three TEN main Restaurant

three TEN main & Chef Derek Gallegos Featured in Video on The Critically-Acclaimed Wine & Food Website "The Wine Travelers"

 

JR Richards, Director and Producer for the critically-acclaimed wine & food website thewinetravelers.com, meets up with Chef Derek Gallegos at  his restaurant and films the magic of three TEN main Restaurant in Hailey, Idaho.

Hop Sing's Asian Kitchen Night Wednesday Night November 16th at three TEN main Restaurant

Doors open @ 5:30, Reservations accepted

Chef Derek Gallegos will be dishing up a full menu inspired by the cuisines of China, Vietnam, Thailand and Japan on

Wednesday Evening, November 16th
For reservations please call 788 4161 or click HERE to contact us online

Menu and prices subject to change without notice

Click icon at bottom of menu to resd in full screen

Hop Sings Asian Kitchen November 2011

50% Off Cellar Wine Sale at three TEN main Restaurant

Cellar List Sale
@ three TEN main

 

50% Off This Week Only

On Selected Fine Bottles on Our List

Ridge Vineyards, Araujo, Domaine Drouhin Oregon, Gaja, Pahlmeyer,
Merry Edwards, Flowers, Vieux Telegraphe, Baroli Barolo, Allegrini Amarone, Calera, Ramey, Blackbird, Robert Foley, Turley
Supplies Very Limited


Also this month: No-Corkage Fee November
Savor your special wines you have been saving with the stellar Northwest-inspired cuisine of Chef Derek Gallegos. We will waive one corkage fee for every entree ordered this November only.

Argentine 5-course Wine Dinner at three TEN main Restaurant, Tuesday Evening, November 8th

Harvesting Malbec grapes in the Mendoza Valley region of Argentina

 

 

A tasting of Argentine wines at three TEN main Restaurant.

 

Sean Stephens, general manager and chief wine buyer

for Tastevin Wine LTD, internationally headquartered in Ketchum, Idaho,

will pour wine and talk about the terroir and winemakers of this renowned winemaking country.

Chef Derek Gallegos will prepare a tapas-inspired 4-course supper to accompany these fine wines

 

 

Menu

 

Empanadas filled with queso, white beans & sautéed winter greens

Served with butternut squash puree & warm sweet corn-tomatillo salsa

Crios Mendoza Torrontes, 2010

▪

 

 

Chicken  “Milanesa”

With warm ensalada de papas, apples & sage

La Posta Armando Bonarda, 2008

▪

 

Grilled house-made smoked Snake River Farms kurobuta pork chorizo

Chimmichurri sauce & Hagerman Onsen Farm salad greens

Ben Marco Mendoza Malbec, 2009

Tikal Altos de Mendoza "Patriota", 2009

▪

 

Manchego cheese, roasted pear, pecan chutney, orange blossom honey

Susana Balbo Late Harvest Torrontes 2009

 

▪

 

Dulce de Leche ice cream, anise cookies

▪

 

 

$55 per person

Gratuity not included

Oyster Happy Hour Tonight! Thursday November 3rd. Fresh-shucked all night long!

Plump, firm, briny Hama Hamas are on the menu! Should have them for the rest of the winter and spring season. Personally I recommend them with an ice-cold Anchor Steam beer and a dollop of our habanero-lime sorbet. Another preparation that's been catching on is sake-cured cucumber and yuzu ponzu sauce, or you can have the old stand-by of fresh grated horseradish root, lemon and cocktail sauce. Get on down to The Main and let's start shucking! 1.50 each or 16./doz

P.S. A great website that has a ton of information on North American oysters is Rowan Jacobson's The Oyster Guide. I highly recommend it. Check out the oyster farm HERE.

 Mangiamo!

Chef Derek

 

Chef Derek Gallegos of three TEN main Restaurant Makes Perfect pasta For The Sun Valley Guide

Photos by Paulette Philpot

Chef's Specialty:
Perfect Pasta
Derek Gallegos perfects the perfect pasta.
by Della Sentilles

It’s Friday morning and Derek Gallegos, owner of and head chef at Three Ten Main, is creating fresh pasta for this evening’s menu, a staple at his handsome restaurant on Main Street in Hailey.

For years, Gallegos has made his own pasta. But a trip to Parma, Italy, in 2007 brought renewed inspiration. Parma, home to the original prosciutto, Parmesan cheese and other Italian classics, has the best "cheese, pasta, butter, cream, everything," said Gallegos. While on the continent, he took a pasta-making class in which students used a meter-long rolling pin to flatten the dough. In his kitchen at Three Ten Main, however, Gallegos uses an electric pasta maker.

