St. Louis Eats and Drinks

Guido's Pizzeria & Tapas

We’re not sure how Shaw Avenue on The Hill, St. Louis’ historic Italian neighborhood, came to be Tapas Street, but so it is. Guido’s Pizzeria & Tapas would appear from its name to be a diluted version of The Real Thing. Not so. The small, corner establishment actually serves a number of tapas that are extremely traditional.

We strolled in one evening to do a little nibbling. En route to the table, we paused in the bar area to read the blackboard. "Did you want a table over here?" asked the fellow seating us. No, we explained, we were just looking at the evening’s specials. "Those," intoned the chap in portentous tones, "will be presented to you after you’re seated." Okay, sorry.

In addition to pizza and tapas, the menu also offers several pastas, some sandwiches and a few Spanish main courses, including two paellas, one of which is vegetarian. But if the restaurant says it’s about pizza and tapas, we believe in following its advice.

An early choice, the tuna empanadillas, weren’t available that night. So slices of Spanish chorizo were a starter. If you’re only familiar with Mexican-style chorizo, be aware this is more like salami, with a dry cure. It’s a little spicy, but not with significant heat, and one of our favorites. We also spied another, boquerones, described on the menu as sprats. Yes, they’re little fish, but lovers of Mediterranean food will quickly identify them as marinated white anchovies, handsomely arranged on a plate and seasoned with lemon juice, olive oil and fresh garlic, bringing out all possible flavor. Both of these winners may be the result of a good eye when shopping rather than magic in the kitchen, but there’s nothing wrong with that. We do, however, wish they’d put that acute eye to the bread, which is the dull, seeded stuff Hill restaurants continue using into their fifth or sixth decade and which was called "Vienna loaf" in Joe’s boyhood. Much new, far tastier bread is available. There’s added incentive here since one of the nicest ways to eat boquerones or marinated white anchovies, no matter what you call them, is laid across a good piece of bread.

From the hot tapas list, pimentos rellenos de bacalao were small sweet peppers, roasted and stuffed with sweet, mild dried cod in a light cream sauce, the whole served in a little tomato sauce. The roasted-pepper taste balanced well with the fish, and it’s a dish we’d recommend to those a little hesitant about the idea of trying something as esoteric as dried fish. (It’s soaked for a long time before it’s cooked, so don’t think it’s like chewing, say, dried fruit.) Albondigas, or meatballs, are a classic tapas dish. Guido’s version arrives, three of them in a golden gravy. The meatballs are tender and lightly seasoned, the gravy or sauce also lightly seasoned, near to the point where we both felt it was close to bland. A little onion, a little garlic, and that’s about it. A few sauteed potatoes rode along. Other possibilities were a couple of styles of mussels, two goat cheese options, shrimp in garlic and olive oil, mushrooms done the same way, two riffs on squid, and the classics of potatoes brava, sauteed potatoes with a spicy tomato sauce and a tortilla, which, as most of us know by now, is a potato omelet rather than the Mexican use of the word.

Pizzas come with mozzarella, provel or cheddar cheeses, and sit on a crust that is one of the thinnest we’ve seen around town. Saltine crackers are thicker. But it was crisp rather than soggy, the tomato sauce quite good and applied in judicious amounts. Mozzarella came in generous but not ridiculous quantities, and the kitchen clearly understands that anchovy lovers want enough anchovy that there’s a little with each bite, a pleasant change from some we’ve tried. Overall, these are fine, St. Louis-style pizzas.

Desserts are mostly cheesecake with a brief excursion into flan, although in a brief and uncharacteristic moment of self-control, we passed on the last course. We drank a pitcher of unusually good sangria, the little hit of (presumably Spanish) brandy smoothing it out. The wine list has a handful of bottles that are excellent values, but should be deeper. Service, once we were seated, was attentive and pleasant, although we never did hear about the specials, which the chalk board listed as veal parmesan and veal Marsala

Guido’s Pizzeria & Tapas

5046 Shaw Ave.

314-771-4900

http://guidosmo.tripod.com

Lunch & Dinner daily

Credit cards: All major

Wheelchair access: Poor

Smoking: Yes.

Entrees: $8-$19

Trattoria Marcella

Our favorite story about Trattoria Marcella involves a meal we had there with a friend of Joe’s who writes about restaurants in New York City. It was a meal on short notice at a deeply unfashionable time of day. When we got done, the chap was practically in tears. "Yes, the food was excellent," he exclaimed, "but the service—now that’s what made this remarkable."

