Thursday, January 5, 2012

The Rainbow Room and Lobster Newberg


The 3rd Monday of January may be the saddest day of the year, but I always feel a little blue the week after New Years–– it’s such a comedown after the non-stop festivities and fabulous food.

My remedy? I think a virtual visit to the Never-Never Land of 30’s nightclubs (inspired by hours of watching The Thin Man series I wrote about HERE) will do the trick nicely… champagne glass in hand, of course. For Nick and Nora, the party lasted all year –– seems like a splendid idea to me.



The menu that caught my eye last week was one from the Georges Lang collection (Lang was the late, great NY restaurateur who left a massive book and menu collection now at NYU’s Fales Cooking Library), a 1934 beauty from New York’s Rainbow Room.

I began at a favorite site called The Bowery Boys and read up on a little history about the place (that is undergoing renovation and not open at the moment) and ended up finding many great books and articles on its history.


John Rockefeller Jr. (known as “Junior” in the family) envisioned the concept of Rockefeller Center before the depression struck, but built it after it hit. Although some would have given up on the idea of a building a gigantic complex (the largest private building in modern times) in the midst of a horrific economic downturn, this just strengthened the resolve of Rockefeller who saw it as a way to give hope and good jobs to thousands of workers in New York City (I read 75,000 jobs came from the project, bankrolled by Rockefeller –– we need more like him today!).


The lead architect for the complex was Raymond Hood who died in 1934.
Edward Durell Stone designed the exterior of Radio City Music Hall (completed in 1932) .







Donald Deskey decorated the interior of Radio City (he was chosen by Abby Rockefeller, who had a brilliant eye for talent).

Even the bathrooms are fabulous

The Rainbow Room opened in 1934, on the 65th floor of Rockefeller Center’s RCA Building (now the GE Building).


The Streamline Moderne  architect of The Rainbow Room was Jacques Carlu, but the interior design of the club was by Swiss-born Elena Bachman Schmidt (a protégé of the famous Elsie de Wolfe ). Elena was aided by Vincent Minnelli who took a break from his set design work at Radio City Music Hall to act as a color consultant in the great and glorious Art Deco style with a dance floor made of 360 glass blocks and 2600 colored lights that rotated and changed color (a color organ synchronized the lights with music from a custom-made pipe organ according to NYCago). I think atmosphere is a secret ingredient in great dinners, don't you?

It was originally a white tie joint that brought in high society patrons, but it segued into more egalitarian tuxedos as the 30’s waned. Until its closing 2 years ago, plain old jackets and ties were acceptable –– although prices were insane, New Years a few years ago was $1600 a couple under the management of the Cipriani organization!


View from 65th Floor.

I recall, the few times that I went there, the wine prices were as high as the real estate … but the view… well it was something.


Everybody went when it opened… Noel Coward was one of its first patrons and a slew of Hollywood and Broadway’s biggest names would enjoy the sounds of Tommy Dorsey, Glen Miller, Guy Lombardo, Louis Armstrong and Tony Bennett among others over its long history.




The menu was for supper that was served from 10 pm to 2 or 3am, a more substantial dinner menu came earlier, 6:30 to 10 pm. Dancing and organ music played from opening to closing. It was a nightclub after all.



Although huge fancy menus had taken quite a tumble from fashion with the double whammy of Prohibition and The Depression, The Rainbow Room had a few Gilded Age favorites. Chicken a la King, turtle soup and rarebits were there as were soufflés and Baked Alaska. Beluga caviar was the first thing on the menu ––there was a whole section on Chafing Dishes.

It wasn’t hard to figure what I would make. I’ve wanted to do Lobster Newberg for a long time, ever since I was reminded it of it when I researched Delmonicos. The dish was originally named Wenberg after the patron who made it for Delmonico in a “blazer” (or chafing dish as we know it today), and it was a huge hit in the 1870’s. Then he ticked off the management who renamed it Newberg in an anagrammatic pique, and Newberg it has remained.

Lobster Newberg was listed in the Chafing Dish section of the Rainbow Room menu as it should be. Chafing dishes were a great way to serve delicately sauced dishes and had the added drama of flaming table service on flashy carts … they had been popular for generations in New York restaurants and clubs… a little after-theater theater!

Although Snails Chablisienne looked awfully good (an Escoffier standard with meat reduction, shallots, wine and butter), and Frog’s Legs and Oysters Poulette was an interesting old standby (with a creamy mushroom sauce), Newberg was the one for me.

