I try to visit a new “splurge” restaurant about once a season. It’s a great way to connect with the changes in local ingredients and celebrate the year in food and drink. But now, having been to Gravitas, a modern American restaurant in Ivy City, I think I might have to change my routine and go only here. Helmed by Matt Baker, Gravitas’s exceptional team consistently creates new, inspiring, and refined menus that have me eagerly awaiting my next meal.

The cuisine at Gravitas focuses on ingredients from the Chesapeake watershed. This means a lot of seafood, like tuna and oysters, but also locally raised meat and vegetables. Recently, I’ve been wowed by their oxtail porridge with black truffles and parsnips, perfect for early fall. The oxtail is served with its braising liquid, and it’s incredibly juicy and pulls apart easily. The oat porridge is arranged around the oxtail centerpiece and the parsnips are on top and have a touch of earthy sweetness.

I always love going to Little Serow on a night off. It serves up Northern Thai specialties, and I think it’s consistently one of the best places to eat in the city, hands down. It’s just great, straightforward cooking. The dining room is small, no frills, but cozy and inviting. It’s generally always busy. It’s pretty dark in there but every time I’ve been, I’ve seen another chef or another industry person. There really isn’t anything else like it in DC.

The dining experience itself is also very unique: you never know what you’re going to get, because they only serve a pre-set, rotating menu; the food is super spicy; and they don’t make any special accommodations. I am a huge fan of the Golden Mermaid Menu, which is a fish- and shellfish-based menu that they do several times a year. It’s different every time they do it, but last time I had this crazy fried fish; it was a whole fish with Southeast Asian-style flavors—fish sauce, chilies, that kind of thing. Before heading over, do note that the restaurant is closed on Sundays and Mondays.

Most recipes call for boiling the root whole before cutting it into batons and frying them. I wondered what would happen if I cut first then boiled.

Here’s what I saw:
You can tell right away that the boiled-then-cut baton on the left is unevenly cooked. It has a creamy, gelatinized side (the side that was on the exterior), and a fluffy, starchy side. The baton that was cut-then-boiled was more uniform.

Which would fry up into a better chip?
I fried them both in 350°F peanut oil until crisp.

Again, you can see the difference. The boiled-then-cut chip on the left is smoother, with fewer crags and nooks in its surface, than the cut-then-boiled chip on the right. Biting into them revealed that the one of the right had not only far more crunch, but a much better creamy center. The one of the left was tender, but left a powdery, dry aftertaste in my mouth.

Pollo a la Brasa (Roasted Chicken)
Perhaps the most well-known Peruvian food in the US due to the many take-out Peruvian chicken rotisserie joints around (see our roundup of DC’s best). A whole chicken is marinated in a powerful combination of garlic, herbs, and spices before roasting on a spit, giving the bronzed, crispy skin an addictively exotic and earthy taste. Perhaps even more beloved than the chicken itself is the green huacatay (Peruvian black mint) sauce served next to it: every chicken comes with it, though the recipe often varies and is a closely-guarded secret. For some it’s a creamy melange of the mint with cilantro, garlic and chili in a mayo base that Peruvians (and everyone else) goes crazy for. If you can’t make it to Peru, this is definitely a classic worth making on your own. Those cubes are often served on skewers with sliced onion or potato, and drizzled with lime, which makes them popular appetizers and even more popular street food throughout the country. Today, cooks make anticuchos out of any cut of beef, and even chicken, but nothing beats the original cardiovascular version.

Sauvignon Blanc
If you’ve had just one wine from New Zealand, it probably was a Sauvignon Blanc. The grape makes up a mind-boggling 72% of wine production in New Zealand.

Most Sauvignon Blanc is like a friendly puppy—bursting from the glass and ready to play. This is not a wine that makes you hunt for flavors and aromas—they are right up in front, ready to get noticed. New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc has the classic herbaceousness of the grape—you might taste a little bell pepper and jalapeño—combined with ripe fruit: think passion fruit and pink grapefruit. These wines are also often compared to gooseberries—small, green fruits that have a burst of tartness just like the wine.

