Merrimack Valley Magazine

Home for the Holidays – Nana’s Stuffing

November 13, 2021 by Dean Johnson

Area Chefs Share Seasonal Favorites

Traditions are big this time of year, and for many families they include getting together for big meals. Looking for a new wrinkle to those annual repasts? We convinced a few local chefs to share some seasonal and traditional favorites from their own tables.

Some people decide to learn traditional family recipes out of love, some out of respect. Jimi Gallant, executive chef for the Lupoli Companies as well as Andover’s new 34 Park, did it out of desperation.

“In my family, we call it ‘Nana’s Stuffing,’” he says. “And it was the only thing that mattered in terms of food at our house on Thanksgiving. When my grandmother was alive, she made this Canadian pork stuffing that was so awesome that everyone kind of fought over it, and then as Nana got older she’d make less and less of it.

“Us grandkids got wiser with time and realized that it was the best thing on the table. So I took over, got her approval, rewired it a little, and now I make loads of it for everyone to fill up on during all the winter months.”

The stuffing has been a part of the Gallant family table “for as long as I can remember,” he says, and he has no trouble explaining the culinary alchemy behind traditional clan dishes like his Nana’s stuffing.

“When you’re growing up, there are just certain flavors that always stick with you … the bite or smell of it … that just makes you go back in time to simpler days,” Gallant says.

That treasured recipe follows, and you’ll notice that the amounts required for some of the ingredients are a little vague. Gallant likes it that way, in part because that’s the way people in his grandmother’s generation cooked. It was a handful of this, a pinch of that.

I always made a point of being within hearing range when my wife, a terrific cook, would try to work with her grandmother on a traditional Armenian dish.

The verbal abuse my wife suffered always made me giggle. “Not THAT kind of handful,” her grandmother would invariably shout. “THIS kind!” Or, “You call that a PINCH? Let me show you what a pinch really is!” One day she literally body slammed my wife away from the stove because she wasn’t properly sauteing the onions.

And my wife endured it all because she knew it was the only way to master those wonderful platters. In the spirit of that tradition, here is the Gallant family recipe:

NANA’S STUFFING

3 pounds ground pork shoulder
Butter
Olive oil
2 white sweet onions
Generous amount of Bell’s poultry seasoning
Ground allspice
Pinch of ground clove and nutmeg
Rich chicken stock
2 tablespoons thyme
2 tablespoons chopped sage
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
2 cups cooked potatoes, diced
2 sleeves of saltine crackers, crushed
Salt and pepper

Season the pork shoulder with salt and pepper. Saute in butter and olive oil with the white sweet onions, seasoned generously with Bell’s, ground allspice, and a pinch of ground clove and nutmeg. Cook until browned.

Add the rich chicken stock, just enough to cover the pork and onion mixture. Add 2 tablespoons each of thyme and chopped sage.

Add the Dijon mustard and diced potatoes, then the saltine crackers. Mix. Add the crushed crackers until the mixture is thick enough to stand up a spoon.

Transfer to a casserole dish and let it rest overnight. Reheat until warm throughout and browned on top.

Admit it, you want some right now!

34 Park
Andover, Mass.
(978) 409-2445
34Park.com

A View From the Kitchen – If You Don’t Have Anything Nice To Say …

November 12, 2021 by Scott Plath

“Kareem” apparently missed the memo.

It continually riles me to read pleading posts by my restaurant kin seeking understanding and patience as we struggle mightily, still, due to soaring costs and supply shortages — both in staffing and product — and the related tone deafness of many.

Right there on our brunch menu we provided the transparency to enlighten Kareem and anyone else. He gave us a one-star Google review anyway. Although such insult represents less than 2 percent of our online evaluations — nine in six years — they sting each time. “What a jerk” is my innate knee-jerk reaction preceding detailed contemplation of the circumstances and the auto-humble response. Generally.

