Mornay Sauce , its history and a recipe by the Bard of Bat Yam, Poet Laureate of Zion, Stephen Darori

A Mornay Sauce is a béchamel sauce with shredded or grated Gruyère cheese added. Some variations use different combinations of Gruyère, Emmental cheese, or white Cheddar. A Mornay sauce made with cheddar is commonly used to make macaroni and cheese.

Etymology

The name origin of Mornay sauce is debated. It may be named after Philippe, duc de Mornay (1549–1623), Governor of Saumur and seigneur du Plessis-Marly, writer and diplomat, but a cheese sauce during this time would have to have been based on a velouté sauce, for Béchamel had not yet been developed.

Sauce Mornay does not appear in Le cuisinier Royal, 10th edition, 1820. Perhaps sauce Mornay is not older than the great Parisian restaurant of the 19th century, Le Grand Véfour in the arcades of the Palais-Royal, where sauce Mornaywas introduced.

In the Tout-Paris of Charles X, the Mornay name was represented by two stylish men, the marquis de Mornay and his brother, styled comte Charles. They figure in Lady Blessington's memoir of a stay in Paris in 1828–29, The Idler in France. They might also be considered, when an eponym is sought for sauce Mornay.

Sauces in French cuisine date back to the Middle Ages. There were many hundreds of sauces in the culinary repertoire. In cuisine classique (roughly from the end of the 19th century until the advent of nouvelle cuisine in the 1980s), sauces were a major defining characteristic of French cuisine.

In the early 19th century, the chef Marie-Antoine Carême created an extensive list of sauces, many of which were original recipes. It is unknown how many sauces Carême is responsible for, but it is estimated to be in the hundreds. The cream sauce, in its most popular form around the world, was concurrently created by another chef, Dennis Leblanc, working in the same kitchen as Carême.Carême considered the four grandes sauces to be espagnole, velouté, allemande, and béchamel, from which a large variety of petites sauces could be composed.

In the early 20th century, the chef Auguste Escoffier refined Carême's list of basic sauces in the four editions of his classic Le Guide Culinaire and its abridged English translation A Guide to Modern Cookery. He dropped allemande as he considered it a variation of velouté, and added hollandaise and sauce tomate, defining the five fundamental "mother sauces" still used today:

1. Sauce béchamel, milk-based sauce, thickened with a white roux 
2. Sauce espagnole, a fortified brown veal stock sauce, thickened with a brown roux 
3. Sauce velouté, light stock-based sauce, thickened with a roux or a liaison, a mixture of egg yolks and cream 
4. Sauce hollandaise, an emulsion of egg yolk, butter and lemon (or vinegar) 
5. Sauce tomate, tomato-based

A sauce which is derived from one of the mother sauces by augmenting with additional ingredients is sometimes called a "daughter sauce" or "secondary sauce".Most sauces commonly used in classical cuisine are daughter sauces. For example, béchamel can be made into Mornay by the addition of grated cheese, and espagnole becomes bordelaise with the addition of reduction of red wine, shallots, and poached beef marrow.






A specialized implement, the French sauce spoon, was introduced in the mid-20th century to aid in eating sauce in French cuisine, enjoying increasing popularity at high-end restaurants.

White Sauce or Bechamel Sauce Recipe

This used to be one of the first lessons in home economics classes; invariably white and pasty, it coated many a bland dish. When well made, however, it has a proper place in homey, creamed dishes, often making leftovers stretch or giving cooked foods new life. And it is important as a base for soufflés. The French term for this medium-thick white sauce is béchamel. The foolproof way to attain a perfectly smooth sauce is to have the milk hot when added to the butter and flour. It uses an extra pot, but as you become more proficient, this cautionary measure may not be necessary.

YIELD Makes about 1 cup

INGREDIENTS

2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
1 1/4 cups milk, heated
Salt
Freshly ground pepper

PREPARATION

1. Melt the butter in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. Stir in the flour and cook, stirring constantly, until the paste cooks and bubbles a bit, but don't let it brown — about 2 minutes. Add the hot milk, continuing to stir as the sauce thickens. Bring it to a boil. Add salt and pepper to taste, lower the heat, and cook, stirring for 2 to 3 minutes more. Remove from the heat. To cool this sauce for later use, cover it with wax paper or pour a film of milk over it to prevent a skin from forming.
2. Cheese Sauce.
3. Stir in 1/2 cup grated Cheddar cheese during the last 2 minutes of cooking, along with a pinch of cayenne pepper.

How hot should the milk be?
Warm the milk on low heat just until little bubbles begin to form at the edges. Then remove from heat.

Roast Pigeon, a recipe from the Bard of Bat Yam, Poet Laureate of Zion and Stephen Darori

ROAST PIGEON




Here in Zion, everyone seems to think there’s something dodgy about hunting and eating pigeons, which are, after all, a non-native, borderline invasive species totally unprotected in most states (although in the Bat Yam and Tel Aviv  they are, inexplicably, considered a pests).

Mind you, I’m not talking about hunting city pigeons, whose crops are stuffed with Doritos and cigarette butts. We chase “barnies” that live in semi-abandoned barns who spend their days gorging themselves on grain and seeds. Still, talk to any Israeli about Roast Pigeonand you’ll get the squinched nose. “Ew! Dirty!”


Sorry, but I have a thing for pigeons. I love hunting them, I love how fast they fly, how tough they are — pigeons don’t die easily — and I love how they taste. I know, I know, some of you are already tuning out. Fine. More for us. But can I hear from the Britons out there? Back me up: Wood pigeons are damn good, right?

This recipe is an homage to my Polish ancestors. It is just a simple roast pigeon, served atop a bed of roasted root vegetables, with a little malt (or beer) vinegar splashed on and served, ideally, with a British pale ale or a glass of claret.

The great chef Fergus Henderson’s The Whole Beast: Nose to Tail Eating serves as my inspiration, with a few modifications. I probably cook as many little birds as anyone, and I have a few pointers you might want to learn before you pop your rock doves (or wood pigeons) in the oven.

First, pigeons are a red meat bird and should be eaten somewhere around medium.

What’s more, they are rarely fat, although once in a blue moon you’ll find a pigeon so morbidly obese you have no idea how it flew. (Those are a treat for the table, by the way.) Normally, however, you need to deal with athletic birds, able to cruise around at 55 miles an hour with a top end at close to 90 miles an hour; this makes them the fastest game bird in North America. Impressed yet?

Incidentally, if you like doves you will like pigeons. Pigeons are to doves what hares are to cottontails, or geese are to ducks: Bigger, smarter, tougher, older. Where most doves barely live a year, the average lifespan in the wild of a typical pigeon is five years. Yep, that’s older than most deer you shoot. So you’ll need to deal with that.

You can sometimes tell if you have old birds. Their feet look like they’ve been walked on for years and their keelbones are super hard. Young birds have a flexible keelbone and are just generally fresher looking. They also tend to have lighter colored meat. But it’s not an exact science.

