Lyonnaise Salad? No That's Sally's Endive Salad With Citrus and Warm Bacon Dressing!

Salads have always been an important part of the menus in my restaurants. People sometimes want something lighter to eat. The people of the new millennium have gotten away from the "Meat and Potatoes" diet of the past and its related health problems. Salads are a delicious way to eat healthy. Well, they were until cooks start adding warm bacon dressing, lardoons, steak, cheese, lobster and other calorie laden and high cholesterol items to them. 

Salads have a long history. The earliest evidence of salads comes from ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia where people mixed raw vegetables with oils and vinegar. The word salad is derived from the Latin "Salata" which means "salted things". In ancient Greece and Rome, people would mix raw vegetables with brine, vinegar, oil and sometimes honey. 

The word salad has evolved to include a lot of different things that are mixed with a dressing or seasonings, such as potato salad, pasta salad, tuna salad, Caprese salad, Waldorf salad, Quinoa salad... You get the idea. There are a lot of things on menus and in cookbooks called salad. Today we are going to talk about salads made with greens. In particular, greens from the Cichorium genus which includes Endives and Chicories.  

The picture at the top of the page is a Lyonnaise Salad. I have been involved in a lot of restaurants. As the chef in some of them, I was responsible for the menu. Chefs in putting together a menu will take traditional dishes and tweak them by adding or subtracting ingredients or preparation methods. They sort of make a dish their own. I added to the classic Lyonnaise Salad. I called this salad Sally's Breakfast Salad because it has Bacon, Egg, Orange and Toast in it. It is basically a Lyonnaise Salad with the addition of other endives, orange segments and zest. We live in Florida and it is known for its citrus. On the menu, it was listed as "Sally's Endive Salad With Citrus and Warm Bacon Dressing". 

I have had "Endive Salad With Warm Bacon Dressing" on several of my restaurant's menus but it was not like the dish I served at the Crazy Conch Cafe. Endive is low in calories and rich in vitamins, especially vitamin K, vitamin A and folate. Its slightly bitter taste pairs well with citrus which was one of the reasons I added citrus to the recipe. 

Salade Lyonnaise is a classic French dish originating from the "Bouchons" of Lyon, a city in southeastern France long regarded as the gastronomic capital of France. Bouchons are unique to Lyon and have a long history tied to the city. They were originally simple eateries that served hearty, affordable meals to silk workers in the 19th century. Bouchons are small, cozy, and casual often with a rustic and informal ambiance. They focus on traditional Lyonnaise cuisine, which is rich, flavorful, and comforting. They don't serve other traditional French dishes like a bistro would. 

I first came across this salad in my travels to New York City, California and in France. I was intrigued by it because of the poached egg on top. I had never seen or heard of that before. Then I tasted it and wow. The combination of the bitter greens, rich bacon, poached egg and vinegary dressing is fantastic and indeed a classic. 

This salad appears under many names on various menus. I have seen it as, Salade Lyonnaise, Endive With Warm Bacon Dressing, Frisée aux Lardons, French Bistro Salad, Frisée Salad with Poached Egg and Bacon, Salade du Bouchon and Salade à la Lyonnaise avec Croûtons Dorés. All pretty much the same salad.

All these salads have Frisée, Bacon and a Vinegar based dressing. Of course, because chefs will be chefs there have been some variations. Some have included chicken livers, some have croutons, some have the poached egg, some use balsamic vinegar, some use red wine vinegar, some use sherry vinegar, some use a Dijon mustard vinaigrette for the dressing, some use a warm bacon dressing with the bacon fat as the oil, some use pancetta for the bacon, some use ventreche as the bacon, some use smoked slab bacon, some add chopped shallots in the warm dressing, some add other greens, the variations go on and on. 

The classic recipe calls for Frisée, Lardons, Poached Egg, Croutons, Salt & Pepper, and a Dijon Mustard Vinaigrette. This recipe is definitely a winner. Sometimes the rendered bacon fat is used in the vinaigrette and sometimes it's used to make the croutons. The French don't like to waste anything. Especially something as tasty as bacon fat. 

I made some changes to this classic recipe. I added Belgian Endive and Radicchio to the Frisée. They added bitterness, color, nutty flavor and a hint of sweetness. I made the croutons from a baguette using just the crust and cutting them into rectangular "mouillettes" with a rusk like texture. I added orange segments and the zest from the oranges, to give it more of a Florida feel. I changed the dressing into a sweet and sour warm vinaigrette using bacon fat, olive oil, diced shallots, red wine vinegar, sugar, and any juice from the orange segments. Breakfast salad? Oui! 

