Bear and Starry Night

So it turns out if Eli Parker sets out to buy some art for his house, you could end up with a brilliant idea for a series of dinners. That's how The Bear and Star decided to kick-off Food for Thought, which they call "an artists series celebrating the connection between food and mind. The series invites modern innovators, from artists and musicians to technology inventors, to share their creative journey with the Los Olivos community." To begin the restaurant invited Grey Projects LA to visit, artists Tommy May and Gwen O'Neil, and set a lovely outdoor gallery behind the restaurant for us to dine in, May's and O'Neil's work surrounding us with blasts of color and composition. Then chef John Cox's plates echoed and aped the art--the bright orange hue from one canvas caught caught in the edible flower on one plate, etc.

May himself was amazed at how well Cox responded not only to their art, but to their conversations. For instance, May and O'Neil both find themselves artistically inspired by the landscapes that roll by them on long drives (such as the one from LA to SB), and one spot along that drive that always struck May is the stretched-out strawberry fields of Oxnard as one descends the Camarillo grade. Voila, the dessert, not to begin with the ending: Strawberry Fields, featuring a white chocolate cremeux (such a luscious texture and flavor), super-intense sundried strawberries, strawberry ice, what would be called strawberry leather if it weren't so ridiculously elegant (think more strawberry stained glass), pistachios, and anise hyssop.

Cox repeatedly managed to capture mini-narratives with each exquisite plate of food, while never getting precious about it. Take the opening salvo, called Mussel Beds, that he said he wanted to echo the fascinating seaside mix of nature and the industrial (Cox lives on a boat in the Santa Barbara harbor, so he knows this scene very well). The mussel is smoked, therefore all the richer in flavor, and sat upon a black garlic puree whose scent practically overwhelmed when all the servers simultaneously lined up to  plate the dish for dinners (the one fine dining touch B&S never seems to give up, and a fine one it is, so much theater and democracy in one grand gesture). But while it hits the nose like an Ali right hook, it hits the palate as if I was punching you (I'm very gentle, you know). Then there's the spectacular loop of the squid ink bruschetta, delicate almost as lace yet flavorful yet sculptural.

What a great pair with some J. Wilkes 2016 Pinot Blanc, a varietal that doesn't get enough credit, or enough drunk, but certainly had the elegance to match the powerful dish, and just enough petrol and saline to give it grip and add to the industrial edge. GM/somm Allison Crawford certainly has a lot of fun with matching these inventive dishes with the right pour (heck, it was a Jorge Ordonez Muscat de Alexandria for Strawberry Fields).

Course two was perhaps the most unusual, unless you eat more yucca in your house than we do. Chef Cox said it was about summer moving into autumn. It was called Yucca Blossoms, even if it was pretty much--emphasis on the pretty--just one, pickled from an earlier in the year harvest, sat like a cap atop the most decadent of duck egg flan. Alongside was a bit of blistered corn, some cilantro, and the dish's kicker, a poblano-bacon jam adding fatty umami and heat. Some Fess Parker Riesling, with its slight bit of residual sugar, cooled it down a bit, so your mouth was ready for the next scrumptious more.

Next up, one of the most elegant From Turf to Surf ever, complete with a seaweed and shallot ash handprint that was meant to echo the patterns found in many of the Chumash cave paintings. Plus, it had a delicious flavor, too, as you would swab a bit of the seaweed-brined Parker Ranch wagyu (again, let's not get used to this--it's a restaurant that has a ranch that provides its own wagyu) across the char and pick up even more flavor, kind of like dusting the meat all on your own. That butter poached spot prawn couldn't have been more SB Harbor or any less delicious, and then those tomatoes--that green globe is one, too--two of them roasted and rich, but the third a enchanting slice semi-dried, and all the more intense. What else could you drink with this but pinot noir? They poured Fess Parker 2015 Bien Nacido Vineyard, and it was a Santa Barbara ur-wine--remember, before Sta. Rita Hills became the hot thing, it was Bien Nacido that at first defined our county's pinot.

Before dessert there was a cheese course, somewhat cheekily called The Golden State given it featured French P'tit Basque (hey, we like to accept everyone in California). The cheese got a very local turn, though, as it got smoked with hay, and came to the table served that way, giving the table even more of the wonderful smell. Those crackers were special, too, made with red wine pomace (the stuff left after the juice goes on its way to become the good stuff), providing a special depth Carr's isn't going to match, say. And why not, some roasted apple, too, as it's fall and fruit and cheese like each other, especially in your belly. The pairing: an Aspall "Grand Cru" dry English cider, its bubbles kindly scrubbing your palate of rich cheese and prepping you for the next bite.

That was an evening of as thoughtful, and taste-full, food as there could be.

