cheese 'n things

Sunday Dinner: I'm talkin' Moroccan! Plus, the best hummus on the planet.

2009-03-22T16:29:00.000-07:00

Those of you who've been reading this blog for awhile know that making Sunday dinner is one of my favorite rituals. I love to dream up something involved, do the shopping, find just the right wine, and then dive into the prep work, listening to singalong songs and having a cocktail in the process. Tonight I'm going Moroccan, trying a beef and green olive tagine with an Israeli cous cous side. But before the main event, I'm serving The World's Best Hummus, created by Hanna Anki, Owner and Chef of Hanna's Italian Mediterranean Restaurant in San Rafael. I twisted his arm for the recipe and now it's on frequent rotation chez moi. Hanna is Jordanian and so it makes sense he knows a thing or two about hummus. His version is insanely tasty, with a zesty citrusy edge, fragrant toasted pine nuts and jalapeño garlic gremolata on top. It's easy to make in under 20 minutes and it's beyond satisfying. But consider yourself warned. You will be ruined for every other hummus after sampling it. Simply put, can't touch this.

So, to begin, go find your cute polka-dot apron. You know the one, the black and red number with flamenco frills on the bottom. Now put on some dreamy music to set the mood. Iron & Wine feels right. And pour yourself a glass of that Malbec you love so much. Now you're ready.

You'll need:

1 12 oz can organic garbanzo beans
3/4 c lemon juice
3/4 c tahini
1/4 c cold water
2 tspn olive oil
2 oz pine nuts
1 clove garlic
parsley
1 jalapeño

Boil garbanzos in their own water for 10 minutes.
Drain water and place hot ‘bonzos, in blender.
(Note to self: start new band called “Hot Bonzos”)
Add lemon juice and cold water. Blend until finely puréed.
Mix blended ingredients with tahini in bowl.
Add water and lemon juice to taste.
Pour onto plate, spread evenly.
Put olive oil in pan and toast pine nuts.
Make gremolata of finely chopped parsley, jalapeno and garlic.
Pour hot pine nuts and oil over hummus. Top with gremolata.
Serve with toasted persian bread, naan or pita.

Et, voila! Or as one feeble coworker wrote in an email to me some years back: "Wa-la!" (One wonders why these types always reside in upper management.)

As for the Moroccan meal, I've not yet begun the process so I'll share another one I made recently after my sis-in-law forwarded me the recipe from Gwyneth Paltrow's blog, GOOP. It's a recipe that Gwynnie apparently enjoyed while dining with Mario Batali at his home. I have no idea why she's on that show traipsing around the world with him when we would so much rather watch Bourdain crisscrossing the globe, eating pig's colons and cussing it up. Anyway, you'll be using all kinds of delicious ingredients like preserved lemons, saffron and cinnamon. And you'll cook them in a big mélange like this:

And your house will smell like heaven.

And when you're done, your work will look like this.

The following is lifted, 100%, from Gwynnie's blog, so please credit her--or actually Mario Batali--with the below. I also added slivers of medjool dates to offset the incredible tartness of the preserved lemon.

Chicken with Onions, Lemon and Saffron

This chicken dish is easy to make but has complex flavors. Finishing it with the preserved lemons and cilantro garnish is inspired.

SERVES: 4
TIME: 1 hour
1 whole chicken, cut into 12 pieces (leave skin on)
coarse salt
freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup all-purpose flour seasoned with 1 tablespoon each salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil (NO, GWYNNIE, NO! The o.o. burns, so use a high-heat oil like Safflower!)
3 large Spanish onions, peeled and sliced 1/4" thick
2 whole lemons, cut into paper thin slices
1 large fennel bulb, sliced 1/4" thick
12 garlic cloves, peeled and left whole
1/2 cup green olives
1 teaspoon saffron threads
1 teaspoon hot pimentón (Spanish smoked paprika, available from www.tienda.com)
1 cinnamon stick
1 cup dry white wine (such as Albariño)
1 bunch cilantro, washed
1 whole preserved lemon, flesh removed and rind sliced into paper thin slices (available from www.kalustyans.com)
1/4 cup pomegranate pips

Preheat oven to 425°F. Rub the chicken pieces with coarse salt, rinse and pat dry with paper towels. Aggressively season chicken pieces with salt and freshly ground pepper all over and then dredge them in the seasoned flour. Heat the oil in a large, wide, heavy pot over medium-high heat until nearly smoking. Place half of the chicken pieces skin side down into the hot oil and cook for eight to ten minutes or until golden brown and crispy, swirling the oil and rendered fat around the pot every minute or two. Turn the chicken and cook for two minutes on the second side and remove to a warm plate. Repeat with the remaining chicken pieces.

Add the onions, fresh lemon slices, fennel, garlic, olives, saffron, pimentón and cinnamon to the pot and cook until softened and golden, about eight to ten minutes. Add the wine and bring to a boil. Place chicken pieces and drippings from the plate into the onion bed, pushing them so that they’re almost covered with the onion mixture, but with the skin still above the surface of the moist and delicious morass. Place the whole pot, uncovered, into the oven and cook for 30 minutes.
Meanwhile tear the cilantro into 1" pieces, toss with the preserved lemon slices and pomegranates and set on the table in a nice bowl. Remove the chicken and serve immediately from the pot, pinching a bit of the cilantro salad over each portion.

