[A Pig At Large by Wilfrid: February 29, 2008]
Rachael! Wait! Dontcha know me?
I'm your little Piggy! Okay, enough with the cheesy celeb sightings.
(Part one of the Pig in Florida; on Monday, dinner at Table 8.)
You think??? Because this is the South Beach Wine and Food Festival, ostensibly a chance to taste and compare offerings from producers and chefs around the States. Actually, an opportunity to gawk at TV cooks while getting sunburnt and wasted and scrimmaging for small bites. My second visit, and the first was a surreal revelation. This might be the last. It is not - by and large - an opportunity to learn. I found nothing this year, at least, to rival the astonishing vertical tasting of Haut Brion which was the highlight of '07. Also, there didn't seem to be as many swimsuit models serving champagne. Let's party!
Okay, never mind. I couldn't get down to Miami Beach Thursday, then ran into the snow-storm on Friday. The whole project threatened to be a catastrophe, but I managed to wheedle my way into town via Orlando. Running late, I'd have grabbed a cab from the airport straight to the Best of the Best event at the American Airlines arena, but couldn't figure out how to drink and eat while towing luggage. As it was, I arrived to find some tables bare. Here, for example, had been Alfred Portale:
Some booths were still buzzing, though, and this was where most of the New York food talent was to be found. One familiar face from the food industry was surprised to see me: "But you come because you are interested. Most of the people here are just Miami Republicans who think it's chic." And indeed, the selection of small and startling cocktail dresses on display confirmed I was far from downtown Manhattan.
As it happened, Chef Daniel Humm of Eleven Madison Park was in attendance - see last week's Pink Pig. I gladhanded him, and enjoyed a dish of crab meat topped with uni foam. With this, I swallowed some Lanson Noble Cuvée, which I found rather thin and sour.
The Red Cat and Little Owl guys were there, although Gabriel Kreuther of the Modern had disappeared. And presiding over the tenderest lamb chops in the stadium, I found Devi co-owner and Mouthfuls member Suvir Saran. I asked him about the fusion direction of Devi, which has added Indian takes on short ribs and fried chicken to its menu. "It's my food," he said, and explained to me how the potates with the chop were made succulent through careful spicing and cooking rather than the use of butter or cream.
Michael Lomonaco, of New York's Porter House, was holding his own beefsteak party, busily cutting thick slices from a quite beautiful beef roast and serving them on dry toast. This was one of the best bites of the night, although I also liked the long-braised short-ribs from Chris Ward of Dallas's Mercury Grill. Chefs from the Montage resort in Laguna Beach offered tasty kebabs of grilled lamb using basil stalks as skewers, garnished with black and green tapenades and a purée of sundried tomatoes.
At last year's event, vintage champagne had been so thick on the ground, it was pretty much what I drank all night. I thought this year's selection was less interesting, and the most memorable glass of the evening came from a French producer, Chateau Coufran from the Haut-Medoc. The 2000 and 2003 editions of the estate's Grand Vin were open, and I thought it good for a medium-priced claret.
Let's go!
Right, time for some clear-headed tasting - and daylight at last.
Surrounding the large-scale events at the festival are too many smaller (i.e. fifty to a hundred participants) tastings for anyone to take in. I know some people are capable of drifting from one to the next, taking in several wine flights and a couple of cooking lessons in the course of the afternoon. My sensibility is more austere, but on Saturday I faced up to the exercise of pairing wines with allegedly Latin cuisine.
This event, which took place in a Marriott hotel ballroom, was not the best organized, but I can only admire the fact chef Michelle Bernstein of Michy's could produce an hors d'oeuvres selection for that many people, seemingly out of nowhere, at all. Say hi!
I struggled to identify much that was on the plate as truly Latin, but some of it was surprisingly good.
A thimble of cool, fresh pea soup with parsley, mint and basil was unassailably good, and well-matched with the cava. In fact, it transpired that the cava paired well with everything on the table, including another glass of cava (serves kept on pouring).
