Thanks to some inventive craft brewers, forget drinking with the seasons.
It may be gray and cold outside—coldish, at least—but we’re thinking white sand beaches and lush, humid afternoons when we reach into the fridge for an adult beverage. Citrusy hops are nothing new to IPAs and saisons. A handful of local craft brewers, though, started upping the ante and tossing in actual fruit, too, layering easy-drinking beers with strong sweet and tart undercurrents.
Victory Agave IPA with Grapefruit is the first installment in the brewer’s Blackboard Series, a riff on ingredient-inspired restaurant specials, which rolled out earlier this month. It’s a crisp-drinking ale that’s mellowed out some by the sweet syrup.
Not so much a fan of tartness? Fear not. There’s a fruity beer for you too. Coriander takes the edge off the orange in Do Good Kenzo Sour, and then a hit of honey smoothes it out even more. In Tired Hands Citra/Citrus, calamondin orange puree is folded into an already-fruity blend of hops.
The sun hasn’t gone missing, exactly. It’s just not hanging out in its usual spot. For the next couple months, thanks to these beers, we’ll have better luck finding it in the bottom of a can. —Scott Edwards
Yardley author Becky Libourel Diamond dissects the over-the-top meal that put Philly on top. (Once and for all.)
Convoluted as the 19th century was with pretentious formality and bottomless ignorance, things were a lot simpler then, too. In 1851, a group of New Yorkers and Philadelphians with too much money and time on their hands pitted the New York restaurant Delmonico’s against Philadelphia chef James Parkinson in a “culinary duel.” Twelve hours and 17 courses later, Parkinson emerged on top, proving, once and for all, that Philly was the dining capital of the country. Why are we even still talking about this? Because Becky Libourel Diamond wrote a book about it, the just-published The Thousand Dollar Dinner: America’s First Great Cookery Challenge (Westholme Publishing). She’s also planning to recreate some of the epic meal for the Historic Foodways Society in March. “I’ll discuss the significance and preparation methods of the various foods served,” the Yardley author says, “and Vicki Miller of Vinocity will explain the history and stories behind the wines.” Diamond’s also drawn interest from some undisclosed Philly chefs about restaging Parkinson’s menu, but no one’s committed yet. It’d be purely for show, of course. I mean, our championship was won 165 years ago. —Bill Gelman
How’d you learn about the dinner?
Diamond While researching my first book, Mrs. Goodfellow: The Story of America’s First Cooking School. James Parkinson was a contemporary of Elizabeth Goodfellow, a confectioner who ran the first cooking school in the US. He’s best known for his role in the duel.
And how did it come to be known as the “Thousand Dollar Dinner”?
The Philadelphia newspapers dubbed it that because it reputedly cost $1,000—approximately $32,000 in today’s money—to prepare.
Money’s no object; could the dinner be duplicated today?
Well, some of the foods Parkinson featured are now difficult or impossible to obtain, such as terrapin, green sea turtle, wild Atlantic salmon and perhaps some of the game birds. But I’m sure modern-day cooks would come up with some very interesting alternatives. Some of the foods would actually be easier to procure, such as the fresh fruits and vegetables and various meats that might have to be sourced from distant locations.
You can have your pick of any chef working in New York and Philly today. Who’s facing off in your duel?
I would love to see current Delmonico’s executive chef Billy Oliva and Marc Vetri.
Cover image and portrait courtesy Westholme Publishing
On the eve of another highly anticipated Winter Festival Chili Cook-off, we turn to longtime-featured chef Bob Kascik for an assist with our own.
By Mike Madaio
Is there anything more enticing than a cushy couch, a roaring fire and a “Ray Donovan” binge session on a dead-of-winter Sunday afternoon? For hundreds, the last several years, the answer is yes: craft beer and a bottomless bowl of pro-made chili. And they’re just the ones lucky enough to get their hands on tickets.
The Lambertville, New Jersey-New Hope Winter Festival is a week loaded with concerts, tastings, walking tours and ice sculpting staged throughout the neighboring river towns during what is otherwise one of the bleakest stretches of the year. (January 23 through Jan. 31, this year.) But its most-inspired event (and most-popular draw) is saved for last (and the indoors): an increasingly competitive chili cook-off that pits several local chefs against each other.
On the eve of this year’s edition, the 19th, we visited the kitchen of bitter Bob’s BBQ + Comfort Food, in New Hope, to ask its owner-chef, and longtime cook-off participant, Bob Kascik for some pro tips that would translate to our own chili.
Much like snowflakes, no two are alike, but there are universal treatments, like the use of peppers. Kascik uses five kinds: habanero, scotch bonnet, jalapeno, Thai and chipotle. Why five? Because he also uses five kinds of meat—pork, brisket, chicken, turkey and sausage—and he likes the symmetry. His first year in business, Kascik was over-ordering, and, out of necessity, he started developing recipes around the leftovers, from which his Double Nickel Chili eventually emerged.
The nuance comes not necessarily from the variety of meats—not just, at least—but from their preparation. “It’s the burnt ends, the stuff that’s been cooking in its own juices for hours, refining its flavor,” says Kascik, whose demeanor is the very opposite of bitter. The nickname, apparently, was doled out during a game of Uno, and it stuck. “And the blend of peppers allows for a really nice heat, not just up front but in the back of your throat, a warm glow that levels out and blends with the smokiness of the barbeque.”
