Unless you're a pretty hardcore genealogist of Miami's culinary family trees, you probably don't recognize the name Matt Hinckley. But if you've been a regular at Michael's Genuine for a while, you would know Matt on sight: for a couple years he was a regular fixture there, working the wood-burning oven as sous chef, then moved over to help open Harry's Pizzeria.
Hinckley is now the head chef at The Hoxton, which is the first of what are slated to be three related venues in the Axis building in Brickell. While the recently opened Hoxton puts together a beach house feel and New England seafood hut menu with a bar and occasional live music, next in line is Box Park, which will be a more food-centric farm-to-table venture. When we asked Hinckley to do a Cobaya dinner with us, the menu he created embodied a few themes which I anticipate will also be a focus of Box Park: whole animal utilization; local products; and "alternative" proteins - alligator, rabbit and duck were well represented at our dinner, along with the omnipresent pig.
Each of those themes was emphasized from the very start of our dinner with a series of passed appetizers served to our group in the Hoxton's upstairs loft area. Fried alligator was served with a subtly spicy salsa negra; Chef Hinckley assured everyone it "tastes just like dinosaur." A silky, rich duck egg quiche was made even heartier with a lacing of 26-month aged Beemster XO cheese and then topped for good measure with duck confit that had been cured for 45 days. Perhaps best of all were toasts topped with a shmear of a creamy rabbit liver mousse, a dab of tangerine jam and a sprinkle of fresh tarragon: this was exceptional, one of the most memorable bites of the evening.
I first came across the dynamic duo of Aniece Meinhold and Cesar Zapata during what turned out to be a short-lived stint at Blue Piano. A charming little wine bar down the street from the Design District, it had occasional live music and an eclectic selection of wines and beers (courtesy of Aniece, who ran front of house) and small, tapas-style bites (courtesy of Cesar, who ran the kitchen). The food was simple but sometimes surprisingly creative, with a selection of charcuterie and cheeses rounded out by things like the "McLovin," an English muffin filled with chistorra sausage, melted cheese, chipotle cream, and a fried egg, with chicharrones on the side for good measure.
There was a rift with ownership, and in August, Cesar and Aniece left the Blue Piano. Shortly afterwards, they popped up again with Phuc Yea!, a modern Vietnamese pop-up restaurant downtown. I had several excellent meals at Phuc Yea!, and was sorry to see it go after its three-month run.
Aniece and Cesar quickly resurfaced, this time with their very own full-blown restaurant, The Federal. Joining them this time around is Alejandro Ortiz, an industry vet who previously worked as sommelier in some of Miami's top restaurants. In a departure from the Southeast Asian flavors of Phuc Yea!, the Federal returns closer to home. Styling itself a "Modern American Tavern," both the venue and menu have something of a gastropub feel to them: simple, rustic, but done with flair and style.
(You can see all my pictures in this The Federal flickr set or click on any picture to see it larger.)
What started as a nondescript strip mall space[1] now has real personality and warmth, mixing old-timey cabinetry, a patchwork of wallpaper, odd bits of taxidermy and other bric-a-brac. Mismatched serving pieces range from pewter plateware to repurposed Shoney's Blue Plate Special dishes; Ball jars serve as candle-holders. You can eat at the bar, covered with salvaged wood planks and lined with old leather belts; at one of several tables inside, including a picnic bench set up for larger groups or banquettes tucked cozily under the windows; or outside on a makeshift patio, which does the best it can with the vista of a parking lot overlooking Biscayne Boulevard. The place now has the same instantly nostalgic feel as an Instagram photo.[2]
The Federal's menu is broken up primarily into "Bits," "Starts," and "Big'Uns." It nods to nostalgia as well - biscuits and gravy, sausage and mash, fisherman's stew - but is by no means rigorously old-fashioned or traditional.
The first item on the list of "Bits," their biscuits, brushed with honey and topped with a crust of cheddar cheese, skew closer to the dense crumble of a scone than to the cloud-like fluffiness of puff pastry, though that's not a criticism, just a description.
One of my favorite starters was a crudo of scallops, sliced thin and macerated in a reduced blood orange glaze, scattered with slivered watermelon radishes, tiny greens, smoked trout roe and BBQ potato chips. It's an unusual-sounding combination which would seem to run the risk of overwhelming the scallops, but managed to achieve a successful balance of sweet-sour-smoky-briney flavors. It's also light enough to leave you plenty of room for the "Big'Uns" that follow.
