tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12395720370816317482011-11-27T19:08:38.227-06:00I'm Brian, and I write about food. This is a blog about cooking, eating, and drinking, mostly in Madison and entirely for pleasure. This site exists because it's important what we eat, where we eat, and how we eat. Because it's important who grows our food, who prepares it, and who shares our table. Because feeding our families, our friends, and ourselves is one of the most fundamental and sensual parts of the human experience. And because it tastes damn good.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.comBlogger291100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-27422499649818258152008-05-05T09:15:00.009-05:002008-12-09T15:50:26.674-06:00

Remember the last time you walked past a restaurant kitchen? Edith Piaf was barely audible over the din of the line, as the grill man called out that the châteaubriand would be ready in "deux minutes." Remember how, after service, the bereted cooks would head out the back door, with knife rolls in their left hands, and volumes by Sartre or films by Godard in their right?Yeah, neither do I.Cinco

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-38960404761527021892008-03-04T16:16:00.002-06:002008-12-09T15:50:26.868-06:00

Recent years have been good to fans of high quality, locally produced food. Across the country, farmers' markets are on the upswing as demand for better ingredients swells among foodies, hippies, yuppies, and health nuts alike. Words like "salsify," "ramps," and "geoduck" are appearing on lips and menus in greater numbers than ever before, and sometimes customers actually know what they mean. I'm

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-89232462399045687692008-02-20T19:19:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:27.248-06:00

Otto von Bismarck famously said that the less people know about how sausages and laws are made, the better they sleep. Then again, do you really want to take culinary advice from the man who refused to compromise with the National Liberals on the issue of expelling socialist agitators? We all know how that turned out.It was thus largely out of spite for the Prussian Ministerpräsident that I spent

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-2891502775833562152008-02-05T12:57:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:27.363-06:00

Leave it to politically minded Madison to focus more on the next leader of the free world than a holiday centered on eating, drinking, and decadence. Until one of the candidates voices his support for a 28th "Protect the Foie Gras" amendment, I'll be devoting my attention to king cake and beads.So what's a celebrant to do? She could have gone to Crescent City Grill if it still existed. The solid

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-11723257416189817672008-01-26T15:25:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:27.514-06:00

(That's the interjection, by the way, not the noun.)Yes, it's that festively delusional time of year again, when Madison pretends to be San Diego, and diners can convince themselves that visiting five restaurants at $25 a pop is somehow more economical than spending $40 at one of them. And what's a bottle of wine on top of each visit?This Sunday marks the beginning of Restaurant Week, and several

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-84882525949978116372008-01-22T23:08:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:27.860-06:00

As is my wont, I was inclined to open with a quip about the temperature. I could have remarked in passing that a positive number on the thermometer was balmy for a Wisconsin January. Maybe a timely and relevant reference to Mortal Kombat was in order; between Sub-Zero and the "Toasty!" guy, that would be the stuff of comedy legend. But as I arrived home, my skin burning and head aching due to the

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-48048666817878541872008-01-16T20:21:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:28.356-06:00

At long last my dreams have come true. I can finally eat Dolly the sheep without breaking into the Royal Museum of Scotland.Today, in a show of scientific hubris worthy of a Mary Shelley novel or Jerry Bruckheimer film, the FDA issued a release declaring that cloned animals and their offspring are safe to eat.Which really shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. While I'm no scientician, it makes

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-65006577228941439932008-01-09T10:52:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:28.640-06:00

By November of the newly departed year, when the New Oxford American Dictionary declared locavore its Word of 2007, it had become apparent that eating locally was a phenomenon no longer consigned to Berkeley's Gourmet Ghetto (or, you know, the majority of the planet).This phenomenon is, by and large, a force for good, and carefully grown or produced ingredients at the market are generally

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-51437602144366646282008-01-03T09:57:00.002-06:002009-01-28T16:52:15.013-06:00

No, that's not a five, and it's certainly not a cinq. Instead, it's one of the most appealing new restaurants--with one of the best bars--to come to Madison in quite some time. The sandwiches from Relish are still there, for the most part, and they're still mostly good. That said, they're no longer really the point. The shop has instead become, as the name and location would imply, a Wisconsin

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-4072500846702623442007-12-16T23:33:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:28.680-06:00