While Italian chefs are quick to eschew the use of technology, Gallegos has little choice. "We make so much pasta that we need it to be fast." Yet this reliance on technology does not replace his skill or passion. Gallegos’ craftsmanship makes the complicated seem effortless. He handles the stream of thin dough with ease and grace, finding a delicate balance between smoothing and pulling. After the dough is run through the machine, a continuous band of pasta spans the length of his four-foot metal table. Within minutes Gallegos produces a dozen perfectly trimmed raviolis.

The dishes at Three Ten Main have a heavy European influence, with an emphasis on the fresh stuffed pastas of Northern Italy and the classic traditional cooking techniques of the French countryside. "I’m mostly influenced by Northern Italian cuisine. It’s more about butter and cheese. French country cooking involves lots of roasted meats and vegetables that are not overly done but instead let the flavors speak for themselves. It is uncomplicated. Just using the best ingredients possible and then manipulating them very lightly."

Gallegos’ penchant for these traditional European cuisines is a surprise to some. He is the son of James Armijo Gallegos, former owner and founder of the famous, but now sadly defunct, Mama Inez restaurant. At its high point ,there were six Mama Inez restaurants in Idaho. As a teen living in Pocatello, Gallegos spent untold hours in his father’s kitchen making tortillas and chile verde. However, a college apprenticeship at a French bistro in Salt Lake City exposed him to cuisines beyond his family’s culinary roots. "It fascinated me, and I found myself wanting to cook all the time, so I quit college."

The move opened Gallegos to an endless stream of creativity, far more so than the Southwest-style cooking of Mama Inez. "I love the food of southwest New Mexico, but you can only go so far with it. That is what attracted me to the French and Italian cuisines. There are just so many veggies and meats and cheeses to work with."

Gallegos’ Three Ten Main speaks to what he really enjoys about dining out. "I love when you go into a restaurant and you feel like you’re entering a little sanctuary. You can tell just by looking at the plate that someone really cared about the food, even before you take a bite."

Read full article at The Chefs Specialty at The Sun Valley Guide

recipe below:

Put a Dent in Your Cellar This Month! No-Corkage November at three TEN main!

No-Corkage Fee November
@ three TEN main

Indulge In Your
Wine Cellar

The Whole Month of November

Would you like to savor your special wines you have been saving with the stellar Northwest-inspired cuisine of Chef Derek Gallegos? Then November is your month to bring those bottles into three TEN main Restaurant. We will waive one corkage fee for every entree ordered this November only.

 

Chef Derek Gallegos and three TEN main Featured in New York Times "36 Hours" in Sun Valley, Idaho

By AMY VIRSHUP, New York Times Writer:

Derek Gallegos, the chef and owner of 310 Main in Ketchum's scruffier neighbor, Hailey, grew up in the restaurant business. His family owned an Idaho chain of Mexican places called Mama Inez; later he worked in Deer Valley, Utah, and at the Sun Valley Brewing Company. In this tidy 35-seat spot on Hailey's main drag.  Mr. Gallegos mashes up his influences to create starters like Shanghai Tacos — scallion pancakes wrapped around pulled pork and cucumber dotted with hoisin sauce — or Hama Hama oysters with habanero and lime sorbet. There's always a filled pasta, whether it's ravioli with sweet pea and ricotta filling or butternut squash tortellini ($17), an Asian dish like bay scallop red Thai curry ($18) and a rib-eye steak with mashed potatoes ($32), since you're in Idaho, after all.

 

Click HERE to view slide show

Read the whole article on Sun Valley at nytimes.com

 

 

"Blue Pool" Oysters from Hama Hama Oyster Co. on the menu at three TEN main

From Chef Derek:

To all you fans of the Kumamoto oyster: I've got something for you. Hama Hama's newest oyster is small deep-cupped and meaty. More briny than a Kumo with a sweet meat taste of a buttery fat clam. These are the best oysters I've had since the Glidden Points from Maine at the Grand Central Oyster Bar in NYC. Get on in here before they're gone, I only ordered 5 dozen!

 

From the Hama Hama website:
       The Hama Hama Oyster Company is proud to announce the release of a boutique tumbled oyster called the Blue Pool, a name inspired by a cold, quiet place on the Hamma Hamma River that our family has enjoyed for generations. While most Hama Hama oysters grow directly on the beach, Blue Pools are grown in bags that rise and fall with each tidal cycle. This action rolls the oysters around, breaking off their new growth and pruning them into the perfect half-shell shape, with a flat top shell and a pronounced deep cup. The cupped bottom shell pools the oyster liquor over a small, nugget shaped oyster body.

Blue Pools are either grown from seed on the Hama Hama estuary or nursed in Puget Sound and then finished in our tumble farm, which is located far from the mouth of the river, on deep tideland that has been fallow for some time. Here, the oysters are close enough to the river delta to retain the clean, crisp taste of a Hama Hama, but far enough from the fresh water to raise the salinity in the liquor and help balance the sweet finish. Perfectly shaped with a velvety brininess, crunchy texture and smooth vegetable finish, Blue Pools offer the definitive raw oyster experience.