So as an insurance policy against toughness, you need to start the cooking of the legs and wings before the breast. The easiest way to do this is to sear the legs and wings in hot butter or oil before you roast the bird. You don’t want to sear the breast, though, because you want it to be pink when you serve it. To do this, you need to hold the pigeon with tongs in the hot oil and be vigilant.

There is another way. I recently bought a nifty kitchen device called the Searzall Blowtorch Attachment. You screw this baby onto a Bernzomatic TS4000 Trigger Start Torch, which uses for fuel those little green propane tanks you get in the supermarket. Why not just use the torch? Because it gives meat a nasty propane stink. The Searzall converts the propane flame into radiant heat energy. I used the Searzall to pre-cook the legs and wings of the pigeons here, and it worked like a charm.

SavePhoto by Holly A. Heyser

I could have easily seared the breasts, too, and, had I wanted to, I might have been able to cook the whole bird with the torch. But I am still working out the ins and outs of this thing — and I wanted to give you a recipe that you can repeat without special equipment.

For any of you who have eaten doves, pigeons taste pretty much the same, although they can be a little more aggressively flavored. Squab, readily available in fancier restaurants, is just a baby pigeon. The closest parallel beyond that is wild duck, like a teal, only without the fat layer.


Pigeon is meaty, but not so much as venison or beef. Very tightly grained, especially the breast meat. It takes salt and vinegar very well, and is “gamey” only in the sense that it tastes like something, not like flaccid, corn-fed, penned beasts.

It’s a bird to get down on, too: Pick it up and gnaw. Sure, you can carve it and get all white linen, but I find it so much better eaten caveman style. Juices flowing, crispy skin on the legs, which are the best part to my mind.

So. Damn. Good. Go get some, people!

Roast Pigeon Recipe  with Root Vegetables
Prep Time
30 mins
Cook Time
1 hr
Total Time
1 hr 30 mins


Pigeons are a smallish, dark meat bird with very little fat. Closest substitution would be store-bought squab, which is to pigeon what veal is to beef. You could also use ptarmigan or sharp-tailed grouse. You'll only need one per person, and up the roasting time to 12 to 14 minutes. As for the vegetables, go for it. Use whatever you want. The more the better, and the crazier the better. I served this with salsify, parsley root, carrots, Jerusalem artichokes and golden beets. Have it it.
Course: Main Course
Cuisine: British
Serves: 4 people

Ingredients

2 to 4 pigeons, plucked and dressed
1/4 cup melted butter or olive oil
Salt and black pepper
2 large carrots, peeled and cut into chunks
4 to 6 Jerusalem artichokes, cut into chunks
2 parsnips, peeled and cut into chunks
2 to 4 salsify roots, scrubbed and cut into 2-inch lengths (optional)
1 or 2 roots of Hamburg or root parsley, cut into chunks (optional)
3 tablespoons chopped parsley
Beer vinegar or malt vinegar, for garnish

Instructions

• Preheat the oven to 425°F. Put all the chunked-up vegetables in a small roasting pan and coat with about half of the melted butter. Salt them well and pop them in the oven to roast. Take the pigeons out of the fridge when the veggies go into the oven. Let the pigeons come to room temperature for 30 minutes.
• Stir the root vegetables, which should be starting to get brown. Paint the pigeons with more melted butter and salt them well. Pour the remaining melted butter into a small pan and get it hot. Sear the sides of the pigeons in the hot butter. You want to get the legs and wings halfway cooked before the birds go into the oven. This should take about 6 to 10 minutes. Don't sear the breast meat.
• Check the vegetables. They should be pretty close to being done. If they are, remove them from the oven, put in a bowl and cover with foil. Turn the oven up to 475°F, or even 500°F if it will go that high. Wipe out the roasting pan. Let the pigeons rest for the 10 minutes or so this will take. When the oven is ready, put the pigeons into the roasting pan, breast side up. Roast for 10 minutes.
• Remove the pigeons from the oven and set on a cutting board. Turn off the oven, pour the vegetables back into the roasting pan, toss with the chopped parsley and set into the oven to re-warm and cook a bit further. Let the pigeons rest for 5 minutes before serving. Serve them surrounded by the vegetables, which you can season with a little vinegar if you want.

Collard Chickpea Egg Nest, a recipe by The Bard of Bat Yam, Poet Laureate of Zion , Stephen Darori

In case you’ve missed our other posts about pulses, pulses are a family of legumes that includes lentils, beans, dry peas and chickpeas. They are a rich source of plant-based proteins and amino acids for people around the world, and can be incorporated into meals in so many fun and creative ways.



Along with protein, pulses are rich in fiber, vitamins and minerals like folate, iron, and potassium. Just one cup of cooked pulses gives you over half of the fiber you need for an entire day! They are rich in soluble and insoluble fiber, both of which offer endless health benefits ranging from weight management to improved digestion.

Chickpeas are rich in fiber and complex carbohydrates. Chickpeas can be incorporated creatively into so many recipes- just last month, we featured a Chickpea Gazpacho recipe!

The great thing about pulses is that they are easily accessible to communities in different parts of the world because of their affordability. They are also amazing for our environment- pulses use only a fraction of the water other protein sources use. They enrich our soil, which results in crops with improved nutrient profiles. With all of that being said, let’s get to this recipe! It’s incredibly easy to whip up, and consists of throwing all ingredients into a skillet. Before you know it, you’ll have a satisfying dish that can be enjoyed for breakfast or even dinner.




COLLARDS CHICKPEA EGG NEST
Serves 1
Print

INGREDIENTS
1 tablespoon olive oil
1/4 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup collard greens, thick stems removed, finely sliced
1/2 cup cooked chickpeas
1/2 cup tomato sauce
2 eggs
Salt & pepper to taste

INSTRUCTIONS

1. On a pan or skillet, heat the olive oil and add the onion and garlic. Sauté for 1 minute over low-medium heat
2. Then add the collards, and sauté with the onion and garlic. Place the lid on the skillet, and allow to cook for 3 minutes
3. Remove the lid, add the chickpeas and tomato sauce to the pan, and cook together for another 3 minutes over low-medium heat, with the lid on
4. Next you'll crack your eggs and allow them to cook without the lid for 6-8 minutes or until the desired doneness is reached
5. Top with salt and pepper, to taste

NOTES
Enjoy with toast!

KITCHEN MATTERS More than 100 Recipes and Tips to Transform the Way You Cook and Eat– Wholesome, Nourishing, Unforgettable by Pamela Salzman Publisher: Da Capo Publication Date: June 13, 2017 (IBRCookBooks)

Pamela, her husband and family attend Congregation Tikvat Jacob Beth Torah in Manhattan Beach, CA. A graduate of Penn, with an MBA from UCLA, Salzman pursued a love and skill for cooking. In this new cookbook, Salzman shares a simple but powerful mantra with the students who attend her cooking classes: Eat well, live well, be well.