A sort of homecoming + a simple, celebratory meal: Crab Ravioli in Saffron Cream

2009-03-17T08:58:00.000-07:00

From Samhain to St. Pat's, it's been a frightfully long absence. But now, with new camera in hand, I return, triumphant. On the heels of a parental visit, I have some new recipes to share and some shots to inspire. But first, a little ketchup. Get it, catch up? That particular pun was for you, Honeybeast, hater of non-referential wordplay. Anyway, before I delve into the recipes I care to share, I'd like to run through recent culinary discoveries and delights. We'll save the disappointments for another day. Let us not taint this beautiful reunion with disparaging words about purveyors of nose-crinkling foodstuffs.

In the discoveries section, let's start with young coconut water. Not the milky, creamy stuff you buy in cans for curries, this nectar from young green coconuts is thin and subtly flavored. In my experience, people either love it or hate it, but regardless, your body will thank you for it. My facialist (I say that like she's on my permanent staff) tells me it's divine for the skin (ingested, not applied topically) and I read that, post-tsunami, it was administered intravenously to the critically dehydrated because its so rich in nutrients it can mimic human plasma. Full of potassium and electrolytes, it's nature's Gatorade, and as an oft-dehyrdated little flower myself, I'm a fan.

On to delights. Let's start with The Moss Room. If you've not yet explored The Academy of Sciences (Hello?? Penguins!), consider going on a Thursday night. If the idea of cocktailing while perusing exhibits sits well with you, and you prefer the bass of dj beats to the daytime squeals of kindergartners, it's a must. After checking out the Rainforest and the Planetarium, you can mosey on down (with ressies, of course) to The Moss Room, the museum's onsite restaurant, which serves all-organic, locally-farmed ingredients in delicious, innovative dishes from Charles Phan (Slanted Door, Heaven's Dog) and Loretta Keller (Coco500, Bizou). On the night we dined there, in fact, I was doubly delighted. Firstly, I was stunned when the sommelier announced he remembered the Huzz and me from a previous visit to Coco500. Not so exceptional except that it was four years ago! I remembered him too as he'd spent a good amount of time recommending wines that night, and I appreciated his attentiveness, but really, for him to remember us all these years later was sort of amazing. Maybe we asked something so oenophilically pedestrian, he made a mental note about us. But judging from his service and generousity, the guy's just a consummate pro.

Next delight was his in-depth discourse on biodynamic wine. I may have previously understood something about these wines being grown according to the earth's natural cycles, rather than by forcing farming techniques against the seasons. What I didn't know is how sort of Pagan and ritual-filled the growing techniques seem to the uninitiated. It's all lunar cycles and burying a cow horn filled with manure. Don't mock it though--the process is actually a means of optimizing soil fertility. And based on my tastings that night, they're doing something way right. I also learned though that bio-wines can be total hit-or-miss. Whereas science lets us manipulate or chemically-enhance wines if the growing season isn't to our liking, this methodology lets nature determine the outcome. Poor season? Poor wine. So it goes. I was also delighted to learn that one of our fave local wines, Grgich Hills (A Croatian family making California wines) is entirely biodynamic. Somehow, knowing they let nature lead makes me love them even more.

The next mini-delight: The "When Figs Fly" cocktail at Absinthe (PS: Jamie Lauren was robbed!) When brunching there (I love those who "brunch" as a verb almost as much as those who "summer")...anyway, whilst brunching at Absinthe, I typically go for a French 75 (how I adore those petite brandied cherries), but when my ladyfriend opted for this figgy spritzer, I wished I'd ordered the same. It's simply fig cordial and champagne with a thyme sprig stir. Totally figalicious.

Oh, and a final discovery, and one that makes an appearance on le menu below is the tomato vanilla jam from Lemon Bird Jams. Perhaps the flavor combo sounds odd to you, as it did to me on first receiving the sweet little jar from my sister-in-law, but Oh My Vanilla Beans, is it sublime! I've sampled other combinations from these jam elves since, but this one is truly superb. Enjoy en brioche avec paté per my directions, below.

And on now to the recipes for a simple, celebratory meal. In this case, it was my mother's tender 71st. My father reported that lobster is her decadent food of choice so he and I set out to make a meal around it. We settled on an amuse bouche of paté and tomato vanilla jam (that's the one!) on brioche, a frisée salad with blood oranges, roquefort and champagne citrus vinaigrette followed by the main event: lobster ravioli in saffron cream. And to close, a pear tart. However, once it became clear that fresh lump lobster meat was in short supply (and since I had no interest in steaming a live one), we settled for a pound of fresh lump Dungeness meat as ravioli filling. The result was, dare I say it, even better. I think the tender crab texture compared to the more plump lobster meat ended up being a superior filling for our little pasta pillows. So without further ado, Les Recettes du Menu Spécial Fêtes:

L'amuse bouche: Fois Gras Paté on Brioche with Tomato Vanilla or Fig Jam (we made both)
Firstly, brioche is my new favorite food group. With a flaky, delicate texture somewhere between pannetone and croissant, it's melt-in-your-mouth pastry heaven. If you don't care to make your own (I do, but not yet), you can buy loaves at Whole Foods. (Toast some for breks and enjoy with tea for a divine start to your day). In this case, I sliced, cubed and lightly toasted some of Heaven's Bread. Then, I topped it with a sliver of paté and a dollop of jam, alterating between the flavors named above. Finally, I plated it in what turned out to be a very-'80s checkerboard pattern. For a minute, I was back in Postrio's flamboyant dining room circa '93.