We find Trattoria Marcella reliable enough that we can depend on it for such events, and now that the Komoreks have enlarged, it’s easier to get a table than it once was. While it continues to fill up, especially with folks celebrating one occasion or another, we like it best a little later in the evening when things slow down and the atmosphere reverts to something very close to a real Italian trattoria.

On a recent evening, we began with a spinach salad. Marcella’s version wears a dressing the menu describes as creamy, but is really rather light, and only slightly sweet. We’re usually not fond of sweet salad dressings, but this one had everything in excellent balance. It also contained a "bacon" made in-house with salmon for an absolutely wonderful flavor and texture sensation, some red onion that unfortunately included one very large and unpleasant chunk and shoestring potatoes that had cooled so much they were soggy. However, this was the only misstep of the meal.

A plate of polenta "fries"—firmed-up polenta cut in finger-sized logs and crisped in hot oil—was topped with a wonderful mushroom sauce, rich and brown, laced with what was probably a little Marsala, making the dish utterly idyllic.

First-time visitors need to know that the signature dish is the lobster risotto, not on the menu but almost always offered as a special. (The starter we steer them to is the flash-fried spinach and calimari.) But we usually go in other directions. Three fat lamb chops arrived, lolling on a bed of eggplant risotto laced with tomato. Eggplant and tomato are both bosom buddies of lamb, so the result was perhaps not surprising, but it certainly was rewarding. It’s a delicious dish; the fact that the risotto wasn’t overcooked was the crowning touch.

Don’t ever overlook the pasta that comes from this kitchen. We’ve had excellent dishes, always perfectly cooked, including some gnocchi we still talk about. This night, a farfalle, or bow-tie pasta wore a lemon cream sauce—not much cream, we’d point out, no heavy coat here—studded with smoked salmon and crisp snow peas and topped with a little marinated fresh tomato, an outstanding combination of textures and tastes.

Marcella isn’t as much about desserts as it is the earlier parts of the meal, although the creme brulee and cheesecakes are quite respectable. We go for the chocolate bombe, mousse that’s enrobed in chocolate and set on a hazelnut crust, a little lighter and just the thing to finish up the last of the red wine.

Speaking of wine, it’s an outstanding list in a mostly-moderate price range, and there are always some by-the-glass offerings that are delightful. We’re fans of Italian reds, usually robust and hearty, and the wine list can fit any budget and style.

The service isn’t always as blissful as happened the evening we brought our New York pal, but it’s knowledgeable and smooth.

Trattoria Marcella

3600 Watson Rd.

314-352-7706

www.trattoriamarcella.com

Dinner: Tuesday-Saturday

Credit cards: All major

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: Yes

Entrees: $13-$18

Stellina Pasta Cafe

Stellina Pasta is so darn cute a diner might be forgiven for initially thinking the food would be secondary. That’s "cute" as in good-looking, its design elements carefully thought out in modern terms. It’s emphatically not cutesy. Notice, for instance, the mosaic star under the big front window. ("Stellina" is Italian for little star.)

It’s not a big place, and the prices are modest. But we’ve learned that when a little spot is handsomely done, it’s a good sign that someone, or several someones, cares deeply about it, and that bodes well for the food.

And so it is with Stellina. What it offers, besides the visuals, is a combination of eat-in and take-home. And it’s not just about the homemade pasta, although that’s pretty darn fine. Throughout the day, it serves coffee, espresso and some yummy pastries, like these macaroons.

We dropped by for lunch, and had a hard time deciding what to eat. There’s always a lasagna du jour, and what a swell idea that is. In fact, there are three pastas of the day, the lasagna, a stuffed pasta and a long-cut pasta, which is to say something like fettuccine or spaghetti. Linguine made with squid ink comes out a lavender-gray, the ink producing not just color but an enhanced brininess. Serving it with seafood is only logical, and Stellina’s take was remarkably good, the pasta’s texture just about perfect, and the seafood consisting of shrimp and squid, not overcooked and sauced with garlic and oil, plus some fresh spinach that had been melted into the mixture. The colors were lovely, too.

Sandwiches come both cold or hot, including several kid-amenable options. Grilled vegetables and goat cheese on multigrain? Garlic roast beef and olive tapenade ? Oh, the difficulty of it all. Our South Side Smoke sandwich had pulled pork, which was moist and flavorful, although probably not smoked, but the smoked gouda cheese and onions cooked so long they had caramelized made it seem as though it had been, and we have no complaints, especially since it was served on a ciabatta-style bun, adding just enough texture contrast.