Buffalo Style Pig Wings, meanwhile, are quite a bit more than a "Bit." A clever piece of butchery and marketing, these "wings" are actually a cut of the rear shank of the pig, trimmed to provide a plump knob of pork attached to the fibula bone. Braised til tender, fried til crisp on the outside, a couple of these then get some classic "Buffalo" flavors - infused with some hot sauce somewhere along the way, served over a blue cheese mousse, topped with julienned strips of pickled carrot and celery. Do it right and it's hard to go wrong with these flavors, and these are indeed done right. But this is also a substantial enough dish that you might find your appetite sated rather than piqued once you get to your main course.
It had been a while since I had passed any of these along, and now there seems to be a wave of really good looking dinner events coming up. To supplement the list from earlier this week:
October 30: The Local + Brooklyn Brewery
Coral Gables gastropub The Local Craft Food and Drink pairs up with Brooklyn Brewery for a multi-course beer and wine pairing, and Chef Alberto Cabrera looks like he's put together a good one:
October 30: Share Our Strength Benefit Dinner at Būccan
If you're feeling charitable, Chef Clay Conley is hosting a benefit dinner at his Palm Beach restaurant Būccan for Share Our Strength, an organization dedicated to ending child hunger. Locals Timon Balloo of Sugarcane and Jim Leiken of Café Boulud will be joining RJ Cooper of Washington DC's Rogue 24 and Jonathan Waxman of New York's Barbuto along with Chef Conley to put together a cocktail reception and multi-course dinner.
6pm reception, 7pm dinner, tickets $200 each (but it's for charity!). Contact rcantor@strength.org or 202.649.4356 or do it online.
Crispy Pork Belly Tacos with Kimchee
Florida Wahoo Ceviche
Deviled Eggs with Capers and Pickled Veggies
Garden Leaf Lettuce and Heirloom Tomatoes
with Crispy Calabaza Blossoms and Hani’s Goat Cheese
White Water Clams with Spicy Greens, Grilled Bread
White Wine Butter Sauce
Whole Fried Local Snapper and Lake Meadows Roasted Chicken
accompanied by Cold Cucumber Salad with Fish Sauce and Sesame Seeds,
Anson Mills Black Rice, Braised Local Greens and Roasted Radishes
Palmetto Creek Pork Loin Chops and Jackman Ranch Florida Raised Wagyu Beef
with Anson Mills Polenta and Hani’s Cheese, Grilled Baby Squash, Roasted Carrots, Braised Oyster Mushrooms, and Spicy Smoked Potato Salad with Benton’s Bacon and Farm Egg
Selection of Homemade Pies and Tarts with Homemade Ice Cream
Reception and five courses, including paired wines and cocktails, is $85 per person (excluding tax and tip). 7pm start time.
Miami may only occasionally be a true culinary innovator, but lately it has proven at least to be an increasingly adept early adopter. Small plates, food trucks, contemporary Asian, locavorism, pork obsessiveness; all are trends that Miami quickly embraced. Yet some others seem to have largely passed Miami by. The gastropub is one of them.
The idea of the gastropub originated in London in the 1990's, when some enterprising souls set out to elevate the quality of the "pub grub" served in the city's traditional "public houses." With an approach that presaged both the current farm-to-table and high-end casual trends, the food was often local and seasonal, and brought "real" cooking to humble watering holes. Plus, of course, there was always beer. Good beer.
Though gastropubs are old news in England, they were rather slow in working their way across the pond. When Mario Batali opened the Spotted Pig in New York in 2004, importing April Bloomfield from England as chef, it was routinelytouted as the city's first gastropub.[1] The concept was even slower to catch on in Miami. Though there were occasional attempts (i.e., Jake's in South Miami), they weren't done particularly well.[2]
The Local (full name: The Local Craft Food & Drink, "The Local" being both a play on British shorthand for "the local pub" and the focus on locally sourced ingredients) opened a couple months ago in Coral Gables, in the spot on Giralda Avenue formerly occupied by Randazzo's.[3] The room has been turned around, with a large wooden bar (imported from a defunct Irish bar on South Beach) now having pride of place along the east wall, and the remainder of the space filled out with bar-height and regular tables for a total of about 50 diners.
Like any good gastropub, the initial focus here is on beer. The chalkboard lists nearly two dozen options on tap, both domestic and imported, in a wide range of styles. The draft offerings are supplemented with a selection of bottles, including large format items like the Brooklyn Brewery Local No. 1 golden ale, or seasonal items like the Cigar City Improvisacion "Oatmeal Rye India Brown Ale" made in nearby Tampa.