Next, le salade. Frisée tossed in Champagne Citrus Vinaigrette with Blood Orange Segments and Roquefort.
It couldn't be easier, or more refreshing. I cleaned the frisée then tossed it in a drizzle of 1 part champagne vinegar to 2 parts persian lime olive oil. (I love this stuff or it's lemony cousin, and both are easily found in various incarnations at Whole Foods or around the Ferry Building). Also, be sure to add a few fingerfuls sel de mer and some grindings of pepper. Toss well. Top with segments of blood orange, peeled and pithed, and garnish with a gooey hunk of rich roquefort.

And, finally, the Crab Ravioli in Saffron Cream
One of my favorite time-saving kitchen techniques, and not in that Sandra Lee Semi-Homemade way that involves the vile "tablescapes", is using wonton wrappers to make ravioli. You can find them, once again, at Whole Foods (why does it feel like I'm totally plugging them, today? Here are the facts: it's close, I'm lazy and they do have a stupid-awesome array of special ingredients). Anyway, the wonton wrappers. Simply brush the edges with egg wash (one lightly beaten egg), plop a little heap of crabmeat in the center and then encase the little package by topping with another wrapper and pinching the edges together. I set my father to work on these and he diligently fashioned 2o or so, estimating about 5 for each plate.

(Seen here: The commander gets his wonton on!)

For the cream sauce, I started by sautéeing a shallot in butter, adding white wine and reducing it, then adding cream, saffron, salt and pepper. When the pasta is plated and spooned with sauce, sprinkle some cayenne and lay a chive or two across the top. It's a simple recipe I found online here, and it's really pretty good. If I did it again, I'd add something to the crabmeat to add some layered flavor. I think corn and thinly sliced shallot would really add some delicious dimensions.

The aforementioned pear tart is also an afore-blogged recipe. Just search this blog and you'll find the pearticulars (ouch) in a long-ago post, I think alongside some superior spanakopita snaps. And with that, my long-abandoned cheeselings, I must close. Thanks for returning, and reading right down to the bitter end. Happy Paddy's Day, Erin Go Bragh and try not to act too much the eejit when you're pounding green beers down at P.J. McFinnegans tonight!

I was robbed!

2008-11-01T12:29:00.000-07:00

Can you believe it? I won not a single prize in the Great Cake-Off. Not even for originality, which I think my Scream had in spades, thank you. And who did they give it to? A freaking gelatinous "brain" cake that was so obviously a molded panna cotta and not a cake at all. And who got the runner up? A chocolate mousse with a spun sugar web on top. I knew I was toast when I heard the company prez--all bedecked in a silver space suit--fawning over it, saying "Ooooh, spun sugar. Verrrrrry impressive." I painted Munch, people! On a freaking cake! Boo. Hiss. There is no justice.

Hope Your Day's A Scream

2008-10-31T09:27:00.000-07:00

Listen, it was between that and some Munch pun, so give me a break already.
Anyway, for this All Hallows Eve, I was granted the dubious honor of creating a "Haunted Halloween Cake" in a client cooking contest. Nothing against making cakes mind you--I was nominated to create the frightful confection after winning a different cake competition at the aforementioned client workplace (marmalade sponge with ginger cream, thankyouverymuch).

So, once I took the prize (a lovely late harvest wine), I was volunteered to make a cake representing my department in the bigger, more "important" company-wide "Haunted Halloween Cake Contest". And while making cakes I don't mind, "haunted" ones seem to call for some "Good Housekeeping"-style monstrosity with pumpkins and spiders made of cheap day-glo icing. Of course I can't quite go *there* so I decided, in overly ambitious fashion, to recreate Munch's "The Scream" by handpainting a fondant canvass atop a gingerbread and buttercream cake. Ridiculous, I know. Not very folksy of me. But hey, that's what elite private girls school will do to you. Anyway, I think it turned out quite nicely, considering my complete lack of experience working with fondant, much less painting it with edible lustre dust. Here's hoping that if this image doesn't scare you, at least it gives you a chuckle.

Your Fall Fest Correspondent, reporting for duty

2008-10-18T10:26:00.000-07:00

Ay yi yi...where HAS the time gone? Months have passed, I know, but your favorite self-flagellating, irregular blogger (not like that, juveniles!) is back. The reason for my sudden reappearance on the scene? An assignment to cover Fall Fest from my friends at Foodbuzz. The reason for my weeklong delay in so doing? Lost notes. After carefully balancing my sampling plate (dubbed "the adult TV dinner tray"--see built-in wine glass holder),
I took copious notes, only to return home and promptly lose them. So, here, today, I sit, prepping to perform the sort of early-onset Alzheimers prevention exercise I should attempt more often. I'll give you the broad strokes of what stood out in Jamie's list of "bests" a la our favorite fashionisto, Mr. Blackwell.