From his perspective, he just stomped his spoiled feet at “Cobblestones,” the place of business. To us people who breathe restaurant (through masks for months), passionate about guest health and happiness, quality food and hospitality, it’s more personal. Kareem visited for our brunch relaunch after months of being closed. It’s possible he didn’t know that, or that the day before we were crushed by our busiest day in two years — a welcome-yet-harrowing Saturday of old, thanks to the return of downtown Lowell events and, oh by the way, hallelujah! The onslaught lasted day and night, depleting supply and staff — only three of whom have been with us more than a year, hence the commonplace: “We are rebuilding.” Do you have any idea how difficult this is? And at 50 percent of pre-pandemic sales? We barely hang on.

Kareem wouldn’t have known that due to a lack of drivers, our food delivery arrived too late for proper prep processes or that we considered postponing, but decided that offering a reduced menu was better than turning enthusiastic guests away. Once decided, the leadership team did a tired, late-night inventory to determine menu options, and early on Sunday we reformatted and reprinted just in time for opening. For all of that effort, we still got Kareemed!

Most people don’t know half of what we are bearing. I get that. And maybe Kareem had a rough morning, or life. Regardless, he gets no pass. He chose. I maintain that the vast majority of people who would submit such a review are suspect. Whether childish, bullies, the ignorant or without empathy, a nasty word exists for all of you free-speech posers who dole out “fair critiques” while hiding behind your screens, amplifying your stories. Walk a mile …

One more thing about Kareem: Did he experience smiling hospitality? Was his mimosa sparkling? We will never know, he didn’t say. What set Kareem off was limited options. Life is so unfair.

When I reported his discontent to our Stones Hospitality social media tribe (that’s right I did), they were supportive in their responses, as expected. They gave old keyboard Kareem the what-for! “Every straw poll has an outlier,” said one wise fan. Honestly, these days I seize every opportunity to share insight while seeking empathy and understanding for our industry.

Which brings me to Facebook.

Merrimack Valley Eats is a restaurant-review page started by a Haverhill- based foodie named Gerald Schiavoni and one that I frequent too often (in part due to Facebook’s biased algorithms). Early on, judging by the page’s great lean toward Haverhill-area restaurants, typical negative commentary and Gerald’s near-weekly good-natured appeal for folks to be respectful and proactive, I assumed that a majority of the snarky followers were his actual friends. I falsely figured that he was complicit while attempting to keep his homie hood-rats in check. After meeting him, I was embarrassed to see how wrong I was. He proved a warm and friendly brother-in-large — genuinely pained by the incessant trolling and ignorance. In fact, his page finally began selectively deleting and/or blocking those deemed offensive — to the annoyance of many a loudmouthed fan. I cannot tell you how much this tickles me. “Start your own page,” his administrators encouraged. “Join the Yelp community,” they mocked. Let the foul abuse and amuse each other elsewhere in their common “honest” misery and mean-spiritedness; this here page is intended for positivity and respect.

Here’s my thing: In one way or another, we have universally suffered this virus in the past year and a half, and it just bloody continues. One of our chefs lost both of his parents within 24 hours of each other while I was typing this column. Illness remains pervasive, evolving science and data frustrates and confuses, careers have been ruined, homelessness and inequity increases, our freedoms to do what we want, when we want, have been compromised — the list is endless. At all times, but especially at times like these, I believe we should be confident and courageous enough to reject further disorder, to seek greater understanding and societal healing, while lifting others up. It blows my mind that this is so hard for so many.

Scott Plath, along with his wife Kathleen, owns Cobblestones of Lowell, moonstones, in Chelmsford, Mass., and Stones Social in Nashua, New Hampshire. Scott possesses a deep well of humorous and insightful stories, which are available here. >>>

Good Eats – Sahel Restaurant & Lounge

November 4, 2021 by Emilie-Noelle Provost

My husband, Rob, and I haven’t gone out to dinner much over the last 18 months. Although we used to dine out frequently, we became accustomed to cooking at home during the COVID-19 lockdown. When we have eaten out, it’s almost always been at a place we’ve enjoyed in the past. So, when I was asked to review Sahel Restaurant & Lounge, an Afro Caribbean establishment in Lowell that opened in September, I was a bit nervous, especially because I was unfamiliar with the cuisine. I didn’t know what to expect, and was concerned that I wouldn’t like it.

