NONGLUTEN #005: A few NYC restaurants | A few products | Fred Morin
Pão de queijo as burger bun. Top tortillas. Summer ice cream supplement. Plus: an interview with the chef and co-founder of Montreal's legendary Joe Beef group.
A FEW NYC RESTAURANTS
Aquavit (Bar)
Swedish | Midtown
Nothing says “Congratulations!” like a plate of herring, so we have long gravitated towards the hushed midtown bar at Aquavit for special occasions. Admittedly, we both have a thing for Swedish food—I get that Aquavit may not be everybody’s top choice for a special night out. But it should be! The place has a lot going for it: a nearly 40-year history, a stylish Scandi room, an excellent drinks list, and a quietly incredible baking program. Happily, this includes some of the finest gluten-free bread and crispbread you’ll find in New York.
The bread, which comes out warm, is briochey—tender and buttery, embedded with a modest scattering of poppyseeds. The crispbread is a sturdy, seed-studded stunner. It comes with Aquavit’s “smorgasbord,” and you could do very well with just that: two or three types of herring—usually mustard, matjes, and “glassblower’s” (with onion and carrot)—plus boiled potatoes, Priest cheese, and gravlax. Pay extra attention to the hovmästarsås (literally, “maitre d’s sauce”), a mustard-and-dill condiment for the gravlax that they imbue with a subversive whisper of espresso. I love it.
If you want a little more than the smorgasbord, I’m sorry to say you can’t have the meatballs. But most of the other appetizers and entrees are usually gluten-free, and it’s easy to build a fun, snacky meal out of the herring plate and one or two small dishes. Desserts trend gluten-y, but one of Aquavit’s signature dishes is its “Arctic bird’s nest”—a high-concept and fully gluten-free combination of white chocolate, goat cheese, sea buckthorn, blueberries, and other Nordic edibles in various states of matter. Normally it’s only available as part of the dining room’s tasting menu, but just ask nicely—and tell them you’re celebrating.
Colonia Verde
Latin American | Fort Greene
Surely you’ve had pão de queijo, but have you ever had it as a burger bun? That’s the promise of a night at Colonia Verde, who have cast this gf workhorse in one of its most compelling roles to date. I should clarify: it’s a big pão de queijo. In fact, the burger is so big that we usually share it—and we sub roasted potatoes for the fries, which come from a shared fryer. That, plus a salad and a fun mezcal cocktail, is all you really need.
But if you don’t feel like a burger, there’s plenty else on the menu. Sausage and veggie parillada with arepas and queso fundido scratches a similar itch; achiote-rubbed chicken with cilantro rice is simple and satisfying. Veggie dishes are solid, and though salads can get a little weird—we once had one with dried nectarine and smoked gouda—they’re dependably good. We steer clear of the tacos, which sometimes use flour tortillas, just to avoid confusion. But the menu is marked—just not with cross-contamination in mind—and servers are always helpful and hospitable.
I’m burying the lede, but the best thing about Colonia Verde is actually its incredible backyard. And I don’t even mean to sit in—the best sight lines are actually from what’s called the “indoor greenhouse,” a sort of indoor-outdoor conservatory dining room between the bar room and the backyard. This space, between 7-9pm on a summer evening, is easily one of the nicest in Brooklyn. Does it make the food taste better? Let’s just say I wouldn’t order a dried nectarine-smoked gouda salad anywhere else.
The Fly
Chicken | Bed-Stuy
The team behind this casual sibling of Hart’s and Cervo’s refers to it as a “chicken bar,” and they’re not lying. You come here for fabulous and honestly very wet rotisserie chicken, plus cocktails that span a rarely seen range of $13-16. You also come here, perhaps, for the scene—a perennially packed terra cotta-tiled dining room where upbeat music blasts from the soundsystem and twentysomethings cheerily gossip at top volume.
I feel compelled to note that I like The Fly more than Hart’s and Cervo’s. Cause while they all aspire to be neighborhood restaurants, this is the only one affordable enough for regular repeat visits. And they’ve got a great formula—starting with the dry rub.
Fennel and citrus come through, plus Aleppo pepper and paprika. Possibly smoked. It’s really unique—and it’s enhanced by ordering either white (yogurt) or green (chili) sauce for an extra few bucks. The fries are cross-contaminated, so once again you’ll have to get roasted potatoes—but it’s not a compromise. Golden and waxy, if they didn’t actually roast underneath the chickens, they seem like they did.
