viernes, 30 de enero de 2009

Dining & Wine

source: NYT

Take Bacon. Add Sausage. Blog.

"Only if he is wicked!" -Kathy (tennis player): "Rock n Rolla"- a Guy Ritchie movie

Don Ipock for The New York Times

The Bacon Explosion is a rolled concoction that can be baked or cooked in a smoker. More Photos >

Published: January 27, 2009

FOR a nation seeking unity, a recipe has swept the Internet that seems to unite conservatives and liberals, gun owners and foodies, carnivores and ... well, not vegetarians and health fanatics.

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Recipe: Bacon Explosion (January 28, 2009)

Don Ipock for The New York Times

Woven bacon has sausage on top, then some cooked bacon. More Photos »

Certainly not the vegetarians and health fanatics.

This recipe is the Bacon Explosion, modestly called by its inventors “the BBQ Sausage Recipe of all Recipes.” The instructions for constructing this massive torpedo-shaped amalgamation of two pounds of bacon woven through and around two pounds of sausage and slathered in barbecue sauce first appeared last month on the Web site of a team of Kansas City competition barbecuers. They say a diverse collection of well over 16,000 Web sites have linked to the recipe, celebrating, or sometimes scolding, its excessiveness. A fresh audience could be ready to discover it on Super Bowl Sunday.

Where once homegrown recipes were disseminated in Ann Landers columns or Junior League cookbooks, new media have changed — and greatly accelerated — the path to popularity. Few recipes have cruised down this path as fast or as far as the Bacon Explosion, and this turns out to be no accident. One of its inventors works as an Internet marketer, and had a sophisticated understanding of how the latest tools of promotion could be applied to a four-pound roll of pork.

The Bacon Explosion was born shortly before Christmas in Roeland Park, Kan., in Jason Day’s kitchen. He and Aaron Chronister, who anchor a barbecue team called Burnt Finger BBQ, were discussing a challenge from a bacon lover they received on their Twitter text-messaging service: What could the barbecuers do with bacon?

At the same time, Mr. Chronister wanted to get attention for their Web site, BBQAddicts.com. More traffic would bring in more advertising income, which they needed to fund a hobby that can cost thousands of dollars.

Mr. Day, a systems administrator who has been barbecuing since college, suggested doing something with a pile of sausage. “It’s a variation of what’s called a fattie in the barbecue community,” Mr. Day said. “But we took it to the extreme.”

He bought about $20 worth of bacon and Italian sausage from a local meat market. As it lay on the counter, he thought of weaving strips of raw bacon into a mat. The two spackled the bacon mat with a layer of sausage, covered that with a crunchy layer of cooked bacon, and rolled it up tight.

They then stuck the roll — containing at least 5,000 calories and 500 grams of fat — in the Good-One Open Range backyard smoker that they use for practice. (In competitions, they use a custom-built smoker designed by the third member of the team, Bryant Gish, who was not present at the creation of the Bacon Explosion.)

Mr. Day said his wife laughed the whole time. “She’s very supportive of my hobby,” he said.

The two men posted their adventure on their Web site two days before Christmas. On Christmas Day, traffic on the site spiked to more than 27,000 visitors.

Mr. Chronister explained that the Bacon Explosion “got so much traction on the Web because it seems so over the top.” But Mr. Chronister, an Internet marketer from Kansas City, Mo., did what he could to help it along. He first used Twitter to send short text messages about the recipe to his 1,200 Twitter followers, many of them fellow Internet marketers with extensive social networks. He also posted links on social networking sites. “I used a lot of my connections to get it out there and to push it,” he said.

The Bacon Explosion posting has since been viewed about 390,000 times. It first found a following among barbecue fans, but quickly spread to sites run by outdoor enthusiasts, off-roaders and hunters. (Several proposed venison-sausage versions.) It also got mentions on the Web site of Air America, the liberal radio network, and National Review, the conservative magazine. Jonah Goldberg at NationalReview.com wrote, “There must be a reason one reader after another sends me this every couple hours.” Conservatives4palin.com linked, too.

So did regular people. A man from Wooster, Ohio, wrote that friends had served it at a bon voyage party before his 10-day trip to Israel, where he expected bacon to be in short supply. “It wasn’t planned as a send-off for me to Israel, but with all of the pork involved it sure seemed like it,” he wrote.