A worthy little spot to keep in mind.

Stellina Pasta Café

3342 Watson Rd.

314-256-1600

www.stellinapasta.com

Monday-Friday 10 a.m.-9 p.m., Saturday 9 a.m.-5 p.m.

Credit cards: Yes

Wheelchair access: Fair

Smoking: No

Entrees: $4.50-$7.95

This Week's Wine March 25, 2007

Good reporters are said to have a nose for news. Well, Peter Mondavi, Jr., has a name for wine. He’s part of a legendary Napa Valley wine family, grandson of Cesare and Rosa, who bought the Charles Krug winery in 1943. Their sons, Peter and Robert, operated the winery for 22 years before Robert left the family’s St. Helena operation, moved to nearby Oakville and opened his own winery. The brothers, now over 90, also have earned the title of legend.

Peter Jr. was in St. Louis recently to talk about wine, sell some wine, drink some wine and lead the way at a couple of wine dinners.

We sat, one chill afternoon, at a back table in the Blue Water Grill. Six bottles of wine, an array of glasses, a pitcher and a tray of cheeses were poised and ready for action. Mondavi, 47, with hazel eyes, thick dark hair and a bushy mustache both liberally sprinkled with gray, was equally ready.

Peter and his brother, Marc, operate Charles Krug, an 850-acre estate which dates to 1861 and is regarded as Napa Valley’s first winery. As happens at most wineries, Krug’s vineyards are not contiguous, with parcels in St. Helena, Yountville and in the Carneros, which are, respectively, in the northern, central and southern parts of the valley.

"We’ve taken some major steps forward," he said as he poured a 2006 Sauvignon Blanc. "We cut our portfolio almost in half in 1995, and we’ve slowly been increasing production ever since. We make fewer wines, but I think they’re better. This is the first release of this wine; it’s a new one, but we like it.

"Overall, our quality level is excellent, and we’re extremely competitive in our price ranges. There’s always room for improvement, of course, but I think that is coming from some of our new vineyards. We’re especially proud of our Bordeaux-style reds. In ’95, they made up one-third of our wines. Now they’re two-thirds."

The Sauvignon Blanc was terrific. Winemaker Adolfo Alarcon crafted it in the New Zealand style; it hasn’t touched wood since it was picked and it has a delightful aroma and flavor of grapefruit. The wine is crisp and delicious, 98.5 percent Sauvignon Blanc and a touch of Sauvignon Musque, and a superior value at $18. It will be perfect for spring and summer, a marvelous companion for a picnic. Sauvignon Musque, by the way, is a Loire Valley grape that is often used to add aroma intensity and balance to the outstanding white wines of New Zealand.

The Mondavi family also is in the latter portion of a program aimed at making all the vineyards sustainable and the grapes organically grown, meeting the California Certified Organic Farming standards. The program takes three years to complete, and all eight of the Mondavi vineyards either have the certification or are on their way. The key question, of course, is: What effect will organic farming have on the wine?

"I truly don’t know," Mondavi responded, "because we haven’t made enough wine yet. But the idea to go organic was not just a decision about wine. It came from the fact that we know it is vital to take better care of the land and the environment, as well as the grapes."

An ‘05 Chardonnay from the Carneros area was bright and crisp, a nice point between the austere French Chablis and the too-buttery, over-oaked flavors of some of Mondavi’s neighbors. The wine, to retail at $20, is fermented in small lots, 80 percent in stainless steel tanks, the rest in small French oak barrels. Only a fifth of the final blend goes through malolactic fermentation, resulting in a bright crispness and a smooth finish.

The ‘03 Merlot, from grapes grown on the Valley floor, has a big aroma and some intense flavor, far from some of the Merlots of recent years. It came from vineyards on self-sufficient stock, tagged for organic status, with hints of berries in the flavor. The blend is 91 percent Merlot, 7 percent Cabernet Sauvignon, and 1 percent each of Syrah and Petit Verdot. The price is $22.

Mondavi, a third-generation winemaker and vineyard owner, is a rare California winemaker who does not have an enology degree from the University of California at Davis. He has a Stanford degree in mechanical engineering, a master’s in engineering management and an MBA. He was driving a tractor and harvesting grapes when he was a high-schooler, and before, and feels he learned how to make wine by actually making it.