Last Wednesday I had the pleasure of attending L'Etoile's Rhône Wine Dinner. Like one of Mrs. Lovett's meat pies, it proved an altogether delicious experience that was punctuated by a single moment of shocking horror.My favorite course of the evening featured a classic onion soup paired with Domaine la Soumade's 2001 "Cuvée Confiance," an outstanding Rasteau. While I'm not terribly experienced

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-20012660503008484272007-12-10T22:03:00.001-06:002008-12-09T15:50:28.779-06:00

From time to time, I enjoy a healthy wager. For instance, if I were to discover a book that claims to be about appreciating food, but turns out to be a joyless, political, and atrociously written piece that somehow managed to find a publisher (to be continued, dear reader [1/9/08 Update]), I might try to finish the work if a sadistic friend bet me a cocktail that I couldn't.The danger of such

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-76773660446845716592007-12-04T19:52:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:29.328-06:00

I've been going cheese crazy lately.Don't worry, though. Despite what my Seussian blather might imply, cheese madness isn't a newly discovered spongiform encephalopathy. Instead, it's what happens when a really good cheese shop opens less than a mile from your home. And rather than having one's brain ravaged by rogue, misfolding proteins--that's alcohol's job, damn it!--the major detrimental

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-18232567010966022092007-11-26T18:04:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:29.476-06:00

Hail, Sandra. Hail, Guy.Thank God there's one fewer thing to keep me from waiting for 2 Dudes Catering to come on.New York media blog fishbowlNY is reporting that Chef Emeril Lagasse's Emeril Live will cease production when his contract expires on December 11.This is, I'm sure, totally unrelated to the fact that, earlier this month, cool dude and reality show winner Guy Fieri's shows Guy's Big

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-87804829088640080262007-11-22T08:54:00.000-06:002007-11-22T10:32:12.224-06:00

When the the availabilities of a particular cut of steak or foie gras in Chicago are topics of discussion, it's pretty easy for me to see how much I have to be thankful for. Every day, food is a little luxury in my life. It is a passion. For far too many people, though, food is a reality that doesn't involve nitpicking a trained chef's squab or discussing twelve new things too do with caul. For

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-67599753133807239182007-11-19T10:09:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:30.013-06:00

Thanksgiving. It's the eatin'est day of the year. After all, what better way to give thanks than to gorge yourself on dry turkey, argue about politics with your drunken relatives, and then wake up early the next day to claw through your fellow consumers for amazing deals on flat-screen TV's and Tickle-Me Elmos at Wal-Mart?I kid, America, I kid. You too, drunken relatives. Thanksgiving is a

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-35854633499054040512007-11-12T12:18:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:30.387-06:00

That's the answer I got this weekend when I asked if it would be possible to get any bone-in ribeye from Fountain Praire Farms. "All of our best cuts go to L'Etoile."Like Jessica Simpson faced by some particularly complex long division, my initial reaction was one of terror and panic. How could this be? Where else could I get such an incredibly perfect steak? Would I be forced to happily throw

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-21010342163571590182007-11-09T17:08:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:30.755-06:00

This weekend is always a disappointing one for the Madison foodie. It marks the time that the Farmer's Market shrinks down, moves inside, and enters into a semi-torporous state, not to return to its full glory until rhubarb magically transforms into asparagus. The Capitol Square would be a little gloomier--sure, L'Etoile and Harvest would still be there, of course, and Cafe Soleil and Marigold

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-51676347646885570442007-11-08T20:15:00.000-06:002008-12-09T15:50:30.999-06:00

Several months ago at a party, after a few too many glasses of wine, it seemed a good idea to make small talk with a young woman by launching into a tirade against Charlie Trotter's stance on foie gras. The man is, of course, something of a legend in the non-coastal culinary world that is Midwest. He's easily one of the most acclaimed chefs in our little corner of the world--the author of 14

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-8190652927093175612007-10-28T15:48:00.000-05:002007-10-30T13:51:57.814-05:00

There's no two ways about it. The rare Kumamoto oyster, halibut special, or quality fish fry aside, Madison is woefully bereft of good seafood. Edible ocean and shellfish can be difficult to find for under $30 a plate, and are often disappointing even at those rarefied prices. It is likely because of this void that, as the air crisps and the leaves turn throughout our Midwestern city, a Mexican

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-18800895082665920512007-10-22T14:51:00.000-05:002008-12-09T15:50:31.455-06:00