For example, when we talk about white wine from Sancerre in France, we know it is Sauvignon Blanc without saying it. But in New Zealand, the rules are a little looser, and the grape name will be front and center. When you buy a bottle, you know that at least 85% of the wine is made in the year and from the grape on the label—but that’s about it.

Staring at the New Zealand section of your local wine shop, you’re likely to see a lot of Sauvignon Blanc and maybe a few wines over $25—and all of them have screw caps instead of corks. Sauvignon Blanc was a popular premiere, but the New Zealand wine industry has released its sophomore album, and it deserves hit status. Featuring Chardonnay, Pinot, Noir, and more, this small island nation’s wines are ready for you to take notice. Today we’ll introduce you to the area and the different types of wines you’ll find coming from New Zealand.

New Zealand is what what we call a ‘new world’ wine region. Old world wines come from places like France, Italy, Germany, and Spain. When you look at bottles from the Old World, you’re more likely to see a place—a country, a region, or a vineyard—than a grape variety on the label. This practice comes from a long tradition of focusing on place rather than grape—and very strict rules about what you’re allowed to grow where.

The New Zealand wine industry is still in its infancy compared to much of the rest of the wine world. While vines have been on the island for over 150 years, for most of that time the industry was stymied by a temperance movement and phylloxera (an insect that devastated vineyards all over the world in the 19th and 20th centuries). But in the last 15 years, New Zealand’s wine scene has exploded. Plantings of Sauvignon Blanc alone have increased almost five and a half times since 2002.

Since New Zealand is in the southern hemisphere, their harvest occurs six months earlier than it happens in vineyards in, say, California. So if you’re shopping in September, you may notice that they’re already selling this year’s wines!

Easy Access
It is very common to find wines from New Zealand sold with screwcaps, also known as Stelvin closures. In fact, about 95% of all New Zealand wine is sealed this way. Why would a producer shy away from cork? The answer is 2,4,6-trichloroanisole, or TCA for short. Often transferred to wine through cork closures, this compound imparts aromas and flavors of wet cardboard and musty basement. Not too appetizing, right? The screw cap closure ensures that winemakers aren’t literally pouring their hard work down the drain.

Along with Australia, New Zealand has been a leader in the adoption of screw caps for wines at all price points. Yep—even the fancy stuff from New Zealand will likely not require a corkscrew.

Don’t add whipped cream and fruit until you’re ready to serve.
If you have leftovers, pack the whole thing up in a tupperware and break up the large chunks of meringue. The next day you’ll have icebox cake.
Do you have any favorite pavlova combinations? Any meringue questions left unanswered? Let loose in the comments. Form a shallow crater in the center of the meringue when you put it on the baking sheet. It’ll puff up a little during baking, and the dip with higher sides will form a better cradle for your fruit.
Leave a couple inches breathing room on all sides of your pavlova for expansion in the oven. What do New Zealand wines taste like? For me, the common thread is a sense of freshness, whether you’re drinking a crisp Sauvignon Blanc or a powerful Cabernet Sauvignon blend. Most of the vineyards are never too far from the cooling effect of the ocean, preserving acidity in the wines—this brightness leaves you ready for more after each sip.

macerated kumquatsStill having trouble nailing down a pavlova that’s right for you? Here are some of my favorites:

Orange blossom-flavored meringue, chocolate whipped cream, blood orange segments, pomegranate molasses
Rose-flavored meringue with white wine vinegar, plain cream, red wine-soaked strawberries and macerated kumquats
Bourbon meringue, maple cream, sliced assorted plums
Apple cider vinegar meringue, sour cream whipped cream, cubed apples caramelized in butter
General Pavlova Tips and Tricks
As you make your pavlova, it’s worth keeping some basics in mind.

While making the meringue:

Line your baking sheet with parchment paper for easy meringue removal.
If your recipe calls for drawing an X-inch circle on your parchment to guide your meringue formation, don’t bother—presumably you have this circle thing figured out by the time you’re old enough to read blogs.
If you’re using a rimmed baking sheet, flip it upside down and bake the meringue on the other side. Then you can slide the meringue right on to a serving platter without any lip.