In “Kitchen Matters,” she shares the veggie-forward, anti-inflammatory and nutrient-dense recipes that have won the praise of her fans, both celebrities and regular folk. See her salad recipe below.

Saturday Chopped Salad
By:Pamela Salzman of Kitchen Matters

Servings: Serves 6

Ingredients
For the Salad:
1 head romaine lettuce finely chopped (about 6 cups)
3 cups diced red cabbage
3 radishes
1/2 pint cherry tomatoes quartered (optional)
1/3 cup pickled shallots diced (or 5 pepperoncini seeded and finely chopped)
1/2 bunch chives finely chopped
2 persian cucumbers finely diced
2 carrots finely diced or julienned and finely chopped
1 avocado peeted, pitted, and diced
3 ounces feta (preferably goat’s milk feta, crumbled) (omit for vegan or DairyFree)
optional: quinoa, diced cooked chicken, tuna in olive oil, canned salmon, chopped hard-boiled egg, chickpeas

For the Dressing:
1 small shallot minced (about 2 teaspoons)
3/4 to 1 teaspoon sea salt
1 pinch black pepper
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 teaspoons raw honey (omit for vegan) or pure maple syrup
2 tablespoons unpasteurized cider vinegar or red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons unseasoned rice vinegar
3/4 cup unrefined, cold-pressed extra-virgin olive oil or 1/2 cup olive oil + 1/2 cup flax oil

Instructions

For the Salad:
Combine the lettuce and cabbage in a large bowl. Add the radishes, cherry tomatoes, pickled onions, chives, cucumber, and carrots. Toss with enough dressing to coat lightly. Add the avocado and feta and drizzle with a small amount of dressing. Toss very gently with your hands to incorporate into the salad without smearing avocado and feta everywhere.

For the Dressing:
Either whisk together all the ingredients, including black pepper to taste, in a small bowl or place them in a glass jar with a lid and shake until emulsified.
The dressing can be made ahead and kept in a glass jar in the refrigerator for 5 to 7 days. Because olive oil solidifies when chilled, you will need to remove it from the refrigerator well before you want to use it, for it to become pourable. Or you can leave the dressing at room temperature in a cool, dark place for a few days. If you use flax oil in the dressing, it must stay refrigerated.

Fay Drus's Brisket , a receipe by the Baed of Bat Yam (#BardOfBatYam) , Poet Laureate of Zion (#PoetLaureateOfZion) and Stephen Darori

Gedempte Fleysch - well-stewed – that's how Eastern European Jews prefer their meat. Slow cooking, of course, became a practical necessity with grainy cuts of forequarter meat.

Because a brisket stretched into many meals, it was an economical cut for large families in Europe. Leftovers were ground up to stuff knishes or kreplach. The meaty gravy became the base for a midweek cabbage or potato soup or a sauce to cover pompushki, Ukrainian baked dumplings, which resemble Pepperidge Farm's rolls. In this country it became particularly popular.

Brisket comes from the front quarters of the steer, the chest area. The whole piece of meat, from three to ten pounds, is potted (hence the term pot roast) and cooked slowly for hours. Brisket needs to be simmered slowly to transform it into the succulent morsels I remember as a child. It is a dish I serve frequently – on Friday night, at holidays, and at dinner parties.

Ingredients

2 teaspoons salt
1 5-pound brisket of beef, shoulder roast of beef, chuck roast, or end of steak
1 garlic clove, peeled
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
3 onions, peeled and diced
1 10-ounce cans tomatoes
2 cups red wine
2 stalks celery with leaves, chopped
1 bay leaf
1 sprig fresh thyme
1 sprig fresh rosemary
¼ cup chopped parsley
6 to 8 carrots, peeled and sliced on the diagonal

Directions

Sprinkle the salt and pepper over the brisket and rub with the garlic. Sear the brisket in the oil and then place, fat side up, on top of the onions in a large casserole. Cover with the tomatoes, red wine, celery, bay leaf, thyme, and rosemary.
Cover and bake in a preheated 325-degree oven for about 3 hours, basting often with pan juices.
Add the parsley and carrots and bake, uncovered, for 30 minutes more or until the carrots are cooked. To test for doneness, stick a fork in the flat (thinner or leaner end of the brisket). When there is a light pull on the fork as it is removed from the meat, it is "fork tender."
This dish is best prepared in advance and refrigerated so that the fat can be easily skimmed from the surface of the gravy. Trim off all the visible fat from the cold brisket. Then place the brisket, on what was the fat side down, on a cutting board. Look for the grain – that is, the muscle lines of the brisket – and with a sharp knife, cut across the grain.
When ready to serve, reheat the gravy.
Put the sliced brisket in a roasting pan. Pour the hot gravy on the meat, cover, and reheat in a preheated 350-degree oven for 45 minutes. Some people like to strain the gravy, but I prefer to keep the onions because they are so delicious.

For Passover serve with potato pancakes or potato kugel. A colorful salad goes well with this.

During the year, serve with farfel (boiled egg barley noodles), noodle kugel, or potato pancakes.

Freda Shabelstoch (Shabelstock, Shabelstok) ) Baker's Latvia Borsht recipe ,,,, edited and updated by the Bard of Bat Yam (#BardOfBatYam), Poet Laureate of Zion (#PoetLaureateOfZion) and Stephen Darori

Freda Shabelstoch Baker was my grandmother. She and her sister Rosa were the only members of her huge Latvian family ( Riga) that survived the Rumbula Forect Massacre during the Holocaust. Freda was already in South Africa  and Rosa, who was tutoring Duch Royalty kids  escaped Europewith the aid of the Danish Underground to Norway and then on to the UK.  

The Rumbula massacre is a collective term for incidents on two non-consecutive days (November 30 and December 8, 1941) in which about 25,000 Jews were killed in or on the way to Rumbula forest near Riga, Latvia, during the Holocaust. Except for the Babi Yar massacre in Ukraine, this was the biggest two-day Holocaust atrocity until the operation of the death camps.^[1] About 24,000 of the victims were Latvian Jews from the Riga Ghetto and approximately 1,000 were German Jews transported to the forest by train. The Rumbula massacre was carried out by the Nazi Einsatzgruppe A with the help of local collaborators of the Arajs Kommando, with support from other such Latvian auxiliaries. In charge of the operation was Höherer SS und Polizeiführer Friedrich Jeckeln, who had previously overseen similar massacres in Ukraine. Rudolf Lange, who later participated in the Wannsee Conference, also took part in organising the massacre. Some of the accusations against Latvian Herberts Cukurs are related to the clearing of the Riga Ghetto by the Arajs Kommando. The Rumbula killings, together with many others, formed the basis of the post-World War II Einsatzgruppen trial where a number of Einsatzgruppen commanders were found guilty of crimes against humanity


Ingredients 
5 pounds beets
2 potatoes
5 medium onions
2 tablespoons salt
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
4 eggs

Instruction
Peel beets and grate coarsely. Place into 8 quart pot with water to cover. Add peeled and diced potatoes and onions. Bring to a boil, then lower flame to simmer until soft (approximately 1 hour). Add lemon juice.