Best overall food theme: duck. Roasted, patéed, confit'd. You name it, they did it. With figs, with chevre, with a plum reduction. Without a doubt, duck stole the day.

Best duck I tasted: The duck and white bean chowder from Salthouse. It was deep and smoky and savory and more than a little reminiscent of a fine cassoulet. Nice work, saltdudes. And that means you, guy-wearing-the-"Got Weed?" tee.

Best non-duck foodstuff at the Fest: The parsnip and vanilla bean soup from Frisée. I'm pretty much a sucker for anything with that exotic, fragrant vanilla pod scent, but the parsnip pairing was a revelation I'd not seen before. Hats off, Nathan Niebergall--nice guy/chef/co-owner who poured us wine from his own secret stash. (And no, that's not why he gets a mention here.)

Best wine tasted: A 2006 gewurtz from Gundlach Bundschu (say that 5 times fast). With notes of lychee and apricot, it was the perfect blend of sunny and crisp, much like the day itself.

Best non-wine drinkstuffs: Hangar One's herbal eau de vie blends, like the Aqua Perfecta Basil flavor featured in the cocktail competition where some of the city's finest got their mix on.
Best place to lounge and enjoy the dulcet tones of the bossanova band laying down some Gilberto-style beats and reflect on the joys of food blogging: These very Miami space pods. (note essential tools of the trade: wine glass and pen).

Best reason to feel like a "coastal elite" sipping chardonnay while Joe Six Pack curses all your ilk: Realizing there were also massage tables at this already precious & decadent event.

Best wordplay:

And finally,

Best reason to start blogging again: because I forgot how fun this is. Thanks for reading, and come back soon. I think I'm inspired to pick up where I left off, and as you all know, fall is my favorite food season, so kitchen adventures are imminent, methinks. And with that string of lovely soft-i assonance, I'll bid you adieu cheeselings. Oh yeah, I almost forgot:

Best reason to wrangle a free ticket to Fall Fest that would otherwise cost $95: All-you-can-eat fromage!

Out of Hibernation

2008-06-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

Yeah, yeah. It's been a long time. A really long time, I know. I've been in Mexico and Santa Barbara, and busy with work and developing other projects, and amid all the activity, my beloved little blog has lay fallow. But with the summer season underway, and a weekend of gardening ahead, I'm making this ground--along with my new veggie plot--fertile again.
It's late for tomatoes, but I'm starting with healthy little plants, so I'm hopeful about the results. The arugula, nasturtium, radishes and carrots are going in from seed in a newly cleared sunny space with a built-in irrigation system. So the prospects are promising. Plus, I have expert advice coming in from The Most Senior Cheese, my father. A few of choice words of wisdom on tomato cultivation from him below:

"Recognizing the tomato hornworm is important. These are really ugly suckers that can ruin the plant. They look like a green rhinoceros without legs. Any white things on the hornworm will be wasp larvae. They will take care of the hornworm. Otherwise you should get them off the plant and send them to Allah.

Love, dad"

It seems my father has declared a fatwa on garden pests. Now, I am a pacifist by nature, practicing ahimsa as a rule, but if the hornworms are done in by wasp larvae, far be it from me to get in the way of their martyrdom.

And with that, I'll leave you with this, a completely unrelated, but nevertheless clever idea for summer sipping: when serving sangrita as your tequila chaser: present it in these cloyingly cute cucumber cups with cilantro stem stirs.
And no, I didn't innovate these little receptacles--I saw them online somewhere. To make sangrita, experiment with amounts to create a pleasing mixture of blended tomato juice, OJ, worchestershire, onion, cilantro, chipotle, salt and pepper. And for the cups, just cut your cuke into thirds and use a melon baller to gingerly scoop out some of the flesh and create your cup. Voila!

Raw reportage: Roxanne’s new food line

2008-03-02T11:09:00.000-08:00

Some of you may remember Roxanne’s, the raw emporium in Larkspur, that drew oohs and ahhs for a menu that interpreted cooked food favorites like pizza and tamales with nothing but raw, fresh ingredients. Now Roxanne has come out with her own line of raw foods and yes, they actually taste good. Really good.

Because I’m still on some PR lists from when I reviewed restaurants, I was fortunate enough to receive a plentiful supply of these new packaged items, and I devoured them all with vigor usually reserved for non-raw foodstuffs. The almonds make a great snack, the chocolate squares work wonders when staving off a more dangerous sweets craving, and the apple crisp is positively decadent. Perhaps my favorite product from Roxanne’s new line is the granola parfait. The Granola itself is fantastic—both as cereal or eaten like trail mix—but with the added parfait, made of coconut meat and flavored with real vanilla, it’s a creamy, dreamy delight. I could eat buckets of the stuff, given the opportunity and a free pass to fats (healthy or otherwise). The huzz and I agreed that this stuff is like hippie crack, though Roxanne’s sensibilities and packaging are far too refined to be mistaken for proferrings from the patchouli crowd. You’ll find her products in Whole Foods and other such markets, next to the other healthful snacks with tie-dyed motifs and new age drawings of unicorns and rainbows. Just look for the smart green labels and expect something altogether more appetizing—both visually and taste-wise.