Open your oven door as little as possible. Temperature changes causes the meringue to crack, and letting cold air from outside the oven will do just that. If cracks happen, the meringue will still be tasty, but less pretty.
If the pavlova is starting to brown at all, reduce your oven temperature by 25 degrees. The ideal pavlova is totally pale, which usually means a gooey marshmallow interior.
Once your pavlova has finished baking, let it cool completely in the oven to avoid cracking. Ideally you’ll do this with the oven door completely closed, but if you’re in a hurry, bundle up a small wad of paper towel or aluminum foil to leave it slightly ajar.
After baking:

If your meringue cracked, that’s okay! You’re covering it with a quart of whipped cream and a pound of fruit anyway. Messy is delicious.
Let your meringue cool completely before topping. It can be made a day or two in advance if the air isn’t too humid.

Sauces and Toppings
All a pavlova really requires is meringue, cream, and fruit, but a little sauce goes a long way. In that strawberry-kumquat pavlova there’s a topping of red wine syrup made from simmering the strawberry soaking wine with the syrup from the macerated kumquats. But you can also opt for ready-made syrups like pomegranate molasses and balsamic vinegar: Their thick texture keeps them clinging to the top of the cream but their tartness lightens up the whole dessert. Syrups like these also give you another way to add tartness to the pavlova if your fruit is low in acidity.

Crunchy textures also keep pavlovas interesting, so think of adding things like pomegranate seeds, toasted nuts, and cracked-up candy brittle. Look for accents that compliment and contrast your fruit: almonds with apricots, pistachios with citrus, pomegranate with apples. I’ll give a special shout out to pomegranates as well: the jewel-like nubs are the perfect pavlova accent, both for their tartness and their crunchy texture.

The Fruit
Here’s where you really get to let loose. Berries are fine, but stone fruit, tart citrus, and cooked fruit are more interesting additions. Here’s my main guiding principle: Tartness and texture make the best pavlovas. One of my favorites is a dead-simple vanilla meringue with sweet whipped cream and ruby grapefruit segments. Pavlovas are sweet—there’s no way getting around that—and any possible tartness you can add will make them all the more appealing.

So in the fall I use plenty of late-season stone fruit like plums. In winter, it’s all about citrus—grapefruit and blood oranges especially—and cooked cranberries, too. Harder fruits like apples and pears are great when cubed and cooked in a little butter until just soft. And if you’re going for summer berries, consider ways to make them more interesting. The photo at the very top shows a pavlova with strawberries soaked in red wine and jumbled with macerated kumquats; the mix was tart, tannic, and only a little sweet.

Traditionally, pavlova is made with a French meringue (that is, one with sugar beaten into raw egg whites, then baked) that’s cooked in the oven for a long time, about an hour, at a very low temperature to dry it out. The exterior should be crisp and totally pale and the interior should have a fluffy, marshmallowy texture. The cooled meringue is then topped with whipped cream and fruit right before being served to your adoring fans. It’s light and sweet, and since it’s fruity, it feels a lot “healthier” than it really is.

Pavlovas can be portioned into single servings but can also be fashioned into meringue mountains. My six egg white pavlova, which is a scaled-up version of this recipe with some minor modifications, serves 15 to 20. I love that I can make it for about a dollar a head and that I’m not locked into any one flavor profile—each pavlova component can be played with at will. And since I always seem to have egg whites lying around, pavlova is a handy way to use them up in bulk.

The Meringue
The meringue base is the easiest part of a pavlova to flavor, but also the most overlooked. Dry spices and small amounts of liquid flavorings work best. Our recipe calls for cream of tartar in the meringue, an acid that makes the foam more stable, but I usually use a little wine vinegar (red or white) or apple cider vinegar for a subtle fruity flavor. Use slightly more vinegar than an equivalent volume of cream of tartar, but not much—three quarters of a teaspoon instead of a half, perhaps.

Rose and orange blossom waters are also ideal, but best used sparingly (one teaspoon at most). Vanilla extract is a given. I’ve also had success adding booze like bourbon, but if you add too much, you may be facing extra mixing time. One meringue with two or three eyeballed shots of bourbon took a full 20 minutes to form, though form it did.

