After being in business for more than 25 years, we've certainly made a lot of friends, and we like to think that we've touched a lot of lives.  But part of the joy of this business, for all its challenges, is that we get a lot of love in return -- and no small part of that love has, over the years, has come from the people who work for us.  Recently, one of those people left us forever.  Calvina Coolidge Serwon passed away on November 18 in Meridian at the age of 85.

"Callie" worked for The Brick Oven Bistro as our "greeter" from 1995 to 2002.  She was the first face that our customers saw when they walked through the door -- and it was a face that always had a smile on it.  Her trademark outfit was her blue shirt and hat -- but the most memorable thing about Callie was her sheer love of life.  While she was old enough to have been the grandmother of most if not all of our staff, her attitude was a quiet example of the work ethic that characterized "the Greatest Generation".  I think the source of her energy and joy was best expressed by one of her favorite sayings: "Life is difficult enough...we might as well be good to each other."

Callie, you were more than good to us, and your life was a reminder that our real task in this world, as you always said, is to be good to each other.  Our jobs are just one context in which we have the opportunity to fulfill that mission, and we thank you for the example you set for us on how do go about doing that.  

If you'd like to learn more about Callie's life, you can click here to go to her obituary in the Idaho Statesman. 

Friday, December 04, 2009 7:09:19 AM (Mountain Standard Time, UTC-07:00)    Comments [0] 

As a purveyor of new adventures in comfort food, we'd have to do some heavy penance if we failed to offer pot pie on our menu.  I mean, how much more "comfort food" can you get than a meaty pot pie, right?  

We do find, however, that some confusion arises among all but the true pot pie connoisseurs when it comes to distinguishing between the "Hunter" and "Shepard" variations on the pot pie theme.  It is, therefore, in the interests of offering a public service that we take a moment to clarify the difference -- a difference that hinges the preference between beer and wine.

Let's start with hunters, why don't we?  Here in America, we take it for granted that hunters like them some beers.  Our Hunter's Pot Pie, however, has an Old World origin that owes its culinary pedigree more to the Burgundy region of France than to the mountains and woods of America.  Our Hunters' Pot Pie is therefore prepared much like a traditional beef bourguignon, and with a noticeable flavoring of mint accompanying the burgundy.

Now, with regards to Shepards, we have a much different take on pot pie.  Think of the plight of the lonely shepard, guarding against the depredations of wolf packs crossing the Canadian border to prey on his flocks and, no doubt, take advantage of our health care system. What better way to while away those tedious hours than with a brewski or two?  In tribute to these stalwarts, therefore, we add beer to a chicken-based roue.  Our Shepard's Pot Pie has less meat than its Hunter cousin, but with a few beers to accompany it, who the heck is keeping score?

In the case of both pot pie versions, we serve them with our very own fresh baked puff pastry.  And speaking of which, we've just added a new item to our menu that you pot pie lovers are going to find very intriguing: our Paradise Pork Stew.  Given our penchant for poring over cook books, we recently ran across a recipe that combines potatoes, apple cider, apricots...and ingredients that we can't divulge in the interests of intellectual property protection.  Of course, you're free to take a bite and guess all you want.

Sunday, November 22, 2009 10:19:59 PM (Mountain Standard Time, UTC-07:00)    Comments [0] 

Whatever season you consider to be "yours", even the most ardent lover of Summer reaches a point when the cool breezes and falling leaves of Autumn look mighty appealing.  But then, the next think you know, you're shoveling snow off the driveway in attire that would normally be associated with heading off to the Eastern Front.

Those days, my friends, are close at hand...but before they arrive, we thought we'd share a last glimpse of The Ghost of Solstice Past:a typical summer day on the Brick Oven Bistro patio.

But even as you hunker down with your Snuggly and a good book, don't forget that we'll be busy in the Brick Oven Bistro kitchen on some steamy cauldrons of homemade soups and stews.  And then, of course, there are our salads and quiches to consider.  

Just as every season has its pros and cons, so too does every season have foods that heighten its pleasures and soothe its aggravations.  We'll keep you supplied with both as winter draws nigh, and days grow shorter.  

Thursday, November 05, 2009 4:31:26 PM (Mountain Standard Time, UTC-07:00)    Comments [0] 

Our crawfish etouffee is NOT an acquired taste.  As we used to say about the Grateful Dead, "you're either on the bus or you're off the bus."  When it comes to crawfish etouffee, if you don't "get it" with the first spoonful, you sure as heck won't get it with the second...or third.

