Joël Robuchon's Eggplant Compote

No, I didn't make this compote just to say that I've cooked something by Joël Robuchon. Actually, I might have.

Joël Robuchon's compote recipe is simply amazing and amazingly simple. It's not as easy as Alton Brown's Edamame Dip, but both shared a simplicity in method and a complexity in flavors.

The first step was to peel, dice, and steam the eggplant. I've never been one to steam eggplant before because I've only really eaten eggplant grilled or sautéed. I was a little bit worried that the steaming process would drain all of the eggplant's flavor, but who am I to question the great Robuchon? I blindly continued to step number two.

Let's see...Step two....Step two....Coarsely grate a tomato. Oh yea, that kind of makes sen...Wait, huh? Whoever says they've grated a tomato before is probably lying, especially if that person, like myself, has no business in a kitchen.

Rest assured, grating a tomato actually works. In retrospect, I don't know why I was so surprised. It's a tomato versus a grater. Of course it's going to work. Backhanded by Robuchon, once again.

If you thought those first two steps were difficult, don't worry, the rest of the recipe is, as promised, easy peasy. The steamed eggplant should look exhausted and spongy at this point.

With the grated tomato in a skillet, add in the garlic, cumin, and paprika. Wait for the grated tomato juices to reduce and thicken.

Throw in the eggplant and tomato sauce and stir to combine until the thickened sauce noticeably attaches itself to the eggplant. Last, but not least, stir in the vinegar for that little kick and finish the mixture to taste with some lemon zest, cilantro, parsley, salt, and pepper.

The end product was a beautiful, glimmering stash of fragrant, juicy, and healthy compote. As suggested, I ate this compote at room temperature with some toasted bread. Each bite was heaven. The intensity of the cumin and paprika gave a ton of depth to the compote without sacrificing the distinct flavor of eggplant. Like Alton Brown's Edamame Dip, the flurry of flavors from the long list of ingredients made each bite have a long taste-life. The steamed eggplant was definitely less fatty and oily than other preparations, which made inhaling the entire bowl more guilt-free than not. The garlic, zest, parsley, and cilantro kicked in at just the right moments, adding brightness and interest to each bite.

After finishing all of my bread with a ton of this compote, I moved on to chips. And when I ran out of chips, I moved on to using a spoon. When the spoon couldn't get to the hard to reach corners of the bowl, I shamelessly used my fingers to get every last bit.

The best part? I can now say that I've cooked something by Joël Robuchon. I kid, I kid. The best part, really, was that I had something to snack on, for about...three minutes.

So worth it.

Barrio Cafe

Within one of Phoenix's many suburban sprawls of endless strip malls, Barrio Cafe stands hidden in plain view. After completely missing the sign a couple of times, my friends and I parked and walked into this unassuming restaurant with little or no expectations.

Talk about a set change. From suburban sprawl to a playful interior, walking into Barrio Cafe was both welcoming and exciting. The comfortable conversations and the alluring smell of slow-cooked meat made me feel like I was in a casual sit-down Mexican joint back in LA.

That's why I was surprised when I saw that our meal started with a complimentary basket of bread and tapenade, not warm chips and salsa. With a raised eyebrow, I took a bite, ready to take a plunge into a world of disappointment. The tapenade of capers, olives, deeply-roasted red peppers, and garlic was a beautifully rich play on the classic Italian tapenade. The peppers added a charred sweetness to the mix, which acted as a perfect, Mexican-inspired replacement for the more classic ingredient, anchovies. This was a great introduction to the world of Barrio Cafe and set the tone for the rest of the meal.

For good measure, we ordered the Guacamole Casero, which did come with a fragrant basket of warm chips. The guacamole combined the various flavors of red onion, green serrano peppers, cilantro, garlic, tomatoes, and pomegranate seeds. Wait, what? Yup. Pomegranate seeds. Barrio Cafe's tendency to take serious classics and add a nice little twist was becoming very clear. The guacamole had a good amount of heat that was balanced out by the generous amount of avocado, while the sharp red onion and cilantro were balanced out by the tomatoes. The garlic, strangely, was enhanced by the pomegranate seeds. The tart, sweetness of the pomegranate added a distinctly bright note that made lime or lemon unnecessary. You know a bowl of guacamole is good when you don't even need the chips. If you can get over the seedy interior of the pomegranate, which I think added some nice texture, then you'll find yourself at the bottom of a bowl of this guacamole in about three seconds, eyes glazed over, not knowing what just hit you.

Our first main was the Chile en Nogada. You can smell this roasted poblano chile from a mile away. The smell was so noticeable that I thought a plate of roasted poblanos would come out. Instead, the plate that arrived to our table had a single, gargantuan poblano. It was huge. The crinkly skin suggested a deep roast, and the chile came stuffed with chicken (okay, sounds good), onions (yup, makes sense), garlic (of course, no big deal), pecans (yea, sure, why not), pine nuts (uh huh), apples (okay, this is getting a little weird), pears (wait...), and apricots (is this really going to taste good?). All that topped with an almond sauce, cheese, a pinch of cilantro, and pomegranate seeds. Wow. That's a mouthful. But with my first mouthful, I was hooked. Sure, the overall effect of these ingredients was a dish that leans more towards the sweeter side of the spectrum, but the sweetness was measured out by the nuttiness and smokiness of the dish. A generous sprawl of those tart pomegranate seeds added a welcome brightness to the dish. If you don't think you can finish an entire plate of sweet and nutty ingredients, share this with somebody. Definitely get it, though.