Aleppo chile peppers, which have been cultivated in Syria for centuries, are quite mild in terms of heat, with a hint of raisin-y, sun-dried tomato sweetness. Due to the ongoing civil war, true Aleppo pepper from Syria is no longer available for import, but chiles grown in neighboring Turkey are. You can find Aleppo pepper at Middle Eastern markets, or online. Korean gochugaru or paprika can be substituted for Aleppo pepper in this recipe.

Ground sumac can also be found at Middle Eastern markets or online. It adds a bright, tart finish to this dish.

Make-Ahead and Storage
Manti can be par-baked through Step 17, cooled, transferred to zipper-lock freezer bags, and frozen for up to 3 weeks; to finish, bake from frozen following recipe instructions, for 20 to 25 minutes. Broth can be made in advance and refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 5 days, or frozen for up to 3 weeks (the picked meat from the lamb shank or neck can be added to the broth or stored in a separate zipper-lock bag); reheat gently in a large saucepan over medium-low heat. Manti filling can be made in advance and refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 24 hours. Manti dough can be made in advance and refrigerated, wrapped tightly in plastic, for up to 24 hours; bring to room temperature before rolling. Yogurt-garlic sauce can be made in advance and stored in an airtight container for up to 3 days.

Sadly, as my family members grew older and schedules grew busier, we let this annual ritual fall by the wayside. I use “we” here, though in truth the decision was never up to me or any of the other men in my family, since we never participated in the work of making manti ourselves. When the women of our clan decided that they no longer had the time or energy to make manti for Christmas Eve, it was a sad but entirely understandable moment, in light of the labor involved.

Which is why I wanted to create a manti recipe for you here, to bring our family tradition back, even if only in recipe form. I used my Aunt Esther’s manti recipe as the inspiration and starting point for my own. I’ve streamlined her process slightly by turning to labor- and time-saving tools like a pasta roller and pressure cooker, and I’ve taken liberties with the dough formula a little, but for the most part I’ve tried to remain true to the spirit of her recipe, and the result.

As with all filled dumplings, manti are best made in a group setting, where the jobs of rolling, cutting, filling, and shaping can be shared among many people. For the time being, that’s obviously not an option, but I can say that during many rounds of recipe testing my wife and I had no problem making many hundreds of manti all on our own, just the two of us. Nor did we have any problem eating them all ourselves.

While first tray of manti bakes, repeat steps 7 through 14 with remaining 2 quarters of dough, followed by step 16 to bake and cool remaining manti (cooled manti can be transferred to zipper lock freezer bags and frozen for up to 3 weeks). Once all manti are baked, adjust oven racks so that one is in upper-middle position, the other is in lower-middle position, and lower oven temperature to 325°F (165°C). For the Yogurt-Garlic Sauce: Using a fork, mash garlic and salt to a rough paste on cutting board. Combine yogurt and garlic mixture in small bowl and whisk until evenly combined. Cover and refrigerate until needed. To Finish and Serve Manti: In large saucepan, bring broth to boil over high heat. Add reserved lamb pieces, reduce heat to medium-low, and cover. Return both baking sheets of manti to oven and bake until manti are golden brown and heated through, 15 to 20 minutes (20 to 25 if starting with frozen manti). Add about 1/2 cup (120ml) hot broth to individual serving bowls. Place 15 to 20 manti in broth and top with 3 to 4 tablespoons yogurt-garlic sauce. Sprinkle with 1/4 teaspoon of Aleppo pepper and sumac each. Serve immediately. (Lamb pieces reheated in the broth are meant to be served as a treat with any remaining manti.)