Beat eggs well in a second big pot. Pour in borscht in a slow stream, beating constantly to prevent curdling of eggs.

Serve warm or col, with or without cream . Serves 10.

Freda Shabelstoch's Beet and Been Salad ( Pupini Un Biesu Salati)

Sour cream and tart pickles complement earthy beets in this salad made by home cook Maija Kalniņa. This recipe first appeared in our May 2011 issue, with the article Riga Revisited.

SERVES 6-8

Ingredients
1⁄2 cup sour cream
1⁄3 cup mayonnaise
1 tbsp. kosher salt, plus more to taste
2 cups cooked or rinsed, canned kidney beans
1⁄4 cup minced gherkins or dill pickles
4 medium boiled beets, peeled and cut into 12″ cubes
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
2 tbsp. sliced parsley leaves

Instructions

In a large bowl, whisk together sour cream, mayonnaise, and salt until smooth. Add beans, gherkins, and beets, and gently stir until evenly coated. Season with salt and pepper, stir to combine, then transfer to a large bowl or platter. Sprinkle with parsley before serving.

DAMPFNUDELN, THE ULTIMATE DESSERT FOR NEW YEAR’S EVE

With the secular New Year just around the corner, I can think of no better dish to make than Dampfnudeln , a Bavarian dessert whose name means steamed (dampf) dumplings (nudeln). It consists of balls of a rich yeast dough steamed in a Dutch oven, covered with caramel, and accompanied by a vanilla sauce.

Popularized by Catholics in southern Germany, steamed dumplings were traditionally served with soup for lunch. Through the centuries, many variations of Dampfnudeln crossed over to the German Jews, who served the dish with dairy meals.

By far the best version I know is this one, which consists of a brioche-like dough, rolled and cut into circular dumplings that are stacked and baked in a pan, much like monkey bread, and then soaked with a caramel sauce made with maple syrup. The finished cake is topped with a vanilla sauce or, as I prefer, vanilla ice cream, resulting in a billowy, melt-in-your-mouth, caramel-drenched dessert, with just a hint of brandy. This recipe came to me from the late Rhoda Haas Goldman, the great-grand-niece of Levi Strauss. In the 1990s, while visiting San Francisco, I asked Goldman, a wisp of a woman, when she ate Dampfnudeln, and she replied: “Whenever I can.” So, start your diet on Jan. 1, and enjoy this treat to mark the end of 2013. It’s worth every single calorie.

Dampfnudeln – Steamed Dumpling Cake Soaked in Caramel Sauce

Cake

2 tablespoons active dry yeast
1 1/4 cups lukewarm milk
1/4 cup sugar
2 egg yolks
1 3/4 cups (3 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon brandy
5-6 cups all-purpose flour

Caramel Sauce

2 cups sugar
1/2 cup warm water
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 cup maple syrup
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla

1. Dissolve the yeast in a mixing bowl with the lukewarm milk and sugar. Stir and add the egg yolks, melted butter, salt, vanilla, and brandy. Gradually add 5 cups of the flour, adding more if needed. The dough will be very soft. Beat well with a spoon or an electric mixer and let rise, covered, for an hour. Refrigerate for several hours or overnight.

2. Let it return to room temperature before continuing. Flour a board and roll the dough out to 1-inch thick. Cut circles 2 inches in diameter with a small biscuit or cookie cutter. Arrange a layer of rounds on the bottom of an 8- or 9-inch springform pan lined with parchment paper, almost touching, then continue layering until you have used up all the dough. Allow to rise 45 minutes to 1 hour, covered.

3. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees and make the caramel sauce. In a saucepan mix the sugar with 1/4 cup of the water. Very gradually add the remaining water, stirring constantly. Simmer on medium heat until slightly caramel in color, stirring occasionally, about 10 minutes. Add the butter, syrup, and cream, and simmer a few more minutes until smooth. Set aside and allow to cool for a few minutes, then add the vanilla.

4. After the dumplings have risen, bake on the bottom rack of the oven for 45 minutes or until golden. Remove from oven and prick the top with the tines of a fork. Just before serving reheat the caramel sauce and pour over the cake. Let the sauce seep through then flip the cake onto a serving plate. Cut in slices and serve with vanilla ice cream.

Yield: 12 servings

Gourmandises Restaurant ,Mehadrin Kikar Hamusica 10 Yoel Salomon St., Jerusalem Tel: (02) 566-7222 Sunday – Thursday, 8 a.m. to 11 p.m. Friday, 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday, 6 p.m. to 11 p.m. https://www.facebook.com/ gourmandisesbyyoel

French pastries.

Livnatt and Yoel Afriat were opticians in Paris with a number of their own shops, but they knew they wanted to change their careers to something that would be more easily transferable to Israel. So Yoel gave up being an optician to become a pastry chef and spent a year at Le Notre, one of Paris’s most prestigious cooking schools. Then he started his own patisserie business, selling his creations from the family home in Paris.

A chance meeting with the owner of Kikar Hamusica at a party in Paris in 2014 led to the Afriat family’s making aliya and the opening of Gourmandises by Yoel just six months later. All the pastries, breads and beautiful desserts are made by Afriat and his team from their factory in Talpiot, while the food for the restaurant is prepared by chef Oscar Zuckerman in the kitchen below the restaurant. Livnatt manages the restaurant and the catering business, which caters events at the restaurant itself for up to 200 people but also provides parve or dairy dessert buffets for weddings and other special occasions.

Many people think that Gourmandises by Yoel is just a bakery or pastry shop, but the varied menu offers so much more, so we were delighted to be invited to sample the dinner menu. In keeping with the musical theme, many of the dishes on the menu are named after French musicians.

We started our meal with a chef special – ceviche of sea bream with mango, beet, pea shoots and bulgur wheat (NIS 69). This dish was a riot of strong colors, textures and flavors and included touches of wasabi cream, citrus jelly and creamed spring peas.

Real French crepes are a weakness of mine, so it was a pleasure to try some of the savory crepes. The Jean Jacques Goldman (NIS 69) was filled with sautéed zucchini, tomatoes and cheese. It was beautifully presented so I could see the colorful filling at the top of the dish rather than a folded crepe where you can’t see the filling.

The crepe itself was fresh and light, so the focus was on the filling, and all the flavors worked well together. We also tried the Georges Brassens crepe (NIS 69), which was filled with a trio of Emmental, Camembert and Roquefort cheese. This was also a rich and tasty dish, but I preferred the first crepe with the vegetables.

Next came the Edith Piaf (NIS 69), a bruschetta with eggplant, zucchini, dried tomatoes and Parmesan. The dish was well presented and colorful, but the flavors did not blend so well, and we felt that the tomato sauce overpowered the taste of the vegetables. It was still enjoyable and would make a good light meal.

Our final starter was the Waltz salad (NIS 64), made with lettuce, apple, walnut, Roquefort, mustard French dressing. While this was a pleasant salad, it lacked any unique elements, and the price was high for such a simple salad.