Lobster Newberg is great because it is a breeze to make and rich as could be with a dark luxurious texture. The reduced madeira in the creamy egg sauce is beyond perfect. Harry Luke (wonderful gastronome that I will write about next week) said Lobster Newberg was “the most perfect synthesis of ambrosial flavours I ever tasted.” Amen to that.

Please forget all the sad, gloopy, rubber-lobster versions you may have had in bad restaurants… they are no relation to this baby. I went back to the original and used the Delmonicos recipe (with a bit of truffle inspired by Oscar of the Waldorf's recipe I found if you care to do it that way). I would say this is an appetizer, but you could make the pastry bigger and just cut 2 and make this a dinner portion for 2 with a salad… it is VERY rich! Or you could do it old school with a chafing dish and toast points as a regal treat for a small party).

Dr. Lostpast gave it an A+… a designation he has only given a handful of dishes on the blog. It’s just the thing to flush away the January blues and make you feel like a swell, swilling champagne on the 65th floor with the pulsating deco dance floor doing its thing. 2012 is looking better already.



Lobster Newberg

Lobster Newberg in Puff Pastry Shells

2-4  smallish lobster tails (depending on size) raw or 1 lobster gently cooked (Kill it by slicing behind it's head, put it in rapidly boiling water and then turn it down... high heat makes for chewy lobster) with meat removed
1 T truffle butter (or butter and ½ t truffle oil)
pinch cayenne pepper

¼ c madeira (Boston Bual or NY Malmsy from Rare Wine Company)

1 c cream
3 egg yolks (I must say, I splurged on the pastured eggs and the yolks were insanely yellow)
1 T great madeira (I used a Barbeito Malvasia Madeira Favilla Viera, 1920 from Rare Wine Co ) (optional)
s & p to taste
few sprigs marjoram
4 pieces puff pastry (2 ½ x 4”) or use toast points as was done in the 1930’s

Preheat your oven to 425º and cover a baking sheet with parchment paper. I removed a larger sheet of pastry that I had in the freezer and cut a piece with a pizza cutter and put the rest back in the freezer. I left it out for a few minutes and then cut it with a very sharp knife into the individual pieces. Make sure that you re-cut the edges, if you don’t the pastry won’t rise properly (you can see in the picture, I missed an edge!). Place your puff pastry rectangles on the sheet and cut smaller rectangles within, leaving about ½” around… don’t remove the cut piece. Be careful not to go all the way down to the bottom. Cover with another sheet of parchment paper and bake for 10 minutes. Remove the top sheet and turn down to 375º, turn the pan around and cook 7-10 minutes or until lightly browned.

If you have small lobster tails, use poultry shears to cut the tail and carefully remove the meat in one piece. Then slice it into pieces following the lines in the lobster. If you have a whole lobster, remove the meat from the shell and cut into bite size pieces.

Sauté the lobster pieces gently in the butter and cayenne and remove (high heat makes the lobster rubbery). Add the madeira and reduce till thickened slightly and remove from the heat. Whisk together the egg and cream and add to the slightly cooled pan.

It is critical that you warm it gently and do not let it get above 160º. It will be thick and rich. Strain it through a sieve just to be sure there are no lumps hiding in the thick sauce.
Return the lobster to the pan and warm with the sauce… VERY Gently. If you have a good madeira, add it now, add salt and pepper to taste and sprinkle with marjoram.

Remove the top pieces from the pastry and pull out any damp bits so you have a nice box. Place the lobster inside and pour sauce over. Serve immediately and be instantly seduced. Give praise to the lobster gods for the great bounty of the sea.


Thanks to Gollum for hosting Foodie Friday!

Thursday, December 29, 2011

A Nick and Nora Charles New Year –– 30’s Style: Filet Mignon with Marchand de Vin Sauce… and Martinis!




 When I was a kid, I thought of old movies as a vital part of my education.  From them, I learned of possibilities that a girl from a small-town in the Midwest might never have known.  The flickering images on the screen were my window to worlds past, both real and imaginary.

Oh yes, later I was to find some of the things that I aspired to were impossible (the man of my dreams, Errol Flynn, was already dead by the time I discovered him …drat) or improbable (living in a castle…not yet!).