The menu doesn’t have a whole lot else, which makes it quite easy to navigate. There’s a Caesar salad, but it has croutons. There’s bread, but it’s bread. Without it, there’s room for gelato at Biddrina, a ten-minute stroll away.
SPEAKING OF ICE CREAM…
Because summer is upon us, here are our favorite places to get ice cream in the City. They all happen to be in Brooklyn. If we lived closer to Caffè Panna, I’m sure they would be in the mix, too. The only shop I’m aware of that offers gf cones is Glace on the Upper East Side. If anyone knows of another shop that has them, please let me know!
I’m sneaking in one Boston-area business as well.
Biddrina Gelato
Gelato | Clinton Hill
Charming little curbside cart outside Locanda Vini e Olii serving a short, ever-changing roster of creative flavors like coffee-anise-white chocolate; chamomile-peach; and dark chocolate-orange-cardamom. Check their Instagram first to make sure they’ve got something that intrigues you. Most if not all flavors are usually gf, and each has its own scoop, but always check.
Island Pops
Caribbean | Crown Heights
Friendly, Trini-owned shop on Nostrand that specializes in Caribbean flavors. Unfortunately, a handful of these do contain gluten: beware the grape nuts (which have a gf vibe but aren’t), ovaltine (malt…), and Guinness caramel. The best gf options are rum-raisin—which I believe could convert even the most steadfast non-believer—soursop, nutmeg, and sorrel-rum sorbet. For celiacs, ask them to wash the scoop for extra caution.
Albero dei Gelati
Gelato | Park Slope
Super-authentic Slow Food-accredited gelateria run by folks who also have a shop in northern Italy. Very different from Biddrina—a lighter consistency, and more straightforward traditional flavors. Just depends what you feel like! Stracciatella, pistachio, and hazelnut are all good options. Seasonal specials get a bit funkier, but I think it’s better to stick with the classics. Each flavor has its own scoop and almost all are gluten-free.
Malai
South Asian | Cobble Hill
Unique, South Asian-inspired shop that does have pints available at area grocery stores, but it’s better from the source. Seasonally changing soft-serve is our favorite, especially when it’s saffron-pistachio swirl. The hard scoop flavors are great, too, especially mango & cream and black cardamom-cherry. Some do contain gluten, but they have allergens marked and counter staff will wash the scoop if you let them know.
Christina’s
Global | Inman Square (Cambridge, MA)
This is our #1 spot in Greater Boston—and I’ve been going here my whole life. Ditto their wonderful sister spice shop. Last week I heard someone walk by and pejoratively say, “This ice cream shop reeks of spices!” Yeah. That’s the point. Mexican chocolate, khulfi, rum-raisin, and coconut-almond chip are go-tos, but I’ve never had a flavor there that wasn’t outstanding. Most are gluten-free, but counter staff are happy to confirm and wash scoops if necessary.
A FEW PRODUCTS
1. Masienda Heirloom Blue Corn Tortillas
I see this guy constantly in Capital One commercials while I’m watching tennis, and you know what—I love his tortillas. There are both yellow and blue corn versions, but of course I’m gonna choose blue if it’s available. They have a depth of flavor that most other store-bought tortillas only dream of, and they’re a hair thicker than average, so they never fall apart. A spritz of water and 20-30 seconds in the microwave—or a quick encounter with a hot comal—and you’re ready for tacos.
$5 for 10 tortillas at Masienda; often available at Whole Foods
2. Island Spice All-Purpose Seasoning
When I got Riaz Phillips’ outstanding Jamaican cookbook West Winds last year, I realized I needed all-purpose seasoning to level up my game—and I fly through this stuff. You’ve gotta be careful with Caribbean seasoning blends, which sometimes contain wheat, but this one specifically says Contains no wheat on the label. I would prefer it to say “gluten-free,” but like I say, we use this all the time and Lauren’s never had an issue.
I use it when I make Jamaican chicken soup, fish tea, the pickle mix for escovitch, rice & peas, and so many other things. And look—we buy Burlap & Barrel, Curio, Daphnis & Chloe; all the good stuff. Our allspice is from Lauren’s aunt’s tree in the Blue Mountains. We even have a mortar and pestle! But sometimes you really need a processed spice blend to get that extra je ne sais quoi for a certain cuisine, and I’m telling you: for Jamaican food, this is it.
$5 for an 8oz. jar at Island Spice
3. Puglia Sapori Tarallini Senza Glutine
Taralli—the ring-shaped snack of Southern Italy—are a personal favorite, and this gf version doesn’t disappoint. If you’ve had regular taralli, they will seem a little harder, and they don’t crumble in quite the same way. But a distinct, fruity olive oil flavor shines through and they’re nice and salty. Perfect for aperitivo hour.