The 2005 Napa vintage was a splendid one, and the ‘05 Zinfandel from St. Helena proves the point. With a deep and intense color, and a big, rustic nose of plum and spice, the wine is 93 percent Zin, with 4 percent Syrah and 3 percent Petit Sirah. Eleven months in oak barrels brought out plum and blackberry flavors to complement the richness and full body of the wine, and its long finish makes it ready for drinking now, even though it is young as red wines go. It should be a magnificent monster in a year or two. The retail price is $25.

And speaking of Napa reds, the ‘04 Cabernet Sauvignon, from Yountville, is another delicious wine, benefitting from a year’s more aging than the fiestier Zin. A full Bordeaux blend of Cab (80 percent), Syrah (5), Petit Verdot (5), Merlot (4), Cabernet Franc (4) and Malbec (2), it’s an excellent wine, with spice and blackberry flavor notes and a rich smoothness that comes from 19 months in mostly French oak. Will retail at $26.

Saving the best for last, Mondavi then poured from the 2002 Family Reserve Red, with the proprietary name Generations as a tribute to the family history. The blend involves Cabernet Sauvignon (60 percent), Merlot (22), Petit Verdot (12), Cabernet Franc (5) and Syrah (1), and given the time in barrel and bottle, it’s just about ready to drink. Another 6-12 months should take it to its peak, but right now there are wonderful notes of mint and wild strawberry that ride along on a brilliant blend. It’s extremely complex, and with a long finish, to accompany any meal. It’s a fine wine to confirm my old theory that if you give me a great meal and a great wine, I’ll find a way to make them go together.

-Joe

Brunch: Kemoll's Top of The Met

Comes now the brunch season, and a new, major brunch has joined the city’s list. Kemoll’s, one of St. Louis’ oldest restaurants, still in the hands of its founding family, has begun serving at the Top Of The Met. They’ve used the space 42 floors above their primary operation for catering dinners and receptions, and sometimes for dinner and dancing, but here’s a chance in the daytime to look the folks atop the Gateway Arch right in the eye. The view is unquestionably spectacular.

Metropolitan Square is the tall building downtown with the green roof and the gigantic pointed eaves. Getting to The Top involves one elevator to the fortieth floor and another, dedicated, the rest of the way. Because it’s a catering facility, where space needs to be flexible, there’s no built-in buffet line. But tables are placed to take advantage of the view both east and west, and a few are right at the (slightly vertiginous) edge. And it’s almost as much fun watching kids look out the window as looking out it yourself.

The buffet is pretty evenly divided between breakfast and lunch items. Scrambled eggs are offered both plain and scrambled with red and green peppers, and survive the heating process surprisingly well, without becoming dried out. Link sausage and bacon sit next to first-rate biscuits and some excellent sausage gravy tantalizingly laced with black pepper. There are waffles, too. But the star on this end of the table is the potatoes. Unlike any we’ve seen on buffet tables anywhere, these are described by chef Robert Tedesco, a CIA graduate, as potatoes lyonnaise. In classic French kitchen-speak that means "with onions." What it seems to be is thinly sliced potatoes that are partly deep-fried, browning them and leaving them crispy-chewy, then drained and mixed with sauteed onions, allowing the flavors to mingle. At last, potatoes with enough onions. Definitely not for those on low-fat diets, but devastatingly delicious.

On the lunch end, we were pleased with an indulgent penne alfredo, in a cheesy, garlicky sauce, amazingly al dente. On the whole, fish in a buffet line is usually something to avoid, but the salmon this day was surprisingly good. Not, of course, cooked rare, but salmon’s sturdy enough to handle heat better than many of its finny cousins, and this was in a piquant sauce with capers and dill. Roast beef is pre-sliced and sits in jus, but even it seems better than the usual steam-table stuff, especially when topped with tangy sour cream-horseradish sauce. Hmmm...how about an open-face beef sandwich with one of those biscuits, some juice and horseradish sauce? Two green salads, one of mixed field greens and another that’s a Kemoll’s take on Caesar; both were tasty and fresh. And watch for an endless supply of the signature warm garlic cheese bread.

Desserts range from bite-size bits of cheesecake and petit fours to small slices of layer cake, nicely plated out. The most striking we found were a hybrid of tiramisu and cannoli cake with layers of chocolate mousse and cake, and individual muffin-sized sweet rolls. Servers keep the coffee coming fresh and hot, and plates disappear quickly while guests make repeat trips to the buffet.

This is not—at this writing—a huge buffet with omelet and carving stations, oysters and smoked salmon, ice sculptures and live music, and the price of $25 for adults reflects that. It’s going to cost more on holidays, they tell us. But with satisfying food and a million dollar view, it’s quite reasonable.