Sally’s Endive Salad   

1 - Small Baguette                       2 - Tbsp. Extra Virgin Olive Oil
½ - Lb. Thick Sliced Bacon         2 - Heads Frisee
2 - Heads Belgian Endive           ½ - Head Radicchio
2 - Medium Navel Oranges          Salt and Pepper to Taste
3 - Tbsp. Red Wine Vinegar         1 - Tbsp. White wine Vinegar
4 - Grade A Large Eggs               2 - Tbsp. Diced Shallots
1 - Clove Garlic                            2 - Tbsp. Granulated Sugar

 

Take baguette and slice in half longwise. Remove the insides and reserve for another purpose. Cut garlic clove in half and rub the inside of each side of the baguette. Brush inside of baguette with olive oil and arrange on a sheet tray. Toast until brown and crisp. Cut baguette into 3” x 1” croutons. Set aside to cool.

 With a vegetable peeler remove zest of the 2 oranges with the least amount of pith as possible. Cut zest into a fine julienne and set aside. Cut away the peels from the oranges, leaving no white pith. Holding them over a small bowl, segment the oranges, catching any juices. You should have at least 20. Wash lettuces, break apart, spin dry and wrab in paper towels.

 Fill a saucepan two-thirds full with water. Add the white wine vinegar and bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer. Break each egg into a cup and slide one at a time into the water. Poach the eggs until the whites are set, about 3 minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels.

 Place bacon in the freezer for 30 minutes. Remove and cut into ¼” lardons. You can use slab bacon for this and slice it yourself or buy thick pre-sliced bacon. Place a 12” skillet on medium heat and add the bacon to the pan and cook until crisp. Remove and drain. Leave bacon fat in pan, add shallots, stir, then add sugar. Allow sugar to melt, then deglaze pan with red wine vinegar. Add olive oil and stir to mix. I also add any juice from the orange segments.

On each chilled plate arrange 4 spears of endive in a fan, top with torn frisee and radicchio. Scatter 4 orange segments and 4 croutons. Sprinkle with reserved lardons. Top with the warm bacon dressing. Then place one poached egg in the center and sprinkle with the orange zest. 

Au Poivre? Oh Yes!

The technological advancements of the past ten years have been mind-boggling. I'm an old man so it's been hard to keep up. If I have a problem, I just ask one of my grandchildren. They have no problem with any of it, including the AI stuff. I'm that proverbial metaphor, an analog guy trapped in a digital world. One thing I'm fairly certain of is food. In food, pretty much everything has been done before. I'm always learning new "to me" dishes, because you never know it all. The new things are all relatable because you smell, taste and consume them. That sensory memory thing takes over. Technology doesn't work that way unless you were born in the last 15 years.  

    

Food has all sorts of possibilities, like spiciness. I like a little heat in my food. I am by no means one of those "Chili Heads" who has a need for Ghost Peppers or Carolina Reapers in my food. I think that is more about ego than pleasurable taste. Some people claim it's about the complex flavors or the adrenaline rush or the endorphins. If that is the case, I have no problem with their desire to consume insanely hot food.  

The heat I'm talking about is the peppercorn kind. As a cook you use salt and pepper to season a dish, bring out its flavors. You can "over season" or "under season" food, with "under seasoning" being the bigger crime, in most cook's eyes. Over seasoning is not so much the use of too much pepper as it is the use of too much salt, with all the health problems associated with that.  

In my self education, I have come across several uses for peppercorns. I've seen them in the restaurants I visit and the things I read. The Joy of Cooking, Mastering The Art Of French Cooking and The Four Seasons Cookbook all covered peppercorn utilization, for steak in particular. Most often as Steak au Poivre.

Steak au Poivre is a classic French dish that has been around since the 19th century. It is a staple in bistros and fine dining establishments in France because of its simplicity and depth of flavor. Henri Soule who opened Le Pavillion in New York City in 1941 was one of the first to bring this dish to the United States. He was pivotal in introducing the American public to French fine dining. 

My first encounter with peppercorns as a major component of a dish other than seasoning was at The Inn At Sawmill Farm in West Dover, Vermont during my skiing days. When I worked there, they has 2 things on their menu that focused on the use of peppercorns, Steak au Poivre and Roast Duck with Green Peppercorn Sauce. 