About 30 people sent in pictures of their Explosions. One sent a video of the log catching fire on a grill.

Mr. Day said that whether it is cooked in an oven or in a smoker, the rendered fat from the bacon keeps the sausage juicy. But in the smoker, he said, the smoke heightens the flavor of the meats.

Nick Pummell, a barbecue hobbyist in Las Vegas, learned of the recipe from Mr. Chronister’s Twittering. He made his first Explosion on Christmas Day, when he and a group of friends also had a more traditional turkey. “This was kind of the dessert part,” he said. “You need to call 911 after you are done. It was awesome.”

Mr. Chronister said the main propellant behind the Bacon Explosion’s spread was a Web service called StumbleUpon, which steers Web users toward content they are likely to find interesting. Readers tell the service about their professional interests or hobbies, and it serves up sites to match them. More than 7 million people worldwide use the service in an attempt to duplicate serendipity, the company says.

Mr. Chronister intended to send the post to StumbleUpon, but one of his readers beat him to it. It appeared on the front page of StumbleUpon for three days, which further increased traffic.

Mr. Chronister also littered his site with icons for Digg, Del.icio.us and other sites in which readers vote on posts or Web pages they like, helping to spread the word. “Alright this is going on Digg,” a commenter wrote minutes after the Explosion was posted. “Already there,” someone else answered.

Some have claimed that the Bacon Explosion is derivative. A writer known as the Headless Blogger posted a similar roll of sausage and bacon in mid-December. Mr. Chronister and Mr. Day do not claim to have invented the concept.

But they do vigorously defend their method. When one commenter dared to suggest that the two hours in the smoker could be slashed to a mere 30 minutes if the roll was first cooked in a microwave oven, Mr. Chronister snapped back. “Microwave??? Seriously? First, the proteins in the meats will bind around 140 degrees, so putting it on the smoker after that is pointless as it won’t absorb any smoke flavor,” he responded on his site. “This requires patience and some attention. It’s not McDonald’s.”

martes, 27 de enero de 2009

Food is Culture

Street Menu That Says Stay a While

Gabriele Stabile for The New York Times
TORTILLAS PLUS Cabrito’s namesake figurehead.
Published: January 28, 2009

VISITED on its best nights and judged by its best dishes, Cabrito is the Mexican restaurant so many of us dreamed about for so long.

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Diner's Journal

A blog by Frank Bruni and other Dining section writers on restaurants and food.

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Gabriele Stabile for The New York Times

A choice of margaritas.

It has just enough sophistication and upscale trappings, manifest in the quality of its cocktails and length of its tequila and mezcal list, to be the plausible cynosure of a fun night out, not just a grubby refueling station where the price of dauntless, authentic flavors is a spartan atmosphere. You don’t, in other words, find yourself wanting to eat fast and hurry out the door.

And yet it’s not really upscale, with little of the vagueness and few of the generic touches that too often accompany an ambitious ethnic restaurant showcasing cooking that’s neither European nor Japanese. For the most part it doesn’t pull its punches, some of them fierier than you’re accustomed to. The deep pool of red chili sauce in which the short ribs come is ablaze with guajillo and chile de arbol, and it’s spectacular.

Cabrito doesn’t lean too hard and too frequently on avocado and doesn’t take the position that enough sour cream can solve any problem, redeem any sin. It sweats the quality of the tortillas (house-made and usually warm), the chorizo (also house-made and juicy), the cilantro (vibrant and abundant) and the toasted pumpkin seeds.

Try the shrimp and tamarind ceviche, and marvel at the way those pumpkin seeds, or pepitas, lend the perfect degree of saltiness and the perfect little crunch to a mix of ingredients — including red onion, pineapple, avocado and serrano chilies — with an expert balance of sweet, sour, sharp and soft notes. The kitchen is paying attention and taking care.

Much of the time, that is. There’s a qualification in the first sentence up top and a digression right here because Cabrito is afflicted by an inconsistency that’s puzzling, even maddening, in the sense that you don’t want anything challenging the exhilaration you can so easily and rightly feel about this special place.

There are dishes that don’t seem, by nature, to rise to the caliber of others, and dishes that aren’t dependable from one visit to the next.