Foodie Awards 2018

It's time for the 9th annual Independent Foodie Awards. Check out all the best of eating in Santa Barbara County according to an esteemed board of eaters, led by Independent Senior Editor Matt Kettmann and me. (And if you were wondering, I wrote the blurbs for Jeanine's, The Nook, Elaine and Alberto Morello, Yellow Belly, and Bear and Star, where you can get things (on a special menu) like the incredible bao shown above.

Want to read it all, go to the Independent's site.

Around the Table: Chefs in Santa Barbara

Every once in a while I have the good fortune to have Visit Santa Barbara ask for some work. In that vein, here's a n article I did for them based around three quick Q&As of some of our best local chefs, talking about ho great it is to be a local chef in this, uh, locality. So consider this one more start and a nudge.

When legendary chef John Downey put farmer Tom Shepherd’s name on his menu in the mid-1980s, he kicked off a trend not only for Santa Barbara, but the entire world. This region has been all about farm-to-table since long before that term became marketing catnip. Visit any local farmers markets, and you’re sure to bump into chefs loading carts with just-picked produce. And of course, the Pacific is rich with seafood, while the county’s vineyards produce some of California’s top wines.

Three of the region’s top chefs dish on the region’s bounty: Alexander La Motte, Hotel Californian; John Cox, The Bear and Star; and Greg Murphy, bouchon Santa Barbara.

Want to read the rest then do so at the Visit Santa Barbara website.

As Good As It Gets

 Jesus.

Just had to get that out of my system. Since Friday night I'm pretty sure I had one of the meals of my life. While on any given night The Bear and Star is providing what it aptly bills "refined ranch cuisine," Chef John Cox and his team (and team is important here, you'll see) want to get to show off too, to spend some more time on the refined end of the spectrum. Hence the kick-off of Friday Night Chef's Tasting Menus, served for no more than 12 folks in the Chef's Room, the one that looks right into the kitchen and is a cross between a library and a mad scientist's lair--what's more fun than that?

Maybe the soft-shell crab up there in photo one. I fell in love with soft shell crab back in my Baltimore days, but generally it was yummy barfood, something surprisingly delightful in a sandwich. This presentation, however, was something else, starting with its texture, where it seemed just the coating was the crunch, not even a hint of shell. Its crabiness played off the silky sweet corn puree it sat on, and then there's chorizo aoioli--no, not pork-laced but all the spices they use to make their chorizo instead. The greens, billed a pea shoot salad, was the ultimate spring slaw.
(Oh, there was a new prototype oyster from Morro Bay to kick off, but my photo didn't happen. It's delight did, though.)

Here's a dish called Spring Strawberries, not that all the courses didn't sing of spring. Atop the rich goat cheese smear sat the berries, and an intense berry compote spiked with jalapeno, and some pickled green strawberries, and then some strawberry "glass." So much flavor and texture. Adding to the spice was the fiercely peppery wild watercress. Oh, and cacao nibs, little bitter crunches hiding. This dish was the brainchild of one of the younger members of the kitchen, trying to build his muscles so he can be a sous chef soon. Based on this dish, he's well on his way.

Ah, and the wine pairings. I've already, for no good reason beyond hoping to keep this paean under 1000 words, left out the greeting wine, the Fesstivity Brut Rose (a fine oyster match) and the 2015 Tatomer Riesling (Graham just rocks it), but for the strawberries they found a truly odd wine, 2017 Harrington Mission, Somers Vineyard. Lodi isn't just for box wines anymore, you know, and this dusty red, partially fermented carbonically, made the berries even berrier, somehow Inspired.

This was called, simply, Baby Fava Beans, but while the youngest ones they served whole, there are more mature favas pureed (one of those "essence of" kind of purees), and then some of the young fava greens, too (why have chefs been holding out on how good fava greens can be?). Some shaved managlista gunciale didn't hurt if you were a meat eater, and Chef Cox wistfully remarked, "It's not from the farm...yet." The quail eggs were, though, although I'm pretty sure they don't come out gilded. (A gorgeous touch that made something so straightforward slyly decadent.) As for the wine pairing, it was the light on its toes 2012 Domaine Rolet Arbois from the Jura, just your usual 40% Poulsard, 30% Trousseau, 30% Pinot Noir blend.

While this dish is billed Morel Mushrooms, I want to rename it best grilled cheese with fancy stuff on the side. Because, despite morels having "more" in them because that's what you say when you eat them, what engaged me most in this bowl was the Midnight Moon fondue someone dreamed up that you got to scoop up with some brioche perfectly tan and toasted and seeming to have just come off a butter IV drip. The greens were vivid garlic scapes and Vidalia onion scapes and flowering asparagus, again, so much spring. This time the wine pairing went to Spain for a 2015 Pardas Sus Scrofa, a bit rustic like the boar on its label, but full of mushroomy umami, so a pairing win for the Sumoll (that's the grape, it's almost extinct, I didn't know it either).

