FOOD FINDS: Chef du Jour Review

The Greek philosopher Heraclitus is most known for his declaration “Everything is in flux,” and given the transient nature of Chef du Jour’s menu, this maxim couldn’t be any more apropos of the Albuquerque eatery.

While Heraclitus never had the fortune of dining at Chef du Jour, he died around 475 B.C.E, Chef du Jour has been hailed for years as an Albuquerque gem. Markedly different form other local gorging grounds, the cafe operates with a truly independent spirit (read: no advertising whatsoever) and maintains its fan base despite the absence of sit-down dinner service. Weekly menu overhauls encourage the return of adventurous diners to sample Buddy Murzen and Ralph Garcia’s latest experiments.

Located in a dinky three-shop crop of brick and mortar at 119 San Pasquale SW, Chef du Jour has abutted Old Town for 19 years. Murzen, who worked as a server before taking over the business six years ago, describes his and Garcia’s establishment as a “special occasions place.” And given that lunch for two clocked in at just over $30, lunch at Chef du Jour is not your ordinary twelve o’clock hustle. But Murzen and Garcia aren’t interested in giving diners an “ordinary” experience. Instead, the ever-changing menu creates a halo of mystery much appreciated by the regulars.

Upon entering Chef du Jour, one feels an immediate ease. The dining room (and the men’s room too) are designed with a quaint homeyness that immediately gives the impression you’re dining at a friend’s home. The kitchen is unabashedly open. A refrigerator stands conspicuously in the dining area. A feeling of mirth, prompted by Murzen’s casual address and Chef Garcia’s omnipresence, sets the tone for an enjoyable experience. But can the food sustain this lofty precedent?

The first courses were met with mixed opinions. The spicy tomato soup ($3.75 cup/$4.75 bowl) was more reminiscent of a thin marinara than a zesty zupa. It was not at all unpleasant, but neither was it remotely spicy. The house tossed salad ($3.50) was more diversely cast than a John Waters’ film, and in attendance were baby spinach, frisee and red leaf lettuce to name a few. But the green chile vinaigrette drizzled over the field greens was too reminiscent of a standard Italian dressing, and whatever semblance of green chile existed was drowned out by parmesan cheese and olive oil. The dressing was flavorful, but as New Mexicans our tongues were expecting a mild sense of alarm. Whatever points were lost from the hesitance of heat in the soup and salad were quickly regained by the oven-warmed baguette and coarsely-ground garlic compound butter.

With fewer than eight entrees to choose from, one would assume selecting a main course would be a simple task. It was not. I was torn between the Thai green curry pasta with pork ($11) and the smoked salmon and spinach quiche ($8) while my partner-in-dine vacillated between the margarita shrimp quesadilla with tequila citrus glaze (served flat and crispy like a wood-oven pizza, $8.50) and the green corn tamale with basmati rice and mango salsa ($8.25). In the end we both opted for our respective latters.

The smoked salmon quiche arrived on a bed of the same mixed greens as before, only this time the dressing - herbed buttermilk heavily laden with fresh dill - was outstanding. The crust on the quiche was flaky and not excessively buttery, the boldness of the salmon was controlled so as not to overpower the spinach, and the moussey interior of the pie was not at all burdened with an errant density cheese.

The green corn tamale, called “green” simply because fresh corn is used instead of lime-dried masa, was a meeting of tropical flavors, and the mango salsa (mango, onions, red bell pepper and lime juice) was fresh and mildly acidic. The use of fresh sweet corn paired well with the tartness of the lime and the crispness of fresh onion, as did the fragrant bed of basmati rice.

For dessert we sampled the chocolate burrito, more or less a frozen cannoli filled with vanilla ice cream and topped with whipped cream, fresh bananas, walnuts, and caramel ($3.50), and the apple-raisin galette with almonds and caramel ($3.25). Both desserts were so rich and sugary I was sated after two bites of each. To mediate the premature onset of diabetes, desserts at Chef du Jour should be shared.

Our total bill was $30.25 before tax and tip, and had my dining companion not dropped the remainder of her tamale in the parking lot, she would have had a healthy doggy-bag dinner too.

Chef du Jour is open Tuesday through Friday, 11 am to 4 pm. Carryout dinners can be arranged in advance by calling 247-8998.

Eric Howerton can be reached at erichowerton@mac.com.