The classic preparation of Steak au Poivre involves taking peppercorns, one variety or several, crushing them, coating all sides of a steak, filet or New York strip, with an amount to your liking, saute the steak in a pan to the doneness desired, remove steak, add some chopped shallots, deglaze the pan with stock return the steak to the pan, flame with a bit of brandy and finish the sauce with a mounting of butter or cream. 

The Steak au Poivre at the Sawmill Farm was different. They took a 14 to 16 ounce New York strip steak and started cooking it fat side down in a heavy saute pan to render the fat. Then it was cooked in that fat on both sides for that Maillard Reaction. About 2 minutes from the desired doneness, the steak is removed from the pan and covered to stay warm. Then Lawry's Lemon Pepper, red wine, and beef base was added to the pan and reduced until thick and syrupy. Then veal glace is added, the steak is returned to the pan and we flambéed it tableside with brandy. The lemon pepper added a nice lemon essence to the dish. I, of course, stole this recipe and used it in all my restaurants. It was a very popular dish. 

In my travels, I have tasted many classic versions of steak au poivre but have always preferred the Sawmill Farm version. That is until I took a trip to Paris and went to Le Bistrot Paul Bert. 

Le Bistrot Paul Bert is owned by Bertrand Auboyneau. That's him above in the white shirt reading a text on his phone on the sidewalk out front. He opened in 1997 with the desire to capture the essence of French bistro dining using high-quality ingredients and traditional French recipes. Locals and food critics agree he has achieved his goals. It has a very homey feel with cookbooks and displays of wine and old pictures. I learned about Le Bistrot Paul Bert from several different spots in my Paris food research. 

He is particularly famous for his steak frites, which he calls, Filet de boeuf au poivre de Sarawak, frites maison. I have found his recipe on-line and it is pretty much the classic version with the exception of the sole use of Sarawak peppercorns and a full cup of heavy cream.

I'm a cook and I have tasted this preparation. I like it a lot. I like the Sarawak peppercorns and I'm pretty sure there is a deglazing of dark veal glace in there too. They don't mention that in the several Le Bistrot Paul Bert recipes I've seen. That sauce didn't get that dark from just reducing the cream and it certainly didn't get that beefy taste without the addition of a stock reduction. I'm aware that not all cooks give you exactly everything they use in a recipe or every little twist used in its preparation. If they did, you might just cook their dishes at home and not come back to visit them. 

The Sarawak peppercorns are the real key to this dish. Sarawak is the largest state in Malaysia on the island of Borneo. It is renowned for its peppercorns which are considered some of the finest in the world. The peppercorns have a complex flavor profile with bright fruity spiciness and earthy floral undertones. It has become my peppercorn of choice. Le Bistrot Paul Bert sells them but I have found the SaraSpice selection on Amazon more price friendly. SaraSpice is a wholly-owned subsidiary of the Malaysian Pepper Board, whose main focus is the sourcing and marketing of Sarawak peppercorns globally. 

I like both the Sawmill Farm version and the Le Bistrot Paul Bert version of Steak au Poivre. They are really 2 different dishes. Give them both a try and see if you too don't say "Oh Yes!", when asked, "Au Poivre?"

  

Steak au Poivre Sawmill

     4 - 16 oz. New York Strip Steaks     4 - Tbsp. Lawry’s Lemon Pepper 
    1 - Tbsp. Minor’s Beef Base             1 - Cup Veal Glace
    4 - Cups Dry Red Wine                     ½ - Cup Brandy

Heat a cast iron or heavy skillet on a range and place steaks in pan with fat side down. Render out as much fat as possible, searing and browning the fat side of the steak. Then arrange steaks flat in the pan and sear. After 2-3 minutes flip steaks and cook another 2-3 minutes for rare. Cook longer if you desire them more well done.

Remove steaks from pan, cover with foil and keep warm.  Add to the pan still on the fire, the lemon pepper, beef base and red wine.  Reduce until sauce is thick, then add veal glace.  Stir sauce until well mixed, then return steaks to pan and then flame with the brandy. 

Place steaks on plates and spoon sauce over steaks. Serve with French fried potatoes and a baguette.   