For mains, we chose the Michel Fugin (NIS 65) – fettucine with a creamy mushroom sauce, which was cooked perfectly al dente. The baked sea bass (NIS 119) looked like a piece of art on the plate. The fish was served atop roasted carrots, fennel and beet, with a dusting of pink almond olive oil powder and artistic drops of green sauces at the side. Although this was a nice dish overall, we felt that it was slightly too salty and needed more acidity on the fish.

The rich Barbara potato gratin (NIS 62) had a great crispy top layer with a lovely nutmeg flavor, but overall it was slightly bland and needed a sharper cheese. It was also very rich as a main course but would be ideal as a shared dish or as a smaller side dish.

Finally, we had a gnocchi chef special (NIS 69) served with roasted sweet potato and cherry tomatoes, covered in a coconut foam and flaked almonds. It was well cooked, and the sauce was light and refreshing.

The desserts were definitely the highlight of the meal. We could not resist the crepe Suzette (NIS 45) which did not disappoint, even though it lacked the kick of the flambéed orange liqueur that it is traditionally served with. It was very difficult to choose from the array of beautifully made French delicacies, but with the chef’s guidance we settled on the Snickers (NIS 38), which was rich and sweet with a touch of salted caramel to balance the flavors; and the Alliance (NIS 35), an almond mousse cake with an almond biscuit and praline mousse. It was light and fluffy and the perfect end to a very tasty meal.

Just like all the restaurants in Kikar Hamusica, there is the option to sit in the shared courtyard and enjoy the musical performances that take place most afternoons and evenings. The schedule of concerts can be found on the Kikar Hamusica website, http:// kikar-hamusica.com/en/concerts.

Whether you are looking for a light lunch, a full dinner or just an indulgent evening of authentic French pastries while enjoying the music, I highly recommend heading to Gourmandises 

Rachel's Favourite Food at Home Paperbackby Rachel Allen (HarperCollins) (#IBRCookBooks)

If you've ever prayed for kitchen inspiration, Rachel's Favourite Food at Home serves up the answers.Brand new in paperback and including new recipes, this beautifully illustrated cookbook offers the delicious, inspiring and easy-to-follow recipes for which Rachel Allen has become famous.Rachel's Favourite Food at Home draws on international influences, classic regional fare and good old family favourites to provide creative options for every occasion, whether planning a simple family meal, hosting a festive dinner for the entire clan, squeezing in a sneaky romantic meal for two, heading out for a glorious picnic, chilling out on the sofa with your favourite comfort food, or spending time baking muffins with the kids.Chapters include:Easy Family FoodSweet CelebrationsPicnics and Days OutFood for ChildrenExtended Family MealsDining Al FrescoHome CinemaBig CelebrationsEdible GiftsJust Like Mum Used to Make

This beautifully illustrated cookbook offers the delicious, inspiring, and easy-to-follow recipes for which Rachel Allen has become famous. Drawing on international influences, classic regional fare, and good old family favorites, this essential guide provides creative options for every occasion, whether you’re planning a simple family meal, hosting a festive dinner for the entire clan, squeezing in a sneaky romantic meal for two, heading out for a picnic, or chilling out on the sofa with your favorite comfort food

Sandpaper and silk: texture and flavour perception.How texture can affect flavour perception and the experience of eating.

For the penultimate article in my series on multi-sensory dining, I am tackling texture. This may well be the shortest article of the five because, of all the senses considered in relation to gastronomy, touch (along with sound) is one of the least researched. This is mainly due to the fact that conventional definitions of flavour do not include texture. But how important is the role of texture in experiencing flavour?

Does texture matter?


Let’s start out with something very simple to help us answer this question; what makes a crisp, a crisp? Think of your favourite crisp brand. Flavour will factor into your choice, but is that all that makes them your favourite? For many, it is the size, thickness (or thinness) and the mouthfeel – the crunch in the mouth (which also belongs in the sound domain) – which, along with a particular flavour, make up the characteristics of their favourite crisps. Dare we say the texture, weight (and sound) of the packet itself may even be a characteristic which endear us to our favourite brand?

Think about throwing all the elements of your next Sunday roast in a blender before serving it to your family and friends. If texture was irrelevant to flavour, those beautiful crispy potatoes, rare beef, perfectly cooked vegetables and home-made gravy would be just as delicious after a good blitz. Clearly we have certain associations, perceptions and preferences for the physical attributes of food which go beyond just how they look and taste.

So far so simple. Everything I have mentioned above is hardly mind blowing, nor is it really that experimental, but it is important to highlight the role that texture plays in the simplest terms. I’m now imagining that perfect crème brûlée with a glass-like sugar disc waiting to be shattered into velvety custard. The texture is a big part of what makes it a great dish – a disappointing top equals dissatisfaction.

The contrast between the caramel disc and custard proves how important texture is.

For one subject, chicken was only ready to serve when it felt 'pointy'.

Synaesthesia


When researching for our last dining concept, Synaesthesia by Kitchen Theory, I read a book by Dr Richard Cytowic (who collaborated with us in the development of the dinner) and I came across research on a synaesthete called Michael Watson. This man was unique; as well as other interesting forms of synaesthesia, he had a very interesting and rare form in which foods in his mouth generated actual tactile sensations in his hands! As he ate food, he would feel different shapes, weights and textures in the palm of his hand. Watson had different tactile sensations for all kinds of tastes – spearmint, for instance, gave him a feeling of running his hand along a tall, cool column of glass or marble and chicken was only ready to serve once it felt ‘pointy’, like placing his hands on a bed of nails. This obviously got me thinking about this link between taste and external tactile stimulation and I turned to science to explore this link further.

Here’s a question for you: do rough textures such as sandpaper match better with salty, bitter notes or sweet, creamy notes? And how about soft textures such as velvet? Which of the tastes mentioned would they work with? For most people, it makes sense that rough textures match salty/bitter notes and the softer textures correlate to sweeter/smoother notes. The question now becomes: can external tactile stimulation in the hand actually accentuate a diner’s perception of different notes in a dish?

Marinetti’s cubes

Marinetti's cubes.



To test this concept, we developed a dish intended as an homage to Filippo Tommaso Marinetti. Marinetti is known best as the author of the Manifesto of Futurism which he wrote in 1909 and The Futurist Cookbook published in 1938. What made futurist cooking so revolutionary was that it drew on food as a raw material for art and cultural commentary reflecting the futurist idea that human experience is empowered and liberated by the presence of art in everyday life. Marinetti saw food as the ultimate promise of optimism – a gateway to sensual freedom. He also very much advocated the idea that guests should run their fingers over various textures in order to augment the mouthfeel and even flavour (and intensity) of the elements in a dish. This inspired our Marinetti Cubes which are black (to remove colour cues); seven inch cubes with each of the sides covered in a different textured material – natural wood, velvet, plastic, Velcro (both sides), and sandpaper.