Tried and true as the formula seems, Kascik is vulnerable, just like the rest of us, to chili’s pull to riff, even with bragging rights on the line at the cook-off. “It’s such a great day to hang out with other chefs, people from the community, have a few beers,” he says. “And as long as I’m doing it, I might as well try to be innovative, put out some new ideas.”
And therein lies the lure for both the maker and the eater: the potential for revelation. The base and the appearance may be relatively standard, but there’s a broad spectrum of flavor lurking within that thick, chunky, orange-red stew.
“People tend to get hung up on heat levels, but you can always add heat at the end. It’s far more important to achieve a balance of flavors and get the texture right,” Kascik says. “Once you get that down, you can start to innovate with lots of things you have around your own kitchen.”
Not that we have anything against local farmers, but you could get away with leaning on them a little less.
As you scroll through seed catalogues by a crackling fire, daydreaming about your backyard garden at the height of summer—cucumbers as big as a forearm, so many snap peas, jalapenos that seem to absorb every degree of the sun’s heat—consider making this the year you finally go for it. Over the last few summers, you’ve become increasingly self-sufficient. Hell, last year you grew more veggies than your fridge and kitchen counter could hold. Yet most Saturday mornings, you still found yourself standing over the $5-carton of eggs at the farmers market wondering if you could pull it off. Of course you can. Chickens are about as low-maintenance as pets get. (Mind you, we’re talking about two or three here, four tops.) And with this stylish, nearly seven-foot-tall cedar coop from Williams-Sonoma ($1,500; $150 for delivery and assembly), it’s really as simple as flipping open the drop-down door and plucking your eggs. A not-insignificant feature: Both the chicken and egg doors lock. Finding out that a fox reached your breakfast first is not something that you can unsee. You’re not a farmer, after all. You’re just harvesting your own eggs. Simple as that. —Scott Edwards
No one’s unfazed by the holidays. But you can minimize the damage to your waistline with a few new habits.
By Rose Nyad Orrell
Between the dinner tables loaded with candied yams, butter-lacquered turkeys and Waldorf JELL-O salads and the constant procession of cocktails and cookies that flows so matter-of-factly (of course you’ll have another), the deck is seriously stacked against all of us during the holidays.
We can (and should) guard against overindulging, but even then, our options are very limited. I challenge you to come up with one holiday eating- or drinking-related tradition that doesn’t result in a blood-sugar spike. Short of scarfing down a salad before you leave the house, the best tact is finding a balance. Here are a few tips on how to go about doing just that.
Eat clean for a week
We’re already in the throes of the party season, but it’s not too late to step back for a week, or even just a few days, and dedicate yourself to eating (and drinking) as little sugar as possible. No candy. No fruit. No flour. And—this one may sting—no alcohol. Aim to make each meal a quarter unprocessed protein and three-quarters veggies. Gradually, your body will reset itself, and you’ll feel just how much your moods chased the sugar rush. Which will help you be a little more conscious around the next cookie platter you confront.
Plan for the worst
Know, going in, that you’re probably not going to encounter much in the way of vegetables, or even really anything that isn’t smothered in cheese or powdered sugar. So eat a sensible meal before you get there and treat yourself once you do. After all, I’m not suggesting you steer clear of all desserts and the wine. Just pick one.
Likewise, don’t save yourself for one big meal. A turkey drumstick + a heaping pile of stuffing + a small mountain of mashed potatoes + a wedge of pumpkin pie does not = a day’s worth of mindful eating.
Be a better baker
No one will ever notice if you don’t use all of the sugar specified in the recipe. For that matter, there’s no reason you can’t substitute the flour, too, and upgrade just about everything else. The online reserve of alternative recipes that cater to special dietary needs is growing deeper by the hour.
Move more
Whether you go for a brisk walk around the neighborhood or hit the gym for an hour, do it a few times a week. And be consistent about it, even on Christmas and New Year’s Eve day. When you know what it takes to burn off 300 calories, it becomes a lot easier to pass on pie and that third bourbon.
Just. Slow. Down.
Look at what you’re eating, and then chew it down slowly. If you want that cream puff so badly, at least take the time to savor it. And just because you’re met at the door with an eggnog-filled tumbler, it doesn’t mean you need to down it then and there in front of the host.
Keep this in mind, too: It takes about 15 minutes for your body to register what you just ate. So, if you’re still somehow feeling hungry, wait. If your dinner table’s anything like mine, no one will be jumping up to clear it anyway.
Rose Nyad Orrell is a New Hope-based certified holistic health practitioner (rosenyad.com).
A young chef introduced himself last summer by way of some of the most original food you’re going to find along the Delaware.
By Scott Edwards
Graham Miller’s summer-long experiment confirmed a truth he only just began to embrace: He’s a damn good chef.