The election turns ugly

2008-02-25T14:01:00.001-08:00

Well, people, it's politics as usual in the dog-eat-dog world of recipe creation. My rivals in the hotly-contested Mac 'n' Cheese contest on chow.com have resorted to ballot box stuffing to secure sizable leads before the voting ends this Friday, February 29. If you want to support an honest recipe and you want to end sleazy cheesemongering, please vote for my recipe--Fondue Mac-- here!

I'm Jamie Shaw and I support this message.

The Valentines report: better late than never

2008-02-21T10:15:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to post the pix from our French Valentines meal-- which was lovely, thank you for asking--but that nasty bug going around has had me bedridden for a few days and this is the first time I've been upright long enough to post an entry. And you'll forgive the long, rambly, stream-of-consciousness sentences here, I hope, because my energy is minimal. So on to the snaps.

As you know from le previously posted menu, we made Thomas Keller's roquefort and leek quiche. I was delighted that it emerged a lovely golden brown creation, as the blue veins on the cheese had me worried about a green eggs (sans ham) scenario. It was light and fluffy and full of flavor, especially so the next morning.

This was accompanied by haricot vert with pistou (adapted from a recipe on epicurious) and of course, the perfect pommes frites, presented by the Huzz.

And finally, the clafoutis. And please, when you read that, pronounce it, finaLEE, the clafouTEE. It's just more fun that way.

Truth be told, I wouldn't use frozen cherries again because they taste, well, frozen, but after a few tipples of champagne one doesn't grouse about such things; one just makes quick mental note and then refills one's glass.

And that, my friends, is all the news I'm fit to print. It's back to bed for me with hot tea and a third day of clicking channels and cursing the endless Obama-Hillary-McCain onslaught. I found a few nice shows about lemurs and orangutans yesterday, but was moved, in my weakened state, to tears, when various little primates were injured or killed by bigger beasts. Here's hoping for some happier diversions today.

Voila: le menu

2008-02-14T16:37:00.001-08:00

Oh leetle cheeselings, I am needing your weesdom

2008-02-08T14:29:00.001-08:00

Because I am learning to speak français, The Huzz suggests we go with a French theme for Valentines Day. He likes the idea of french food, french wine, bon mots, bon bons, berets, Serge Gainsbourg and–he threw in for good measure–french kissing. When I asked what sort of entrée he fancied, he replied with the old standby, coq au vin. Uninspired, I declined. I have soufflé on the brain, but we did that on our anniversary. Any delicieux ideas, francophiles?

Vote for me!

2008-02-07T09:44:00.001-08:00

No, I'm not running in the primaries. But I did just enter the Mac 'n' Cheese contest on chow.com. Please vote for my recipe--Fondue Mac-- here! And thanks for your support, cheeselings!

Rainy day report

2008-02-02T15:42:00.000-08:00

Well vicarious food-lovers, I hate to disappoint, but Danko plans were derailed as one sister-in-law was suffering stomach sickness on the day of The Big Feed. And as the birthday guest of honor, her absence would have made for a less-than-celebratory fete. However, tonight we're venturing out for Birthday Celebration Redux, this time to Waterbar--a fitting choice since water reigns (sorry) in our collective consciousness these days.

In other news, I'm learning a lot about bamboo lately. And making lots of gratuitous, lame jokes about wanting to avoid being bamboozled. You see, we're planning to plant a "screen" of bamboo to block our view into the neighbor's nasty yard, and wow. Who knew there were so many varieties and details to figure out. In any case, the research is leading me to lovely places like nearby Green Gulch Zen Center, which I've always wanted to visit, but haven't had a reason, save passing en route to The Pelican Inn. I suppose having a "reason" to do anything Zen is counter to the idea, but while hunting for bamboo today, I had a Zen moment of my own at the good old local garden center. I was searching the grounds for bamboo by myself in the rain, realizing there was none to be found when I heard a curious sound following me--an ethereal, enchanting little clopping sound I couldn't place. It became so hypnotic, I turned to locate it and followed its sound through the palm fronds and hanging vines. As I came upon it, I discovered it was the music from simple windchimes made of--what else--bamboo. Quelle serendipitous serenade! While I was unable to find what I wanted, I forgot my intent and found myself caught in the moment, following my senses and my curiosity. And they led me right to what I'd been seeking--though in another form. And one, I might add, that gave me a disproportionate amount of happiness just in its unexpectedness. Needless to say, said chimes are now doing their thing in the garden and giving me no end of Zen delight. Every time the wind picks up I run over and open the door so I can hear their unusual, soothing sound.

And with that my pretties, I'm off for a lie-down before our excursion to what will surely be a less-than-Zen evening in a raucous new hotspot downtown. Details demain et au revoir pour la minute.

P.S.

2008-01-28T12:46:00.000-08:00

Going to Gary Danko tonight. If memory serves, I am in for about 4 hours of edible bliss. Cheese cart, here I come!

Time for fish 'n' chips, innit?