Kemoll’s

1 Metropolitan Square (Broadway between Olive and Pine Streets)

314-421-0555

www.kemolls.com

Sunday Brunch: 10:30 a.m.-1 p.m.

Credit cards: All major

Wheelchair access: Good

Smoking: No

Buffet Brunch: $25 (adults; higher on holidays)

Salt-packed Anchovies

It’s no secret to those who know us well that we’re fond of anchovies. I use them often in cooking, whether chopped and thrown into a salad, used as a sauce ingredient or laid out on a pizza. And our standard anchovy has come to be the salt-packed kind. They’re often hard to find. For years, I sought them out in places like San Francisco’s North Beach or Philadelphia’s Ninth Street Italian Market.

Why salt-packed? I tried some the first time just because I had read about them. I kept buying them because I found out how handy it was to be able to use just one or two at a time instead of having to open a whole can of the oil-packed ones, find a container for them and remember to use them before they were lost in the back of the refrigerator. That alone would make them worthwhile, but it’s also more economical for us.

These days, I can sometimes find them here in St. Louis. Right now, they’re in the refrigerator case at Viviano’s on The Hill. I’m not sure why they’re keeping them there–I’ve never found the cans they come in anywhere but on regular shelves until now–but it’s okay with me, as long as they have them.

After I open the can, I transfer the sardines to a covered container I keep in the refrigerator. When it’s time to use one or more, I remove it, rinse off as much salt as I can, and set the wee fish to soak in a glass or bowl of water at room temperature. I’m fairly casual about the soaking time–I’ve gone as long as 30 minutes, and as little as 10.

After they’ve soaked, I pull off the fin that’s on the top of the anchovy, and then use my thumbnail to split it open, starting at the end opposite the tail. (For those who worry about such things, the anchovies are headless.) Just run your finger down the backbone, and it’ll split rather nicely. Discard the long black stringy gut and the backbone. Run the anchovy under running water, and it’s ready to use.

Agostino Recca Anchovies

$14.99/ 1 kilogram (2.2 lbs.)

John Viviano & Sons

5139 Shaw Ave.

314-771-5476

www.shopviviano.com

This Week's Wine March 12, 2007

There are many ways to look at the constant discussion among winemakers and wine-drinkers – do we blend, or don’t we? Do we make wine that is 100 percent of the named grape, or do we blend three or four types of grapes from three or four different vineyards?

Or do we do as the French do, vinifying all the grapes that grow in our little plot and putting our name on the label?

The discussion has been going on as long as grapes have been growing, and will continue as long as they grow, or after. . . .

I don’t have a strong opinion in this argument. I’ve drunk wonderful blends, and wonderful single-grape bottles, often from single vineyards. And the opposite has occurred as well, often without my having sure knowledge of the fault. Might have been a flaw in one of the grapes of the blend, or all of the grapes of the non-blend. Maybe the weather was different that year, with the grapes responding negatively, or something went awry in the fermentation, or the blending, or during the aging process. Actually, there are as many mysterious, still-unknown reasons for great wine as there are for wine that falls flat in the glass.

But I got into a few blends recently, found them interesting and tasty, the sort of wines I enjoy discussing, and drinking, too.

Three were California natives, one from Bogle, a veteran producer of excellent value wines from its facility in Clarksburg, and a buyer of grapes from various growers in northern California; and two vintages of the Alexander Valley red wine called Secolo from Sebastiani, a Sonoma County mainstay for generations.

The other came from d’Avola, a Sicilian wine maker, punnily named Fourplay, partly because it’s an equal blend of four local grapes, Nero, Frappato Nero, Nerello Cappicio and Nerello Mescalese. Like many Sicilian wines, this 2004 vintage still is young and slightly raw, but has an earthy, rich flavor and should improve in the next year or two. It’s a perfect match for pasta with a hearty tomato sauce, with meat and lots of garlic.