I found these at Eataly, but Puglia Sapori’s website proposes several even better-sounding flavors: chili flake, fennel, rosemary, and red onion, among others. I’m gonna have to keep my eyes peeled. One more thing: this box deceptively hides six tiny bags—if you can get past the wastefulness of all that packaging, it’s a lot of fun.
About $8 for a box of 6 30g bags at Eataly
Every summer, Lauren and I drive up to Montreal to spend a week eating our way around one of our favorite food cities. And each time, we insist on visiting a couple non-negotiable restaurants—chief among them the influential wine bar Le Vin Papillon. A haven of simple, ingredient-focused French-Canadian cooking and killer wine, Vin Papillon is part of the restaurant group that revolves around legendary lodestar Joe Beef, and also includes Liverpool House and McKiernan. Before last year’s trip, I was comforted to find out that its chef and co-founder, Frédéric Morin, has celiac disease.
Part of a group of male chefs sometimes seen feasting with Anthony Bourdain and David Chang on TV in the early-mid aughts, Fred and his then-partner David McMillan promoted a style of distinctly Quebecois cuisine heavily informed by the Bourguignon penchant for excess. They won accolades for their cooking—and awards for their cookbooks—and their restaurants, now run only by Fred and his wife Allison Cunningham (also a Joe Beef co-founder), remain iconic Montreal establishments. It’s also worth mentioning that in recent years, both chefs have gotten sober and significantly dialed down the decadent lifestyles they became known for.
Still, Fred is about as different from your average gluten-free booster as humanly possible, and he’s become a somewhat unlikely advocate for the allergy and restriction community. I’ve read interviews with him over the years, and have always admired his straight-talking sensibility. Having now video-chatted with him, I know that said straight talk is accompanied by a glint in his eye and a wry smile. Keep this—and a charming Quebecois accent—in mind as you read.
I’m thrilled to have had the opportunity to speak with one of this continent’s most accomplished chefs, whose cooking I have long admired. He is no doubt one of the most prominent fine dining chefs with celiac disease, and it’s a privilege to have him share his perspective here.
The following has been edited for length and clarity.
LP: I think I said this in the first email I sent, but we love all of your restaurants and we were really happy to learn that you guys can cater so well to celiacs.
FM: Thank you! I’ve noticed that in Canada, the big chains or the bigger restaurants have all started doing this “gluten-friendly” thing…
That doesn’t really mean anything.
Well, there’s a fear of litigation that’s in the DNA of these businesses. The labeling isn’t done with kindness or altruism in mind—they’ll only write “gluten-free” if they’re really, really, really, really sure. But generally they prefer not to go down that slippery slope.
Cooking schools barely allocate any time to dietary restrictions—they don’t go through what’s a religious restriction, what’s an allergy that risks inducing anaphylaxis, what’s an intolerance, what’s an autoimmune disease like celiac. It really has to be a part of the education system, just like CPR. To me, it’s a fundamental, life-preserving thing.
What do you do in your restaurants as far as training new cooks or new servers when they come on board with you?
When we hire, there’s a try-out period, and in the worst case, if somebody blatantly ignores the measures, then that’s enough for them not to be employed. But there’s always an apprentice and a master or a doctor and a resident kind of hierarchy. And we apply the same thing everywhere—the best protocol is the one that everybody agrees on and follows.
We have different colors of cutting boards, we have clothes pins that we throw away after each use, and we have sharpies for labeling—we also shorten the chain of handling. To go from the head waiter who took the order to the chef in the kitchen, there’ll be like two people involved in the process.
We approach it like pilots—we cross-check. It’s totally humble and determined to make sure the diner is safe. But speaking of airplanes—civil aviation is one of the rare fields in which there’s worldwide accepted standards. I find it curious how for some countries, they will accept deglutenized products, you know, and some countries won’t. Some people will tolerate them and some people won’t. Same with oats.
Yeah, oats can be tricky.
Oats are tricky for two reasons: there’s the reaction to oats themselves, and then because oat is a similar kernel to wheat, most of the mills do both. Cheerios are considered gluten-free in the States, but they’re not here—and they’re the same Cheerios.
It’s a question of minimal acceptable traces, and there’s not an internationally agreed-upon standard.
Do you react to the deglutenized Caputo flour?
The first time, yes. It’s been many years now that I’m adhering to the diet, and I know one thing: When it’s too good to be true, it’s too good to be true! When there’s lovely bread that’s moist, light, and crunchy outside—it’s because there’s gluten.
