Though it might be best known for Graceland and all things blue suede, Memphis has a pretty incredible dining scene, including the acclaimed new French-Creole Restaurant Iris. After checking it out recently (and experiencing the biscuits-and-grits southern goodness myself), I concur. Rising star chef Kelly English, who opened the restaurant in 2008 and was named Food & Wine's best new chef this year, shared a few of his culinary secrets with us.  
 
You opened Restaurant Iris just a little over a year ago, and already you’ve received so many accolades. How does it feel?
It always feels good to be recognized, but we are committed to getting better at we do every day we walk in the door. I can't begin to emphasize enough what every member of the Restaurant Iris family means to our success; this is definitely not a "one-man show."

We noticed that you have your grandmother’s (delicious) buttermilk pancakes and your father’s grillades on the menu. Is your family a big influence in your cooking?
Without a doubt, my family's influence is ever present. Coming from south Louisiana, everyone cooks. You aren't a real man if you can't make a dark roux. The memories of my family's meals always inspire me.

We understand that you’ve trained under John Besh. What is the most important culinary lesson he taught you?
Let me tell you first that John Besh is a better man than a chef, and he is the best chef I have ever met. Passion for food and making people happy surrounds him every moment of the day. The most important thing he ever taught me was to cook every meal as if I were serving it to my mother. If it's good enough for Mama, then it's good enough for me.

Do you try to cook with local, seasonal ingredients?
I don't know any other way. There is nothing better than knowing your farmer and knowing where your ingredients come from.

Do you have any cooking advice for time-strapped parents?
My advice is for time-strapped parents to give me a call and eat with us! Seriously, good ingredients don't need to be fussed with too much. If you feed your children foods in season, there is nothing to worry about.

While recently in Portland, Oregon, I was blown away by the quality of the food. (These Pacific Northwesterners really take that whole farm-to-table concept seriously!) But my absolute favorite meal was breakfast at Mother's Bistro & Bar.

First of all, I couldn't put down the menu. Beyond having to decide between wild salmon hash, the wild raspberry pancakes, and the pork-apple sausage and cheddar scramble (my final choice, shown below), I loved the story printed on there about Chef Lisa Schroeder's philosophy that the best meals from her travels have always come from mothers at home--not from restaurants. Because of this, she selects a "Mother of the Month" ("M.O.M.") from somewhere in the world each month and features her photo, story, and a couple of her dishes. (You can nominate your own mom here.)

And of course, the locally sourced food was amazing, and the coffee was fair-trade. (The waitress was like a coffee psychic and brought out a French press of an Ethiopian brew of the exact right strength for me without even asking if I liked it strong--which I do.) The menu also boasted a selection of about 30 hot teas, hot chocolate, hot apple cider, and a special Oregon chai latte. Combine all that with the cozy-chic interior, a magazine library, and little playspace for the kids, and you're in breakfast heaven.

My family and I just returned from two blissful weeks of vacation spent in a rambling old house we had rented in the midcoast region of Maine. When we were not admiring the rolling fog, gorging on crustaceans, dodging skeeters, and collecting stray lobster buoys from our sandy cove, we were eating and making pancakes. I would not be exaggerating if I said we ate blueberry pancakes pretty much every day for two weeks straight. And "we" includes one very picky 2-year-old who would happily subsist on ketchup and tubes of strawberry yogurt if we let him. But luckily, with blueberry pancakes, he comes to his senses.

During this sliver of time, we were surrounded by wild local blueberries, and we ate the little buggers by the pint. With the amount we devoured, I'm surprised my family wasn't rolling around like Violet Beauregarde by the end of our trip. On our first morning, Conor (age 2), Belle (age 5), and I set about making a monster-size batch of pancake batter that would last our entire brood (kids, parents, grandparents) for at least a couple of days (I've learned that pancakes made from batter that has been refrigerated overnight are even better).

My master recipe was inspired by one for buttermilk blueberry pancakes in an old copy of Saveur magazine (lovingly dog-eared and batter-stained). I add a few twists to the original recipe (I swear by frying pancakes in both butter and peanut oil, and I prefer cinnamon to nutmeg), but basically the key ingredient is buttermilk. It really makes a difference. Instead of having to holler out directions to my children like a fishwife, I translated the recipe into a cartoon:

The process is easy enough for little ones to each have a job (although there is always a tussle over the whisk), and the project is well suited for a vacation breakfast, when there is no deadline or schedule. And the recipe is something that can be freely interpreted. One morning we had some local raspberries from the market, so we added them with the blueberries to make very patriotic-looking pancakes.

If you're vacationing where peaches or plums are the thing, they would be fine too. I really don't think there is anything that can't be added to a pancake.
I have included the recipe after the jump, but remember, the last pancake should be for the cook, and it should be a whopper.