Halloween, which I gratuitously consider to last the entire month of October, is one of my favorite times of year. The weather is crisp and temperate, there's cider and chocolate on the table, and murder and mayhem in the air. It's the perfect time to picnic in the graveyard, ignore your nascent food blog for two weeks, or go hitchhiking, only to off the unsuspecting fools who picked you

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-48124905842847258012007-10-08T11:17:00.000-05:002008-12-09T15:50:32.037-06:00

The premiere of Next Iron Chef brought some wildly different results for my ponies, John Besh and odds-on favorite Traci des Jardins. While Chef Besh earned top accolades for his chocolate catfish truffles, Chef des Jardins was the first to be eliminated, vanquished by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, overwrought metaphor, and a salmon roe dessert salad.The challenges were good ones,

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-82441242682830614332007-10-04T11:28:00.000-05:002008-12-09T15:50:32.235-06:00

Congratulations, Hung! More so than any contestant in three seasons, you deserve to be called Top Chef.It pained me, before the decision was read, to see that only 19% of the viewers thought that Hung should win. For me, it was a no brainer. And, despite the editing shenanigans, I think it was for the judges, too. Casey's been spot on for most of the competition, and the flavors she's brought to

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-63526533213761386642007-09-30T14:37:00.000-05:002008-12-09T15:50:32.565-06:00

Something is rotten in the state of the Food Network.Of course, that's to be expected. For once, though, the rot is a metaphorical one, and not Sandra Lee's latest culinary abortion.This is the channel that replaced Sara Moulton with a second daily dose of Rachael Ray and cut Molto Mario to free up airtime for Semi-Homemade Cooking. This is the channel that ran a supposed culinary competition in

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-16976836944230788152007-09-25T18:44:00.001-05:002008-12-09T15:50:32.732-06:00

One of my favorite times in the day is that moment when I leave my kitchen, venture across the living room, and, imaging myself an urban, Midwestern Jerry Traunfeld, pick fresh herbs from the pots and planters on my balcony. The satisfaction comes on two levels: first, the sense of a job well done, of the disproportionate rewards for a bit of watering and attention, and second, the immediate

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-89778162178004703082007-09-18T21:48:00.001-05:002008-12-09T15:50:32.874-06:00

This past weekend provided me with the opportunity to finally visit the Kennedy Manor Dining Room and Bar, across from the Edgewater Hotel at the corner of Wisconsin Avenue and Langdon Street. While there, I had the chance to taste a very nice Syrah, the 2004 "Big Easy" by Santa Barbara's Fess Parker Winery.It's not just a clever name. This wine is easy to drink, with big flavors and a

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-25960637275107735062007-09-17T10:24:00.000-05:002008-12-09T15:50:33.384-06:00

God from the mount of Sinai, whose grey top Shall tremble, he descending, will himself In thunder and loud trumpets' sound Ordain it caviar-Paradise LostAt least I think that's what Milton wrote.In the haute cuisine pantheon, and much more so in general perception, the image caviar evokes is one of wealth and opulence that no other food can match. 400 lb railroad barons in top hats and

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-10673254969037899862007-09-12T10:50:00.000-05:002008-12-09T15:50:33.686-06:00

Like most of us, you probably know one.They walk our fair city like Janette Scott, looking like the rest of us, for the most part, frequenting our coffee shops, our markets, and our restaurants. Oh, there are signs, to be sure. The coffee is fair trade, the produce invariably organic, and the time spent perusing the menu just a little too short--and does that slight frame belie an amino acid

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-26218895545644139312007-09-10T12:16:00.000-05:002008-12-09T15:50:34.078-06:00

Milwaukee. Shit.It should have been an easy mission. Hell, there was even a registry. I was to go to a gourmet store, buy a few silicone mats, maybe a pie dish, and my good friend and his new wife would be set for a happy life of baking together. I accepted the mission. What the hell else was I going to do?Of course, once you set foot in a gourmet store, the bullshit piles up so fast you need

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1239572037081631748.post-1038805966781378472007-09-03T20:46:00.001-05:002007-09-05T14:53:09.655-05:00

I’m not the first to compare food with sex, and I won’t be the last, but the comparison has become a cliché for a reason. At their best, both arouse the five senses and the animal center of our brain, eventually leaving us happily exhausted—and perhaps in search of a cigarette— but always craving more.Like most people in Madison who care about food, I bravely crawl out of bed on Saturday mornings

Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12276529505341722303noreply@blogger.com2