2008-01-28T10:09:00.000-08:00

The weather this weekend was very British indeed. Rainy, windy, dark & depressing. But when a storm sets in, it's the perfect excuse to get cozy in one's local pub (or living room), build a fire, play some darts, drink some Guinness and eat some anglo comfort food. With that in mind, we went UK all the way and fried up a batch of fish 'n' chips.

Note: these are not my recipes. The fish combo was improvised by my sis-in-law Adriana and the chip recipe is from Cook's magazine. As an aside, both are gluten free if you're dining with any diet-restricted types. But if you're throwing culinary care to the wind, you can substitute any old beer for the gluten-free varieties listed here. Regardless, this combo makes the lightest, most delicate & delicious batter, almost like tempura.

Serve with peas & malt vinegar to enjoy a taste of merry old England.

Fish and Chips

2 lbs cod fillet, boned
1 cup rice flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp paprika
3/4 cup Bard's Tale or Redbridge Beer (add a bit more if needed to make batter more liquid)
2 eggs
Veggie oil to fill wok-style pan 1/2" deep

Preheat oven to 250

Gently wash the fish in cold water, making sure to pat the fillets dry with plenty of paper towels. For large fillets, you may want to cut the fish into smaller pieces, making sure to remove any bones before battering.

Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl. Mix beer and eggs separtely then stir into dry ingredients, mix until mixture is smooth. Place fish fillets in batter mixture; coat well, and let stand for 10-15 minutes

Heat oil to 350, gently place small batches of fish in oil to avoid dropping the oil temperature. Fry until golden brown, about 5 - 8 minutes, turning the fillets regularly to prevent scorching the batter.

Remove fish to paper towels to drain excess oil. Keep warm in oven until all the fish are cooked.

Oven Fries

5 russet potatoes peeled, each potato cut lengthwise into 10- 12 evenly sized wedges
5 tablespoons peanut oil
Coarse salt and black pepper

Adjust the oven rack to lowest position and preheat oven to 475. Place potatoes in large bowl and cover with hot tap water. Soak 10 minutes. Meanwhile, coat heavy-duty rimmed baking sheet with 4 tbsp oil and sprinkle evenly with 3/4 tsp salt and 1/4 tsp pepper, set aside.

Drain potatoes and spread them out on triple layer of paper towels and thoroughly pat dry with additional paper towels. Rinse and wipe out empty bowl; return potatoes to bowl and toss with remaining 1 tbsp oil. Arrange potatoes in single layer on prepared baking sheet; cover tightly with foil and bake 5 minutes. Remove foil and continue to bake until bottoms of potatoes are spotty golden brown, 15 -20 minutes, rotating baking sheet after 10 minutes. Using metal spatula and tongs, scrape to loosen potatoes from pan, then flip each wedge, keeping potatoes in a single layer. Continue baking until fries are golden and crisp, 5 - 15 minutes longer, rotating pan as needed if fries are browning unevenly.

Transfer fries to a second baking sheet lined with paper towels to drain. Season with additional salt and pepper to taste and serve.

Get ready for Fondue Mac (no relation to Fleetwood)

2008-01-06T14:54:00.001-08:00

Let me start with this: desperate times call for desperate measures. And when one's garden stairwell turns into a full-on waterfall, gushing towards ones front door, things get a little desperate. I mean, we've been wanting a water feature to complete the Zen garden vibe, but this is ridiculous.

In any case, after one gets soaked to the bone, trudging through knee-deep water to sandbag the house, one requires coziness and comfort, to say the least. But what's the ultimate soothing, warming dish? Certainly, it involves cheese, but in what format? Fondue? Mac and Cheese? Well readers, necessity is the mother of invention. Like other awesome flavor combos, this is a taste sensation for the ages. It’s a decadent treat that satisfies both cravings. And it’s pretty much the easiest, cheesiest, ooiest, gooeyest goodness you’ll ever lay lips on. So when the winds pick up and the rain buckets, hunker down with a big bowl of this ridiculously comforting combo.

To begin, let it be said that I usually make fondue from scratch, but time was of the essence. Melty cheese, stat! This being the case, I started with one of those fondue kits that have the kirsch and garlic flavors pre-mixed. Very Sandra Lee “Semi-Homemade” of me, I know. Anyway, I heated the packaged fondue as a base, then added about 5 cups of cheese: a grated blend of Emmenthaler, Gruyere, Raclette and Sharp White Cheddar. Whenever it got too thick, I added a little milk. While the fromage was melting, I boiled a bag of macaroni. Once done, I returned the mac to the hot pan, poured the cheese sauce over it, mixed it through and then transferred the whole delicious mess to an oven-proof crock. I sprinkled it with panko (Japanese breadcrumbs) and baked it at 450 for about 10 minutes to brown the top. We served it with greens tossed in blood orange olive oil and sea salt and a chilled Sauvignon Blanc. Sitting by the fire eating this luscious yumminess, we forgot all about the felled trees and waterfall in our yard. Oh, and the tequila shots helped, too.