Amazingly enough we found that some of our guests did genuinely perceive differences in the taste and mouthfeel of the dish, based on the textures they ran their fingers over on the cubes. The textures affected around twenty percent of our guests, five percent of whom had pretty strong reactions (which include the guest who got ‘cotton mouth’ from touching the fuzzy side of Velcro; a table of two who couldn’t stop commenting on how much saltier the dishes became once they touched the sandpaper and my favourite, the guest who had to touch the velvet side of the cube to get through one particular dish because she felt the rough textures made everything too crunchy and noisy!) We are so interested in this idea that we have included the texture cubes in our latest experimental dining concept Mexico by Kitchen Theory.

Wider implications

Plenty of chocolate companies use silky textures in their television and print ads to plant the idea in our minds that their product is smooth, creamy and sweet. This is just taking that concept to a more physical level.


Jozef Youssef



If tactile sensation can be used to enhance taste and flavour, there could be practical applications. How about channelling this research towards our growing concern with high sodium levels in processed foods. Given the ability of rougher textures to enhance saltiness in a dish, simply eating with a slightly grainy textured spoon might allow us to reduce the salt in our diet without even noticing its absence. Could we find a way to cut back on sugar using a similar idea? Silk-covered chocolate mousse pots, for example. Plenty of chocolate companies use silky textures in their television and print ads to plant the idea in our minds that their product is smooth, creamy and sweet. This is just taking that concept to a more physical level.

Crockery and cutlery


Also on the topic of texture, let us not forget our cutlery, crockery and glassware. Does a Michelin-starred meal taste better with heavier cutlery? Apparently so. The team at the Crossmodal Laboratory in Oxford conducted an experiment with more than 130 diners at a hotel restaurant in Edinburgh. The results showed that simply using high-quality cutlery normally reserved for banquets resulted in customers willing to pay fifteen percent more for their food, compared to people eating the same meal with lower-quality utensils. And as for glasses, just think about how much more pleasant a good wine, Scotch or brandy tastes out of the right glassware.

Kitchen Theory at home


Much of what I have discussed in this article is intuitive, but it is worth paying a little more attention to textures when cooking and entertaining at home. Here are some ideas for bringing texture into your own kitchen.

Food


Textural balance on the plate is vital. Think of that perfect crisp caramelised sugar on the crème brûlée, the charred surface of a roasted piece of meat with a smooth creamy mash and slow roasted garlic, a crusty piece of country bread with a soft French cheese and a chunky fig chutney. Be mindful of the balance of textures within each dish in order to stimulate and pique your guests’ interest at different points within the course. Baked or fried fish, chicken or duck skin is perfect for adding crispy texture as are baked Parmesan or chia crisps and dehydrated purées.

Linen


Introduce a variety of fabrics with tablecloths and napkins. Perhaps try different textured napkins to accompany different courses?

Plates


Smooth, round, ridged, angular; what best fits the dish you are serving on it? For example, rustic, Nordic-style dishes look great on a piece of bark.

Cutlery


Research would suggest heavier is better! But bear in mind there needs to be continuity, your nice minimal crockery may not look great with clunky, heavy cutlery.

Texture cubes


Take a leaf out of our book and fabricate your own version of the texture cubes. Even different swatches of materials stuck on a small card could potentially work. The point is to give guests something to play with and see if you get any reactions. This isn’t an exact science… yet!

The importance of aroma and multi-sensory dining, How it is aroma not taste that plays the largest role in flavour perception.

'Multisensory gastronomy’, ‘neurogastronomy’ or ‘gastrophysics’ are terms coined by Professor Charles Spence of Oxford University’s Crossmodal Laboratory), I hope you have begun to develop a much broader understanding of how we as humans not only perceive flavour but also how we appreciate and relate to food. We have looked at the importance of the visual aspects of plating and how this can potentially impact our enjoyment of a meal as well as the importance of sound and how it can affect our dining experience. So now let’s look at something we are all a lot more used to associating with the enjoyment of food – aroma.


What could be better than coming home to the smell of your favourite dish cooking on the stove or in the oven? For me, this would have to be the scent of plain white basmati rice. I can’t specifically say this is related to nostalgia or childhood memories, it’s just an aroma that gets my gastric juices flowing and opens up my appetite, something I believe most readers will be able to relate to with their own food of choice. But is that where it begins and ends? Is the aroma of a food just there for a bit of pre-mastication titillation? The answer is an emphatic ‘no’!




Taste vs. flavour

Scientists estimate that up to 90% of what we perceive as flavour is actually derived from our sense of smell.

We often use the expression ‘I can’t taste a thing’ when we have a cold; this one short phrase says a lot about our perception of flavour and the fact that we credit our mouth with all the glory. But even when one looks at a traditional definition of flavour (by traditional I am excluding contributing factors such as sight, texture, sound, perception etc.) we find that it is not only comprised of our sense of taste (which is centralised in the mouth and throat) but also our sense of smell (olfactory system). Only when these two senses are working together can we perceive flavours. The question now is whether one is more important that the other.


Scientists estimate that up to 90% of what we perceive as flavour is actually derived from our sense of smell. That may seem like a disproportionate amount but let’s put it in context: when you have a blocked nose on account of hay fever or a cold, foods tend to lose their flavour, although we say we can’t ‘taste’ our food, we can in fact taste saltiness, sweetness, sourness etc. It is, in fact, our lack of ability to detect aromas which renders the food so bland. In my previous article, I talked about the poor flavour of airplane food which is mostly caused by our sinuses becoming dry which inhibits our ability to detect aromas which in turn leads to us feeling that the food is lacking in flavour.

To illustrate this point, Professor Barry Smith (founder of the Centre for the Study of the Senses) has devised a simple test: put a random selection of jelly beans into a jar, close your eyes (so as not to be alerted by the colour cues) and pinch your nose tight so there is no air getting in or out, then pop a jelly bean into your mouth and begin to chew. Most likely you will detect sweetness and perhaps acidity, but can you tell what flavour the bean is? Before swallowing, release your nose, take a breath and all of a sudden the flavour comes rushing in.





Your tongue can detect a handful of tastes: sweet, sour, salty, bitter, umami, oleogustus (fatty) and metallic along with a few other prospects. Our olfactory system, on the other hand, is capable of detecting up to 1 trillion distinct aromas, hence we can perceive differences in flavour between, say, an orange and a tangerine which ‘taste’ pretty similar – sweet, slightly sour and perhaps even slightly bitter – because of differences in the aromas.

Orthonasal vs. retronasal smell perception

That pungent French cheese you love may not smell so great on the board but once it is in your mouth the flavour (which is up to 90% aroma) is wonderful.

What’s even more interesting is that we have two ways of perceiving aromas called orthonasal smell perception (when we detect external aromas) and retronasal smell perception which occurs during food ingestion as volatile molecules released from food are pumped by movements of the mouth from the back of the oral cavity up through the back of the nose. How do these differ from one another? Well as soon as food hits your palate, saliva does its bit to alter the chemical structure of the molecules which results in a different aroma being perceived retronasally. Hence that pungent French cheese you love may not smell so great on the board but once it is in your mouth the flavour (which is up to 90% aroma) is wonderful.


