Eat Like You've Been Elected!

Maybe you're a member of the Vermont congressional delegation. Maybe you have tickets for the Obama swearing-in ceremony and an extra $100 to throw around on top of your round-trip ticket to D.C.

Either way, on Sunday you might find yourself at the Vermont State Society's 2013 Inaugural Reception in our nation's capital and enjoying a menu prepared by members of the Vermont Specialty Food Association.

And if you're staying home, consider this a recipe for a congressional-worthy meal all your own. 

Start with a cheese plate. In D.C., Shummy and co. (shown above at the ribbon cutting for the Mad River Food Hub, where a number of the featured foods are prepared) will be slicing into blocks of 2-year-old maple-smoked cheddar from Grafton Village Cheese, as well as selections from Cabot Creamery and Vermont Butter & Cheese Creamery.

Those playing the home game will want to get out their fondue pots. The Washington delegation will be dipping into melted versions of the above cheeses with roasted potato cubes, Empire apple wedges from Champlain Orchards and vegetable crudités.

If that's too fancy for you, apps will also include bags of chips from Gringo Jack's with the Manchester company's own salsa. Be sure to keep your fingers clean by using a fork when digging into pickles from Lyman's Specialties.

The main course includes a pasta bar with vodka and pesto sauces from Bove's and Vermont Fresh Pasta (right) as well as spicy satay sauce from Vermont Harvest Specialty Foods in Stowe. A carving station features Misty Knoll Farms turkey, sausage from Vermont Smoke & Cure and pork from Vermont Salumi. Those wishing to go vegan and gluten-free can grab a bowl of Thai curry squash soup from Joe's Soups at Screamin' Ridge Farm. A range of Vermont dressings will top salads, including the aforementioned satay. Clearly, the lesson is that the Thai peanut sauce goes on everything.

Vermont-made (though no longer Vermont-owned) Ben & Jerry's tops the list of desserts, along with apple pies from Ma Bean's Vermont Pie Company, a variety of slices from Vermont Cheesecake Company and Liz Lovely cookies.

But, of course, what really matters is the liquid courage. Whether you're getting up the nerve to talk to one of our representatives or just steeling yourself for the work week, local liquors will be in full force.

The hard stuff comes from from Whistlepig Straight Rye Whiskey and Vermont Spirits Distilling Co. A wide selection of beers includes sips from Long Trail Brewing Company, Otter Creek Brewing, Magic Hat Brewery and Trapp Family Lodge Brewery. Cider from Essex's Citizen Cider (right) joins wine from Snow Farm Vineyard and Honora Winery.

But when it comes to free-flowing nectar, perhaps it's best to party at home, near a couch and far from lawmakers.

 

Grazing: Tequila Negroni

It's days before Thanksgiving, and we're being clobbered with recipes for steamed turkey, curried brussels sprouts and complex squash purees. Yet, while Thanksgiving surely involves cooking for days — then devouring everything in under 30 minutes — it can also be rich with awkward distant-relative encounters. What better time to get liquored up?

Yes, Beaujalois and Pinot Noir and Riesling shine ever so on the Thanksgiving table, but sometimes you need a stiff cocktail to blunt the holiday's edges.

Since I've just had a particularly trying week, I've had plenty of inspiration to experiment with that simple but gorgeous concoction, the Negroni. In its classic form, the Negroni is a sweet-bitter blend of gin, sweet vermouth and the Italian bitter Campari. A bad one can taste like airplane fuel, but a great one is bracing, juicy and too easy to make. And, since all of the elements contain alcohol, it can also get you quite buzzed, quite fast. (One Negroni is really all you need; two could cause trouble.)

Grazing: Can't. Get. Enough. Cider.

Last week I undertook the brutal, grueling task of pairing local hard ciders with creamy, unctuous local cheeses. Just when I thought my stomach had recovered, I was invited to a cider pairing dinner at the North Hero House Inn & Restaurant on the Champlain Islands. It sounded too unique to pass up.

If last week's exercise taught me how well cider plays with cheese, last night's dinner schooled me in two more things: The hard, and even the sweet, stuff works equally well with savory dishes, and there's a seriously talented chef lurking inside the North Hero House. Last April, chef Tim McQuinn — who cut his teeth at Boston's Craigie On Main — joined the team here. (Even longer ago, McQuinn was a Paul Smith's College alum; one of his mentors, former NECI vice president and current consultant Paul Sorgule, was at last night's dinner.)

Grazing: Drinking As If You're Still at the Harbor Hideaway

Let's do some word association. If I say "boy," you might say "girl." If I say "sun," you might say "moon." And if I say, "creme de menthe," you say... "blech."

Who the hell uses creme de menthe anymore? Well, at the now-demolished Harbor Hideaway in Shelburne, it was a signature spirit behind the bar, and formed the basis for one of two drink "concoctions" listed at the top of the menu, at least in 1957: the Green Mountain Boy.

