibits the same dish from being ordered by more than one person, thus permitting a wider circle of tasting as everyone passes plates and forkfuls loaded with the perfect bite. Superceding those rules, however, is one that, when broken, has been known to create uncomfortable moments of silence among even very good friends. That rule is: Never order the chicken.
Food snobs believe that restaurants offer chicken simply to provide something for your Aunt Sally from Iowa who just happened to invite herself along to dinner. It’s on the menu as a concession, or a bribe to be offered up by more adventurous gastronomes to the lesser inclined: “Well, I’m sure they’ll have some chicken you can order.” The self-proclaimed elite eaters pass over the chicken entrée because they wonder why anyone would choose a common rock when faced with a choice of precious stones. This is why, when I think my friends might be heading down the slippery slope of snobbery, I love to watch their faces when I choose chicken.
In truth, chicken is king. Seriously, can you imagine a world without it? I challenge omnivores to find a week when they didn’t consume chicken in one form or another. Besides being the universal yardstick for the flavor of all things (“tastes like chicken”), the bird plays the role of prime protein in countless cuisines all over the planet. Instead of thinking of chicken as pedestrian, we should be celebrating its versatility—it can be satisfying as both a vehicle for a star chef’s signature sauce and as a bucket of crispy fried goodness.
The domestic chicken we know today is believed to have descended from the jungle fowl of India and Southeast Asia. Like so many things, chickens date back at least to the ancient Egyptians, who perfected a method of mass incubation, hatching thousands of eggs at once. Trade routes and travelers helped deliver domestic poultry to the growing world. Because they are so easy to raise, adaptable to all types of climates, and prolific progenitors, it’s not hard to see how chickens came to feed the world.
For many cultures, the chicken is more than just a food source. During Hindu cremation ceremonies, a chicken tethered by a leg acts as a channel for any evil spirits that might be in attendance. Ancient Greeks considered roosters to be god-like in their valor, and the Romans used hens as oracles by feeding them a special grain cake. If the birds reacted noisily, the omen was bad, if they ate the cake greedily, it was good.
If ever there were a question concerning the culinary merits of chicken, consider this: Why would France, one of the most food-centric countries in the world, use the Gallic rooster as its national emblem? On these shores, our most familiar chicken emblem may be that of Harland Sanders’ bucket of Original Recipe, but as anyone responsible for six or seven family meals a week well knows, chicken is a home cook’s best friend.
The IQF (individually quick frozen) breast may be one of the most popular ways to buy chicken. Bags of easily thawed, tender white meat have probably done more for the average American cook than any other product. Those who venture into more intensive cooking can always take on a whole bird. The capon, for instance, is a castrated rooster that has more white meat and a higher fat content than other types of chickens; this makes its meat extremely tender and flavorful (it is also among the largest birds, weighing from six to nine pounds). Roasters are young hens, about four months old, ranging from three to five pounds. Two- to five-pound broiler/fryers are the most commonly sold whole chicken.
Of course, the industrialization of meat processing is one of the reasons why chicken has become so cheap and easy to get anywhere, at any time. Some disgusting common practices used by large chicken factories, like haphazard electrocution or bacteria-rich water baths, have come to light in recent years, causing unease among people who love to eat chicken. As a result, the market for fresh, naturally raised and processed chicken has been gaining momentum to the point at which even massive companies like Gold n’ Plump now attempt to trade on their wholesome qualities. More important, small producers like Lori Callister and her Farm in the City at the Midtown Global Market have found an audience for flavorful, naturally grown chickens. After choosing your bird, you can curry it and cook it in a tagine; throw it in a stir-fry in the manner of General Tso; or grill it on a skewer with a tangy Thai marinade. Maybe you are what you eat, or maybe you are what kind of chicken you make for the night. It’s often said that even a professional cook’s skills are best judged by sampling his hard-cooked eggs and roasted chicken. Creating simple, flavorful elegance from something so common seems the antithesis of pedestrian—surely this achievement should be heralded by people, even food snobs, the world over?