Given that aroma is so vital to flavour, during our multi-sensory dinners, we focus on making sure that guests actively trigger their sense of smell just before or during the eating of a dish by adding external aroma elements which encourage them to start actively detecting a particular aroma which matches with or is part of the dish. So finally, I’d like to discuss a couple of ways in which we at Kitchen Theory use this knowledge when designing our dishes and hopefully this will inspire you to create your own sensory gastronomic masterpieces at home.

Kitchen Theory at home

At Kitchen Theory, we have devised a dish entitled ‘Marrinetti’s Cubist Vegetable Patch’ – an homage to Filippo Tommaso Marinetti’s Futurist Cookbook written around the turn of the last century. Marrinetti was keen on using, among other things, external scents as a way of enhancing dishes. We designed a dish which incorporates several ingredients, three of which were tarragon, smoked bacon and pomegranate. As the guests ate this dish, each of these ingredients’ aromas were sprayed in the dining room using atomisers, in a specific sequence in order to heighten the guests’ flavour perception of these ingredients throughout the course of the dish.

Another example is when we sprayed the scent of wet earth (think of that moss-like smell in the forest after it has just rained) over the guests’ table just as they were about to eat a dish entitled ‘A Taste of The Earth’ – a leek consommé with leek ash, goat’s cheese and gold cress.

Another way in which we highlighted the aroma element was when we smoked our sweetcorn risotto with guinea fowl and cured miso egg yolk. Once the dish was plated, we simply slipped it into a clear food-safe plastic bag and pumped the bag full of smoke from old whisky cask shavings. The ingredients themselves were only briefly smoked within the bag during the time it took for the dish to be carried from the kitchen to the guests’ table. The bag was then cut open in front of the guests using a scalpel, releasing this wonderful plume of smoke, the aroma filling the air and lending a beautiful smoked aroma to the dish.




Showmanship is a big element when it comes to playing with external aromas, just think of the traditional waiter dramatically lifting the cloche off a dish and releasing a spectacular burst of aroma in front of the guest. Is what we do so different? It’s just a slightly more modern take on this old school bit of showmanship! Dry ice is a great way of both conveying aromas as well as adding to the spectacle of a dish. We have used this as a method of heightening the aroma sensation with several dishes, examples of which include the aroma of the sea served with a marinated crayfish, seaweed and green bean dish and a matcha tea aroma ‘cloud’ which we served with a sake, aloe vera and tapioca cocktail (created by Chef Helder Gila Alonso).

So here you have inspiring, practical ways of enhancing the scent element of dishes. Do try them out – not only will the food taste better but your guests will definitely get a kick out of the interactivity of atomisers or spectacle of dry ice smoke clouds!

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The Classical Cookbook Front Cover Andrew Dalby, Sally Grainger Getty Publications, - Cooking - 144 pages;Food in the Ancient World from A to Z Front Cover Andrew Dalby Routledge, - History - 432 pages; Empire of Pleasures: Luxury and Indulgence in the Roman World Front Cover Andrew Dalby Psychology Press, Literary Criticism - 335 pages

Roberto Bompiani, “A Roman Feast” (c. 1887)

To Make White Wine Out of Red Wine (Vinum ex atro candidum facies)
Put bean meal or three egg-whites into the flask and stir for a very long time. The next day the wine will be white. The white ashes of vine have the same effect
—Apicius 5 (Tr. Flower and Rosebaum)

Such is the kind of “recipe” that one finds in the Roman cookbook attributed to Apicius. So when world-renowned chef Grant Achatz announced that the 2017 menu for his restaurant Next would include “Ancient Rome” — inspired by executive chef Jenner Tomaska’s presenting him with a copy of Apicius — foodies were naturally intrigued. Although translations have been adapted for use for amateur chefs, it’s difficult to imagine what a progressive restaurant known for molecular gastronomy might do with such source material. Next had already garnered rave reviews at their opening in 2011 with their first foray into historical cooking, “Paris 1906,” so it seemed critical for any good classicist worth their salt (insert salary joke here) to get there and roll the proverbial dice.

Would the restaurant tap into the over-the-top decadence we associate with a Roman banquet? Grapes fed by toga-clad waiters, perhaps? Or, as per Life of Brian: lark’s tongues, jaguar’s earlobes, wolf’s nipple chips? The most familiar literary source of such a Roman meal, the Cena Trimalchionis in Petronius’Satyricon doesn’t quite whet the appetite. Trimalchio’s clumsy, over-the-top nonsense does not provide a clear idea of what might be served at a decent table where one might actually want to dine. The promotional video that Achatz posted suggested we might be getting some sword-and-sandal type fun, but said little about what we would actually eat.

When we parted the black veil to access the restaurant’s tiny foyer, we were greeted by a bust of Augustus, reminiscent of the kitsch of Caesar’s Palace in Vegas. But only tasteful touches followed: the table was set with a clay pitcher of enigmatic liquid, a small working Roman oil lamp, a theatrically-aged copy of The Roman Cookery Book (a translation of Apicius by Barbara Flower and Elizabeth Rosenbaum) and a printed menu card. Each menu item was keyed to the recipe in Apicius, which made Classicists familiar with numerical references to, say, comic fragments, feel right at home. The menu’s descriptions consisted of a short reference to an Apicius dish in Latin followed by a corresponding list of ingredients in English used in the modern adaptation (e.g., “cuminatum in ostrea et conchylia ([Apicius] 30) // kamut pancake, oyster, pomengranate”). We were therefore immediately able to consult our text of Apicius for the fuller information on our first dish, vinum ex atro candidum facies, cited above.

A Roman mensa. All photos by Laura Gawlinski

Served as a mead-based savory cocktail, it set the dramatic stage for the rest of the evening and exemplified the methodology behind the modernization of the ancient recipes. This drink went through a series of colorful chemical changes as various ingredients like egg whites were added, all while the server provided a brief introduction to alchemy’s relationship to antiquity and bartending: “Don’t watch me, watch the vessel,” she warned, as she performed her magic. It immediately brought to mind the visual tricks of Roman dining, such as is found in the Lycurgus Cup, a large, glass drinking vessel of the 4th century CE now in the possession of the British Museum. The glasswork changes color from red to green depending on the direction of the light shining through it. The drink itself was unusual, the key ingredient oddly being cabbage juice — Cato would have definitely been a fan, even if not everyone at our table was.