The ingredients of the Green Mountain Boy are few but wince inducing: "Heavy Dark Rum," creme de menthe and lime. "This One Is Masculine!" proclaims the menu. (The other drink, the Harbor Cocktail, calls for New England rum, maple syrup and lemon — a more palatable but less interesting drink).

Intrigued, I set out to re-create the Green Mountain Boy. I assumed the cocktail drew its name in part from green creme de menthe, which is a nature-defying neon. Unfortunately, I only had clear creme de menthe on my bar, a bottle that had been bestowed on me by a neighbor cleaning out his liquor cabinet. I've had it for three years and haven't used it until now.

At first, I tried a light, aged local rum. The result was truly disgusting. The bartender who created this was on to something: dark, chocolate-colored rum — such as the Cruzan Black Strap Rum I eventually used — is necessary to stand up to the minty force of creme de menthe.

With dark rum and a generous spritz of lime — and no modern bells or whistles — this drink is actually decent, wisps of caramel flavors from the rum jostling against the vibrating menthol of the liqueur. And once you whip up one of these, you might pair it with one of the other Harbor Hideaway specials, such as "Consommé Madrilene" (.35) or Barbecued Chicken with Exotic Sauce ($2.25).

Green Mountain Boy
Makes one drink

Ice
2 ounces black-strap rum
1 ounce creme de menthe
Juice from half a lime 

Combine ingredients in a cocktail shaker and shake until blended. Strain into a cocktail glass, garnish with lime wedge (not shown) and serve.

Bite Into Our New Blog!

The Seven Days food writers live to eat, not the other way around. That means that at any given moment, we're probably tasting something we want to recommend — or warn you about. And it's our job to know about new restaurants, dishes, chefs. Through Bite Club, you can get that info as soon as we track it down. In other words, you can get it while it's hot. 

Alice and I are excited to collect all of our food content here on the brand-new Bite Club blog. Our staff blog, Blurt, came to be a rather serious place for pithy posts about food news we've stumbled across, a photo of something amazing we've eaten, a lament for some axed menu item, or a trailer for a new food film. 

On the Bite Club blog, we can roam free. Check in each weekday not only for Alice Eats and Grazing but for Vermont restaurant, foodie entrepreneur and ag news, recipes, and links to the sometimes-strange, sometimes-vital food and drink content we find both locally and on the interwebs. Come and get it!

Grazing: Mr. Hendricks, Meet the Cosmo

Any serious cocktail lover might order one in a low voice — such is the stigma that can accompany the Cosmopolitan. Somehow this simple blend of Absolut Citron, fresh or Roses lime juice, cranberry and a splash of Cointreau became, in the late 1990s, the cocktail equivalent of a Carly Rae Jepsen song.

But the bartenders that bastardized the Cosmo into sticky, sweet ubiquity are long ago and far away from from the bar at L'Amante in Burlington, where classics rule in both food and drink. With a chef who's a bona fide wine expert and a staff that know their Grillo from their Garganega, this is certainly a place to indulge a love of vino. The cocktail list, by contrast, is short and simple.

Ask bartender Ian DeLorme about wine and he will joyously pour you something new to try. Yet he also keeps classic drinks up his sleeve, including a tart, fresh-juice Cosmopolitan he first blended at his mother's request for a not-too-sweet version. 

This summer, DeLorme has been making a Cosmo using floral Hendricks gin, shaking up a generous pour of the stuff with fresh lime and lemon juices, splashes of Cointreau and cranberry juice, and floating St. Germain on top. The resulting drink has tiny bits of ice and hints of roses, a pool of citrusy herbaceousness that you want to dive into and emerge, buzzed, on the opposite rim.

Ian's Gin Cosmo

Fill a cocktail shaker with ice, then add the first five ingredients:
4 ounces Hendricks gin 
Juice from half a fresh-squeezed lemon 
Juice from half a fresh-squeezed lime
1 ounce Cointreau
Splash of cranberry juice
A very light splash of St. Germain

"Shake hard," DeLorme advises, then strain into a martini glass. Float some St. Germain on top, garnish with a wedge of lime, and serve.

 

Grazing: Surviving Tales of the Cocktail

It's not every night that you can walk into a museum and feel fake snow brushing your face. Or, a few seconds later, watch cocktail demigod Dale DeGroff flame an orange peel in front of you, drop it into a glass of sherry and Absolut, and push it forward. Or, a few steps away, realize that the guy presiding over a table of Cosmos is Toby Cecchini, the bartender who created the drink at New York's Odeon in the late 1980s. 

Such is the surreal quality of Tales of the Cocktail, a fête that has drawn thousands of mixologists, brand ambassadors, journalists and thirsty drinkers to New Orleans every steamy July for the past 10 years to sample new spirits, exchange ideas, schmooze and party. It's a heady, wild ride, from the moment you arrive in NOLA until that last, wistful cab ride to the airport — and you can't anticipate its scale, pace and ability to squash you like the lightweight you are. Especially if you're a "Virgin." (More on that in a moment).