The Sebastiani offerings, one from 2004 and the other two years older, are interesting, flavorful blends, different from year to year, but both priced at $30. Secolo means century in Italian, and the first one, the ‘01, was released in 2004 to mark the 100-year anniversary of the family’s winery. The elder brother, rich and well-rounded, has shaken off its youthfulness and relaxed its muscles, as it were. It’s 68 percent Cabernet Sauvignon, 28 percent Merlot and 4 percent Zinfandel, with the Merlot bringing a pleasing softness to the rough edges of the Cab. The Zin ties them together, adding a blackberry component that is delightful. The younger Secolo, from 2004, also begins with 68 percent Cabernet Sauvignon, but then goes in another direction, with 16 percent Petite Verdot, 8 percent Malbec, 7 percent Merlot and 1 percent Petite Sirah. The Petite Verdot adds softness and makes the wine more approachable, but it should be opened 30-40 minutes before dinner, at which time the various grapes come together for a full-flavored wine with jammy and plummy feelings.

The Bogle wine, also with a proprietary label, Phantom, is from ‘03 and is a fine value at only $16, with its flavor coming from a blend of 59 percent Petite Sirah, 39 percent Zinfandel and 2 percent Mourvedre. Like the Secolos, it’s a full-bodied wine of big flavor and a long finish, with an aroma and taste more of raspberries. Another excellent wine to accompany a grilled sirloin. Given sirloin prices, it would work with a good hamburger, too.

* * * *

And a couple of worthy Cabernet Sauvignons, from up and down the Western Hemisphere:

Chilean winemaker Cousino-Macul offers a delightful, medium-bodied 2003 Cab, a fine value at $14, with a great deal of complexity and a lengthy finish. Another from Chile, by Veramonte in the Maipo Valley, showed an extremely tasty 2003 Reserve Cab at only $12 and Louis M. Martini, whose winery is a beacon of Napa Valley excellence, has a recent release of a 2003 Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon ($24) that is full-bodied, with a fine, dark flavor of plums and blackberries and a smooth finish that enphasizes the glories of Napa Valley fruit. All three are outstanding.

-Joe

About Shad Roe

It’s March, and that means it’s shad roe season. Most Midwesterners will react to that news with something like "Huh?" And even among local foodies, we’re sure that large numbers of them haven’t tasted it. It’s only rarely found in local restaurants, and then as a March special, the way the late Herbie Balaban did. But we located it at Bob’s Seafood in University City.

A brief word of explanation—shad is an ocean fish that moves upstream into fresh water to spawn at this time of year. It’s a very bony fish, so it’s not eaten very much any more, but it once was very popular in both this country and northern Europe. The fish fatten up as they prepare to breed, so they’re at their most succulent now. Still, that boniness has put them off most menus. What remains popular among cognoscenti is the roe, which is, more or less, the caviar, the eggs.

Shad roe comes as a pair of attached sacs. (The sacs are rather delicate, and when handling them, try not to break them.) In American cooking, they’re usually sauteed in butter or served with bacon. I’ve had them several ways, and frankly always wondered what the fuss was about. The flavor is always described as "delicate", but it seemed to be more about the texture than flavor from what I’d eaten, and cooked, as well.

This weekend I came up with a preparation method that made a lot more sense. David Rosengarten, in The Dean & Deluca Cookbook, talks about steaming it wrapped in spinach bundles. I tried a semi-steam, without cutting up the roe and making bundles, and without spinach. I brought about 3/4 inch of water to boil in a small non-stick skillet. I laid the roe in it, kept the water at a simmer, and covered it. Using a wide spatula, I carefully turned it over after about three minutes, replaced the lid and checked it in another three minutes. I removed the lid, poked the roe gently with my finger to see if it had firmed up in the middle, and when it hadn’t, turned it again. When it was firm, a few minutes later, I removed it to a warm plate in the oven, scrambled some eggs at Joe’s request, and served it all forth with toasted English muffins.

Verdict: We both agreed it was a fine brunch and the best shad roe we’d ever had. The eggs didn’t offer as much texture contrast as a sunny side up pair would have. We’ll try that next time. I can also see shad roe as the main course of an elegant little lunch, followed by a small green salad and a light dessert.

-Ann

Fabulous Bread

For the past couple of months I’ve been raving about a no-knead bread recipe that produces an astounding loaf. This is Serious Bread, slightly sour, chewy, with a great crust. And it’s embarrassingly easy. The dough is a very forgiving one, and it’s a godsend for those of us who physically can’t knead bread and (irrationally) feel like a food processor or mixer are cheating. (Not that I don’t use them for bread, I just feel funny about it.)

All credit for this must go to Mark Bittman, who wrote about the bread in the New York Times, and Jim Lahey of the Sullivan Street Bakery in New York who introduced it to him. The recipe has swept through the food-blog world, so my discussion of it is only one of dozens.