It always makes me paranoid when we have something that seems too good.
Are you the only person in your family with celiac?
No, one of my sons is. The other ones are not‚ and trying to look for a reason why—it’s better left to clinical scientists. The time-machine, although I’d love it, is still not invented.
So you were diagnosed, you said, 10 or 15 years ago?
I was diagnosed with dermatitis herpetiformis, which is a skin reaction to gluten ingestion, and then later on with celiac disease.
So you’ve been following the diet—
No.
—For about a decade?
No. I would say that it’s been 8 years that I don’t drink, and it’s been 8 years that I’m on a strict gluten-free diet.
So there was a period at the very beginning when you weren’t strictly adhering to it?
Yeah, cause I thought a little bit that celiac was progressive. But then when I went with my son to the doctor for his celiac, she said, basically, “You’re fuckin’ stupid. Do you know you have, like, a 30 times higher possibility of developing lymphoma?” So I was like, “Okay, I’m gonna do it.”
I’ve found that Montreal is a pretty gluten-free friendly—and I’m not saying “gluten-friendly” like what you were saying earlier—but the restaurant culture there and the scene there, people really do take care of gluten-free diners in a real way.
They take care of diners.
You live there, so what’s your perspective?
Well, for example, there are restaurants in Montreal like Leméac that I love, but they make so much fuckin’ tartare sauce mix—for their beef tartare—that you can’t ask for it without Worcestershire! And there’s another brand of gluten-free Worcestershire that you can buy in four-liter jugs for the same price.
It’s almost like solar panels—any good alternative has to be made available at a similar price. And then it would be easier, when both are available, for places to choose the gluten-free option.
It’s always tough when the one dish you want is the one you can’t have. How have you found gluten-free dining when you’ve traveled internationally?
Three years ago, we went to Jordan—and I found it hard to fully communicate with the language barrier. There’s not just wheat flour, but there’s also freekeh [roasted green wheat] and bulgur [cracked wheat].
And I learned that bulgur is sometimes used as filler to replace chopped nuts in certain dishes, because it offers the same texture at a fraction of the price. But if you suspect bulgur is being used and ask about it, it’s treated as an accusation of cheating the customer.
It’s funny you mention Jordan—I was walking around a Middle Eastern market yesterday and noticed that everything seemed to contain wheat. I saw these great-looking Jordanian mana’eesh chips made of corn starch, which I thought would be okay—but even those contained wheat. Jordan must have been hard!
Yes—and they often use flour or wheat starch for the adherence of spice blends and stuff, and again—it’s like an accusation of cheating. Another example are the shops in the Persian community here in Montreal—things will always say “100% natural”—
“Natural” is a funny thing, yes! We experienced this once at a Jamaican cookout—my wife is half-Jamaican—asking about soy sauce in jerk marinades. It’s a common ingredient, but the cook was like, “No, no, it’s all natural!” as if we were accusing him of something. Meanwhile we were literally looking at the open containers of processed sauces next to the grill. We just wanted to know what was in them.
I’ve had the same experience—you’ve been given dishonorable intentions just because you want to stay healthy, right? The other layer is that celiac doesn’t affect people of all backgrounds equally. I know that it’s well-known in Italy, for example, but when I go to Barbados—I’ve never met anyone with celiac.
Or I go to the Korean grocery store, and that’s my nightmare because people always say, “No celiac, there’s no gluten in Korea,” you know? As if it’s a point of national pride. Like, our food doesn’t have it, our people are not sick—but then you look and so many things are wheat-based.
Right. Those are difficult situations—you need to advocate for yourself, but you also need to remain gracious and culturally sensitive.
Going back to your own restaurants—How did you treat allergies and stuff in the kitchen before your diagnosis?
I’ve always had the view that all of it had to be taken seriously. Would I become a vegan? No. But do I understand why people make that choice? I know that a lot of people who’ve experienced addiction issues in the past, for example, their perfect adherence to their new lifestyle—it could be crossfit, vegan, AA meetings, or whatever they decide—the control they have over that decision in their life makes up for years of loss of control. So it’s not up to me to tell them, “Well this is a personal decision, it doesn’t really matter.”
Now, where I think there is a lack of individual responsibility is when you go to a pizzeria and expect to eat gluten-free. A pizzeria is a great place if you’re, like, allergic to shellfish.
[Laughing]
You know? If you’re allergic to peanuts, don’t go to a Thai restaurant..