Steak Au Poivre Paul Bert

    

    3 - Tbsp. Sarawak Black Peppercorns      2 - Tbsp. Unsalted Butter
    4 - 6oz. Filet Mignons                                 1 - Tbsp. Canola Oil
    ¼ - Cup Veal Glace                                     ¼ - Cup Brandy
    1 - Cup Heavy Whipping Cream                 Sea Salt To Taste

                          

Coarsely crack the peppercorns in a mortar and pestle. Sprinkle some of the peppercorns on both sides of each steak, and use the palm of your hand to press them into the meat. Season with sea salt.

 

Put a heavy-bottomed skillet over high heat and add the oil and the butter. When the butter has melted, slip in the steaks and cook them for 2 to 3 minutes, or a minute or so longer, if you like your beef better done. Flip them and give them another 2 to 3 minutes in the pan. Use a spoon to baste the steaks with the butter in the pan. Then transfer them to a warm plate and cover them loosely with a foil tent.

 

Pour off and discard the fat in the pan, but leave any bits of steak and pepper that might have stuck to the bottom. Deglaze the pan with the brandy. Be careful as it will flame. When the flames have subsided, stir the pan to scrape up whatever bits are in the pan. When you’ve reduced the brandy, lower the heat and add the cream, a bit more of the black pepper and the veal glace. Swirl the pan and let the sauce bubble gently for 2 to 3 minutes. It should coat the back of a spoon. I always add a bit of butter. Salt to taste.

Transfer the steaks to warm dinner plates, spoon over some of the sauce and serve. At Le Bistrot Paul-Bert, the steak would come with frites, always a good idea. There is also plenty of sauce to dip them in. 

           

 

Is Paris Really A Moveable Feast?

Ernest Hemingway has a famous quote: "If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast." He wrote this in a letter to a friend in 1950. He wrote a book "A Moveable Feast" in 1960, just before he killed himself in 1961. It concerned the years 1921 to 1926, when he was a young man in Paris. 

I'm a food guy, but I don't think Hemingway was talking about food when he used the word feast in his quote or book. I think his quote about Paris being a "moveable feast", means that the experiences and inspirations he gained in Paris in his youth, stayed with him throughout his life. Paris for him was a constant source of delight and creative passion, even after he left the city. 

I never traveled to Paris in my youth. I was 58 on my first of 4 trips. Nevertheless, Paris has been a constant source of delight and creative passion for me. My first 2 trips in 2007 and 2009, fixed in my mind the idea of what Paris embodies. My trips in 2015 and in the spring this past year were to a different Paris. Time changes everything. 

Perhaps, it was that way for Hemingway. That might be the reason he blew his brains out at the young age of 61 years, his inability to adjust to change. All suicides are heartbreaking but his suicide was also such a waste of talent. No one knows the inner torments people go through. Maybe Hemingway's life changes created a fear of losing his identity as a writer or a longing for the past that wasn't there anymore and the inability to accept that. 

People are fighting battles you know nothing about. In this age of political intolerance and attempts to divide us, we lose sight of what is really important in life. Change is going to come but you don't have to lose your humanity to face it. 

In my first two trips, I found a city focused on culture, art, social issues, urban development, sports and cuisine. Being a food person, I focused on the cuisine and art. They sort of go hand in hand. When we travel, Sally, my wife, takes care of planning places we need to see, the sights. I plan where we will stay and where we will eat and drink as we go see the stuff she has lined up. Paris has got to be one of the ultimate people watching cities in the world. They even devised an institution for people watching, the sidewalk cafe. 

When we travel, we like to stay in an apartment or house in a neighborhood. We think you get more of an understanding of the people and the culture of the place that way. It is usually for about 2 weeks, so the local merchants and your neighbors get to know you and you get to know them. 

These places also have a kitchen and I'm a cook. It would be a crime to not be able to work with the produce, meats, seafood and dairy products in the local markets and shops. That's important to my understanding of a place. Sally is willing to eat what I cook. In Paris, I always manage to procure pastries and chocolates for dessert because we are in Paris. It has some of the best Patisserie in the world. We have taken advantage of that.   

The key to travel is the need to slow down, so you can appreciate everything. There is never going to be enough time in 2 or 3 weeks to see everything and do everything. You need to select a few of the things you would most like to see. Save the rest for another trip. For me it is the same with restaurants, food shops and markets. The joy of Paris is using all your senses, just like the French do. 

Paris is very much a walking city. Sally walks. I saunter. There is so much to see but I need to take my time. The architecture is awe inspiring. From the observation deck on the 56th floor of the Tour Montparnasse, you can see all the sights you will never have time to visit in just 2 to 3 weeks, the Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, Notre Dame... Well you get the idea. 