I’m happy to report that this didn’t happen. Sahel, located on Central Street in a space formerly occupied by a Latin nightclub, was a breath of
fresh air.

The first thing you notice about Sahel is its attractive design. The large, open dining area’s clean lines complement a neat arrangement of cloth-covered tables. The bright colors of the hand-painted murals in the foyer and above the bar pop against the restaurant’s light walls, infusing the space with an upbeat, inviting vibe.

Sahel’s staff was welcoming and friendly. The host and our waiter were enthusiastic about providing information about dishes on the menu that were unfamiliar to us, which was more or less all of them.

The restaurant has a liquor license, but hadn’t yet received it when we were there, so we decided to try their homemade, nonalcoholic ginger beer. It was delicious, packing a pleasant punch of fresh ginger without being overly sweet. We each enjoyed two glasses of it.

Our meal started with complimentary salads, small plates of fresh field greens accented with dried cranberries and tossed in Sahel’s house vinaigrette. This was a tasty and pleasant surprise, but I thought it would have been helpful for Sahel to let diners know ahead of time that this salad was included, in case you were considering one of the four entree salads on the menu.

We ordered the suya chicken for an appetizer. These traditional West African kebabs are coated in a piquant spice mix and served with fresh cucumbers and tomatoes to help mitigate the heat. These were also quite good, and I liked that they weren’t too heavy.

For our main meal, Rob tried the ndole, a Cameroonian peanut stew made with spinach, bitter greens, shrimp and garlic. For sides, he ordered sweet plantains and jollof rice, a tomato-based dish that reminded me of Spanish rice. The flavor combinations were new to us, but everything was fresh and tasted great. The portions were large, so be prepared to take home leftovers if you order this item.

I opted for the red bean and butternut squash stew, a vegetarian offering popular in the Caribbean that also contained cauliflower in an herb-infused coconut sauce. The stew had a strong, fragrant coconut flavor, but was very different from Asian dishes I’ve tried that used coconut as a main ingredient. I appreciated that it was more savory than sweet, which can be a problem in some dishes that call for butternut squash. I also liked the fact that it was nutritious and healthy, as so many restaurant meals are not.

We were quite full after our entrees, but decided anyway to share an order of bread pudding for dessert. According to our waiter, this treat is one of the chef’s specialties. Served warm, the bread pudding wasn’t too sweet, and had subtle hints of warm spices. The dessert’s sweetness came from its homemade strawberry topping and the pool of warm chocolate sauce on the bottom of the plate. The portion size was reasonable, providing a pleasant few bites for each of us.

Sahel seemed to still be working out some lingering kinks in its operation. Our appetizer, for example, came to the table at the same time as our entrees. And the boxes we were given for our leftovers had incorrectly sized lids, an issue that was quickly remedied after we flagged down our waiter.

All in all, we had a good experience at Sahel. The food is fresh, healthy and made with a lot of attention to detail. I’d love to go back and try some of the other dishes on the menu.

Sahel Restaurant & Lounge
Lowell, Mass.
(978) 455-3635
SahelRestaurantLounge.com

A View From the Kitchen – Pizza Confidential

October 27, 2021 by Scott Plath

… and Other Tales of Midflight Plane Assembly

At our “baby” restaurant, Stones #1 Social, I was sitting upon my favorite barstool equidistant between our drink mixers and their counterpart dough stretchers.

Within a 20-foot span, our tight team of four works together but separate — an operational ideal inspired by an iconic Chicago restaurant, Au Cheval. Only two nights earlier, while sipping on a seltzer, I listened as the bartenders discussed the preciseness of ingredient measures. The effective balancing of an artichoke-based liquor, Cynar, is not to be taken for granted. There was agreement that short of enough lemon, the drink borders on unpleasant. Use artichoke in a cocktail at your own risk.

On this night, same stool and likewise within earshot of the two chefs’ conversation, I heard “… grams …” and grew immediately eavesdroppy. “Wait, grams, what?”