If you’ve made yeast breads before, let me warn you, this recipe is very different in several ways. The proportions of the ingredients is unusual, the dough is very wet, it’s handled differently, there’s a very long rise and a fairly uncommon style of baking. Even the water temperature is different. But the recipe seems very forgiving, and I would recommend it to an amateur as a lesson in just how relaxed bread baking can be.

The flour can be regular all-purpose flour or bread flour; I use King Arthur’s bread flour because I have it on hand. You can substitute whole wheat flour for some of the flour, but I wouldn’t advise it until you’re familiar enough with the whole process. It’s much more difficult to tell when the bread is done, I found, than with other whole wheat loaves I’ve made in the past. I have no good explanation for this.

Bittman’s original recipe called for instant yeast. All I had on hand the first time was regular yeast; I used the same amount and dissolved it in the water before I stirred it into the flour. That worked well. The amount is far less than in regular bread recipes because the rising time is so much longer. The quarter of a teaspoon is not a misprint.

Equipment? One very large bowl for the rising—you may mix the dough and let it rise in the same container without washing it out. A large cotton towel that isn’t terry cloth; a clean pillowcase will do if you haven’t a dish towel large enough. And a 6 to 8 quart heavy covered pot is essential. It can be cast iron, enamel, Pyrex, ceramic, Corning Ware or, as I use, a heavy cast aluminum Dutch oven. Mine has a plastic knob on the lid. I worried about that melting and tried the oft-repeated instruction to cover the knob with a wad of aluminum foil. That seemed to work well, but one day I forgot it. Know what? Nothing happened. I make no guarantees about your plastic knobs, however. That lid is important; you must have it.

NO-KNEAD BREAD

3 cups all-purpose or bread flour, plus more for dusting

1/4 teaspoon yeast, preferably instant (see above)

2 teaspoons salt

Cornmeal for dusting

In a large bowl, stir together flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 5/8 cup water (room temperature or cool) and stir until blended. Dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let rise at normal room temperature at least 12 hours, up to as much as 18. I often mix the dough after dinner so that it can rise overnight.

The dough is ready when the surface is dotted with bubbles and when tipping the bowl shows the long strings of dough that are produced by gluten. Don’t obsess over this time limit. I’ve moved on to the next step in as little as 10 hours and the results were nothing to be ashamed about. I’ve never had to go more than 14.

Flour a work surface and turn the dough out onto it. A large rubber spatula will help. Sprinkle the dough with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice more. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and allow the dough to relax about 15 minutes. While it’s resting, coat a large, smooth cotton towel with cornmeal. (You could use flour but cornmeal is far superior to prevent sticking and this wet dough really wants to stick.)

Flour your hands and shape dough into a ball. This will be difficult; fortunately you don’t have to be precise. Place it, seam side down, on the prepared towel. Dust the top with flour or cornmeal. Make sure there’s cornmeal on the towel beyond the edges of the loaf; it will spread as it rises. Cover it loosely with plastic wrap and let it rise for about another 2 hours. Check it occasionally; it’ll want to stick to the plastic wrap and grow out beyond the edge of the cornmeal. The dough will be ready when it’s more than double in size and will not readily spring back when you poke it with your finger. In my kitchen, which is chilly even with a heating oven, this takes more than the stated time. That’s okay.

At least half an hour before you think the dough will be ready, check that one of your oven shelves is in the middle position. Put a 6-8 quart heavy lidded pot in the oven. Heat the oven to 450 degrees. And, no, the pan is not greased.

When the dough has risen, carefully remove the pot from the oven. Remove the lid. Slide your hand under the towel. (Be warned, the remaining cornmeal and flour will fall onto the counter as you lift the dough.) Turn the dough into the pot , seam side up. As Bittman says, "It may look like a mess, but that is O.K." Give the pan a shake or two if the dough is unevenly distributed, but it will straighten out as it bakes. Put the lid back on and return pan to the oven. Bake 30 minutes, then remove the lid and bake another 15-30 minutes until the top is deep golden brown. The loaf will sound hollow when it’s tapped. Remove from the oven, turn out the loaf and let it cool on a rack.

The aroma is wonderful. The loaf will crackle as it cools, and the urge to slice it before it cools is almost irresistible. It’s bread that reminds you why bread once was considered a meal.

-Ann

This Week's Wine March 1, 2007

When some of us were much younger, and maybe a little more foolish, Chianti, the red wine of Tuscany, in straw-covered bottles, was the wine of romance. We went to dimly lighted restaurants, often in basements, like the late, lamented Rossino’s of the 1960s. Those bottles, empties used as candle-holders, also adorned the tables covered with red-and-white checked cloths.