I wasn’t terribly impressed with life as it was. I hated cartoons and kid’s movies. I was a chubby bookworm and the grownups in my constellation seemed dull as could be to my eyes… always talking about bridge or fishing, droning on about grownup responsibilities or arguing grownup arguments.  BLEH.   Where was the fun, the glamor, the romance??



Then I saw The Thin Man. I wanted the life of Nick and Nora Charles when I grew up –- full of teasing fun and sparkling repartee. They were my ideal couple.  Years ago, I was at a party with my ex and someone said our banter reminded them of Nick and Nora… he groaned and I beamed. You could have told me I was a dead-ringer for Venus herself and I wouldn’t have been more thrilled.

I read that WS Van Dyke (nicknamed “one-shot Woody” for his speed shooting a film) made The Thin Man in 16 days. The script (written in only 3 weeks) was based on the popular book by Dashiell Hammet. It wasn’t originally meant for Bill and Myrna –– just Bill (based on his success playing gentleman detective Philo Vance). Woody pushed for Myrna Loy against the wishes of MGM’s higher powers –– the rest is history.


Hard to believe now, but it was a tough sell. Loy had only recently moved from playing a silent villain to a leading heroine.  Although she came from Montana, her remarkable almond eyes cast her in a slew of films as an oriental temptress (even though Loy is a German/French name… no where near the orient!).



Evidently Van Dyke fought for his star team after working with them on Manhattan Melodrama with Clark Gable.  “Melodrama” was a modest film and there had been no expectations for much success with it but it became hugely popular and it brightened the star power of Loy and Powell as it further established Gable as a bankable leading man.

Although their onscreen roles in Manhattan Melodrama were straight and somewhat somber, everyone, especially Van Dyke, was enchanted by the Powell/Loy off-screen banter.  It was light, fast and sophisticated badinage. This made Van Dyke want them for The Thin Man and he even had the writers (a married couple, Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich) make script changes to accommodate their style.  The film is very different from the book and their changes made the film sparkle… van Dyke had requested that the writers play up the vivacious couple and play down the twisty plot.



They became everyone’s archetypal perfect couple –– sexy and teasing, warm and loving without being saccharine.  Loy was the perfect wife ––more sassy and strong than the ideal stolid or syrupy wives of the past.  I read in  Myrna Loy: The Only Good Girl in Hollywood that an MGM writer had written: “Myrna Loy and William Powell are the ham and eggs, the peaches and cream the salt and pepper of the movies. They go together as naturally as night and day.” Best of all they had fun, really had fun together onscreen and off (although they were never an “item” off-screen they were life-long friends).  That meant scenes in a lot of restaurants, clubs, bars and private dinners –– and drinking ––they drank a lot (the second film in the Thin Man series made in 1936 came after censors infested Hollywood and the drinking in Thin Man films had to be toned down from then on to comply with their often quaint and curious moral code).




When I wanted to make a New Years party based on Nick and Nora’s dinners, I was met with a surprise dead end.  The famous New Year’s dinner in the second film in 1936, After the Thin Man  (there were 5 in the series from 1934 to 47) doesn’t really happen…well, it does, but off-camera.  They go into dinner …but the next time you see the cast, the men are snoring over brandies and the women are in a separate room with their coffees and gossip… no food in sight.




 

The film is full of parties with VAST quantities of cocktails both at home and in bars and clubs. 



They show the kitchen in full swing MAKING the food… but that’s as far as it goes.



New Years at a Chinese Restaurant found napkins but nary a morsel to be had (save by one of the Chinese owners picking at rice with chopsticks in his office). 




Nick does begin making Nora scrambled eggs in the middle of the night, but they don’t get to eat them.




They do eat breakfast together at 6:30 pm after a long sleep but no dinner… certainly not a bash (I think I saw scrambled eggs and kippers but I can’t be sure)… frustrating.



I decided to go to the original 1934 The Thin Man for dinner, I remembered it as great fun ­­––the mystery unraveled as the courses were served –– perfect.

James Wong Howe behind the camera, van Dyke leaning over the stars

You really had to pay attention to get the food they were eating. I even went to the original script to see if there were any clues in the stage/scene directions that are invisible in the film (and can be completely disregarded when shooting commences or followed like a bible). Nuts are mentioned (they are a holdover from the 19th century when they started a meal with crudité and nuts):


Nora

“Serve the nuts - I mean, serve the guests the nuts.”