While I guess there has to be a meat course, everything up to now hit so many great notes there didn't have to be one. (And they even switched out a pescatarian dish on the fly for Chryss in the course of the evening, so mad service props, too. Somehow they managed to make what could be a very formal event really welcoming, with lots of informative chat about the food and wine and just the proper kinds of formality--like plating the table of 12 at once for each course.)

Meanwhile as to that Parker Ranch lamb--one of the 20 ingredients that came from the ranch, btw--Chef Cox talked about how he liked how beefy it was, and he was right, even to the chew. They also came up with a brilliant caramelized buttermilk "crumble" to coat the loin with, a winning texture-flavor combo for the hearty meat. That's a smoked sunchoke puree holding in the little reservoir of jacked up lamb jus, and some salvia marinated cherries (spring spring spring). The pair was a 2015 Villa Creek Avenger, kindly decanted as their tannic and hearty wines tend to need air or age. As the evening's somm Allison put it, "It just gives you a hug."

And then dessert as art project, Whipped Cheesecake. Smart move, as the whipping makes it much lighter than a typical cheesecake, of course, especially with some anise hyssop meringue providing yet more lift. There was a pistachio crumb for those really hankering for hints of crust, and then rhubarb in silky curls, raspberries in jellied dots. The pairing again delighted, a 2006 Domaine des Baumard, Quarts de Chaume, kind of the Loire Valley's answer to Sauterne (it's made from, not surprisingly, Chenin Blanc). Its apricots and floral notes liked the "cake" as much as I did.

So, if you're looking for something special, look Los Olivos way. Chef Cox and his team are calling.

Bullish on the Bear and Star

It takes courage to serve your charred shallot-coated filet on a black plate, or maybe it's secretly slimming--that's a big lovely hunk o' beef. But you're celebrating California if you're at the Fess Parker Wine Country Inn's Bear and Star, and the Golden State is all about two things: how about our heritage/how quick can we get to the future? Turns out you do both if you eat at a Chef's Table Dinner at Bear and Star. (Oh, and notice, no +, no &. See, tradition.)

On Labor Day we got to enjoy their roll out of what's going to become a regular chef's dinner, and if the debut is a true predictor, these events are going to become some of Santa Barbara's must-book culinary events. The evening opened with a nearly furious blizzard of so-called "snacks," including a dry-farmed tomato gazpacho I could have made a meal of (lovely shooter, though) and a sea cucumber chicharrone--that's lightly pickled, fried, and sure, a bit of a challenge food. The future is calling.

There were six courses to come, and for your sake and mine I won't run through each one, although no doubt each deserves its own mini-essay as the thought and technique on each is attention-worthy. The Bear and Star's chef John Cox teamed with guest chef (also from Monterey-wards--they've got some food culture happening there, I guess, or did, since all these fine people are cooking down SB-way now) Jeff Weiss, author of Charcurtería: The Soul of Spain, which makes sense as the theme for the evening was Spanish influence. All the wines, besides the Fesstivity bubbly to kick off and the Qupe 2006 Grenache, showing incredibly well with the beef, were from Spain, too.

That's Spain via the Parker Ranch and The Bear and Star Farm, where the majority of the  meats, fowl and produce came from. So think global, pick local. I have to admit I'm not sure of the provenance of the foie gras, lovingly hidden amidst some summer-perfect stone fruit and under a lozenge of honey meringue, about as delightful a sweet cap you could have on the earthy, unctuous liver.

Or that one ravioli the size of a coaster, such lovely lively pasta in its brown butter enriched to the nth degree with some black truffle, country ham, and acorn crumble.

Or that filet, redolent with the charred shallot--such an outrageously wise rub--yet cooked to a perfect medium rare beneath its black exterior. A bit of that with some of the black garlic paste dotted about the plate was a bit of meaty heaven.

Also be ready for machines, as the Chef's Room at Bear and Star is half library and half mad scientist's lab, books on one side, machinery silently a-whir on the other. One was busy separating/emulsifying the carrot puree that set the beef filet singing, another I want to call a speed distiller (sorry, precise science ain't my thing) that the staff claimed could age moonshine to bourbon in an evening (I'm doubtful, but curious). This night they opted to make a digestif for us in it, first passing around a nose-ful of aromatics that would go into making the drink (everything from herbs to pink peppercorns) which then got macerated with plum brandy as an alcoholic base. Think clear insta-amaro. It had a bit of an absinthe edge to it, which was only fitting given both Chryss and I had some of the most vivid dreams that evening we'd had in months.

What's more, the next Chef's Table Dinner is on the books: Tuesday, September 19,  Chef/Partner John Cox of The Bear and Star will welcome special guest Chef Julio Aguilera of El Destilado, Oaxaca, Mexico and Jason Cox of Cinco Sentidos agave spirits. You can just do the mezcal tasting, if you want, even.