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| Augustatory |
| by Gustav Ericson |
Our eighteenth visit to the
annual specialty food show in NYC earlier this summer was one of
resounding reassurance and delight. Several critics have since
observed that there was a lack of the gimmickry and razzmatazz of shows
past, and we very much concur. Maybe we have finally learned that it’s
all about focus: there were, to be sure, plenty of garish red layer
cakes, annoying wasabi-enshrouded legumes, and more insipid herbal teas
than you could shake a cinnamon stick at. The inane seems to have
generally given way, however, to a cultivated and often delectable
refinement…and who wouldn’t welcome some signs of evolution these
days? Personal or global enlightenment-- whichever--the cheeses
and comestibles we tasted were wonderful, (Florence Fabricant, a New
York “Times” food critic, agrees). The purveyors and artisans
were devoted and knowledgeable, and the frenetic pace of years past was
blessedly absent. Moreover, there was a marked increase of
organic and Fair Trade products, which we found most heartening. For
us, there never was a better NASFT show.
To
wit: the cherry balsamic mostarda coupled with a buttery new Spanish
goat cheese at the Forever Cheese booth was a revelation, and crackling
caramelized walnuts, also from Spain, offset a racy northern Italian
bleu cheese superbly. At Power Sellers, there were sophisticated wine
vinegar jellies, perfect with your Manchego, a startlingly flavorful
Basque paprika, the tiny “Fidilio” noodles from Spain that cook up in
seconds and are utterly diaphanous on the tongue, and head-spinningly
aromatic sea salts infused rosemary and thyme. Power Sellers was
also introducing smaller versions of our favorite “Blanxart”, those
un-conched, granular and darkly flavorful chocolates now so popular
around here. At Cheeseworks’ extensive booths we tasted silky and
complex Portuguese sheep milk cheeses, coagulated only with thistle,
and snowy, piquant Bulgarian feta with deep amber honey. We
sniffed at peppers, chilies and curries from obscure tropical climes
but were equally enthralled with pristine white goat cheeses from
Vermont and crumbly, fruity cheddars from, yes, upstate New York. We
asked for second tastes of irresistible organic hazelnut pastes,
elegant rose petal syrups and jams, and pear and fig pastes. (We’ve
already brought in the pear.) We noted deeply flavored chutneys
and shatteringly crisp grissini, too, thoughtful accompaniments if you
are asked to “just bring the cheese”. There were veritable rivers of
vinegars both balsamic and sherry, and we tasted gelati voluptuous yet
curiously astringent. We were pleased to see our favorite fruit, the
fig, at several booths, and Persephone herself would be proud of the
omnipresence of the pomegranate. At Valrhona’s quintessentially elegant
booth, we were pleased to see that several of their peerless chocolates
are now labeled “organic”.
The
aura of discernment culminated, at least for us, at the Rogers
International booth, where we met with Majid Mahjoub, the owner and
representative of the celebrated Moulins Mahjoub. We spoke with him
late in the afternoon on the last day of the show, in the “let’s break
it down and get out of here” hubbub of the always-bustling Javett’s
Center. We sensed instantly that we had unwittingly saved the best
booth for last. M. Mahjoub, visiting from his home and business
in Tunisia, was as dapper and deferential as one would expect. He
took us under his gracious wing and made us feel like his only
customers, ever. With a profound love of his products, he bade us
taste each one, describing its uses in spare and hushed tones.
Beloved Dining Companion and I enjoyed, anew, several of the products
that we already carry here at Honest Weight. His Harissa, niçoises
olive spread, and sundried tomatoes are as uniquely flavorful as
always. Only a few ingredients in each, but superb ingredients they
are. Mr. Mahjoub obviously respects simplicity- a simplicity
that’s exemplified in his company’s logo- a nonchalant circle and its
midpoint, which speaks volumes in its austerity. As he feeds us,
he imparts some philosophy: the gastronomic world is divided into that
which is pulled directly off the land or from the sea, and that which
is then evolved through human innovation. The two often
intertwine, creating a symphonic work, that, to him, is conducted by
his family’s olive oil (coincidentally one of our all- time favorites).
Using ancient granite millstones to grind the fruit, pressing the paste
in its traditional scourtins, and naturally decanting the resulting
elixir indeed make a world of difference. Is it possible to taste
Tunisia?