Last but not least was their famous Cochinita Pibil, a twelve-hour slow-roasted piece of pork with achiote rojo, sour orange, and Yucatecan salsa. The pork was beautifully tender and juicy for the most part, and the achiote added a nice kick of sweet, spicy, and nutty all at the same time. The achiote also added more of that nice fire-roasted flavor that also comes from the pork's cooking process. The sour orange wasn't too noticeable, but when I hit a sour note, it was really great. I kind of wished there were more of the sour orange, but any more might have taken away from that flavor's whimsy. The salsa on top added a good brightness to the dish. The salsa was essentially a pico de gallo with red onions and riper tomatoes. The dish came with a stack of tortillas, but they were pretty unnecessary if you want to skip out on the carbs. While this was definitely an awesome dish, don't go ordering this by yourself. If you think you know what a filling plate is, think again.

Each main dish came with a generous serving of Roasted Vegetables and Chipotle Mashed Potatoes. The roasted vegetables were nice and smokey, but the chipotle mashed potatoes stole the show. The mash takes on a beautifully orange hue and taste like the richest jar of chipotles in adobo sauce in the world. If you don't know this about me already, I'm obsessed with chipotles, and these mashed potatoes enhanced that obsession. A lot.

Would I consider Barrio Cafe authentic Mexican food? Definitely, but beware. Each dish will surprise you with a noticeably creative punch from Chef Silvana Salcido Esparza. Every dish was a journey through clear, rustic, and intense Mexican flavors, with frequent steps outside this common understanding of Mexican cuisine. If you find yourself roaming around Phoenix's suburban sprawl, keep your eye, and nose, out for this hidden gem.

Barrio Cafe

2814 N 16th Street

Phoenix, AZ 85006

(602) 636-0240

http://www.barriocafe.com/

GET: Guacamole Casero; Chile en Nogada; Chipotle Mashed Potatoes.

Julia Childs' "My Favorite Roast Chicken" (8/24)

Julia Childs is undeniably one of the world's greatest contributors to accessible, culinary education. Because I had never really cooked anything by Julia Childs, I made it a point to try out her roast chicken recipe. At first glance, the ingredient list and method seemed long for a roast chicken recipe, but really, both were pretty simple and manageable.

First, you dice up onions, carrots, and celery and throw them in a pan with some butter and mixed herbs (I just used thyme here). I love cooking these three vegetables together because they create such a distinctly French aroma. Stick to her suggested 5 minutes because they'll continue to cook in the oven.

Next, prep some parsley stems and celery leaves. A decent handful should do. Slice up a lemon into six slices.

After doing the routine washing and patting dry of the chicken, pull up the neck skin and secure it in place over the back with a toothpick. Don't forget to pat down the cavity as well. I think I've mentioned this before, but the less water there is on or in the chicken, the less steaming the chicken has to go through before it starts to properly roast. This picture of the toothpick is after I had already added the butter, which is why the skin here doesn't look very patted down.

This is the fun part. First, sprinkle a generous amount of salt and pepper into the cavity. I think about two pinches of each does a good job.

Second, line the cavity with the six slices of lemon. I like to put one lemon flat across the very bottom of the cavity where the neck would be, two along each side of the cavity where each of the chicken's breasts would be, and one along the "roof," or backbone, of the cavity. It's easier to just slide in the last slice along the backbone of the cavity after putting in the rest of the fillings.

Third, throw the parsley stems and celery leaves into the cavity like javelins.

Fourth, scoop in the nicely cooked onions, carrots, and celery, and let them fall as they may.

I followed Julia Childs' suggestion to butter the chicken first and then truss it, but I bet it would be easier to truss the bird first and then butter it so that all of the lightly cooked vegetables don't tumble out as easily.

After scattering some onions and carrots along the floor of the roasting pan, your bird is ready for takeoff.

Look at this chicken. So unassuming. Who would think from this picture that this chicken is filled to the brim with a delicious mountain of vegetables? After following Julia Childs' roasting times and temperatures, the chicken came out beautifully. It may seem tedious at first to do something to the chicken every 15 minutes, but the process really is worth it. I rotated the roasting pan every 15 minutes as well for more even cooking.

Business in the front.

Party in the back.

This chicken was out of this world. Not only was the chicken juicy from head to toe and back to breast, but this chicken also featured a ridiculously flavorful bounty of vegetables. Right when I cut the kitchen twine, my apartment filled with a drool-inducing aroma. The vegetables toppled out of the cavity like jewels from a treasure chest. I thought the carrots, onions, and celery would all be soggy after so much time in the oven, but they actually came out perfectly al dente. They were soft and had plenty of give on the outside, but they still packed a nice, firm, crunch on the inside. To all the cooked carrot naysayers out there, one bite of these just might make you reconsider.

The chicken meat itself didn't taste much like the lemon slices, but I think the slices are there more to add a bright note to the vegetables. Because the aroma from the cavity was so pleasant and pervasive, each bite of chicken had subtle hints of parsley, thyme, lemon, and celery. I expected this chicken to be fatty and heavy because French cooking is notorious for its use of butter, but after searching every nook and cranny of this chicken for one last bit or morsel, I found myself feeling fully satisfied, not regretfully disgusting.

This chicken is up there. Way up there. I still prefer Marcella Hazan's incomparably simple chicken because of its unbelievably juicy and citric meat, but as the competition stands so far, Marcella Hazan and Julia Childs are dominating.

More chickens to come.