Special equipment
Electric or stovetop pressure cooker, fine-mesh strainer, pasta roller, rimmed baking sheets

For the Broth:
1 pound (450g) lamb shanks or lamb neck slices
1 1/2 teaspoons (4g) Diamond Crystal kosher salt, divided; if using table salt, use half as much by volume or the same weight
1 quart (960ml) homemade or store-bought low sodium chicken stock
5 medium garlic cloves, lightly crushed
1/4 cup (60g) tomato paste
For the Dough:
280 grams (about 10 ounces; 2 cups) all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons (28g) unsalted butter
1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon (135ml) water (add extra 1 teaspoon (5ml) if rolling dough by hand)
1 large egg yolk (15g)
For the Manti Filling:
1 small onion (about 6 ounces; 170g), peeled and quartered
3 medium garlic cloves
1 tablespoon (6g) fresh parsley leaves and tender stems
1 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
1/2 teaspoon Aleppo pepper (or an additional 1 teaspoon paprika; see notes)
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
6 ounces (170g) ground lamb or 85% lean ground beef
2 tablespoons (30ml) extra-virgin olive oil
For the Yogurt-Garlic Sauce:
2 medium garlic cloves, minced
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 cups (450g) Greek yogurt
For Serving:
2 teaspoons Aleppo pepper (or paprika or gochugaru; see notes)
2 teaspoons ground sumac
For the Broth: Sprinkle lamb evenly on all sides with 1 teaspoon salt and place on wire rack set in rimmed baking sheet. Let stand at room temperature for at least 30 minutes and up to 2 hours.
Combine lamb, chicken stock, garlic, tomato paste, and remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt in a pressure cooker, and stir to combine. Seal pressure cooker, and bring to high pressure over medium-high heat, if using a stovetop model, or by setting to pressure-cooker mode on an electric multi-cooker. Cook at high pressure for 40 minutes, adjusting heat as needed to maintain high pressure (if using a stovetop pressure cooker; electric ones will automatically regulate the heat and pressure level).

Up until a few years ago, eating manti was a Christmas Eve ritual for my extended Armenian family. For weeks before the holiday, the women in the family would gather together on weekends at my Aunt Esther’s house to make the tiny dumplings, which they’d then freeze. Hours and hours (and hours) of work went into making enough manti to feed a few dozen people a meal they’d been looking forward to eating all year long. And then it would be over, and we’d all have to wait another year.

Manti are common to many Central and West Asian cuisines, small parcels of spiced ground lamb or beef surrounded by thin wheat dough wrappers that are typically steamed or boiled. However, Armenian manti, sometimes called “sini manti,” are a little different. The diminutive, canoe-shaped, and open-faced dumpling are baked until crisp instead, and are served in a tomato-infused meat broth, finished with a dollop of yogurt, minced garlic, and a sprinkling of Aleppo pepper and sumac powder. To me, this the ultimate manti, since the combination of flavors and textures is unparalleled: crunchy-crisp dumplings, their corners softened gently by the hot, aromatic broth, paired with the cool, tart yogurt, all of it brightened by lightly spicy, fruity, and tart garnishes.

Place dough on lightly floured work surface. Fold both ends in so that they meet at the center of the dough, and then fold the dough in half where the end points meet, trying not to incorporate too much air into the folds. Using rolling pin and fingers, flatten and stretch dough to 6- by 3-inch rectangle that is 1/4 inch thick. Pass through the rollers lengthwise 3 additional times. Narrow the setting by 1 notch and pass dough 3 times through the machine at this setting. Narrow the setting by 1 notch and pass dough twice through the machine at this setting. Continue passing the dough through the rollers, reducing the thickness by 1 setting each time until it measures about 24 x 3 x 1/16 inches (setting 5 on a Marcato Atlas pasta roller). It should now be very delicate and elastic to the touch, and slightly translucent. Transfer rolled dough to lightly floured work surface, and lightly coat both sides of dough with flour to prevent sticking. Using pastry wheel, pizza cutter, or sharp knife, cut sheet crosswise into fourteen 1 3/4-inch-wide strips. Divide each strip in half crosswise into two 1 1/2- by 1 3/4-inch strips; each sheet of dough should yield at least 28 strips.