The 26-year-old grew up in the kitchen. His parents, both chefs, own The Bridge Café, a modest spot with a scratch-made menu and picturesque views of downtown Frenchtown, New Jersey. “They’d always said I would make a great chef,” says Miller, whose warm eyes and easy smile betray his shyness. “I was really picky as a child. I didn’t like mustard. I could always, like, find out if my dad put a little mustard in something. I just had a really good knack for taste.”
But when you’re 20, encouragement can be misread as a directive, and a natural ability can feel toxic. For a few years, Miller consciously avoided cooking, only to realize that it was his ticket out, not his anchor. At the end of 2012, he moved across the country to Napa Valley and enrolled in the CIA. “I just felt like I needed to reach out and do something different, take a challenge, basically,” Miller says. Read: He needed to know, once and for all, if he could cut it as a chef.
Photo credit: Josh DeHonney
Miller returned to his parents’ kitchen this summer, but on his terms. A few nights a week, he ran a pop-up restaurant there called . His menus were small but ambitious. And every two weeks, he scrapped them and started fresh. Most were inspired by a region—Southeast Asia, Mexico, New England—but every dish was an original iteration, sometimes mildly so (a fairly pure lobster roll), other times quite brazenly (the banh mi burrito).
“I make the food as I would want to eat it, really,” Miller says. “I could make it the authentic way, the traditional way and plate it up real fancy. I know how to do all that. I just have this mentality where I prefer a casual environment over an uptight, white-tablecloth environment. I’m a simple guy.”
Familiar or not, as the summer wore on, the 16 seats filled up faster on Platform nights. Miller’s plan is to re-launch the pop-up at the first sign of spring, a target that feels painfully far away at the moment. And this time there won’t be any parameters. Now that he’s finally gotten out of his own way, it’s time to start mining what’s shown the potential to be a brilliant imagination.
I came up with the Hot-Buttered Rumkin to warm me up on cold nights. Turns out, it’s also an incredibly effective hangover remedy. The headline ingredient, pumpkin, is high in vitamins A and C, which feed the immune system. The holiday party circuit can be brutal. A mug of this stuff should square you faster for the next occasion. Maybe make it two on New Year’s Day.
Mix together ½ cup of softened salted butter, ¼ cup pumpkin puree, ¼ tsp. orange zest and ½ tsp. warm spices (cinnamon, clove, nutmeg). Whether you do it by it hand or with a mixer, make sure everything’s fully combined. Then, leave at room temperature.
In a mug, combine 1 tbsp. brown sugar, 2 ounces Sailor Jerry Spiced Rum and 2 tbsps. pumpkin mixture. Top with boiling water and stir well.
It’s a strange thing that the least-remembered part of a dinner party is the dinner itself. Unless, of course, the oven billows black smoke and dinner ends up being takeout from MOO. Otherwise, it’s all the other details that contribute to your guests feeling doted on (or neglected) from which they’ll score your capability as a host. And that’s why a glass is not just a glass. Mason Jars hint at a sense of style, but they won’t distinguish you. Not anymore. Mason jars etched with a map of Philly, however, illustrate both style and substance. The owner of said jars is someone who’s given careful consideration to the night’s nuances, which will be appreciated and only embellished with drunkenness. —Scott Edwards
What’s not to love about a gluttonous holiday feast? (If we showed half as much interest in healthcare as we do in stuffing, the average life expectancy would be like 105.) But it’s the humbler meals around the holidays—the weekend after Thanksgiving, the weeknights between Christmas and New Year’s—that tend to leave even deeper impressions. The air is calmer, the food less fussy. They’re dishes like this one that are plunked down in the middle of the table, inviting everyone to dig in at leisure, without even a break in conversation. Just like it used to be. —Scott Edwards
Photo credit: Yelena Strokin
Beef and Potato Casserole Serves six. Recipe by Yelena Strokin
2 lbs. russet potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks
¾ cup milk or half-and-half
1 egg
2 tbsps. unsalted butter
1 tbsp. grape seed oil
1 small yellow onion, finely chopped
2 carrots, shredded
1 lb. ground beef
1 tsp. smoked paprika
1 tbsp. chopped parsley and dill
2 tbsps. Parmesan, finely grated
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Add the potato to a large saucepan and fill it with enough water to cover the potato entirely. Add a generous pinch of salt and place the pan over a high heat. Bring the water to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium and cook until the potato can be easily pierced with a knife, about 15 minutes. Drain.
Move the potato to a large bowl and mash. Warm the milk (or half-and-half), then add it to the bowl along with the egg and butter. Beat the mixture with a wood spoon or a handheld mixer set to medium until the consistency’s smooth and fluffy. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Heat the oil in a large saucepan over a medium heat. Add the onion and carrot and, stirring often, cook until they soften, about five minutes. Stir in the ground beef and bring the mixture to a simmer. Add the paprika, parsley and dill. Season with salt to taste. Stirring occasionally, cook until the beef browns, about 15 minutes.
Spread half of the mashed potato evenly across a shallow baking dish. Then, layer the ground beef mixture over top and the remaining mashed potato on top of that. (If you’re into aesthetics, use a pastry bag to apply the last layer of mashed potato.) Sprinkle with the Parmesan and broil until the top potato layer is tinged brown, about a minute. Serve directly from the baking dish