Soloists in his culinary orchestra, whether tomatoes, chilies or
artichokes, are allowed to shine, but they are always supported by the
buttery and greenly nuanced oil. Delightful oil indeed- but also
salubrious: a good olive oil is always fruity on the tip of the tongue
and a little peppery as it hits the throat, indicating that it’s high
in polyphenols and antioxidants. It’s swell when something this
delicious is good for ya, isn’t it? We found room
gastrically to taste all his olives- the crisp green varieties with
mountain herbs, those with lemon peel and fennel, those with Harissa,
and the buttery little black Niçoises that deliquesce on the
tongue. His sundried tomatoes are the best we know of, and we
have long maintained that a mere three of four of them can transform an
omelette or simple pasta sauce- they are that deeply concentrated and
tomato-y. They are also pleasant sliced into chiffonade and added to a
risotto with green peas and parmagiana. Splendid, too are
M. Mahjoub’s wild mountain capers, preserved as they should be in sea
salt. They are crisp and leafy, and inexplicably floral in
flavor. That’s not really inexplicable at all; Harold McGee, in
our of our favorite foodie tomes, On Food and Cooking, tell us
why: “Dry- salted, the caper bud undergoes an astonishing
transformation: it’s radishy and oniony notes are displaced by the
distinct aroma (from ionine and raspberry ketone) of violets and
raspberries!” We love Mr. McGee’s enthusiasm, and again just a
smattering of Mahjoub capers (they are the larger “capote” size) can
make a sauce or grilled fish transcendent. All of Monsieur’s line seems
to speak of searing afternoons, the call of gulls way down the shore, a
fish grilling over dried herb stems….
Two new products, a deep scarlet sundried tomato spread with the
pleasant building heat of chili, and a buttery and suave artichoke
spread made from artichokes harvested in the renowned Medjerda valley,
were superb, and would certainly be apt accompaniments to pasta, hors
d’oeuvres or cheese. The bitter orange marmalade was, as always,
a glistening, adult treat, and we noted that the oranges therein are
grown without fertilizers or pesticides on the Cap Bon peninsula.
The courtly Monsieur Mahjoub asked if he might share a favorite pasta
recipe with us…and the BDC and I hung on his every word. He keeps it
simple, and it exemplifies his philosophy, combining the bounty of
nature with a minimum of human intervention: sauté some finely chopped
onions (I might opt for shallots-you know by now my penchant for
shallots sizzling in hot olive oil) and a few capers in a generous
amount of olive oil “for some minutes”, add your hot pasta and let it
cook together for two minutes, and then serve with a profusion of
finely chopped parsley and Parmagiana Regianno. I make a similar
concoction but brown stale breadcrumbs in the oil and omit the cheese
(heavens!)…and always use orecchiette. My culinary maven pal Dondi
Ahearn adds a can of good Spanish tuna for the protein factor. He likes
orecchiette too. In simple pasta dishes like this, remember to
save a good half cup of your pasta cooking water to augment your sauce,
and to cook the pasta IN the sauce for a couple of minutes. The starch
molecules in the water thicken the sauce beautifully. Via e-mail, M.
Mahjoub suggested that one might eliminate the capers and add “three or
four spoons of black olive paste or sundried tomato paste” to the
sautéed onions, or garlic. No problem. Remember that such pasta dishes
are delicious served lukewarm the next day, particularly on a hot
August night when the idea of “cooking” is appalling…
We assure Mister Mahjoub that we’ll be bringing in his new products,
and that we know that our paths will again cross one happy day. (He has
since invited us to visit his estate at harvest time in January to
taste this year’s crop). We then depart, feeling productive and sated
on many levels, and emerge into a steamy Manhattan afternoon.
Once again we appreciate the shimmering and staggeringly beautiful
panorama of midtown as viewed from Tenth Ave. Another symphony,
this cityscape, atop countless gastronomic possibilities, coalescing
the bounties of the land and seas, fostered by the innovations of its
people. Uplifted, as the tropical air sits heavy on the city….
Next morning at a favorite breakfast haunt- Le Pain Quotidien, down at
Union Square, where you go for big bowls of café-au-lait, excellent
brioche, and world-altering conversation- we note that there is a full
line of Moulins Mahjoub products on the wall behind our table. In a
conversation with the manager, he intoned a deep respect for the
Mahjoub line and its simple perfection. The symphony again, uptown and
down, in Tunisia, Belgium…and assuredly here in Albany, where we will
be carrying as many of our new discoveries as we can this fall.
We bid you cooling breezes and peaceful repasts- then and now.
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