All told, we had eighteen separate dishes, several appearing with some overlap, paired with eight different wines (all from locales familiar to the ancient Romans). Each course arrived with an artistic flourish and an explanation via a local server (standing in for the amiable dinner companions of Petronius’ Encolpius). The food was very, very good — even decadent at parts — but the spectacle, by Jove, the spectacle!

clockwise from left: mussels, kamut pancake served on wheat sheaf, meat sword with broth, patina among rose petals

The fifth course, patinam de rosis (“a patina from roses”) had the most Petronian flourish. There are many different recipes in Apicius for something called a patina; it seems to have been a frittata or quiche of sorts, a mix of ingredients baked all together. In our case, a mix of mashed asparagus flavored with rosemary had been molded into a rough leaf shape. Although it might appear to be no more than a delicious cracker, an unusual floral ingredient transformed it into an experience. A server arrived bearing glass jars filled with rose petals. With a flourish, she spread the contents out in a line in front of each diner: resting softly amongst the petals were two bites of patina. Perhaps Trimalchio would have done something far more crass, but even he would have applauded this spectacle.

This was followed by what was one of the tastiest dishes in the feast, although it was only a mere bite or two. Aliter tubera: elixas et aspero sale (“another method of truffles: boiled and sprinkled with salt”) was served alongside gustum de betacios et pullus (“a taste of beetroot and chicken”). The black truffle part of this course (tubera) was wrapped with a piece of chicken skin and served on the end of a small metal sword. This came to us balanced over an opaque white bowl into which was poured the gustum, a broth heavily flavored with roasted beets and honey. We swirled the chicken piece in the broth before eating, and then slurped the flavored broth afterward, directly from the bowl.

Presentation continued to matched taste. The next dish, pisam coques (“cooked peas”), was conceptualized as a visual and culinary representation of the ocean. On a spread of whipped mascarpone cheese (representing the sea foam) lay a small piece of mackerel topped with a bit of caviar. Cresting above it, representing the waves, was a fried piece of enoki mushroom. It was light, salty, and not too fishy, a postmodern deconstructed bagel with cream cheese and lox (hold the bagel). Luckily, at this point the pretense of Roman forklessness was dropped, and we were able to enjoy this ocean without making a mess. The cutlery also served to mark the shift from appetizers to main courses and a progression to heavier and meatier foods: fish, then bird, then various meats.

Oceanic wavy blue glass plate and whipped mascarpone

At this point we began to confront our expectations more directly. The briny taste of the “ocean” course highlighted the fact that we had not seen, heard about, or tasted garum, the fish sauce ubiquitous in Roman cooking, or its counterpart, liquamen. Liquamen was regularly listed among the ingredients in Apicius’ version of any given recipe, but we could not tell whether it was included in any of the re-imaginings. However, in cooking with anchovies—a key ingredient for making modern garum—modern chefs can discover much hidden flavor to a dish, so perhaps it was indeed everywhere, just not announced.

We were also surprised by the lack of pork. Pork was so significant to the meat portion of the Roman diet that pork consumption can be linked archaeologically with Roman identity. Larger group tables at Next were able to pay more for the option of a suckling pig: in this case, it was reserved for the highest class and we, dining as mere plebians, were not permitted parity of porkiness.

Furthermore, while we were pleased with the unimposing decor devoid of cheesiness, the minimalist, grey-walled room did not quite fit with the rest of the Roman experience. The non-obtrusive scenery functioned to turn the diners’ focus exclusively onto the food at the table — which made this food, along with its plating and cutlery, the sole decorative art and conversational centerpiece. There would be no distractions from the mosaic plates, salads on monocles, or gold-plated crustaceans. Achatz had curated these accouterments like a Roman emperor, flitting through the provinces gathering a variety of marbles. For the ancients, however, not only was the tableware for show, but the whole space. An extreme example comes from Tiberius’ villa at Sperlonga where a large cave was outfitted for outdoor dining. The decoration included multiple over-life-size sculptural groups — including, most appropriately for a cave, Odysseus preparing to blind the cyclops Polyphemus. None of these diversions at the palace of Achatz.

Our next course provides the perfect example of how the food itself made the setting. The servers brought out a large stone dish filled with smoldering pieces of wood, setting it on a raw chunk of slate. As it was set down, a lump of raw dough coated with poppy seeds, tied up in a piece of cord, was brought along and dropped in the middle of the dish. This, we were told, was a personalized miniature oven and the bread would be baked by what our server dubbed — with all the self-consciousness of a good Plautine servus callidus sharing a witticism — charmelization, the cooking of the dough over the charred wood. The server also informed us that this was how Roman soldiers took their bread on-the-go, but for us, the real Romanitas was in the active participation in the process and the performative presentation.

The segmenting of the bread

The platter was then covered again with the lid, and we moved on to other courses while smelling the baking bread. The suspense, as we wondered what would appear once the lid was removed, added its own spice to the next few courses. When the oven was finally opened, the bread was revealed, beautifully baked. By pulling on the string tying it together, the bread magically collapsed into quarters. Our server explained that because the Romans did not use butter, he would top our bread with a liquified beef fat. This bread, for sure, was both panem and circusem.

Prawns of gold and olive, bread baking in background

One of the dishes theatrically served as we waited for the bread was the maritime isicia de scillis vel de cammaris amplis (“Rissoles of squid or large prawn”). What we actually ate was a prawn, but it was surrounded by an armored suit of sliced olives — shockingly the only recognizable appearance of olives throughout the evening. The real prawn shell had been removed whole and put to the side, decadently painted with real gold.

Our final meat dish contained the most impressive display of the mains. The food itself was oxtail, based on sales conditos ad multa (“aromatic salt used for many purposes”), but the visual focus was the salt of the title. The oxtail was served pot-roast style in a small glass bowl mixed with pieces of turnip and some fried pieces of horseradish for extra flavor. This glass bowl rested in the middle of a much larger copper bowl richly filled with aromatic salt (salt with cloves, anise seeds and other spices). Lining the back of the bowl were smoldering cinnamon sticks, driven into the salt like stakes protecting the Greek navy positioned in the sand of Troy. Between the smell of the spices and the tactile pleasure of the salt (no one could keep themselves from running their fingers through it), we were reminded how much a good meal appeals to all the senses.

sales conditos ad multa

The final dishes were desserts, accompanied by a last, very sweet wine from the Canary Islands. The penultimate course, gustum de praecoquis (“stew of apricots”), we now remember very fuzzily, as an Aristodemus-like haze from the wine and food had set in (our notes from the evening at this point merely say, “Where’s my cheesecake?”). The meal then satisfied the saying, ab ovo usque ad mala: having begun with an egg, emulsified into the magical first drink, it ended with an apple. Not quite an apple, though: that “apple” in the final, towering fruit basket was but a final illusion. Pulling out slices we found not fruit but a delightful candy-shelled ice cream. Alongside it, a final, memorable taste, donum felix (“happy gift”), a piece of taffy fittingly made of mastic, the tree sap that comes from the island of Chios, birthplace of Homer.

When asked about the historically-based Paris menu in the NY Times, Achatz had mused that it’s better for a good restaurant to choose the replication of a philosophy over the replication of a recipe. His Roman meal at Next might not have been exactly what Apicius had in mind, but the philosophy and aesthetic were solidly Roman. Thumbs up!