But see, this is interesting, because you think about cross-contamination like a chef, because you’ve lived your life inside kitchens and you understand all the points where cross-contamination can happen.
You obviously know a ton about food and cooking, but not every celiac diner has that. For celiacs who have not worked in a kitchen—every day you can find a new possible location where some mistake can happen.
And, I mean, you can’t just ask everybody to self-educate like that.
That’s the thing, yeah.
There has to be some exposure for kids to cooking. Because it’s like watching David Blaine for most people—they’ll never know the fuckin’ trick. Like, it’s magic. You buy a turkey, it ends up glazed with candied yams on the side, you know? You just put it under a camera for half an hour.
[Laughing]
There is also a lower attendance in trade schools than there ever was, and if you don’t expose children and demystify the touch of food, the ingredients—the chicken leg, the whole salmon—what happens? You’re dealing with a population that has no skills. And then you have to go the processed food route.
But if you teach it early— people can realize, “Well I didn’t need to dredge it in flour if my pan is hot enough,” you know? Things like that.
I would imagine that in your kitchen, for example, you didn’t have to make major changes to your food to make it gluten-free.
No. There are sometimes certain very French cream sauces that we do use flour for—because if you reduce cream to the level of thickness you want, you’d be ingesting 1600 calories every bite. But in general, there are ways around gluten.
Well, and you guys don’t really serve gluten-free versions of gluten things. I feel like the food at your places—it’s more protein and produce-heavy, and you’re not serving “dupes.” It’s not like, “this is a gluten-free version of this,” it’s more like—this is just a beautiful piece of halibut, you know?
Yeah, and you don’t really need to—it’s not a culture of facsimile, you know?
So where else do you feel comfortable dining out in Montreal, other than your own places?
Any serious steak restaurant understands it. But any restaurant that’s too in the juice—when you walk in and everybody’s slammed—that’s not a good sign. And I don’t like when there’s the gluten-free and the gluten-full version of the same thing, because it’s easier for mistakes to happen. Like with pizza, for example. I’d sooner have, like, a potato galette in a little cast-iron pan with the toppings of a pizza knowing that it doesn’t look like a regular pizza.
That’s what I like about Italy—like Schär does these pizza crusts that come on their own aluminum trays. Or they sell tiramisu, but it’s in the fridge, and the pack is sealed and everything, so you know it’s safe.
So you’ve been to Italy a few times since your diagnosis?
We go in the winter to eat—to ski, I mean.
[Laughing] I like that Freudian slip!
[Laughing] Yeah…There’s a fast food joint I like there; they use good beef—not frozen, no antibiotics—and when they make a lettuce wrap, it’s two big slabs of iceberg on either side and it’s well-seasoned so you don’t need bread.
I find, like, we’re really on the cusp of being able to either have everything gluten-free or just nothing gluten-free, you know?
[Laughing] Yeah—I do feel like it wouldn’t take that much, to make everything gluten-free…
I also think it should be part of the health inspections [for restaurants]. You know, you have your first aid kit, you have everything—why not make sure that these are requirements that are mandated by the state as well? But then again, you’re talking about people that want more and more small government that doesn’t look in your things.
I like that idea.
I’m curious—I didn’t know much about celiac, really, until my wife was diagnosed. How much did you know about it before you and your son were diagnosed?
Well, I’ve known it for such a long time it’s hard to remember. But I would pity the person who actually, like, reads about celiac as a hobby.
[Laughing]
Like, who doesn’t have to live with it, you know?
I get what you’re trying to say.
But having a restaurant—people ingest what you make, so that’s part of your responsibility. It shouldn’t be a question. It should be—You have a restaurant, you have your license, that means that there’s no cockroaches, and that a certain amount of education was done around celiac and all the other allergies and restrictions, you know?
Well it’s great for us, when we visit Montreal, that your restaurants are so on top of it, because we feel 100% comfortable. And it’s not just your kitchen—your front-of-house staff are so on top of it, too.
I remember at Vin Papillon last summer, when the server told my wife that the carrot cake ice cream sandwich was gluten-free, she almost sounded giddy. She was genuinely very excited to be able to tell us that everything was okay for us to eat.
Sometimes all chefs have is their stupid authority on TV, you know. So they don’t take out the flour just because they want to make a statement and be assholes. But sometimes it’s easy to take it out.
NEXT TIME ON NONGLUTEN…
The NONGLUTEN Guide to Maine and Cape Cod
Thank you for reading!
All illustrations by Lauren Martin. Photo courtesy of Fred Morin.