You can also see a very nice eggplant and feta terrine there, with roasted peppers and a touch of harissa. The dish contains a selection of mushrooms, first roasted, then served in a smoky, thyme-accented soup. This was unbelievable with...well, with the cava.
Everyone knew the grilled Manchego sandwich would have been better hot, but it was something to eat with the Pinot Noir and Shiraz, although the latter was too spicy for the fiery jerk pork slider on a potato roll.
The other no-brainer great match was the Australian Chambers Muscat with the scoop of dulce de leche, the latter spiked with some good salt.
Other than the Muscat, the wine worth listing here is the Brut Reserva Heredad, a $20/$30 cava - depending where you shop - and a good one too, flowery with some body. The wines were selected and taught by Andrea Immer Robinson: the camera caught up with her next afternoon, along with husband John.
It's amazing how many times you can put tiny pieces of food in your mouth and still not be full. I ended one evening with a beef hero at a popular and inexpensive outdoor sandwich bar.
The main daytime event at the Festival takes place in a complex of tents on the beach. The Publix Grand Tasting runs through most of Saturday and Sunday (preceded by children's events). Although a breeze sweeps through the two huge marquees, encrusting your hair and spectacles with salt, it's basically hot as hell, and entertaining to watch kitchen staff - mainly from Florida restaurants - melting like wax over their hot plates and tureens.
It sells out, gets busy, and gets drunken.
Especially at the rum tent, which was the scene of an impromptu and raucous limbo dancing contest. Not to mention the raised lounge pouring endless Belvedere cocktails to pounding dance music.
I started on rosé cava and prosecco and pink champagne, but most tasting options were red wines, American in the majority, and like the ultimately off-duty kitchen staff I eventually concluded that the only antidote to the heat was ice cold Amstel Light. A long way to come to taste Amstel light. There was no shortage of food, but much of it fell into two easily handled categories - ceviches and small sandwiches. I had a re-match with the Kobe hotdog.
As before, I couldn't detect anything wagyu-like about the sausage, and eventually concluded that the designer beef must be in the smear of chili sauce - all two grams of it.
Lario's On The Beach, Gloria Estfan's joint, was serving mini-cubanos; good, real roast pork, but where were the pickles? New York was represented by China Grill and Tuscan Steak. No sign of the great Chodorow, though, although I could hardly miss Wylie Dufreysne of WD-50 weaving his way through the crowd. Did I say celebrities?
Padma! Over here! It's me, Wilfrid.
Outside the main tasting tents, a sandy strip is lined with bookstalls, bars, promotions, and three smaller (yes, still large) tents devoted to cooking demonstrations by TV faces. I say cooking demonstrations: primarily an occasion for chirpy anecdotes, interspersed with sudden stabs at the stove-top. I watched Guy Fieri make some kind of large sausage sandwich. Padma, having as bad a hair day as me, was worrying over a pan of spiced vegetables. The breeze, the heat, the humidity... The one big surprise was spotting a...well...a serious person.
Madhur Jaffrey, no less, who published her first book on Indian cooking in 1973, and was a TV chef before Rachael Ray turned twenty-one. Respect. Oh hang on, here she is...
Everybody! It's Padma Lakshmi!
Dancers, by the way, if you happened to notice any above, brought to you courtesy of Mango's Tropical Cafe, which is all it claims to be, and only five bucks cover too. The place to lose the sunstroke headache and replace it with a rum one.
South Beach beat me. Did I eat one truly amazing dish or taste one superb glass of wine? Well, there was Michy's pea-soup shooter, and I can get Devi's lamb chops at Devi. This event will continue to grow, but without me I think. Unless they are going to bring back the swimsuit models and the vintage champagne.
Time for one restaurant dinner: Table 8, and chef Govind Amstrong is headed for the Bowery this year. Check back on Monday for the review.