What to eat along with that beer? That's where Chef Alberto Cabrera comes in. Cabrera shouldn't be a stranger to Miami diners: he did time at Norman's, Baleen, and the critically lauded but sadly short-lived La Broche before taking the helm at the kitchen of the ambitious and equally ill-fated Karu & Y. Since then he's been something of a culinary mercenary, working brief stints as the chef at STK Steakhouse and Himmarshee Grill.[4] I hope he sticks around The Local longer.
A good place to either start a meal or just nosh something along with your beer is the "snacks" section of the menu, and in particular, the "jerky in a jar" ($7). The jerky is house-made and infused with soy and Thai chiles (alternately, Korean kochuchang on another night), served in a jar along with some fried garlic chips and a sprinkle of green onions. It's unabashedly chewy, intensely beefy, not overwhelmingly salty, a touch sweet, a little bit spicy, and all good.
It's actually somewhat remarkable - and perhaps a bit unfair - the degree of attention that's been directed at Route 9. This was not some highly heralded, loudly trumpeted celebrity chef opening. It's a small-scale place, run by a young, first-time restaurateur couple, that had been open less than two months when both reviews dropped. But the trope is that any publicity is good publicity, and that would seem to be true here: the place was busy and bustling this past weekend, when I went in once again to see what's been going on.[1]
The young, first-time restaurateur couple is Jeremy and Paola Goldberg, and the name "Route 9" comes from the location of their alma mater, the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, New York. Though their prior work experience includes time spent at local restaurants including Timo, Johnny V and Escopazzo, they both look barely old enough to drink at their own restaurant. They took over a spot along the more northerly end of Ponce de Leon Boulevard in Coral Gables that was previously occupied by the unheralded Mexican restaurant, Don Chile. With some paint and elbow grease they've turned it into a cozy, clean-lined place for which they've assembled a menu of mostly straightforward, comfort-food style dishes with some Latin and Mediterranean touches.
The selections lean more heavily toward starters and small plates than entrées, particularly if you include the "charcuterie and cheeses" section that leads off the menu. Here you will find, among other things, an item described as "Roasted Hebrew National Salami with Spicy Mustard." And it is pretty much exactly as described: a thick round of old-fashioned Hebrew National salami, scored deeply with a hedgehog pattern, given a bit of a sweet glaze, roasted till warmed through, and served with some spicy deli mustard. It is something of a nostalgic pleasure, bringing back fond memories of salami and eggs at Rascal House. But while technically accurate, it is also something of a stretch to call this "charcuterie" - and to charge $13 for it, for that matter.
A better value is the guacamole and chips, listed among the "sides" (all $6), which brings ramekins of both a creamy guacamole studded with diced tomato, and a pleasantly ruddy, thick salsa, with an almost pesto-like texture and an assertive but not overwhelming dose of spicy heat. Freshly fried, crisp and ungreasy tortilla chips are provided for scooping (and they're glad to bring more if you just ask). Even better still is the grilled feta salad, with hearty chunks of tomato, cucumber, and red onion, well-dressed in a pitch-perfect vinaigrette punctuated with oregano, all crowned with a big cube of nice feta cheese that's been seared on the grill and warmed through.
Ever since rave reviews began appearing a couple years ago on Chowhound, I've been meaning to get to The Ravenous Pig in Winter Park, just outside of Orlando, Florida. It sounded like my kind of place: it's got "Pig" in the name, it styles itself as an "American Gastropub," its menu shows a strong focus on locally sourced product and in-house charcuterie - what's not to like? It took a while for the stars to align, but they finally did a couple weeks ago as we took a two-day jaunt up to Orlando before New Years'. All the raves proved completely justified: this is a place that does what it sets out to do exceptionally well.
The Ravenous Pig doesn't really look all that much like a pub, rather more like a tony suburban restaurant: lots of burnished wood, brick walls, and taupe fabrics. There is indeed a lively bar as you walk in, though, with overflow perching itself around a long bar-height table. A second dining room is more civilized and peaceful, with an assortment of booths and tables. Winter Park is apparently far enough away from the amusement park tourist magnets that the crowd seemed to be made up much more of locals than out-of-towners. And the menu holds pretty true to the "gastropub" concept. It's an assembly of mostly hearty, straightforward dishes, using carefully selected ingredients and prepared with panache. Much of the produce comes from local farms, many meat products are cured in-house.