The shop windows tempt you with all sorts of delights, the Roquefort at Fromagerie Laurent Dubois, the veal at Gardil's Butcher Shop, the fashions at the Chanel store at 31 Rue Cambon, the fresh seafood at Maubert Maree, the kitchen tools in the windows at E. Dehillerin. The Vanves Flea Market and the Marche Monge hold unbelievable treasures.  Original art is inspiring, Xavier Veilhan's bright red Le Rhinoceros at the Centre Pompidou, The Thinker in the garden at Musée Rodin, Picasso's Paul en Arlequin at the Musée Picasso-Paris, the original Vincent van Gogh Nuit Étoilée sur le Rhône at the Musée d'Orsay. 

Of course, there are the unique sights only available in Paris, Notre Dame at night from the Pont de Sully, the rather small la toilette at Le Rubis, the creepy elegance of the tomb of Abelard and Heloise at Pere Lachaise Cemetery...

Then there are the smells of Paris, the perfume scents on the street outside Le Labo, the vanilla-chocolate scent of the chocolate cosmos flowers in the Luxembourg Gardens, the roasted aroma of espresso and the clinging burn smell of cigarette smoke outside of La Brasserie de l'Isle Saint Louis, the yeasty smell of the sourdough loaves at Poilâne at 8 Rue du Cherche Midi, the sometimes unpleasant smells in the Cardinal Lemoine Metro station, the earthy clean crisp fragrance of a walk in the rain on the elevated La Coulée Verte, the heady bouquet as you put your nose in a glass of Domaine La Monardiere Vacqueyras at Juveniles Bistrot A Vins, the sweet aroma of the La Mara des Bois strawberries and the anise fragrance of fresh fennel at the Marche Maubert. the old book smell at Shakespeare and Company, the funky aroma of the Ferme de la Tremblaye Camembert and other cheeses at Androuet Verneuil. Paris is loaded with all kinds of smells.

Aromas of food lead right into the sense of taste, the flakey buttery flavor of the Pain au Chocolat with 2 pieces of Valrhona chocolate at Boulangerie St. Louis, the sweet, sour, bitter notes of the Tarte Paradis at Pierre Herme. There is also the earthy flavors of the Cote d'Agneau at Chez Denise, the nutty brown butter and lemon notes of Sole Meuniere at Chez George, the pungent lushness of the Pont-Eveque cheese from the old man at Fromager B. Lafranc, the tender sweetness of the Cote du Boeuf at Severo with the frites cooked in duck fat, the savory minerality of the Domaine Auguste Clape Cornas at Willi's Wine Bar, the lush richness of the Toast de Foie Gras de Canard at Le Comptoir, the salty ocean flavor of the Fines de Claires at Huitrerie Regis, the crisp and tender flavor of the Duck Confit at Polidor, the warm versus cold crunchiness of the Profiteroles at Cafe Constant where they provide a pitcher of additional warm dark chocolate sauce, the garlicky butter richness of the Escargot at La Rotisserie d'Argent, the spicy succulence of the Filet de Boeuf au Poivre with the Sarawak Peppercorn sauce at Bistrot Paul Bert. Of course there is simple taste of a croissant and a cafe creme early in the morning outside at Le Saint Regis, watching people walking by... I could go on for hours but this is making me hungry.

Then there are the things you hear, the street buskers on the bridge to Notre Dame, cafe chatter at Le Nemrod, the announcements in and on the Metro between the Saint Michel and Saint Placide stations, scooters buzzing and beeping on the Boulevard Saint-Germain, bicycle bells ringing on the Rue de Rennes, tour guide voices at the Louvre, traffic noise on the Champs-Élysées, the bells of Église Saint-Louis-en-l'Île clanging in the chill of early morning, the alternating low-high pitch of police sirens outside the open window of the apartment on the Rue Regis, the tinkling of the water in the Fontaine Saint-Sulpice, market vendors shouting at the Marche Raspail on Tuesday morning, the gentle lapping of the Seine as it flows by the green boxes of the Bouquinistes. There is the loud drunken refrain of a fan of Rick James' Super Freak at 2 am in the apartment next door to you that is also in the building next door so you can't go bang on his door. There is dining outside at the tiny bistro Lescure, listening to the French conversation of two beautiful local young ladies and one of their cell phones goes off with the very American Barry White song Can't Get Enough of Your Love Babe as the ringtone. There are a lot of distinctive Parisian sounds.

