110 GOURMET TRAVELLER
Kitchen snacks
“The equations for these
snacks, which sustain us at
work, are pretty simple: bread +
ham; bread + sea urchin; bread
+ anchovies,” says Ignacio
Mattos. “Bread + (good) ham,
in particular, is so ideal that it
sometimes makes me wonder
why I should even bother trying
to cook at all.” Pictured p109.Ham on miche
Thinly sliced jamón Ibérico
Crusty slices of miche1 Wrap a slice of jamón around
a slice of bread or pile it on top.
Repeat as necessary and serve.Sea urchin
on micheCrusty slices of miche,
warmed but not toasted
Unsalted butter
Sea urchin roe (uni)
Grey salt (see note)1 Spread a slice of bread with
a generous amount of butter,
top with as much sea urchin roe
as you want and sprinkle with
a little grey salt. Repeat as
necessary and serve.
Note Grey salt is a fine, slightly
wet salt also known as sel gris
or Celtic sea salt. It’s available
from select health-food shops.Anchovies
on micheUnsalted butter
Crusty slices of miche,
warmed, but not toasted
Anchovy fillets (spicy or
regular)
Chopped parsley (optional)
Coarsely grated parmesan
or pecorino
Cracked black pepper1 Spread a slice of bread with
an absurd amount of butter – as
much as your heart can handle.
Arrange a few anchovies on top
with chopped parsley, parmesan
and black pepper. Repeat as
necessary and serve.I
’ve never been too comfortable talking about my cooking
because I hope, in a way, that it can speak for itself. That
has always been the idea, making food that doesn’t require
much explanation to convey emotion. That said, of
course there is a story behind it.
As many who have ended up here can tell you, New York is
a generous town – the sense of community, the nerve the city
breeds in you, the drive that most of us share. This is where
I met restaurateur Thomas Carter, who was looking for his
next project. He knew of a space downtown that I knew in
its previous incarnation as the Knitting Factory nightclub.
There was nothing fancy or grand about it, but we loved the
location and wanted to make it work.
Thomas and I talked about New York institutions like
Balthazar, Florent and Prune, and places in Europe like Cal
Pep and Le Chateaubriand – restaurants that were serious yet
accessible and fun, that could serve as your neighbourhood
spot for a drink and a dish, but could also be more than that.
We wanted our place, Estela, to have its own identity.
As for the food, I wrestled with myself and slowly moulded
my approach, figuring out how I could give people what they
wanted in a way that was true to myself and true to my journey,
and the many voices that were part of it. I would cook like an
immigrant, who comes from a country of immigrants, working
in a city of immigrants, in a country of immigrants.
The food had to have nerve. It needed to be assertive and,
if far from perfect, it would bare the soul. Even if you were
numb, it would shake you up a little bit, a kind of cooking that
would connect in the same way some pieces of music do from
the moment you first hear them. Some of it would sound or
look common. Some of it would look or sound alien. Yet all
of it would feel good and perhaps make you realise that you’d
never tried anything like it. Estela, 47 E Houston St, New York,
NY, estelanyc.com