We were torn on whether to start with the house-made soft pretzels or the gruyere biscuits, and so opted for both. The pretzels were good - toasty, with a litle bit of crispy bite to the outside while still pleasingly chewy within, and served with a grainy mustard and a tallegio-porter fondue for dipping. But they were outshined by the biscuits, warm and perfectly flaky, with a nice whiff of salty, nutty gruyere, almost like cheese gougeres. The smoked sea salt butter that came with them was a superfluous but welcome addition. Salads include a "Farmer" or a "Gatherer" - the former turned out to be a frisée aux lardons in drag, with some sprightly bitter greens tossed with house-smoked bacon and a Caesar vinaigrette, crowned with a perfectly poached egg and a dusting of grated parmesan cheese. It was, according to Mrs. F, the best frisée aux lardons she's ever had, and that is not a short list.
There was a charcuterie plate, all house-made, and really quite impressive. It featured several different thinly sliced cured meats - a soppressata, a coppa, a salami redolent with spiced orange - as well as a nice rich country pork terrine, topped with some stout-macerated cherries. The plate was rounded out by a couple different cheeses (one a rich triple-cream, the other not quite as memorable), some nice mustard, pungent house-made pickles, and grilled bread draped with melted lardo. It was all very well done, nearly on the same level as the boucherie plate I'd had at Cochon in New Orleans.
I had the privilege of being invited to a dinner at Michy's yesterday evening featuring pairings of Chef Michelle Bernstein's food with beers from Samuel Adams. I don't usually do these "media dinner" type events - I really don't mind paying for what I eat and drink - but since this one offered a chance to try something I might not otherwise experience - Samuel Adams' "Utopias," a very limited production brew only made every other year, aged in a variety of woods, and reaching 27% alcohol - I found it difficult to resist. (So, full disclosure: No, I did not pay for this meal, and my notes were taken under the influence of free beer).
It might surprise those who think of beer as a blue-collar, working-class beverage (I don't, but it still surprised me) to learn that Jim Koch, the founder of the Boston Beer Company which produces Samuel Adams beers, has three degrees from Harvard University (a BA, JD and MBA). I've known some double-Harvards, but never a triple. I guess with the third degree comes the wisdom to make great beer. He also is the sixth generation of a family of brewmasters, so perhaps that helps too. It might also surprise some that despite a sizable advertising budget and distribution network, Boston Beer Company still seems like a pretty small, intimate operation. You know the guy with the gigantic beard and the thick Boston accent that appears in some of their ads? That's Bob Canon, and he's no actor: he's the brewmaster who came out to Michy's to host the event for us.
The program for the evening featured four dishes prepared by Chef Bernstein and crew, paired with four of Sam Adams' 21 beer offerings, followed by an after-dinner tasting of a couple of Sam Adams' "extreme beers," their Triple Bock and the 2009 Utopias. Chef Bernstein professes a deep and abiding fondness for beer, something which I think unites professional kitchens around the globe. Michy's has always offered an interesting selection of beers, a trend that happily seems to be increasingly common in local restaurants (off the top of my head, I can think of Michael's Genuine, Pacific Time, and Red Light as places that have good if not encyclopedic beer lists, to say nothing of more casual places like 8 Oz. Burger Bar). Perhaps partly out of budget-consciousness I find that we're more frequently having beer rather than wine with dinner when we go out, though it could just as well be because the selections have improved.
First course was a seared cod, paired with Samuel Adams' Coastal Wheat beer. The cod (from Boston, Chef Bernstein noted) had a beautiful crispy sear on top and tender flesh that came apart in big lush flakes, served over a bed of melted scallions, napped with an intense seafood nage (made, according to Chef Bernstein, from "every seafood we could find" reduced down in a broth with some tomato and some of the beer), crowned with a couple Maine shrimp and some shaved fennel. The Coastal Wheat beer, done in a Hefeweizen style, is further brightened with a dash of lemon powder, giving a subtle citrus note that paired nicely with the seafood.
Next up, pork belly, paired with Old Fezziwig Ale. Brewmaster Bob described the Old Fezziwig as the "Christmas cookie" of their beers, and the malty flavor with notes of cinnamon, ginger, and orange peel make that an apt description. He explained that this beer (named for a character in Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol") has the same flavor profile as the Winter Lager (which we sampled as an apertif before dinner), but uses 3x the spices for a more intense presence. Chef Bernstein used those spice notes as her starting point for the dish, giving the pork belly a 2-day cure with cinnamon, orange peel and other spices (star anise, clove) and "burying it" with salt and sugar. After being given the cure, it was braised, then finally seared before service for a wonderfully crispy exterior. The pork belly was plated with a reduced pork jus along with a concord grape reduction, which invariably brings on food memories of peanut butter & jelly sandwiches (in a good way). The delicious pork jus reminded me of the "Iberian emulsion" that was paired with the roasted suckling pig I had at Akelare - intensely porky but light in texture. I know folks think pork belly may be getting overplayed, but if chefs keep coming up with such great ways to prepare it, I don't think it's leaving menus any time soon. The Fezziwig was also possibly my favorite beer of the night, with a rich deep flavor but not overwhelmingly heavy.