Then there are the tactile things, the things we actually feel, the uneven texture of the cobblestones on the Rue Mouffetard, the wetness of the water in the grand bassin in the Luxembourg Garden as you launch your toy sailboat, the feel of the fresh produce at the Marche d'Aligre, the feel of the pages of old books at the bouquinistes along the Seine across from Notre Dame, the feel of the cork as a wine is presented to you at Allard, the coldness of the metal rail as you descend into the Place Monge Metro station, the cool smooth feeling of the bronze The Burghers of Calais in the Musee Rodin gardens, the sense of awe you feel looking at Monet's Water Lilies at the Musee l'Orangerie, the "I could do that" feeling you get looking at Sonia Delaunay's Avec Moi Meme 1970.  

On my last trip things had changed, people die, chefs retire, businesses close for a number of reasons, buildings get remodeled or replaced, food and fashion trends come in and go out. Life goes on. It's a part of that "you can never go home" thing. Change is a part of life. Some people can't accept change. Life doesn't care. Change is going to happen whether you accept it or not. 

The way Paris handles the changes that come with the passage of time was best exemplified in the closing of the 2024 Summer Olympics, when Yseult took the stage at Stade de France and sang "My Way". 

"I've loved, I've laughed and cried

I've had my fill, my share of losing

And now, as tears subside

I find it all so amusing

To think I did all that

And may I say, not in a shy way

Oh, no, oh, no, not me

I did it my way "

Paris has always been unique. That uniqueness has attracted artist, writers, firebrands, musicians and members of all the "Lost Generations". Paris is a very personal city, so full of treasures everyone finds something they love. It is hard to determine which was Paris' Golden Age. Was it the Belle Epoch, the Roaring Twenties, the Renaissance? There have been so many. 

Throughout it all, Paris has always done it her way. The city that has been at the forefront of fashion, food, art, urbanism and cultural influence has always done it in her unique way. That is a good thing.  

Just like Cole Porter, I Love Paris. Paris was a part of the many experiences that have shaped me into the cook and person I am today. It is not the Paris of today that did that, but more the Paris of my first 2 trips. Those trips provide me with the memories I cherish. These memories are a feast that I move around with me. Hemingway was right, "Paris is a moveable feast".  

 

     

Sushi On A Cracker

I have dealt with the public pretty much my whole life. I have waited on tables, tended bar, served as a host in restaurants, cooked in restaurants, owned restaurants, sold wine and liquor products in wholesale and retail environments, taught courses on wine and liquor and taken people on trips to wine growing regions and wineries. Of course I have also moved about in day to day living for almost 75 years.

After my first year out in the working world, I refused to let anything surprize me as to what people will say or do. I have found people to be entertaining, exasperating, endearing, confusing, mean, lovable, pretentious, skeptical, indifferent, inquisitive, conservative, liberal, informed, misinformed, ignorant, knowledgeable, quiet, vocal, introverted, extroverted, altruistic, greedy, opinionated, unbiased, and deceitful. They have said and done just about anything you can imagine and some things you can't. A lot of the negative traits come from overinflated senses of entitlement.   

I have always tried to remember the advice of my first real girlfriend, who is now my wife. She said, "Don't lose your sense of humor. Life sucks without a sense of humor." She was absolutely right. It's difficult sometimes because there are some people who will try your patience. For the most part people are entertaining and good natured, some delightful. 

That is the case with a group of "Florida Crackers" I met one evening. I don't use the term "Florida Cracker" as a derogatory term but as a descriptive one. It is a historical term referring to early settlers and cowboys in Florida. They used whips to drive cattle and the sound of the whip cracking is the origin of that name.  

After I retired from the wine business, Sally and I opened a restaurant called the Crazy Conch Cafe in Tierra Verde, Florida. At Christmas time in 2008 we did a holiday party for a group of 40 employees of one of our good customers. His company had a great year. It was because of the hard work of these employees. He wanted to thank them. In addition to their yearly bonuses, he wanted to do something special.

The Crazy Conch was on an island in the mouth of Tampa Bay. We specialized in seafood and contemporary American cuisine. We had a great view of the Gulf of Mexico and beautiful sunsets. We weren't the most expensive restaurant in our area but we weren't the least expensive either.  