We interrupt our regularly scheduled program

2008-01-04T09:53:00.000-08:00

to bring you this: a poem by Elizabeth Bishop. At present, we are sitting in our cottage, surrounded by felled trees from this morning's 60-mph winds. With TreeMasters on the way, and electricity on the blink, we're daydreaming of warmer climes and subtropical scenes, like the one in this lovely poem about The Keys, one of my favorite erstwhile escapes. For the faithful among you, this is the poem referenced in the last entry. It only seemed right to give it full presence, having invoked its spirit in the first place. Plus, for the sensualists among you, reading these descriptions should have the same effect as eating something incomparably delicious that explodes with layers of flavors, both subtle and stunning, on the palate. It's not food, but I devour it just the same way. For best enjoyment, read aloud and savor EB's effortless rhyme and metre.

Pleasure Seas

In the walled off swimming-pool the water is perfectly flat.
The pink Seurat bathers are dipping themselves in and out
Through a pane of bluish glass.
The cloud reflections pass
Huge amoeba-motions directly through
The beds of bathing caps: white, lavender and blue.
If the sky turns gray, the water turns opaque,
Pistachio green and Mermaid Milk.
But out among the keys
Where the water goes its own way, the shallow pleasure seas
Drift this way and that mingling currents and tides
In most of the colors that swarm around the sides
Of soap-bubbles, poisonous and fabulous.
And the keys float lightly like rolls of green dust.
From an airplane the water's heavy sheet
Of glass above a bas-relief:
Clay-yellow coral and purple dulces
And long, leaning, submerged green grass.
Across it a wide shadow pulses.
The water is a burning glass
Turned to the sun
That blues and cools as the afternoon wears on,
And liquidly
Floats weeds, surrounds fish, supports a violently red bell-buoy
Whose neon-color vibrates over it, whose bells vibrate
Through it. It glitters rhythmically
To shock after shock of electricity.
The sea is delight. The sea means room.
It is a dance floor, a well ventilated ballroom.
From the swimming-pool or from the deck of ship
Pleasures strike off humming, and skip
Over the tinsel surface: a Grief floats off
Spreading out thin like oil. And Love
Sets out determinedly in a straight line,
One of his burning ideas in mind,
Keeping his eyes on
The bright horizon,
but shatters immediately, suffers refraction,
And comes back in shoals of distraction.
Happy the people in the swimming-pool and on the yacht,
Happy the man in that airplane, likely as not–
And out there where the coral reef is a shelf
The water runs at it, leaps throws itself
Lightly, lightly, whitening in the air:
An acre of cold white spray is there
Dancing happily by itself.

(1939)

Bonne Année!

2008-01-02T19:54:00.003-08:00

As you can see, my New Year's Resolutions are well under way. Mastering French is tops on my list. I should really be perfecting mi Español, as we're going to Mexico in May, but brushing up isn't nearly as fun as learning something new. Other resolutions include getting in shape (yawn; so pedestrian) and, of course, posting on the blog more faithfully. Apparently, I'm a featured publisher on Foodbuzz now, so maybe that will light a fire under my backside and inspire more regular posts. Probably not, but let's aim high, shall we?

In a good faith demonstration of my intention, I'll start with a few tips and tastes for 2008.

1. This may be old news to many of you sweet-toothed readers, but for those not in the know, Miette is home to all manner of sublime sweeties, as evidenced by this lovely assortment, stuffed in my stocking by Santa (also known as The Huzz).

Included here are samples of orange flower water, handmade Parisian candies painstakingly wrapped to include messages of love, Italian chocolates fashioned into flowers, a Jasmine chocolate bar, and cinnamon pastilles. Boys, keep your eyes on the Valentines horizon (Wow, I think just lifted that from an Elizabeth Bishop poem. Something about the slant rhyme "keeping your eyes on/the bright horizon" is ringing a long-lost bell. How I love EB. But I digress...)

2. In my best effort at working towards Resolution #2, the dreaded shape-shifting, I recently created this deceptively delicious Spaghetti Squash Pomodoro. Deceptive because you'd swear you were eating capellini. Delicious because it's tossed in all the de rigeur Italian staples (tomatoes, basil, olives, olive oil and yes, darlings, cheese). Quite simply, you can slice a spaghetti squash into halves, scoop out the seeds, roast it, sliced side down on a cookie sheet for 45, and then scrape the strands out and use as a pasta substitute. C'est bon! (See how much French I already know? I'm practically fluent.)

3. I have a recommendation. And this is it.

Despite appearances, this is NOT some sort of kitsch Hello Kitty knife (let it be known that I have long been anti-The Kitty and always hear its name in the same spitting tone that Newman says "Hello Jerry" on Seinfeld. But I digress.) The knife is, in fact, a ceramic model produced by Kyocera, and it's quite a revelation. Sent to me this holiday from the original Santa (also known as The Mom), it's curiously sharp, slicing through a tomato like nobody's business. Or, like the business of someone who really wants to make a clean cut in a tomato. And that someone is me. Apparently, it doesn't need sharpening, and maintains an edge much longer than your average cutting tool. And it's (pretty in) pink. Barbie Dream Knife.

OK, with that I'll close. The Huzz is lurking about, loudly stirring his Emergen-C whilst waiting for me to repair to the salon for a viewing of "Paris, je t'aime."

Until next time, adieu!