The last savory course was more in the old-school comfort-food vein, an herb-crusted tenderloin of beef, along with mashed potatoes topped with some "stinky cheeses" (to use Chef Bernstein's description), some sauteed mushrooms and - my favorite item on the plate, oddly enough - little cherry tomatoes that had been cooked down whole to intensify their flavors. This was paired with Samuel Adams' flagship beer, their Boston Lager. The original recipe for the Boston Lager goes back several generations and it is still prepared in a traditional style. It was served for us in a glass specially commissioned by Samuel Adams from Reidel, which had a narrow base, a bulbous top, and a bit of a bump to the lip of the glass to release the flavors to your mouth. The pairing of beer and beef is an interesting one, with the bitterness of the beer playing the palate-cleansing role that the tannins of a red wine typically do (though I have to say that I think this is one instance where wine clearly has a big edge on beer in the food-pairing department).
Beer seems like an unlikely companion for dessert, but in this instance I thought it was the most successful pairing of the evening. Using the Samuel Adams "Double Bock" as her starting point, Chef Michy said it made her think of a Fig Newton, and so she made a fig "trifle" with layers of pastry cream, mascarpone cheese, spongecake soaked in sweet wine (and beer), fresh and macerated figs, crispy pistachio, and a light sprinkle of sea salt. It was a fantastic dessert, made even better by the beer pairing. The Double Bock is a rich, densely flavored beer, with notes of caramel and stewed fruit (yes, I might say fig) and a smooth, velvety texture. Its pleasantly bitter finish cut through the sweetness of the dessert and refreshed the palate for another bite (a pattern that I repeated several times).
After dinner, we sampled a couple of Samuel Adams' more esoteric offerings. These were without doubt the most unusual beers I've ever tasted, and they really stretch the definition of what we'd normally call "beer." The first was their Triple Bock. This was brewed in 1993, barrel-aged, and put in bottle in 1994 (no, those are not typos). They actually have some of the brew still aging in barrel too. It was, to borrow a phrase from The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, a beverage that was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike beer. Completely uncarbonated, dark brown, 17% alcohol, and thick like a port, it had intense dense flavors of dark chocolate, molasses, and more savory notes like soy sauce or even hoisin. Its aromatics were just jumping right out of the glass - you could smell it vividly from 2-3 feet away.
Possibly even more unusual was the Utopias. Samuel Adams first started producing Utopias in 2002, and has done so in odd years since then. The 2009 is just now being released. Where the Triple Bock was dense, dark, and thick, the Utopias was a crystaline clear amber. I couldn't keep track of all the things Brewmaster Bob said they had done with it. It was produced using a couple different strains of yeast, including one typically used in champagne production. They blend in small doses of other aged beers, including some of the 1994 Triple Bock. It goes through a variety of different barrel-aging regimens, including Scotch whisky barrels, bourbon casks from Buffalo Trace Distillery, sherry casks and port casks. What comes out is a still beverage with a nose almost like a good blended Scotch whisky, and a complex flavor with lots of woody spice notes from the barrel-aging, but with a super-smooth finish lacking the alcoholic bite of a distilled liquor. Even though this looks, and smells, like it was distilled (and comes in at a mammoth 27% alcohol), and even though it's packaged in a copper-finished ceramic bottle that looks like a still, Brewmaster Bob insists that this is a fermented malt beverage. He also says it can be opened and held without doing any real damage to it, and believed that some oxidation actually improved the flavors. It was like nothing I've ever had before.
Would I pay the $150 that Samuel Adams plans to retail this for to have it again? Honestly, I can think of a lot of other things I'd spend that kind of money on first. But nonetheless, it's gratifying to know that there are folks out there pushing the boundaries of their craft in such creative, curious ways.
, a beverage that was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike beer. Completely uncarbonated, dark brown, 17% alcohol, and thick like a port, it had intense dense flavors of dark chocolate, molasses, and more savory notes like soy sauce or even hoisin. Its aromatics were just jumping right out of the glass - you could smell it vividly from 2-3 feet away.