From the Oyster Guide's Rowan Jacobsen:

Hama Hama's Blue Pools

Here they are, folks, the most exciting new oyster on the scene in some time. I’ve long rhapsodized about Hama Hama oysters (especially in my book), and I recently mentioned that the Hama Hama gang had some tide-tumbled oysters in the works. These are them, hot off the presses, as it were.

Look at those perfect shells, those sporty stripes. The flavor is the same cucumbery, savory, meaty, guanciale-esque excellence profile you get in regular Hama Hamas.

Drink - For the Perfect Martini, Wetter Is Better - NYTimes.com

New York Times Magazine implores you to "Give a wetter version a chance".

via www.nytimes.com

For the Perfect Martini, Wetter Is Better
By ROSIE SCHAAP
Published: October 20, 2011

The most memorable martini I’ve ever had was made at the bar in the Merchant Hotel in Belfast, by a charming young man named Luke. I requested it with Beefeater, straight up with a twist, and asked him not to be shy with the vermouth. As I watched Luke stir the drink patiently and rhythmically, then produce a diminutive coupe glass from the freezer, I sensed that the martini would be sublime. Expert execution is one thing, but an elegant setting and a genial bartender made my martini add up to more than the sum of its parts. A flawless cocktail fashioned by an imperious “mixologist” in a bar where people don’t talk to one another is no fun at all.

I’ve spent more of my life in bars — on both sides — than I ought to admit. An ice-cold bottle of pilsner or a whiskey on the rocks can make me just as happy as a great cocktail, but my first column is an occasion to honor a classic. I take a pretty hard line on the martini. I prefer gin because, unlike vodka, which is valued for its neutrality, it’s packed with flavor. The taste we most strongly associate with gin is the juniper berry, which is reminiscent of pine and faintly citrusy. Beefeater, my favorite for a classic martini, also includes Seville orange peel, coriander seed and almond, among other ingredients. It’s assertive but beautifully balanced.

Still, drinking should be a pleasure, not a chore. If gin isn’t your poison, go with vodka. If you can’t imagine a martini without an olive, have an olive (I find the saltiness too much). But if you’ve never had a martini any way but bone dry, I implore you to give a wetter version a chance: vermouth — fortified wine flavored with botanicals — adds depth and imparts a spicy, subtly fruity quality. It’s what makes a martini a cocktail rather than just a chilled spirit.

Making your own martini should be a pleasure, making the act of drinking it more enjoyable. The most important thing you can do, however, is serve it in a glass with a capacity of no more than four and a half ounces. In the mid-1990s, the conical cocktail glass was supersized, resulting in massive martinis that quickly concede their vital, bracing chill. There’s also no need to fill it to the rim. It looks cool, but it’s harder to drink — and who needs the trouble?

AFAR Magazine- Where travel can take you- Tapping the Essence of Belgium

via www.afar.com

BY NICHOLAS SCHMIDLE

Initially, I thought the story was a satire, something pulled from The Onion by an unwitting intern and republished by a credible news source. It was sometime in 2007 and I was casually browsing the Internet when I spotted an article describing the imminent collapse of Belgium. I paused. And snickered. Belgium? On the verge of implosion? I spent the next hour dutifully fact-checking. Sure enough, Belgium’s two main regions, Flanders and Wallonia, were at loggerheads. Flemish-speaking politicians from the north were threatening to secede. They accused their French-speaking compatriots in Wallonia of being lazy, a drain on the economy of more prosperous Flanders. Belgium, a founding member of NATO and home base to the European Union, was supposed to be a symbol of European unity. Yet here was a crisis threatening to tear it asunder. In February 2010, the country set a record by failing to form a coalition government in 250 days after holding elections, beating out the previous mark set by postwar Iraq.

Then the true gravity of the situation dawned on me. If Belgium crumbled, what would happen to my favorite beers?

I tasted my first Belgian beer about eight years ago, when I was working at a brewery in Chicago. The beer was remarkably smooth, a tad spicy, and inhumanly strong. My obsession kindled, I made a point of getting chummy with the local high-end beer merchants. I learned about obscure bottles and seasonal releases; I even brewed a couple of batches of Belgian-style beer at home. I plunged headfirst into the gastronomical world of dubbels and tripels, gueuzes and krieks, saisons and wits. Thus, as I read more about Belgium’s impending demise, I knew I would need to investigate further.

