The Endive Chronicles

For me, making stock is not a recipe, but more like “guidelines”. Each time I make it there is a different result depending on my mood. Today I am making ham stock with peppercorns, carrots and onion; it smells fabulous. I expect Phil will come floating in from work like a Looney Tunes character hypnotized by the intoxicating cloud my stock pot exudes. Some of you may be curious to know where all of my aromatics are. The truth is that with the exception of the pepper I just wasn’t in the mood for all of the extras. The ham bone is so full of flavor and depth that it doesn’t require much altering.

There are many stock purists out there who will tell you that unless you have prepped your classical mirepox and bundled your bouquet garni that you are not really making a stock. To each their own perhaps, but I really think they are missing out on the creative nature of cuisine. What could possibly be better as a base for avgolemono soup than a chicken or vegetarian stock flavored with fennel and onions with a bundle of dill and parsley thrown in for good measure. My cider roasted chicken yielded a beautiful stock subtly flavored with thyme and cider perfect for a delicately flavored vegetable soup or to add a layer of flavor to a roasted turnip and potato mash.

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This week I am going to do something I don’t normally do. I am going to share my feelings with you on a restaurant I happen to love. There is a debate raging out there between newspaper reviewers and bloggers over who’s review is more valid, it is a debate I don’t care to enter. What I will say is that I will only share something with you if it is something I find truly delightful and consistently good. Since July I have been to Txori six times, eaten about90% of the menu, several specials, a few of their creative cocktails and experienced five of the impeccable yet laid back servers. So, after all of this “research” I feel comfortable writing this weeks post.

Discovering Txori

I was slightly lost while strolling down Second Avenue one hot July afternoon contemplating my growling tum and wondering how the I could have missed my destination, when I came upon a sandwich board in the middle of the sidewalk pointing me to my destination. I followed the arrow and found a tiny bar that looked as though it had been plucked from some cobbled passage in Madrid and placed in this blink and you’ll miss it location in Seattle. I had first read about Txori on the local blog Culinary Fool a few days before and I had been eagerly awaiting this moment.

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I rose the other morning to walk my dog and trudged out to the street in a sleepy haze I noticed a gentle rain brushing against my face. I looked up through the trees at the sky and stood enthralled by it’s greyness against the fluttering green leaves of the old oaks. In my ears, Chopin’s Prelude in A major, Op 28, No 7 provided the theme for this peaceful, contented morning. I put the quiet Chopin on repeat and took in the morning as I have not in months or perhaps years.

Fall has arrived.

The night before I had taken a gamble that we would have roasting weather and marinated my chicken. I was pleased and relieved when the morning revealed my gamble had paid off. I have been wanting to test this recipe for a long time and as it is not exactly a meal for summer; it has been a painful wait.

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