For the second time in two weeks my schedule took me to the Panhandle of Florida to deliver a speech to a trade group. When travelling, I have always kept a food journal. Throughout the year I refer to it and reflect on meals and experiences enjoyed. I also use the journal as reference notes for my year end top 10 best-meals list.
Before I checked
into the hotel, I made Harbor Docks my first stop. It's almost always my first
stop. We sat at the bar.
As I wrote
a couple of weeks ago, I worked there back in the late 80s and became an
instant fan of everything they do. I have remained a loyal customer ever since.
But that loyalty is not blind loyalty. It comes from three decades of excellent
dining experiences. Steve and Mike, the two bartenders that were working there
when I worked there in 1987, are still there. They hold down the bar— and the
entire restaurant, actually— with the calm, casualness of a surfer’s vibe. A
rare trait in the restaurant business. Actually, the entire restaurant has a
certain culture that I would love to replicate. But I honestly don't think it
is replicable anywhere outside of that small slice of real estate on Hwy 98,
just above the harbor in Destin.
There were
two wonderful Thai ladies that worked in the Harbor Docks kitchen back in my
day. One of them, a lovely lady named Dang, is still there. She taught me how
to make fried rice, stir fry, and how to roll egg rolls. Those three dishes are
still, to my taste, some of the best representatives of those dishes I've ever eaten.
The owner of Harbor Docks, Charles Morgan, also owns a wholesale seafood
company which is located next door to the restaurant. Every day fresh fish arrives
at the docks. Most of it is processed for wholesaling throughout the Panhandle.
The rest of it goes upstairs to the restaurant. The only way you’ll eat fresher
fish is to cook it on a boat offshore.
I had an
early morning meeting and got to the Donut Hole, east of town, around 6:45. There
was already a line out the door. I passed the line and sat at the counter which
I will always do in any circumstance, at any restaurant. I would almost always rather
sit at the counter whether it is in a fine dining establishment with a close
view of the kitchen, an everyday cafe, or a donut shop. I don't know how long
the Donut Hole has been in that area but for as long as I can remember it has
fed my friends and me at least once during every visit. In my partying days it
was late in the evening, or more accurately, early in the morning. These days I’m
there early in the morning, it’s just a different kind of early. The Bavarian
custard-filled donut and the raspberry donuts served there are the gold
standards in my mind for those two items. Stone cold sober they are just as
good as they have always been.
Later that
morning, the wife and I were cruising down 30A and hit Stinky’s Fish Camp. It was
a few minutes after opening so we walked in and sat at the bar. The raw oysters
were on point and the other items we ordered were good, but of special note were
the cheese grits. They were otherworldly. Many times, it's the simple things
that impress me the most. If you can take chicken and turn it into a dish that
is memorable, then that is a feat that should be appreciated. Grits are grits.
Cheese grits can vary and there are certainly versions that are much better
than others. But these cheese grits were the best I had ever eaten. My wife
agreed. I told her immediately, “There is a lot of heavy cream in here.” Then I
asked our server who said, “Yes, heavy cream and pepperjack cheese.” Note to
self: Work up a cheese grits recipe using heavy cream and pepperjack cheese.
I had just
read a nice article about Emeril's Coastal restaurant. I passed by for several
years when it was an Italian-themed restaurant but had heard that he was back
in the kitchen working most nights, so I wanted to relive my early days as a burgeoning
chef when I used to drive to New Orleans to his first restaurant, sit at food
bar, talk to the chef, and soak up as many ideas as I could. He wasn't there
that night, but Mississippi native, and chef de cuisine, Frank Szymankski was
there, and Emeril’s son E.J. was also in the kitchen. I had a nice visit with each
of them and an excellent meal.
Throughout
the 1990s I spent a lot of time dining around New Orleans trying to teach
myself how to cook. My two main influences back then— and still today— were Frank
Brigtsen and Emeril Lagasse. I used to drive down for the night and eat my way
through the city. My first stop was usually Emeril's. I always enjoyed visiting
with the chef in the early days as he began to build the impressive restaurant empire
he created. The Creole cream sauce that I use in so many recipes today— and the
one that has been printed in several of my books— came from him. That is why I
sit at a food bar and talk to the chefs every chance I get. That night Lagasse
was putting together a sauce for a fish dish, and he made a simple reduction of
heavy cream, hot sauce, Worcestershire sauce, and Creole seasoning. He reduced it
by about one third and used it as a base for a sauce with fish. I don't
remember exactly what the fish dish was, but he and I talked about it for a while,
and I returned to my restaurant and replicated the sauce and have gotten many,
many miles out of that versatile recipe from that one experience.
I told my
wife that Emeril has always made the best use of Worcestershire sauce of anyone
I know. I know that sounds like a strange compliment for such a simple
ingredient. But I believe that the mark of a brilliant chef is to take a basic,
simple, everyday ingredient such as Worcestershire sauce and create something
memorable from it. The barbeque shrimp at Emeril’s Coastal is almost identical
to the barbecue shrimp I was eating at Emeril's in New Orleans 30 years ago.
And that is a good thing.
Lagasse is
truly brilliant when it comes to restaurants, dining details, and food
development. The first thank-you letter I ever received from a chef came from
Lagasse. I immediately started that practice, and still do it, today.
Lagasse
caught some pushback when he first hit it big, but I always saw that as professional
jealousy for such overwhelming success. I have been an admirer from day one and
can state emphatically that I have never had anything that even came close to a
less-than stellar meal at any of his restaurants. Ever. He is extremely popular
for a reason, because he is so very good at what he does. Period. End of story.
In three
weeks, I'll be headed back down to the Panhandle for another speech to another
group. Harbor Docks will certainly be my first stop. I’ll definitely hit Emeril’s
Coastal again, and I look forward to making new discoveries in that area that
has meant so much to me over the past six decades.
It's a
tough job, but somebody has got to chew it.
Onward.
2 comments:
I'm saving this recipe. It would be delicious on fish.
I lived across the street from Commander's Palace in the 1980s when Emeril was head chef. My law school budget didn't have much wiggle room but I made it a point to eat there at least once a month even if I had to sometimes eat sandwiches for dinner in order to save enough to afford the restaurant. Whenever I could, I also ate at K-Paul's where Paul Prudhomme would stand or sit outside the door talking to people standing in line for a seat in the restaurant. Great food memories!
Two comments:
1. "Frank Szymankski" No. Szymanski. As much as Poles love them some consonants, they don't need more than they already have.
2. "...Frank Brigtsen and Emeril Lagasse..." If one wanted an example of two names that don't belong together in a sentence written about New Orleans chefs/restaurateurs, that's a good one. Frank is as New Orleans as flooded streets, carnival season, and Galatoire's whereas Emeril is as New Orleans as In-N-Out Burger, chicken-fried lobster with mole-and-green-chile cream gravy, and weak decaf soymilk lattes with an order of raspberry Berliners (or Starbucks, your choice).
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