BIG SCREEN: The President's Last Bang

On October 26, 1979, South Korean President Park Chung-hee, along with Secretary Chang of the South Korean Secret Service and several SS officers, was brutally shot and killed. Though North Korea had attempted to assassinate the South Korean president a few years earlier, Park’s neighbors to the north had nothing to do with his demise. Instead, the death blow was delivered from within his own cabinet. South Korean CIA Director Kim Jaegyu, a longtime confidant of President Park’s, led the inchoate, albeit successful, perpetration against President Park. Kim’s uprising is the subject of Lim Sang-soo’s film The President’s Last Bang.

Even though writer/director Lim’s movie is darkly humorous affair, the factual nature of Park’s massacre prohibits the film being written off as merely a comedy. Lim, assuming the role of revisionist historian, would have us believe that President Park (Song Jae-ho) was less of a political bull than he was a buffoon. Most encyclopedic references regard Park as a military dogmatist, an economic savior, or a staunchly anti-democratic, anti-communistic dictator. Lim regards the man as a lascivious drunk.

The President’s Last Bang is heavily influenced by the stylized works of crime by the likes of John Wu and Quention Tarantino, however The President’s Last Bang isn’t weighed down by genre-typifying mobster idolatry. Instead, the film addresses the tenuous nature of eyewitness recollections and textbook renditions of insurgency, and indiscriminately exposes the weaknesses of the presidential cabinet as well as those of the assassins.

The world of The President’s Last Bang is an irresolute one, a land filled with political goons hardly qualified to run a bake sale, much less a country. Chief Secretary Yang (Kwon Byunggil) is introduced as the “secretary of the liquor cabinet .” Secretary Cha (Won-jung Jeong) struts around casually with no pants. Both men are poor political appointees; Cha is a brutish slob and Yang is an obsequious slug. KCIA Chief Ju (Han Seok-Kyu) chews too much gum. And Director Kim has chronic bad breath.

As Secretaries Cha and Yang, and Director Kim dine with the president, Director Kim becomes increasingly agitated with talk of politics until he can take no more. Colluding with Chief Ju and the stoic Colonel Min (Kim Eung-soo), Kim orders the assassination of the president. Without really knowing why, Ju and Min follow their superiors orders.

The extremes with which Lim depicts President Park are both humorous and widely contested, but the The President’s Last Bang is a sly and crafty film. It is satirical without slipping into slapstick or parody. President Park is seen not only as a lout who used Korean intelligence officers to taxi around his mistresses, but also a man who constantly deferred to the Japanese who had once occupied his country. Despite domestic opposition and mild censorship of the film, Lim insists his picture is a faithful representation of both characters and events.

Lim does a wonderful job creating confusion amongst the ranks of the assassins, even going so far as to blur the motivational charge behind the murders. Whether Director Kim orders the hit out of desperation for a more democratic nation, or in response to the president’s waning favor with the populace en masse, or simply due to mental fatigue and wavering sanity, the assassination of President Park seems, paradoxically, both senseless and imperative.

The only shortcoming of The President’s Last Bang is that the source material itself is not as riveting as the events inspiring films such as Dog Day Afternoon and JFK. However, as an alternative to the trite musings of Mossoud assassins in Steven Spielberg’s Munich, The President’s Last Bang explores the insecurities and temerity of politically motivated murder from a slightly more artful, and less maudlin, perspective.

Rating: Worth Sitting Up For

The above originally appeared in a slightly altered form in Crosswinds Weekly, Jan. 4 - Jan. 11.

CD REVIEW: Ryan Adams "29"

No one sets the bar higher for Ryan Adams than himself. From May 5 to December 20 of 2005, the 30 year-old North Carolina native and former Whiskeytown frontman released 41 new tracks on three different albums, and the collected works form a catalogue that dwarfs nearly every other release from last year.

Frequently hailed as the stagecoach driver of alt.country, Adams is the current frontrunner of the genre, as Jeff Tweedy and Wilco have veered off the trail into fragmented fields of noise, the Jayhawks have disbanded altogether, and Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes too often rides sidesaddle, dabbling equally in bluegrass banter and electronic bombast. As a versatile songwriter, Adams can be either meticulous or spontaneous, confident or self-pitying, aloofly misanthropic or hopelessly romantic. And he sounds genuine regardless of the subject matter.

Adams’s first release of 2005, the atmospheric Cold Roses, is an 18-track rhapsody harkening back to the days of roots-rock country music, a time when pastoral psalms were the voice of rural America more than they were commercial means to sell dip and Chevies. Jacksonville City Nights arrived soon after Cold Roses. Jacksonville is a honky tonk whirlwind of love songs and, arguably, the most daring Ryan Adams album to date. Combining the harmonies and language of old gospel tunes with the scofflaw of southern twang, Jacksonville is a mountain range with too many peaks to nominate one as the highest. Notable tracks are “Dear John,” a tearful duet with Norah Jones, “Peaceful Valley,” the most bizarrely belted Ryan Adams song to date, and “My Heart is Broken,” which, for all intensive purposes, could be a reworked Tammy Wynette tune.

