"The Limited Palette" Omelette

When you see this homely dish on the cover of New York magazine in a few years, I hope that you will recall having seen it here first.

To wit:

Heat a small non-stick frying pan over medium high heat. Add last night's leftover French fries that you told your friend you'd never bother eating. They will release lots of grease, so no need for oil. Sauté until crispy, tossing occasionally.

In a medium bowl, whisk together three eggs, salt, pepper, Sriracha to taste, and (the contents of) two ketchup packets. Steal a modest handful of your roommate's shredded mozzarella cheese, adding it discreetly to the egg mixture.

Once your fries are lightly browned and crispy, set the heat to medium-low and pour the egg mixture into the pan. Cook as an open-faced omelette, using a spatula around the edges and shifting the pan around to ensure that the omelette sets before it burns on the bottom. If you're really savvy, flip the omelette and cook for another 20 seconds before sliding onto the plate you keep reserved for especially delicious and mildly disgusting things. The end result should be lightly browned, à la an omelette basquaise.

Bonus: This video does not show you the sort of omelette basquaise that I had in mind, but it's very entertaining.

Cadaqués

I worked for a time at Bouley Restaurant in Manhattan, at the garde manger station and, eventually, cooking fish. The sous chef when I arrived there was an intense young Frenchman named Guillaume Thivet. He was a no-nonsense character, the type who would sometimes rant about the lack of French restaurants in the city serving things like blanquette de veau and the type of place that he would have. He taught me how to properly sharpen the point of a knife. Then, abruptly, he left the restaurant. He surfaced on an episode of Chopped, finishing second though he was clearly the stronger contestant. 

I didn't think about him for awhile, and then I came across his name on the books for a reservation at Brushstroke while working there. I looked him up and discovered that he was executive chef at a newish Williamsburg tapas restaurant called Cadaqués. I've been there several times now and can only recommend it. 

The food, in my experience, has been flawless. The menu is roughly split between incredibly well executed classic tapas (fried padrones, pan con tomate, Serrano ham croquettes, tortilla, et al.) and Thivet's "progressive Catalan" small plates. The chef displays experience and creativity in compositions like his scallops and foie gras accompanied by braised daikon, honshimeji mushrooms, seaweed, and Serrano chips. His octopus was among the best I've tasted. The crispy pork belly, with its delicate baby carrots, sautéed kale, Urgelia aligot (mmmm...), and rich port wine reduction, betrays his past in top-knotch French kitchens. The vegetable plates, particularly the asparagus and the brussels sprouts, are simple and perfect. 

"Perfection in simplicity" really embodies my admittedly somewhat limited conception of Spanish cuisine. I think of Velázquez's "Christ in the House of Mary and Martha," in which you see the humble pillars of the Spanish kitchen: garlic, some fish, a pepper, eggs. (Okay, I guess it's missing tomatoes and a few other sundries.) Cadaqués triumphs in achieving this ideal of simple perfection more or less across its menu. There are the marinated olives, which somehow seem to taste better than other marinated olives you've had. Even in his composed plates, "progressive" as they are, Thivet adheres to principles of clarity and simplicity in his use of flavors. I feel silly saying this, but Cadaqués really does achieve something like what I would understand as "progressive Catalan". Its menu is built on a strong foundation of classic Spanish dishes and goes on to present a number of plates that reflect a keen understanding of the tradition while pushing the boundaries and expressing the chef's creative voice. 

In the end, Cadaqués is pretty versatile. Stop by for a drink and some snacks with a friend, share a bottle of wine and some tapas with a date, or, best yet, make a meal of it and really get into the menu. I won't be able to eat tapas again in my life without thinking of a great meal I had at Cadaqués with Dani, my friend Reid, and visiting Sandro from Rotterdam. The space is inviting, the service competent and friendly. Cocktails and wine are the focus of a solid drink menu. 

The restaurant has been less than full the times I've been there. It seems to suffer from its location on Grand a few blocks west of the other stuff on Grand. This is the kind of place that, given the budget and greater proximity, I would visit every week. I urge you to go check it out. You won't be disappointed.

Cadaqués 

188 Grand St (Bedford/Driggs)

718 218 7776

Open 7 days for dinner, brunch on Saturdays and Sundays

Amex and Cash Only

Take Two

Take two.  Looking back at previous entries from this blog (sorry, wise guy, they've been deleted), I think I can do better.  I've learned a thing or two.  I went to culinary school and I've worked in some amazing kitchens.  I've been exposed to better food than I had ever dreamed existed a few years back when I was posting here (thanks, Dani!).  I'm fatter, wiser, and (hopefully) a better writer. 

Mission statement: I want to bring another knowledgeable voice to the bloated world of food bloggery.  I'll document my own cooking when I think I've come up with something worthwhile, I'll comment on cookbooks that I think are valuable, and I will try to look past the fickle hype that plays such a role in the success and failure of restaurants in New York City.  Food is food.  It is not something to be fetishized, and it is not something that is out of anyone's reach.  I want to demystify anything I can on this subject.  I want to present a clearheaded perspective on something that I care about. 

Here I am, people: your ever-so-slightly cynical Brooklyn Slob.