Continue reading Vacation Cooking: Buttermilk Blueberry Pancakes »

Watching my 4 1/2-year-old daughter, Vivi, chase fireflies the other night brought back memories of being a kid during the summer. It's amazing to relive so many great moments with her: picking tomatoes off the vine, learning to open your eyes underwater, listening to Wings. But nothing beats the sheer delight of vanilla soft serve with a cherry bonnet. We stumbled upon Wally's Ice Cream Parlour in New City, New York (145 South Main Street--no website), on our way home from Storm King. What sets Wally's apart from the rest of the pack of soft-serve joints is the Wallypops. A vanilla ice cream pop in the shape of a face (Wally, natch!) dipped in either chocolate or cherry coating. When Vivi saw the poster and immediately asked for the "red dip," I was transported back in time, to the local Dairy Creme after a disappointing day on the baseball fields. A vanilla cone with cherry dip always brought a smile to my face. Now, though Vivi hasn't experienced the humiliation of missing the pop fly to center field, she certainly knows the pleasures of the dipped pop. Thanks, Wally. She shoved the pop in her mouth so fast, I barely had a second to snap this picture.

Let’s face it, mac and cheese is as American as, well, pizza. The Italians may have come up with the idea, but we’ve made it our own. And because this is America, and we are reluctant to leave well enough alone, restaurant impresario Stephen Starr’s Continental Mid-Town (below) in Philadelphia has upped the mac-and-cheese ante.

The sharp cheddar from Wisconsin or Vermont? Not for him. The familiar shape of the elbow macaroni? Nope. Instead, the Continental Mid-Town’s kitchen has decided to use orzo and a medley of American, Italian, and Swiss cheeses and—why not?—lobster.

The result is cheesy, creamy, rich decadence that will warm both adults and children.  While the dish may be long on sin for adults (pair it with champagne or a sauvignon blanc) the lobster is a good source of amino acids, complex B vitamins, phosphorous, and iron for the little ones. And the empty plate in front of you will leave you with a sense of longing.

“I was really sad when it was gone,” recalls Sarah Engler, an associate editor at Cookie who edits many of the magazine’s travel pieces.

Click to the jump for the recipe. Let us know how it turned out.

Also check out our Philadelphia City Guide.

 

Continue reading Mac and Cheese 2.0 »

Caroline Campion, Devil and Egg

Now that you have in mind the how-tos of dining with a child in the city of lights, some food-centric agendas for carting your growing gourmand around town.

The Left Bank

Starting on the Left Bank, the Jardin Luxembourg in the sixth arrondissement, what you may think of as the Central Park of Paris, is a perfect location for a breakfast picnic. Start off at Poilaine Bakery (8 rue du Cherche-Midi), a legendary bread bakery that turns out spectacular chausson aux pommes (apple turnovers), butter croissants, buns with raisins, and pain au chocolat (chocolate croissants)--Belle's favorite.

Enter the park and sit at one of the green metal tables after ordering your café au lait at the kiosk near the carousel, and enjoy the finest French breakfast while watching Parisians lob tennis balls, chase their own children, and jog.  After breakfast, you will want to spend an hour or two at the terrific-for-all-ages playground--the parc de jeux, and then think about lunch.

For something very casual, walk toward the Odeon to the patisserie Gerard Mulot (76, rue de Seine), which, besides selling gorgeous gateaus with swirling fresh cream and glistening berries, has window seating and a takeout counter selling mini quiches and a variety of sandwiches like egg salad, ham and gruyere, and smoked salmon.

For a casual sit-down meal, you can do no better than Cafe de la Marie on the place Ste Sulpice, which I like to think of as the best diner in Paris--very local, a little scrappy, with good food that is served quickly (for the kid who just can't wait to get to the Louvre). Head upstairs if it is too crowded down below and grab one of the booths overlooking the plaza fountain. I recommend the salade avec crotin chaud (warm goat cheese) on crusty Poilaine bread, and sandwiches--classic croque monsieur or madame.

If you're craving something sweet after your meal, and maybe feeling a little flush (exchange rate? What exchange rate?), then go around the corner, to rue Bonaparte and the high temple of chocolate, Pierre Herme, where you can buy a bag of chocolate-covered orange rinds or a cassis macaron to nibble on as you walk through the mysterious church of Ste Sulpice.

Continue reading Eating in Paris with Kids, Part Deux »

Caroline Campion, Devil and Egg

When I was 10 years old, I was introduced to Paris by my tiny Belgian grandmere, who whisked me around the cobblestone streets while wearing Christian Dior pumps and a matching purse. What I remember most from that first visit (besides the crush of tourists ogling the Mona Lisa) was the citron presses enjoyed at a café table; the crepes slathered with Nutella; and lunch in the Tuilleries Garden, a picinique of baguettes, fromage and saucisson made by Mamy (as gifted a cook as she was a dresser).

Maybe it's because Paris was revealed to me at such a young age that I have always thought of it as a wonderful place to experience as a child (just like Madeline and the girls in two straight lines). From bistros to brasseries, traiteurs, and charcuteries—the Paris of Julia Child (and, you may remind that little person you're with, Ratatouille) is a culinary wonderland. Yes, there are the artistic landmarks, the medieval mysteries, the sacred churches, but how many Impressionist masterpieces can a first-grader (or I) absorb before falling into a touristy daze?  

I recently returned to the city on the Seine with my 5-year old daughter, Belle (dining M.O.: suspicious of green flecks in her food, can consume smoked salmon like a grizzly bear upstream, would happily subsist on ice cream), and my game-for-anything Belgian mother, and what follows are a few good rules to keep in mind when eating with children in Paris.

Continue reading You and Le Petit Chou, in Paris »