My plan was to intrepidly traverse Belgium, seek out the artisans who make the world’s finest beers, and find out whether Belgian beer, like the Belgian state, was also teetering on an existential ledge. And, as a disciplined researcher, I knew that would entail drinking a beer or two or three along the way. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

It was a sunless, dreary morning, but that would not deter me from my plan: to go to church and drink. I hopped on a bus in Antwerp, a city in northern Belgium, and rode 45 minutes northeast, until the driver stopped in front of the abbey at Westmalle. Westmalle is one of six Trappist monasteries that brew beer in Belgium. This one and two others are located in Flanders, the other three in Wallonia. (There is another Trappist brewery in the Netherlands and dozens of nonbrewing Trappist monasteries around the world.)

A green lawn the size of several football fields spread out before the abbey walls. I walked up a narrow brick road lined with oak trees that resembled plucked grape stems. The morning fog dampened the sound of my footfalls. I reached the gate, which was tucked behind another row of skeletal trees, and rang the doorbell. Marleen Hurdak, a cheery woman with shoulder-length dark-blonde hair who works in the sales division at Westmalle, greeted me and ushered me inside.

A wall separates the brewery from the area where the monks live and pray. Visitors are rarely granted access to the brewery at all and are almost never allowed on the other side of the wall. But Hurdak let me get a glimpse. She escorted me through a door into a courtyard that encircled a Hogwarts-esque monastery replete with stained glass and dark brick. I felt as though I were on a bird-watching expedition, except that I was on the lookout for monks. “Is that one?” I whispered. A man in a blue jumpsuit crossed the grounds pushing a wheelbarrow. Hurdak nodded.

Westmalle is Belgium’s second-largest Trappist brewery, after Chimay. The Westmalle monks have been brewing beer since 1836 and selling it to the public since 1856. Revenues from the brewery so far exceed the monks’ expenses that they use the surplus to support monasteries around the world and a foundation in the Democratic Republic of the Congo—after which they still have money left over for charity. (Perhaps the Girl Scouts of America should consider making cognac in lieu of Thin Mints.) Westmalle brews two beers for sale: a golden, moderately sweet tripel and a dark, nutty dubbel. The monks drink a bitter “Extra” brewed exclusively for them.

After we had walked the grounds, Hurdak and I retired to the tasting room, where one wall was adorned with donated steins and glassware, and the windows were hung with red-and-white-checked curtains. She poured out a glass of the tripel. The beer’s slight caramel finish paired perfectly with the plate of monk-made cheese and mustard that Hurdak served.

We talked politics for a few minutes, and I gathered from Hurdak that the abbots at this medieval compound wouldn’t care one way or another if Belgium ceased to exist. Their loyalties were to the Big Guy first, their monastic order second, and the rest, well, it didn’t much matter to them. Perhaps my worries about secessionist brewers were unfounded after all.

That afternoon, I headed 20 miles southwest of Antwerp to the town of Buggenhout, home to a small brewery called Malheur that has earned a reputation for making strong, eccentric beers. A driver from Malheur picked me up at the train station and drove me to the outskirts of town, where I met Manu De Landtsheer, the owner. De Landtsheer is a towering man with brown hair swept back from his forehead and bifocals that rest on the tip of his nose. He is a genuine bon vivant who presides over Belgium’s largest Cuban-cigar smokers’ club and sips beer like a wine connoisseur, aerating it through his lips to release its flavors. Malheur, he told me, means “a positive accident.” “Like when your teenage daughter gets pregnant,” he chuckled. “That’s malheur!”

De Landtsheer walked me through the brewery. To one side, a 20-foot-high, cylindrical fermentation vat bubbled with Malheur 6, a variety of blond beer. To the other, a half dozen American oak barrels were aging an experimental batch of one of De Landtsheer’s brut biers, strong, bubbly brews with a production process that mirrors that of champagne.

Sitting in the tasting room overlooking the brewery, De Landtsheer popped the cork and poured us each a glass of his lighter brut. The beer surprised me with its effervescence, which then mellowed into the taste of green apples with a touch of lemon and a dash of pepper. I asked him about the incredible variety of Belgian beers. “There’s a historical explanation. One of the most important borders in Europe was this street,” De Landtsheer said, pointing out the window at the road running adjacent to the brewery. Dusk had begun smudging the day away. In the Middle Ages, according to De Landtsheer, one side of the road was French territory ruled from Paris, and the other was German land ruled from Cologne. The Germans prohibited the use of spices in their beers; the French prohibited the use of German hops in theirs. But brewers in border towns like this one—and much of Flanders, for that matter—“ignored the rules and used whatever hops and spices they wanted.”

De Landtsheer’s eyes twinkled with an unmistakable disdain for such political silliness. He granted that today’s Flemish and Walloon nationalists had inflated their grievances into a crisis, but he scoffed at them. De Landtsheer is Flemish, but he’s not ready to secede. “My passport is Belgian, and I do not support any extremist,” he said. “I will never sell Flemish beer. It would make no sense. Our style of beer is Belgian.”

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