Take the namesake dish: the slow-roasted baby goat, hunks and strands of which can be tucked into a tortilla with the restaurant’s intense, riveting salsa borracha, a jammy amalgam of onions, pasilla chilies, tequila and sour orange juice. I’ve had the goat when it was dry and unappealingly gristly, when it was moist and blessedly fatty and when it was somewhere in between. And I know from the reports of others that this unpredictability is par for the Cabrito — and cabrito — course.

The service, too, can’t be trusted. At times Cabrito seems woefully understaffed, and you could wind up with a crimp in your neck from all your craning, twisting and swiveling to figure out what’s what and who might be able to help you.

At other times, though, the restaurant operates with an efficiency and authority that defy the chaos in the pleasant but cramped room, which has imported Mexican tiles along one wall and, along the other, a bar that seems to go on forever. The bar’s reach and prominence assert the importance of alcohol — and the lack of ceremony — at the very core of Cabrito’s identity.

Cabrito, which opened last May, is owned by Zak Pelaccio and the other folks who masterminded the Fatty Crab, which is the restaurant where Cabrito’s chef, David Schuttenberg, last worked.

That genealogy shows in the menu he has put together. It owes as much to the urban-glutton tropes of the moment — to the sensibilities of the most self-consciously unpretentious of this city’s gastronomes — as it does to Puebla and other areas of Mexico.

There’s a street-food focus in the front-and-center placement of tacos and pizza-esque huaraches, which are available with skirt steak (good), crumbled chorizo (better) and the corn fungus huitlacoche (best). Servers at upscale Mexican restaurants are constantly chattering about the trufflelike properties of huitlacoche, but I usually can’t detect them. At Cabrito I could: it was like ingesting some vegetal pheromone.

There’s pork and more pork, fatty and fattier, and there are kinds and cuts of meat beyond the most overexposed and familiar ones. The baby goat isn’t the best example. One taco comes with braised beef tongue, which is sliced thin, seared and folded into one of Cabrito’s thick but tender tortillas, which taste of the corn in them, along with a salsa of avocado, tomatillos, jalapeño, garlic and cilantro. It shouldn’t be missed.

The beverage selection has a distinct, felicitous personality: more than three dozen tequilas; a half dozen mezcals; soft drinks made with tropical fruits like mandarin and guava; and fresh watermelon juice, used in several of the well-mixed cocktails.

That there’s almost nothing in the way of wine is understandable and forgivable. Wine isn’t really what this food or setting calls for.

Less easily overlooked is the number and variety of desserts. There’s one and only one, churros with chocolate sauce, and that sauce is thin and dull. The short shrift Cabrito gives to this last act of a meal has an advantage for the restaurant: diners leave — and the tables turn — more quickly. But it ends the evening on a disappointing note for any diner with a sweet tooth.

There are additional disappointments. In a restaurant with porky preoccupations, well exercised in the carnitas, why are the braised spareribs in the pozole so repeatedly dry? Why are citrus notes almost absent from the guacamole?

You wonder, but then you take another bite of the rajas con crema — roasted, sliced poblano chilies in a luscious milky bath — and you don’t care about anything else. It’s as satisfying a Mexican dish as any around town, and it makes clear that Cabrito is a whole lot more than the bar-with-food it is sometimes cast as (and sometimes pretends, with strategic coyness, to be).

In a city with no surfeit of bold Mexican food but plenty of ways to spend more money with less satisfaction, Cabrito deserves recognition even beyond what it has already received.

Cabrito

*

50 Carmine Street (Bedford Street); (212) 929-5050. cabritonyc.com

ATMOSPHERE A pink goat outside, imported tiles along one wall and a bar with hand-painted flourishes along the other gussy up an otherwise plain but festive setting.

SOUND LEVEL Roaring when crowded.

RECOMMENDED DISHES Rajas con crema; tongue and tomatillo, chicken liver and chorizo tacos; skirt steak, chorizo and huitlacoche huaraches; shrimp and tamarind ceviche; carnitas; short ribs in red chili; chicken with plantain-coconut fried rice.

WINE LIST Only one red, one white and one sparkling, but dozens of tequila and mezcal options, plus cocktails using fresh juices.
Source : NYT
http://events.nytimes.com/2009/01/28/dining/reviews/28rest.html?partner=permalink&exprod=permalink