Whereas Cold Roses and Jacksonville City Nights are steady and purposeful - collages of Roy Orbison, Merle Haggard, and the riffiness of the Grateful Dead - Adams’s newest collection, 29 (released December 20), is essentially a pop effort. 29 is Adams’s first solo production since joining forces with the Cardinals, and at times the album falters. That being said, the songwriting on 29 is most similar to the lesser appreciated Love Is Hell collection, and the album is best appreciated as a literary work. .

According to Adams, each track on 29 chronicles a year in his 20s. While the autobiographical concept may beg critiques of pretentiousness, Adams, as a character within the framework of the album itself, rarely imposes upon the other personages in the harmonics. Adams is skating on thin ice here, but the songs on 29 are personal revelations without being narcissistic indulgences. 29 - genuine, simple, and heartfelt - is simply a lyrical novel spanning 10 years

The title track “29” is an inebriated ramble up and down lonely highways littered with poorly lit poolhalls and boredom. “Strawberry Wine,” a sad, strummy hum-a-long, is about the pendulous swing of tragic characters swaying between poles of regret and failure. Hushy piano tracks like “Starlite Diner” and “Blue Sky Blues” are so well-told one has a hard time deciding if they are songs with plots or stories wrapped in blankets of sound.

The breakaway track on 29 is “The Sadness,” which has a sound unlike anything Adams has ever composed. Combining sounds from paso doble and flamenco, the song likens itself to a bullfight, and with Adams as the matador battling the minatory Love it’s unclear who will be claimed the victor. Like “Peaceful Valley” on Jacksonville City Nights, Adams’s voice on “The Sadness” exhibits a capricious elasticity not attempted on earlier works like Gold or RockNRoll.

Adams’s new era could be defined, albeit ironically, by his handicap. After a fall during a 2004 Liverpool concert resulted in a broken wrist, Adams was told he may never play guitar again. Several operations later and months of having to relearn the guitar, Cold Roses, Jacksonville City Nights, and 29 exhibit a different breed of songwriting. From his new relationship with the six string, Adams seems to have also found new pain in his voice, a new foothold in the market, and new ways of convincing the listener to believe each chorus and every refrain.

If 2006 is as good to Adams as 2005 was, other artists may have to rethink the strategy of a releasing an album every two or three years, lest they be left in dust of Ryan Adams as he passes them by in a rusty pickup traveling much faster than it should.

The above originally appeared in a slightly altered form in Crosswinds Weekly, Jan. 4 - Jan. 11.

IN THE KITCHEN: Liver Pentagon

Liver. For many the word itself conjures up more horrific images than moribund diction like tombstone or cemetery. Liver has unfairly fallen out of favor in America due to the selective prepackaging of muscly grocery store meats and chain restaurants’ ubiquitous abstention from serving organs. However, there was a time when liver - along with sweetbreads, kidneys, tongue, and hearts - was revered with gastronomical gusto.

Organ meats likes those mentioned above, have far more uses than mere filler for hot dogs, chorizo, and scrapple. In fact, in most parts of the world, organs are still widely consumed as healthy alternatives to fatty rib eyes and stacks of baby back ribs.

Foie gras, the fattened liver of a duck or goose, is a delicacy in most of Western civilization and can fetch astronomical prices. However, that the liver of avian species is more prized than that of mammals like sheep and cows should be no indication that the liver of a lamb or calf is to be forgotten altogether. While not as delicate in flavor as foie gras or pate, lamb and calf livers are significantly lower in fat than foie gras, higher in protein, and richer in iron and vitamin A.

Much of the stigma attached to liver can be attributed to the paucity of colorful accouterments to offset the grayish liver. Liver and onions is still frequently served in diners in the South, however liver lends itself well to a variety of flavors, offering palatable leniency to tastes both sweet and savory. For this matter, serving liver with nothing more than a few grilled onions fails to take advantage of the organ’s versatility. Below is a recipe that showcases the dexterity of this oft forgotten meat.

The liver in this dish is accompanied by four sauces and one side, each item offering a different accent to the natural flavor of the liver. The term pentagon refers to the orientation of the liver companions around the edge of the plate, not to the enigmatic offices of the U.S. Department of Defense, an agency that just might be scarier than all the liver in the world combined.