The original script has the character Tanner eating soup… but it wasn’t on the table when it was filmed:


“(but poor Tanner, thinking that Nick
    is naming him as the man, spills his
    soup over everything.  Everybody
    turns and looks suspiciously at him.
    Nick sees that he has startled him and
    apologizes)”

Of course, the famous “serve the fish line”…
   

Nick
     “And the murderer is right here in this room
     to-night... he's sitting at this table.”
     (to waiter)

     “You may serve the fish.”

Powell adlibs to Cesar Romero’s character (the exchange wasn’t in the original script),


Nick

     “You're not eating.
Don't you care for oysters?”


You see Powell with peas on his fork.

 

And it looks like Myrna had fish on her plate with those peas but I can’t be sure…


 


I tried to channel Nick Charles’ detective skills to come up with what they were eating.  In fact, they never get any farther than fish because murder was the main course!



It proved to be a mystery I couldn’t solve. 

Why let that stop me!  We’ll just say my dinner is inspired by Nick and Nora’s dinner. I figured that I could invent a main course that could have been waiting in the kitchen… up to my imagination, and in a way that makes it better.



I got to see menus of 30’s New York thanks to the astonishing menu collection of Henry Voigt (he has a great blog too, The American Menu).  I wrote him, asking for 1934-ish NYC Hotel menus and voilà, there they were, and that’s no easy task… I looked on my own for quite a while and came up with very little.

Mr. Voigt said “Menus from the 1920s and 30s are surprisingly difficult to find when compared to those from earlier periods in the century.  The onset of Prohibition, and later the Great Depression, helped accelerate a general decline in dining standards at the high-end.  More people were eating out than ever before, but the menus from the ethnic restaurants, diners, and other less expensive places that were then popular were less memorable, causing fewer of them to be saved as mementos. Some of the new types of eateries like the speakeasies and cafeterias often did not even have menus.”

What he sent me were treasures… a time capsule of what a sophisticated NY couple staying at the Hotel Normandie would be noshing on New Years in the early 30’s.

There was a supper menu from the Carlyle Hotel, a dinner menu from the Hotel Lucerne on 79th Street and then a real New Years menu from the Park Central Hotel, problem solved.

 

So I decided to make a few things from the menu…

 
The essence of chicken with profiterole is really easy to do if you have a profiterole or 2 in your freezer.   Otherwise, make them and freeze them –– they are great to have around. I discovered that profiteroles were originally baked in the coals and put in soups hundreds of years ago, so this is not a new idea.  The soup takes just a short time to reduce and you have a very rich delicious broth… adding the foie gras makes it super special… something Norah would have liked.



The Filet Mignon with Sauce Marchand du Vin, Mignonette potatoes (essentially fat fries) and peas are on the menu.  I think it’s what Nick might have ordered being a tough guy.

Sauce Marchand has different styles, from a southern version that is quite complicated with ham among many other ingredients to one French version I saw that was only red wine and shallots.  I’m going to do an in-between version with reduced stock and butter… it’s still pretty easy and very good and using duck fat to make the mignonettes works remarkably well… you will enjoy them… peas are a simple side.

And, I had to add this Nick and Nora's Hangover Hash.  You make it from the dinner left-overs, pop a poached egg on top and all your troubles are over.

But before dinner, drinks.  It is Nick and Nora Charles, after all.

Honestly, Nick and Nora Charles are not so much about food as they are about drinks.  Rye, scotch and martinis… they drink gallons of martinis. Although the book was written during Prohibition (and opens in a 51st Street speakeasy and not a snazzy hotel bar), the film is set in 1934. Prohibition had just been repealed so the film shows the characters newly released from 13 years of bad booze and illegal basement clubs.  Happy days were here again and they were going to celebrate every chance they had. Even so, the Production Code's  stuffed shirts received a boatload of complaints about the extravagant (ok, excessive) alcohol consumption in the first film.

Elegantly-attired Loy’s famous entrance in The Thin Man is a pratfall:



Yes, that's Myrna face down

... followed by 6 martinis in quick succession and a killer hangover that rates an icebag hat the next day.  Hysterically funny to all but the censors… they were not amused.


I went to a drink expert, my friend David Solmonson at 12 Bottle Bar, to get the skinny on a Nick and Nora martini… because they were a bit different that they are now… and were served in smaller glasses.  Perhaps incorrectly, in Thin Man, Nick advises that a martini is best “shaken to waltz time.”