Our customer's business was inland. He manufactured steel products ie. large stainless steel tanks, pressure vessels, rolled steel piping, steel stacks... Well you get the idea. It was a highly specialized product requiring highly specialized labor. His people were paid quite well, but they lived in the central part of the state, mostly rural areas. Their idea of a shit kicking good time and their boss' idea of a shit kicking good time probably were not the same. 

Nevertheless, their boss chose our restaurant for this party and I worked with his engaging assistant to finalize the menu. We determined that a hour long cocktail session would give everyone time to get there and enjoy themselves before the sit-down dinner. During this hour we would pass hors d'oeuvres. One of the items was Ahi Tuna Tartare. It was a favorite of the customer.

The group appeared to be the middle and upper management of this company with their wives or girlfriends. The majority of this group fell into the Florida Cracker description. They had the captivating accent and mannerisms of folks from Central Florida. Florida ranks 9th in the nation in beef cattle production and a few were dressed as if that might be their second job. Anyone who has been in a Tony Lama shop can tell you those boots, hats, and belts are not cheap. In fact they are quite expensive. A few of these gentlemen were showing off. 

The Ahi Tuna Tartare hor d'oeuvre was raw diced tuna tossed in a sauce of soy, sesame oil and rice wine vinegar, topped with avocado and cilantro served on a deep fried corn chip. When the tray got around to one group of the partygoers, one of the men balked at the raw tuna and asked, "What is this?" Before the server could explain, one of his buddies said, "Don't worry man. It's sushi on a cracker." 

The server and the others in his group cracked up, as no one had heard raw tuna described quite like that before. The gentleman definitely put it in terms his buddy could understand. Technically sushi is the Japanese word to describe the vinegared rice that accompanies the raw fish, but there is no need to quibble over that. 

I had been dealing with fresh tuna since my first restaurant the Iron Gate House in Virginia Beach, Virginia. This was back in the the mid 1970's before raw fish, in the form of sushi, sashimi, poke and ceviche became commonplace in American restaurants. 

The tuna I bought and caught was Bluefin from the Atlantic off the Virginia Beach coast. In appearance it was bright red like beef. When cooked it turned white like the stuff that comes in the tins. Of course it tasted a lot better than the canned variety. I always cooked it through, like the rest of the local fish I served. I was completely ignorant as to the delights of raw or lightly seared fish. That would change, just like it did in the rest of the country in the late 70's and early 80's. 

I kept up on food trends through reading and travel. On a trip to New York City at Windows on the World restaurant, I encountered raw tuna for the first time. They had a sushi chef carving raw tuna at a station in the dining room. I tried it in sashimi form and liked it. On a trip to Hawaii, I encountered tuna poke. I tried that and liked it. Raw tuna would soon find a place on my menus. 

I am not, nor profess to be a sushi chef. They know far more than I ever will about fresh fish and how to serve it. The only fish I felt comfortable serving raw or nearly raw was tuna. I knew there were several fish that were unsafe to serve raw like Haddock, Pollock, Mahi-mahi and most freshwater fish. 

Sushi started in Japan as a way to preserve fish in fermented rice. The hand pressed vinegared rice with a slice of seafood on top version started in the 1820's in what is now Tokyo as a fast food for the merchant class. It evolved into the style we know today as a fresh and healthy food source. 

It came to the United States in the Little Tokyo section of Los Angeles in the mid 1960's for mainly Japanese businessmen. It soon attracted a wider clientele. 

The creation of the California Roll in the mid 1970's played a big role in popularizing sushi among Americans. This roll of avocado, cucumber and crab (most times imitation crab) was a more palatable introduction for most Americans. It allowed people a starting point and soon they were more adventuresome. They began trying the raw fish variety and liked it. 

Most sushi aficionados will tell you the key to sushi or any raw fish presentation is extraordinary freshness. The rockstars of sushi have the mystical ability to draw fresh fish from all corners of the globe. All it takes is a willingness to pay for it. It is not cheap.

Due to health concerns and growing demand 50 to 60 percent of all sushi in the United States is frozen at some point in its journey from the sea to your plate. It is extremely rare for a sushi restaurant to tell you that your fish has been frozen. 

In the United States the Food and Drug Administration's regulations stipulate that if fish is to be served raw, as sushi, sashimi, tartare, ceviche or poke, it must be frozen first to kill parasites. This freezing can be anywhere along the supply chain or at the restaurant itself. This makes it a regulation that is virtually impossible to enforce. In fact, the Food and Drug Administration does not do the enforcement. It leaves it to local health departments to do the enforcing. Tuna, a deep-sea fish with exceptionally clean flesh, is the only exception to this regulation.  