Break up ground lamb into small pieces, add to food processor, and pulse to combine, 8 to 10 one-second pulses (do not over-process, as this will make the filling chewy and bouncy rather than tender). Transfer filling to an airtight container and refrigerate until needed (mixture may be made up to 24 hours in advance). To Roll the Dough and Bake Manti: Set oven rack to middle position and preheat oven to 350°F (177°C). Using a pastry brush, coat 2 rimmed baking sheets with 1 tablespoon (15ml) olive oil each and set aside. Dust countertop lightly with flour. Unwrap rested dough and cut into quarters. Set one quarter on work surface and re-wrap remaining dough. Using rolling pin and fingers, flatten and stretch dough to 5- by 4-inch oval that is 1/4 inch thick. If using pasta roller, proceed to step 8. If rolling dough by hand, roll dough into 12- x 8 1/16-inch rectangle using a rolling pin. Cut dough in half lengthwise to yield two 12- x 4-inch sheets. Cut each strip into seven 1 3/4-inch-wide strips. Divide each strip in half crosswise into two 1 1/4-inch squares; each sheet of dough should yield at least 28 squares. Proceed to step 13. Set pasta roller to widest setting and pass dough 3 times through the machine lengthwise at this setting.

Using 1/8 teaspoon measuring spoon, place scant 1/4 teaspoon ball of meat filling in center of each strip of dough.  Working one at a time, using lightly floured hands and fingertips, lift strip of dough in hands and fold in half loosely over filling lengthwise. Pinch sides of dough together, working your way toward filling to enclose it (do not seal dough across top and do not push ball of filling up and out of dumpling). Place manti on lightly floured counter and then gently pinch ends between fingers to form flat-bottomed, stable canoe shape. Transfer to prepared baking sheet and repeat with remaining strips of dough. Using fingertips, gently press meat filling into manti to make them flush with top of dough. Repeat steps 7 through 14 with another quarter of dough (if rolling by hand, repeat steps 7, 13, and 14). Place baking sheet of manti in oven and bake until lightly and evenly golden brown, 25 to 30 minutes. Transfer baking sheet to wire rack and allow to cool to room temperature.

Getting Started: Set the oven rack to the lower-middle position and preheat to 400°F (204°C).

To Make The Kanafeh: In a medium bowl, combine the cheese and clotted cream and set aside. With a serrated knife, slice the shredded phyllo crosswise into 1/4- to 1/2-inch lengths and transfer to a large bowl. Pour the melted ghee over the phyllo and, using your hands, toss and mix the phyllo with the ghee in a gentle rubbing motion to ensure that all the phyllo shreds are evenly coated, about 5 minutes.

Transfer half the coated phyllo to a 10-inch cast iron skillet, evenly distributing it along the bottom of the pan. Use the bottom of a glass or measuring cup to firmly pack the phyllo, creating an even crust. Top this with the cheese mixture, spreading it evenly over the first phyllo layer and leaving a 1/2-inch border along the rim. Spread the remaining phyllo over the cheese and once again firmly pack it down. Bake in the preheated oven until deeply golden brown, about 40 minutes.

Baking the pastry in a cast iron skillet promotes even browning.
Thoroughly mixing the shredded phyllo with ghee ensures the pastry crisps up all the way.
Cooking the syrup to the soft-ball stage ensures that enough moisture has been driven off, so the phyllo doesn’t get soggy.
Crunchy shredded phyllo encases stretchy, gooey cheese in this traditional Middle Eastern dessert that’s all about contrast. After baking up golden and crisp, the pastry is drenched in a floral rose and orange blossom syrup, which plays off the salty cheese and nutty pistachios, so it never gets too cloying. Don’t worry if you can’t find the traditional nabulsi or akkawi cheeses; stretchy mozzarella or cheese curds are a great substitute.

Ingredients
Save Recipe
8 ounces (225g) nabulsi, akkawi, or mozzarella cheese, roughly chopped or shredded
2/3 cup (5 ounces; 140g) clotted cream, crème fraîche, or cream cheese
1 pound (454g) shredded phyllo, thawed
1 1/2 cups (12 ounces; 340g) ghee, melted
1 1/2 cups (11.5 ounces; 320g) sugar
2 tablespoons (1 ounce; 30g) lemon juice, from about 1 lemon
1 teaspoon rose water
1/2 teaspoon orange blossom water
3/4 cup (3 ounces; 84g) chopped, toasted pistachios