Although the wine often was young and rather raw, the better bottles displayed the dusty, dark, plummy quality that I still find the most attractive flavor of the Sangiovese grape. Through the years, the wrapping disappeared and the wine was housed in less distinguishable bottles, but the grape remained popular and has been used as the base for many Italian blends. California-grown Sangiovese went into Italian-style blends.

As a fan of hearty red wines, I’ve always had a soft spot for Chiantis, and I was pleased to see the Gallo family in the act. Gallo now imports and distributes three Chiantis from Cantine Leonardo da Vinci, a cooperative that has about 1250 acres and is located in the town of Vinci, once home to the famous Leonardo. Vinci is inside the Chianti region is in an area of Tuscany roughly outlined by Pisa, Siena and Florence.

Gallo products, by the way, once caused an unfavorable reaction that at times was deserved. But for the last couple of decades, with younger family members in charge, the family has greatly improved its products. Gallo and Anheuser-Busch, a similar alcoholic behemoth, have the money and the personnel to make any kind of beverage they like, and the range of quality is immense and growing at the high end.

Hampered by image, both organizations have sought to break away from their stodgy old images, with new label designs that often do not mention the parent company and with import arms that span the globe.

The three new Chiantis differ only slightly from one another in composition, age and price. They are: 2005 Chianti DOCG, $16; 2004 Chianti Classico, $24; and 2003 Chianti Riserva, $27.

As expected, the eldest appeared the best. It was 100 percent Sangiovese, and the additional age gave it more softness, roundness and body. The finish was long and elegant, and it was perfect with osso bucco. The wine was vinified in stainless steel and went through malolactic fermentation. It then spent a year in new French oak barrels and three months in bottle for a total of 27 months before leaving the winery. It’s a delicious wine in every respect.

The ‘04 and ‘05 are good table wines, the former with 5 percent of Colovino grapes added to the Sangiovese, the latter showing a blend of 10 percent merlot and 5 percent Syrah. All were fermented in stainless steel and spent less time in oak than their elder brother. So both the ‘04 and the ‘05 are slightly harder, with more tannin on the tongue and a little less body.

I’d buy the ‘03 and drink it now; I’d let the others sit a year or so.

* * * *

Some recent tastings brought these opinions. . . .

Ballentine Vineyards, St. Helena, showed three excellent wines, two well-aged, delightful 2001 Napa Valley Zinfandels and a meritage from the same vintage. All are winners. The Block 11 Zin, $18 at the winery, was deep and rich, with the brambly feeling of good zins and lots of red fruit, a little light but with excellent flavor. The wine from the Block 9 vineyard, $27 at the winery, was deeper in flavor, richer and longer of finish, with an extra touch provided by 5 percent of Petit Sirah. The Integrity, a meritage blend of 58 percent Merlot, 32 percent Cabernet Franc and 10 percent Cabernet Sauvignon, spent 22 months in oak and is a superior creation, with outstanding balance, lots of raspberry flavors, and a good value at $32 at the winery.

Zaca Mesa, the Santa Barbara County winery, offers a superior meritage under the label of "Z Cuvee," and the wine from the Santa Ynez Valley is 48 percent Mourvedre, 32 percent Grenache and 20 percent Syrah, with a retail price tag of about $18. The blend works perfectly, with deep, rich flavors of plums and blackberries, superior balance and a long, smooth finish.

Courtney Benham, a second label of Martin Ray, shows a delicious ‘05 Sauvignon Blanc, splendid with oysters on the half shell, or most fish dishes, and a fine value at $12.

MacMurray Ranch, another Gallo property in the Sonoma area has a superior white, a 2005 Sonoma Coast Pinot Gris, with lovely peach overtones and still some dry spiciness. There’s a lot of fruit, but the excellent balance avoids sweetness. About $20, and yes, the ranch at one time belonged to Hollywood actor Fred.

Columbia Winery, Woodinville, Wash. Makes a pleasant, fruity, delicate 2002 Syrah with fine balance and body. About $15.

Rosenblum Cellars makes wine in the East Bay town of Alameda, but sources grapes from all over the state. A 2004 Redwood Valley (Mendocino County) Zinfandel from Annette’s Vineyard is a big one with 15.5% alcohol. But the wine shows superior flavor, rich and deep, very plummy with superb aroma of berries. A little high at $35 but worth it for a special treat.

-Joe