Due to seasonality and demand tuna is often frozen too. The American consumer does not want to hear that something is out of season, especially their toro tuna. 

The industry has greatly updated freezing techniques, including "superfreezing" fish at 70 degrees below zero almost before it's dead. It makes a product that is hard to tell from fresh. 

I'm not an expert on fish but I do know fishmongers and charter boat captains, so I know where to get expert advice. A few years ago one fishmonger turned me on to frozen ahi saku. Ahi is the Hawaiian word for yellowfin tuna. Its literal translation is fire, which is what happens to the fishing line when a yellowfin tuna hits, it catches fire. "Saku" is the Japanese word for block and it's that block of tuna you see your sushi chef using to make you sashimi or sushi. He may cut them himself from a tuna loin or he may buy them already cut.

I have caught yellowfin tuna in the Gulf of Mexico. I had the foresight to bring soy sauce and a bit of wasabi, so I have eaten raw tuna as fresh as it is possible to eat. I have also eaten "superfrozen" ahi saku tuna sold to me by my fish merchant. I can't tell the difference. I will tell you that at the price of fuel and the cost of wear and tear on a boat large enough to take you far enough out into the Gulf to catch yellowfin tuna, the frozen ahi saku tuna was a lot cheaper than the freshly caught Gulf yellowfin tuna. 

I have become quite a fan of the frozen ahi tuna saku form of yellowfin tuna. In the restaurants, I spent a lot of time finding a quality supplier of fresh fish. I always wanted the freshest fish possible. The trials and tribulations of finding a quality fresh fish supplier are another story. In my research online and talking with various suppliers and chefs, I found that quite a few top sushi temples in this country and Japan use frozen ahi tuna. I have never used frozen fish other than tuna, not grouper, snapper, salmon, mahi-mahi, pompano, redfish... None other than tuna. 

We typically serve the tuna as tartare, formed on a plate with diced avocado or in a cocktail glass on a bed of lettuce topped with an avocado cream with fresh tortilla chips. We also served it as a sort of Salade Nicoise, lightly seared and sliced with potatoes, haricots verts, olives, hard boiled eggs, tomatoes and vinaigrette dressing. 

In dealing with the public, I have had people complain about pretty much everything in all my restaurants, food, noise level, art on the walls, wine selection, other customers, bottled water, amount of liquor in their drinks, bread, you name it. Some people are never happy unless they are complaining about something. I never had anybody complain about the fish, including the tuna. Well, that's not true. One lady complained her Spicy Blackened Grouper was too spicy. One lady complained her Seafood Gumbo which has fish in it, had too much seafood. Go figure. 

Ahi Tuna Tartare AKA Sushi On A Cracker

1/2 - Cup Rice Wine Vinegar            1 - Tbsp. Wasabi Powder

   3 - Cups Soy Sauce                    1/4 - Cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil   

1/4 - Cup Sesame Oil                        Red Pepper Flakes  

   1 - Cup Chiffonade of Romaine    4 - Tbsp. Avocado Cream                

   8 - Corn Tortillas Quartered      16 - Oz. Diced Ahi Tuna                    Toasted Sesame Seeds

In deep fat fryer fry the tortillas quarters until golden brown, drain on paper towels and season with salt and pepper.   Keep warm.

Combine the vinegar, wasabi, soy sauce, olive oil, and sesame oil in a bowl and stir until well mixed. Refrigerate. It makes about a quart, more than you will need but it will keep in the refrigerator for about two weeks. It makes a great dipping sauce.

Using 4 large cocktail glasses place chiffonade of romaine in the bottom of each. In a bowl toss tuna with the sauce and red pepper flakes to taste.

Place tuna on top of romaine and sprinkle with sesame seeds. Place glasses on a salad plate with paper doily. Arrange chips around the base. Top the tuna with the avocado cream. Or forget the cocktail glasses and place the tuna directly on the chips without the romaine, top with the sesame seeds and a small bit of the avocado cream for Sushi On A Cracker.  

                                        Avocado Cream

6-8 Hass Avocados Pulp               ¼ - Cup Fresh Lime Juice            Salt and Pepper to taste               3 - Oz. Heavy Whipping Cream

In blender process all ingredients well. Cover with film wrap on surface until ready to use. Makes about half a quart of thick puree, more than you will need but it will keep for several days wrapped in the refrigerator. Great with corn chips instead of guacamole.