Sea Change

My wife and I attended a play at the Guthrie recently. I decided we should also give the restaurant there a try, while we were out on our date. A friend of ours made a sour face when we mentioned we would be dining at Sea Change. "I don't like floor to ceiling windows, especially not with Minnesota winters, and granite tabletops. It's too cold. Bring me warm food and put it on a cold table next to cold window? No thanks."


I'm pleased to report our dining experience was mostly the opposite. The theatrical production, on the other hand, left me shivering cold. During the meal, there was only one glaring misstep, and the responsibility for that lay chiefly with a decision made by the designer of the menu to incorporate the flavor of popcorn into the salmon entrée. Of course I had additional minor complaints about the food, but they are hardly worth mentioning.

I ordered the prix fixe (roughly translated: "fixed price") where three courses were delivered to me for just over the average cost of most of the entrées. Stephanie ordered the "popcorn" salmon, with a warm beet salad (minus the bleu cheese) to start. The beet, beet green, walnut, and (drum roll please) pancetta was wonderful. The pancetta, cooked to perfect crispy salty perfection was the star attraction. The walnuts, imo, would have benefited from a little praline action. My starter, the arugula with grapefruit and housemade ricotta salata, while quite tasty, would have benefited from a little larger serving, with a couple extra grapefruit segments and double the ricotta salata. Three puny slivers of cheese barely kept pace with the rest of the salad.

Our entrées were both phenomenal. Stephanie's salmon and my arctic char were executed perfectly. The char's accompanying white bean puree, white beans, and pickled artichoke melange were fantastic. The salmon's bed of popcorn grits, on the other hand, and accompanying corn related trifles, were not. But the langoustine sauce served on the side made up for the complaints about the popcorn. I think my Facebook post said "I'll have the salmon, hold the popcorn."

About the brownie, caramel ganache, and chocolate malt foam, I don't need to say more. It was every bit as delicious as you may imagine (pictured at the top of this blog).

I was not prepared for the strong negative emotions that arose within me during the second half of Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew that rounded out our evening. I was enraged. I was close to tears. I almost walked out. I nearly stood up and interrupted the performance with a vilification of the villainy of the debauchery of 15th-century male domination. It really was too much. This play should not be performed. I'm in favor of a ban.

I had thought, with such modern adaptations as Kiss Me, Kate, an homage from the writers of the 80s tv show Moonlighting, among numerous other adaptations, surely this would be worth watching. I was not prepared for the stark reality of physical and emotional abuse as the main mover of the plot in the second half of the play. There is nothing funny about abuse. By the end of the play I concluded that I find Hamlet to be more of a "comedy" than Taming of the Shrew. By all rights, the latter should be considered a tragedy.

Braised Beef with Caramelized Onions

The origins of the importance of this dish in our household dates back to our four month stint living in Nigeria. The challenge: take a cut of West African beef and try to make it palatable, that is, make it resemble something you might find living in a land where cows grow quite large having eaten their fill, as opposed to skinny cows that barely get enough to eat. The first couple times I tried cooking beef roast over there were miserable. The beef was as tough as shoe leather, and about as flavorful. No matter how long we cooked it, the result was the same. Finally, I hit on a method that worked. Braise until barely tender. It took awhile, upwards of ten or twelve hours. It never really got "tender." There just wasn't enough fat on the meat to improve the texture much. After ten or twelve hours, though, the beef did lose a little of its leathery toughness.

You can approximate the dish here, but you will invariably end up with something far tender and far tastier. And it should only take three or four hours. On a recent trip to a suburban food mall that stands in for a grocery store, I reviewed the options: chuck roast, bottom round, top sirloin. I didn't know the difference, only that they all implied they were good for pot roast. I think I've most often used chuck roast and have always been pleased with the way that particular cut responds to braising. I tried bottom round this time, and was very pleased with the result, although it did require a little longer time to finish. The basic technique I use is outlined below, although there's a seeming endless number of variations you can riff.

I like this dish best served over mashed potatoes.

You can serve it with rice if you prefer. You can make an excellent risotto with the leftovers. It would also be extremely nice topped over a handmade wide ribboned pasta. But I'll probably never have the  motivation to make the pasta. In the title, I described the onions as "caramelized." Similar to my inability to make noodles, I never make caramelized onions. I am always too anxious to get the beef started so I never cook the onions more than twenty or thirty minutes. For a true caramelized onion, the minimum cooking time is closer to ninety minutes. Since I haven't mastered the technique, I can't advise you further there. If you want authentic caramelization, consult a standard cooking text such as Joy of Cooking or How to Cook Everything and you'll probably be just fine.

Three ingredients are all that are required for the basic version. Five, if you count water and salt as ingredients. Seven, if you like mushrooms and a thicker stew-like concoction.

Olive Oil
2 lbs. Onions
2.5 to 3.5 lb. Beef Roast

Optional:
1 lb. Mushrooms
a few tablespoons flour or cornstarch

1. Rub beef with kosher salt, then sear on all sides over medium high heat with a little oil. Discard oil, wipe pan clean, and start working on the onions.

2. Peel, trim, and slice the onions as thinly as possible. I like to use my mandoline, as it reduces the time required to slice and it produces a more uniformly thin result than I would have the patience or skill to produce if slicing manually.

3. Saute onions over medium with a bit of salt until volume reduced dramatically (20 minutes, minimum, up to an hour and a half or more for a true caramelized onion). Stir every little while and watch carefully. You may need to turn down the heat to medium low to prevent the onions from scorching.
4. Add beef and enough water to cover the beef by two-thirds
5. Bring to a bare simmer, cover with lid slightly askew, and cook until tender. Turn beef over every 45 minutes to an hour or so. Add another cup or two of water if needed. Minimum of about 2 1/2 to 3 hours, although some cuts my benefit from a longer cooking time. You want the meat to come apart easily when you poke it.
6. Let beef cool somewhat (20-30 minutes maybe) and tear beef into shreds.
7. Strain the liquid and discard onions. If desired, thicken remaining liquid to a gravy with flour or cornstarch.

To make a risotto with the leftovers, use between 1 and 1 1/2 cups of braised beef (with accompanying liquid) per 1 cup of uncooked arborio rice. For an unusually textured risotto, add the beef at the beginning of the roughly 22 minute stirring and cooking time when you're first adding liquid. The end result is sticky and gooey, as if you'd added a cup of mozzeralla. It's the strangest thing. If you prefer the beef to retain more of its original texture, add it instead at about halfway into the cooking time.