“Origins: Martinis were invented around 1890, once vermouth started to catch on.  The Manhattan came first, then the Martini (origin of name open for debate).

A 1900’s Martini would have been ½ gin, ½ vermouth.  Orange bitters were typically added."



Solmonson continued, "A 1930’s Dry Martini was 2/3 gin, 1/3 dry vermouth.  Medium and Sweet versions existed too.  Bitters (orange or Angostura, with orange preferred) available upon request.  The hallmark books for the period would have been “The Savoy Cocktail Book” and “Barflies and Cocktails”.  Both feature the 2/3 gin, 1/3 dry vermouth Dry Martini.  Gin should be London Dry." [**I used Noilly Prat in the photo… it’s what I had on hand, and it made a golden martini!]

"A modern Dry Martini, by comparison, is 5 to 7 parts gin to 1 part vermouth.

Martinis are properly served stirred for 30 secs – not shaken – and “up” (strained) into a cocktail glass.  A proper 30’s size is 2oz gin to 1oz vermouth.  After stirring, you should have a 4oz drink.  The most appropriate garnish is a twist of lemon peel, which is expressed over the top of the drink – and maybe rubbed over the rim – then discarded
(not inserted).  If olives are requested, then should be served in a container alongside the drink [Nick has put an olive in his glass in the movie]. 

Noilly Prat was once the gold standard for dry vermouths, but they changed the recipe a few years back.  I prefer Dolin.

Here’s my perfect Dry Martini:

2.5 oz Old Raj Blue Label Gin
0.5 oz Dolin Dry Vermouth

Pre-chill glass and mixing glass.  Add ingredients, then ice.  Stir for 30 secs.
Strain into chilled glass.  Twist lemon peel over the top and quickly wipe along the rim with minimal pressure.

Serve with green Spanish olives stuffed with sardines and some lemon zest.  Squeeze lemon juice over olives.

Deliver on silver tray atop Wire-Haired Fox Terrier and enjoy in the company of one of the silver screen’s most beautiful women.”





Essence of Chicken en tasse aux Profiteroles with Foie Gras for 2

4 cups strong, homemade chicken stock (it must be unsalted or it will be dreadful)
1 c white wine
2 profiteroles
2 cubes foie gras (available at D'Artagnan and a great deal!)

Reduce the wine and stock by half... add salt at this point to taste. Warm the profiteroles.  Fry your cubes of foie gras and place in the warm profiteroles on the soup you have poured into soup cups and serve.

 

Filet Mignon of Beef Sauté Marchand de Vin for 2

2 c strong stock
1 c red wine
1 shallot, diced
1 clove garlic, diced
1 T cognac

2 filet mignon
salt and pepper
4T butter

Reduce the stock and red wine to a glaze over low heat… this will take at least ½ an hour.

Preheat oven to 400º

Rub the filets with salt and pepper.  Melt 2 T of butter in the skillet and brown all sides of the meat in a cast iron skillet.

Put the steaks in the oven for 5-10 minutes depending on thickness and what degree of doneness you prefer.

Remove the meat from the oven and place on a plate, covered.  Melt the rest of the butter in the pan and soften the shallot and garlic.  Add the reduced wine stock and cognac and blend.  Pour over the steak on each plate.  Serve with Mignonette Potatoes and buttered peas.


 

Mignonette Potatoes

2 M potatoes, peeled and sliced into thick fries
1 Qt duck fat or oil

Heat the oil to 300º.  Put the potatoes in and cook till nearly done but not brown.   Remove from the oil and let rest and cool for 10 minutes or so.  Bring the fat up to a higher heat and put the potatoes back in to brown.  This will take very little time so keep watching.  They are great dunked in the wine sauce.




Nick and Nora's Hangover Hash for 2


leftover potato scraps from trimming up the mignonette potatoes or 1 m potato
1 small onion chopped
1 T butter.

leftover marchand de vin sauce (or reduce a cup of stock with 1/2 c red wine)
1/4 c stock
2 T heavy cream
1 t fresh, 1/2 t dried thyme

leftover Filet (one or 2 slices will do) cut into small pieces (or use a bit of steak, brown it off and cube it)
leftover peas, brussel sprouts 1/4 - 1/2 a cup whatever you have around.

2 poached eggs


Saute the potato and onion in butter till browned and softened.  Add the sauce, stock and cream.

Warm the beef and peas and serve with poached eggs on top and a sprinkle of coarse sea salt.




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