I lived a decade in Atlanta and one of my favorite restaurants is Food 101. Their philosophy was to take comfort food (meatloaf, onion rings, tomato soup), and do a gourmet riff on American classics. I lived a block away from the place and I was there once a week.
In that vein, I’ve been thinking of mac-n-cheese lately. If you’re a purist, or have your favorite, you probably don’t want to read further, because I’m going to take it apart and put it back together again. Not because I think my take is the best version there ever was or will be, but because I just wanted to play with a classic.
So: New Mexico Chile, Three Cheese Mac-n-Cheese, with criminis, and (of course) bacon.
Say Cheese!
Living in the subtropics of Florida, I have a luscious affection for warm-water fish. Grouper, snapper, seriously big creatures that may approach or exceed the weight of the fisherman that brought them in. Northern fishermen have their own trophies — halibut or cod get to similar sizes, and sometimes I find that fillets from these fish can work just as well in a recipe as fish to which I’m more accustomed. The fish itself may not be as important as the size of the muscle grain, or the tenderness of the fillet.
I was in a Latin mood, and grouper was fresh at my market, but if I were in a zanier world-spanning mood, it would have been interesting to do a southwestern salsa verde with a halibut or hake fillet — neither of which exist within 3000 miles of Mexico, but both approach grouper in texture and savor. When in a regional mood, the sauce itself, and the seasonings, may matter more than the species of the protein.
However, the grouper was there, and I grabbed it.
tangy spicy goodness follows…
Ten years ago, I had a client in Phoenix, Arizona. About a week a month, I’d shuttle out to the desert from Atlanta, do some biz, see some sights, and eat some food. I was really starting my foodie-ness about then, and at one restaurant, I was stunned to taste the best Hawaiian ahi tuna I’d ever had in my life. In Phoenix. More than 5000 miles away from the seas where that fish was caught.
I’m a fan of cooking local; supporting local farms or fishermen or using local ingredients. I think it’s a good thing to do for cuisine, a good thing for the environment, a good thing for local economies.
However, one of my culinary quirks is taking an established cuisine or technique, then throwing in something from halfway around the world. I think part of this comes from that time in Phoenix, where I could nibble on fresh tuna when it was still 105 degrees outside at 8pm. The world still has a lot of problems, but I think there are times where the internet and FedEx have brought ideas and physical chunks of the planet to places which may not have otherwise experienced them. And that can be a good thing.
All of this philosophy is too lofty for last night’s meal, though. I wanted to go a little crazy and throw together far-flung techniques and food, and jam them into one dish with, I hope, a little elegance and extravagance.
So, I made pan-roasted Maine lobster, put it in a corn tortilla nest, covered it with a French-influenced sauce Supreme/Mornay, with plenty of New Mexican Red Chile. And we ate it here — Spring in Florida.
Live lobstah await their fate