It's because of our deep respect for you, those of you on the crawfish etouffee bus, that we write this blog.  We have something important to tell you -- but first you need to get yourself a glass of wine, sit down, and take a deep breath.

We've altered the crawfish etouffee recipe.  We'll now give you a few moments to fully absorb the impact of this statement.  Have you finished hyperventilating?  If so, let us explain.   

Ever since we added crawfish etouffe to the Brick Oven Bistro menu, we've been making it with a lobster base.  It was the very best lobster base we could find, but let's face it, when it come to access to lobster, we're at a bit of a disadvantage here in the City of Trees. It appears, for starters, that we've pretty much fished out the native lobster population from the Boise River.  But not long ago we found a source for something that will forever change our crawfish etouffee: lobster bodies.

I know it sounds a bit ghoulish, but when sitting down to a celebratory meal of lobster tails, haven't you ever been the least bit curious about what happened to the rest of the crustacean?  The answer is that some enterprising producers have been quick freezing the bodies and sending them to the Brick Oven Bistro (alright, I'm sure others are buying them as well, but they can write their own blogs).  In place of lobster base, we are now using lobster bodies to make the stock for our crawfish etouffee.  

Why are we doing this?  For starters, we just don't believe that "great" is good enough if you can up the culinary ante.  Making our soup base with lobster bodies gives our crawfish etouffee a much greater intensity and richness.  Besides, we have continually lusted after the taste of etouffee that we cultivated at our favorite source in Houston, Texas (we'll be happy to divulge the name if you're interested).  We're not quite there...but we're getting close.  For now, we're going to leave judgement of our efforts to you...you etouffee elite, you crawfish cognoscenti, you cravers of cajun.  Let us know how we're doing, and we'll keep you posted on when we have crawfish etouffee on the menu.  

In the meantime, we do need to issue an advisory: if the thought of dredging up large chunks of crawfish with every spoonful of etouffee is disturbing to you, it might be best if you stuck with the Bistro Club sandwich next time you're here.

Saturday, October 17, 2009 7:44:38 PM (Mountain Daylight Time, UTC-06:00)    Comments [0] 

You never know where a culinary inspiration is going to come from…or just how it might influence what you do in the kitchen.

Take our soup for this week, coq a vin.  Those of you familiar with this particular French dish know that more than your taste buds get into the mix when you bring a spoonful up to your mouth.  Your olfactory sense is bathed in the Burgundy wine that is a key ingredient in the soup base, and that flavor and its accompanying aroma coat your throat and your sinuses as your taste buds begin to pick up on the chicken, bacon, mushrooms and onions in the broth.  As Dylan would say, “something’s going on here, but you don’t know what it is, do you, Mr. Jones.”

So, just what is that something?  The answer, oddly enough, comes not only from France, but also from Japan. Permit us to explain.

As far back as the ancient Greek philosophers, the conventional gastronomical and anatomical wisdom was that humans could detect four distinct tastes: sweet, sour, salty, and bitter.  Even as medical science evolved, the belief continued that our receptors were limited to these four tastes.

It took legendary French chef Auguste Escoffier, and his creation of veal stock in the late 1800s, to prove that we humans could taste an indefinable deliciousness that scientists at the time simply concluded was all in our heads.  Halfway around the world, however, a Japanese chemist named Kikunae Ikeda proved that this taste was, in fact, related to a previously undiscovered receptor.  This “fifth taste” was given the name umami – Japanese for (appropriately enough), “yummy”.  The dish that inspired Ikeda’s research was the classic Japanese soup made from seaweed, dashi.   

Umami is, in fact, L-glutamate.  Quoting from a recent National Public Radio story, “L-glutamate is found in most living things, but when they die, when organic matter breaks down, the glutamate molecule breaks apart. This can happen on a stove when you cook meat, over time when you age a parmesan cheese, by fermentation as in soy sauce or under the sun as a tomato ripens. When glutamate becomes L-glutamate, that's when things get ‘delicious.’ L-glutamate, said Ikeda, is a fifth taste. When Escoffier created veal stock, he was concentrating umami. When Japanese made their dashi, they were doing the same thing.”

So now you know an interesting piece of culinary and scientific trivia.  But more than that, we’ve just given you some insight into how we do what we do in the Brick Oven Bistro kitchen when we make a soup like our coq a vin.  Next time you take a bite, you might want to observe a moment of silent praise for Auguste Escoffier and Kikunae Ikeda.  Then impress your fellow diners with the statement, “this soup tastes absolutely umami!” 

Thursday, October 01, 2009 10:50:00 PM (Mountain Daylight Time, UTC-06:00)    Comments [0]