Preparation for Liver:
1 lb. calf’s liver (or organic, grass-fed beef liver)
1/4 lb. smoked bacon

Remove any tough connective tissue or gristle from liver. Soak liver in cold water or milk for 1 hour to remove excess blood.

While the liver is being bled, dice 1/4 pound smoked bacon and cook bacon over very low heat for 20 minutes or until the majority of the fat has been released from the bacon. Remove bacon from grease and set bacon and pan aside.

Pentagon Point 1: Sweet Cherry Chard
1/3 lb. sweet cherries, pits removed (15- 20 cherries)
3 cups shredded swiss chard leaves (stems removed)
1 Tbs. butter
1 Tbs. lemon juice
salt

In skillet melt butter and sauté swiss chard over medium heat until leaves start to wilt. Add cherries and lemon juice. Sauté for 5 minutes. Remove from heat before cherries fully break down. chill in refrigerator for at least 30 minutes. Serve cold.

Pentagon Point 2: Shallot Endive Salad
2 small heads of endive, sliced into thin rings
3 medium shallots, sliced into thin rings
1 small garlic clove, pressed
1 Tbs. butter
1 Tbs. balsamic vinegar
1/2 tsp. caraway seeds
remaining bacon from liver preparation
salt

Over medium heat, melt butter in saucepan. Add sliced shallots, garlic, bacon, caraway seeds and a pinch of salt. Sauté for 5 to 7 minutes or until shallots become mostly limp. Add endive and balsamic vinegar. Reduce heat to low. Cook until endive is moderately limp. Serve warm.

Pentagon Point 3: Midnight Mashed Potatoes
3 medium blue or purple potatoes, cut into quarters, unpeeled
2 ounces soft, unaged chevre (goat cheese)
1/4 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. olive oil
1/8 tsp. thyme
salt
pepper

Bring water to boil in medium-sized pot and allow potatoes to boil for 20 minutes. Strain water from potatoes. Add remaining ingredients and mash together crudely. Serve warm.

Pentagon Point 4: Tomato Cranberry Relish
1 cup canned whole cranberry sauce
2 small tomatoes, diced
3 Tbs. dry red wine
1/4 tsp. crushed rosemary
1/2 tsp. corn starch
salt
pepper

In small saucepan, break down diced tomatoes and a pinch of salt in olive oil. Add cranberry sauce, red wine, rosemary, corn starch, pepper. Simmer uncovered for twenty minutes. Cover, remove from heat and allow relish to thicken. Serve warm.

Pentagon Point 5: Caramelized Onions
2 medium yellow or white onions
1 1/2 Tbs. butter
1 1/2 Tbs. brown sugar
salt

Peel onions and cut into thin rings. Melt butter in saucepan over medium heat. Add onions, brown sugar, cinnamon, and a pinch of salt. Cover and reduce heat after 5 minutes. Allow onions to soften and caramelize (approximately 20 minutes) keeping heat low enough to prevent sugar from burning. Remove from heat once onions have darkened significantly and become fully limp. Serve warm.

Liver Preparation

Over medium heat warm bacon grease. Depending on amount of fat rendered from the bacon, add 1 to 2 tablespoons of butter.

Remove liver from milk/water bath. Pat dry with a paper towel. Dredge the liver in flour, bread crumbs or crushed soda crackers. When oil has come to temperature, place liver in frying pan. Cook 3-5 minutes until top side has released a substantial amount of blood and bottom has browned. Flip liver. To maintain the liver’s soft texture, recommended temperature is medium as overcooked liver will become tough.

Putting It All Together

Place a fair amount of each Pentagon Point (according to their numerical order) around the perimeter of the individual serving plates, forming a pentagon around the edge of the plate.

Immediately before serving, slice cooked liver into 1/2 inch strips. Place several strips in the middle of each plate. Garnish with alfalfa sprouts. Encourage guests to try each sauce separately and to combine the flavors.

Serve with a medium- to full-bodied red wine.

Serves 4.

Eric Howerton can be reached at erichowerton@mac.com.


The above originally appeared in Crosswinds Weekly, Jan. 4-Jan 11.

IN THE KITCHEN: Movie munchies with panache

Excluding special exceptions, movie fare is generally bite–sized, easy to prepare, and, more often than not, high in fat, sodium or sugar. Case in point: popcorn. Drenched in butter, handfuls of minute pillows can be devoured in seconds, and preparation is as easy as pouring a glass of water. Open box. Place popcorn in microwave. Press button. Listen intently for the attenuation of exploding kernels. Enjoy with glee. (For a zestier and more health–conscious popcorn, use olive oil instead of butter and sprinkle some ground red chile, cumin and black pepper over the steaming tufts.)