They were brainstorming the new Throwback Thursdays pizza promotion — and challenges presented by my strategy to wait eight months before utilizing our wood-fired hearth to discover our pizza power. More on that later.

I recalled the expression “building the plane while flying it” as the head chef claimed to have adjusted the dough recipe yet again, “… 600 grams of flour.” The younger, co-fantastic Chef AJ was intrigued. “And how many grams of yeast?” They continued: grams of water, the higher humidity in the past few days, mixing, proofing, kneading — all the challenges to creating the “perfect” crust. More on that later, too.

During the previous (extremely cold) week, six weeks into the ongoing development of this new initiative, they had achieved what I have always defined as “the eureka moment” — the peak at which a developing recipe yields the elusive ideal and a composing chef believes the dish could not be any better. Rarely are the great ones truly satisfied — and, I contend, thusly linked.

On this occasion, their consensus standard was a medium-to-high (puffy) rise, medium char, light-to-medium chew (gluten); the reward of weeks of tweaks. The satisfaction of their triumph was short-lived as yet another variable was introduced. We ran out of dough. The promotion’s popularity was rising weekly, now challenging the goal of having enough but not too much — one of the many doctrines of a successful restaurant. It was now required that we increase the recipe, and frustratingly, maintaining the ratio between flour, water and yeast does not produce consistent results. Balancing the science with the art form is an omnipresent condition in our environment, but one thing is certain: When consistency is the goal — and in my book, it is king — being precise in measurement is essential, and weighted measure yields the best science. For hard-core clarity, it is worthy to note that there are 28-plus grams to an ounce, and hence, “my guys” were talking grams. They were resolute in reestablishing the perfection attained a week earlier.

There were multiple reasons why we chose to postpone pizza when we opened last June. Aside from the uniqueness of the brand we sought to initially nail, I had also sought to minimize the pressure of direct comparison to the previous restaurant at this site, the incredibly talented chef-owner having been a friend who has since passed away. Not ironically, his emerging vision of “the best” while he was running our first two restaurant kitchens years earlier inspired a road trip to pizza mecca New York City. On the Lower East Side of Manhattan, we found South Brooklyn Pizza — an outpost of a celebrated pizza maker from, you guessed it, Brooklyn. It was here that Chef Rob discovered the wood-fired nirvana he pursued, and what a treat it was to watch him! Each bite, poker-faced concentration while chewing purposefully. With large hands, he tore the crust gently, pulling side to side, turning it in his hand. He raised the crust to his nose, inhaling the smoky-sweet essence of fire, sugar, yeast — next inspecting the crumb (air bubble) ratio of the bitten dough, pinching the crust between doughy fingers. The standing-room-only counter was his laboratory, a paper plate his worktable.

After that weekend, we returned to work and ultimately he moved on. He would eventually open PigTale and, as expected, the restaurant was incredible while it lasted — the pizza as good as what we had sampled together.

Ask 10 people what makes pizza great and you are likely to get 10 different answers, often inspired by regional nostalgia. There is a funny saying that “Pizza is like sex. Even when it’s bad its good.” I get it. I have been high in my life devouring pizza bagels with dorm mates in closed-eyes paradise. But I have sayings of my own. As much as it deserves love, “English muffin pizza is not pizza.” Also, “Frozen pizza is not pizza.” Then there’s, “Cracker-crispy-crust pizza is not pizza,” and my Bart Simpsonish go-to, “That pizza sucks.” To my way of thinking, chicken parmigiana is a lot more like sex. When it comes to bad pizza, this snob is prone to abstinence.

A View From the Kitchen – Let The Good Times Roll

September 10, 2021 by Scott Plath

“Let’s bring back the fun,” encouraged our newest director of operations, rallying staff days after our restaurant group’s annual outing. Opening on a Monday just for us, the staff of Tyngsborough’s Shoreline Beach Club watched in amusement as we engaged in gourmet Jell-O shots (the epitome of an oxymoron), Stoner’s rum punch, Cards Against Humanity, and watching team members tip over in their kayaks! It was a great time and, likewise, a proper prelude to the director guiding our group’s future fortunes as we turn the focus upon our new social-themed restaurant; inspiring fun being a key component of our vision. I am so ready. His predecessor, like many, succumbed to attrition-by-pandemic as we essentially took “a gap year.” Where some see setback, we see opportunity. This guy is great.