Just as there are those moviegoers who shy away from action–packed Hollywood blockbusters and instead devote themselves to independent cinema, there are also those whose tastes in movie roughage strays from the candy–counter staples of Jujyfruits, hot dogs and 55–gallon drums of soda. The transformation of the local cinema into the 24 screen cineplex also brought gourmet ice creams and pizza for the patron with more “refined” tastes. However, xenophobic videophiles — and those who want a quiet night in the sanctity of their home — should not automatically head to the drive–thru on the way home from the video store or rip open a box of Jiffy Pop.

Below are two recipes that require just a little more effort than handing over ten bucks to a movie employee for a pack of Reese’s and a beverage.

Spicy Smoked Salmon Pesto Canapés

1 baguette
8 oz. smoked salmon, chopped
8 oz. cream cheese
1 log (4–6 ounces) soft, unaged chevre (goat’s cheese)
4 tbls. fresh basil, chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely minced
2 whole New Mexico green chiles
2 ancho chiles
salt
pepper
olive oil
optional: Pimento peppers

Roast chiles in the broiler oven or directly over a gas burner, rotating frequently. Remove chiles from heat when the skins begin to bubble and turn dark brown (Be sure to turn on the hood fan or you’ll be in for quite a shock when the smoke alarm sounds!). Set chiles aside to cool.

Slice baguette into half–inch sections and place on a cookie sheet. Lightly brush baguette slices with olive oil and toast them in the broiler until golden brown. (Under normal circumstances, the ideal baguette will be crispy on both ends, a little flaky under the crust, and soft and billowy in the middle. When tapped, a great baguette will sound slightly hollow and can be wielded like a scimitar without flexing or bending. In this instance, a slightly moister baguette is preferred because toasting an already dry baguette will result in oddly shaped croutons and an excess of crumbs.)

When the chiles have cooled enough to be handled, remove the skins by cutting a vertical slit down the length of the fruit. Extract the seeds and stem and ease the flesh of the chile away from the charred skin by gently pushing the skin away. (For those wanting to avoid direct contact with the incendiary capsaicin — the oil in chile peppers that induces the burning sensation — the skin of the chile can be scrapped away with the dull edge of a butter knife.) Slice the chiles into quarter–inch strips long enough to run the length of the baguette canapés.

Allow cheeses to come to room temperature. In a mixing bowl, combine the cream cheese, goat’s cheese, salmon, fresh basil, garlic, salt and pepper to taste. Mix well. Spread a generous portion of the mixture onto the toasted baguettes. Run strips of roasted New Mexican green and ancho chiles down the length of the canapé. Accent with a pimento.

Curried Shrimp Deviled Eggs

Shrimp:
1/4 lb. cocktail shrimp or 12 small–medium shrimp peeled and deveined
1 large clove garlic, finely minced
2 tbls. lime juice
butter

Eggs:
8 eggs
1 tsp. paprika
1/4 tsp. red chile powder
1 1/2 tsp. Tabasco
1 1/2 tsp. Thai House green curry or 1 tbls. traditional curry powder
1/3 cup mayonnaise
1 tsp. white vinegar
salt
pepper
fresh cilantro

Hard boil the eggs then place them in the refrigerator to cool.

In a skillet over medium heat, lightly sauté the garlic in butter. If using small–medium shrimp, cut each shrimp in half lengthwise. Add shrimp and lime juice to skillet. Reduce heat to medium–low. Allow shrimp to cook thoroughly. A properly cooked shrimp will turn pink and slightly resistant when poked, though not rubbery. Place shrimp in refrigerator.

Peel hard–boiled eggs. Slice eggs in half and remove yolks. Mix together egg yolks, paprika, Tabasco, curry, mayonnaise, vinegar, salt and pepper until mixture is smooth and uniformly colored. Spoon curried yolks back into egg whites. Place several cocktail shrimp or two shrimp halves on top of each egg. Garnish with fresh cilantro leaves.

The beauty of these dishes is that neither of them requires an unrealistic devotion of time nor extensive culinary prowess to perfect. And the added element of heat in each recipe will perk you up for for the main event — the movie itself. CW

Eric Howerton can be reached at www.erichowerton@mac.com

The above originally appeared in Crosswinds Weekly, Dec. 24 - Jan. 4.