As he spoke of our industry’s passion and all the ways we bring the “feel good” — words from my own heart — he suggested tongue in cheek that we design a new, politically incorrect company tee shirt: “F&#K It!” boldly pronouncing our intention to cease playing scared. My mind began to wander, recalling endless inspirations (and notes!) of my restaurant heroes — those who create ultimate success measured by full tables and defying the odds by continuing to feed body and soul for the long term.

Amused by my industry’s sense of humor, I read through pages of my collected notes leading to our recent opening: “Duck in a jar,” “House Spam and PBR breakfast,” “Hanging monkeys,” “Kama Sutra wallpaper in the bathroom,” and “Half-keg urinals.” And, also by our commitment to community: “Hometown heroes,” “A portion of the proceeds…” and “Parking for older persons only.”

I love how the owners of Westford’s Korean-inspired Seoul Kitchen recruited other restaurants in feeding the hungry, and how they gave away fruit and toilet paper during the pandemic. And how at New York City’s Mighty Quinn’s, guests queue for their barbecue beginning at windows to the butcher’s room, allowing a peek at the messy work prior to the sexiness of smoke, sauce and smiles — our kitchen people are too often taken for granted.

Years ago, I fell in love with Chicago’s Au Cheval burger; yes, their double-patty-double-melting-sharp-American cheese with oozing Dijonnaise and chopped pickle goodness, and yes, I took copious notes. (I even brought a burger home to be analyzed by our chef … “imitation is the highest form of flattery”); but also, their diner-come-tavern feel and the perfection of comfort food with a DJ as backdrop. Fried baloney and Beyoncé … how fun! Most of all, I love how the bartenders and cooks share the same space, harmoniously handling the room as one. Good luck getting in.

More recently (and more love notes), my heart belonged to Bar Tulia in Naples, Florida. I ‘jones’ to be sitting at their bar for the smell of the woodfire, watching pizza dude tucked into the corner alternatively stretching dough and skillfully spinning those pies to achieve perfect char, while also supporting the bartenders hustling mere feet away, shaking two mixing cups overhead. Regularly smile-winking at guests, they deftly avoid the conversations that will slow their roll. Low lights and happy hip-hop, the boldness of playful black and white nudes along the walls, crispy pig ears served in a jar. At Bar Tulia, I feel things.

At Boston’s dimly lit Toro, I love how the tables and chairs are set so close together — like those in the dark, smoky comedy clubs of old — elbow to elbow, emotions stirred, the tickling of humanity’s funny bone before delicious mezcal cocktails and messy street corn. Sign me up!

I love how we love to burn stuff (but not trays of bacon, I hate that). Smoldering wooden boards complement whiskey drinks, creme bruleed sugar for that cotton candy smell, and how at Manhattan’s now-closed Desnuda, when you ordered the “tea smoked oysters,” the bartender lifted a giant gravity bong onto the bar top and sparked the bowl with, hmm, something that smelled vaguely familiar.

I love the ways we inspire warm and fuzzy feelings. How Starbucks plays music that pays cultural homage to the beans’ origins, how the queer-owned Seaweeds on Martha’s Vineyard seeks a welcoming, safe haven by stating on their menu “no space for hate,” and how when visiting Jacques-Imo’s in New Orleans we are led by the host right through the center of the kitchen (“Hey Chef!”) on the way to the rear dining porch for amazing Creole soul food. Similarly, when last visiting taverns in Great Britain, “us locals” went up to the bar to order our Sunday roast and get our own waters, taking part in the practices of a communal environment before sitting back to hoist a few with “our” neighborhood.

We are excited to put the last year in the rearview, poised to put the pedal to the metal and get back to it. Dear all you surviving restaurant brethren, with sincere thanks and love, good luck to you all. As our new director says: “It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”