While visions of sugarplums dance in her head

2007-12-21T10:17:00.000-08:00

It's the season for sweeties and treaties (and interestingly, also for Sweeneys, makers of man-based meatpies).

So who else out there is consumed by the drive to bake and create lovely confections this time of year? My cravings, it seems, have hit a fever pitch. Of course my dietary concerns keep standing in the way of all my gingerbread ambitions, but this weekend I'll throw caution to the wind and attempt some of the delicious delights dancing in my head. Chocolate croissants, peppery gingerbread cake with meyer lemon sauce, lavendar cupcakes and egg nog ice cream are all possible contenders. The funny thing is, I don't even have a sweet tooth, really. I have, as you all know, a cheese tooth. And a good thing it is since my sister's redirected cheese bounty from Cowgirl Creamery arrived this week on my doorstep like a gift from the fromage fairy. Other pleasant presents that arrived in the post included oatmeal cookies and spicy cheese biscuits from my college conspirator, Anne. Thanks, A. They're delicious. But back to my sweet dreams. Whoever comes a-calling this weather is in for sugary goodness, chez Jamie. And in thematic fashion, I've got a fitting jingle from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang stuck in my head. An erdwurm as it were. Our Swiss friend Matthias tells us a song stuck in your head is called an erdwurm, pronounced urd-vurm and meaning a worm in your ear. (An aside: I kind of can't believe how excited I am that I had the organic occasion to use erdwurm in a blog entry). Anyway, this is the erdwurm of which I speak. If you don't know the song, go download it on iTunes. It's a perfect anthem for those with delicious nibbles on the brain.

Truly Scrumptious

Toot sweets sound like what they are
So do lollys in a lollypop jar
Gingerbread men have a gingerbread sound, we've found
Sugar plum cinnamon and lemon tart tell you what they are
right from the start
And your name does the same for you
By coincidence, Truly Scrumptious
You're truly truly scrumptious
Scrumptious as a cherry peach parfait
When your near us
It's so delicious
Honest Truly, you're the answer to our wishes
Truly Scrumptious
Though we may seem presumptuous
Never, never, ever go away
Our hearts beat so unruly
Because we love you truly
Honest Truly, we do
Truly scrumptious
You two are truly scrumptious
Scrumptious as the breeze across the bay
When you're smiling
It's so delicious
So beguiling
You're the answer to my wishes
Truly scrumptious
You two are truly scrumptious
And I shan't forget this lovely day
My heart beats so unruly
I also love you truly
Honest truly, I do

PS: A bit of Krissmus Karma: My friend C. just emailed me the following: "I have no sympathy for you and your white elephant party situation...I seem to remember your big grin while walking away with a Led Zeppelin box set last year."

Touché.

Cheers!

2007-12-17T10:11:00.000-08:00

Season's greetings, holiday hellos, warm wishes and other yuletide pleasantries. I've been doing my best to enjoy the season, rather than sweat it, but my efforts at seasonal celebration are reflected by my shameful silence here in bloggerland. I can assure you I've been making plenty of noise in real life, however--whopping it up, singing seasonal songs, tooting horns, blah de blah. So, here's my summation of the month in review: Since we've spoken last, I've gorged myself in a marathon Thanksgiving ritual; attended a restaurant opening; joined the effort to pass an initiative preventing cruelty to farm animals; baked the lightest, dreamiest chocolate shortbread cookies ever; decided to learn French (oui, oui!), received an exciting new cookbook by my favorite doyenne of deliciousness, Nigella; committed to finally read Anna Karenina since it is widely regarded as The Greatest Novel Ever Written (even though I reserve that title for Lolita); attended a white elephant party that takes the prize for craziest event in recent memory (high point: won a bottle of Cutty Sark. Low point: got dosed with Spanish Fly by mischievous partygoers and found results to be far from those stated on the package). Whew. I've been a busy little elf.

In any case, all of the above events are unrelated, so I'll elaborate on each, but will issue an apology in advance for absence of graceful transitions and abundance of nonsequiturs.

So, first Thanksgiving. This was the year for a feast to end all feasts. Turkey, ham, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, brussels sprouts, cauliflower in cheese sauce, fruit and nut stuffing, polenta and mushroom stuffing, cranberry dressing, pumpkin pie, apple pie, raspberry trifle, cheeses and fruit and salmon, oh my! Anyway, you get the picture. It was decadence defined. This is me putting the finishing touches (meyer lemon creme fraiche and capers) on the salmon blinis. Mind you, this photo was taken in the morning, when we were still nibbling modestly, sipping cucumber water and deluding ourselves about the all-out eating orgy that was soon to follow. I am certain later photos would reveal a bloated face, loosened belt and eyes on the half-lid, but thankfully, any aspiring photogs were, by then, too lethargic to lift their lenses. Thankfully.

In other eating news, I was thrilled to attend the opening (and to return once since) to the new restaurant Serpentine, where our pal Chris Kronner (Slow Club, Town Hall) is the Executive Chef. It is, as Daily Candy reported in one of its overly-ambitious theme pieces (this restaurant rocks, it's named after a rock, we like cocktails on the rocks) delicious. And despite DC's rocky attempts at wordplay, Serpentine does in fact rock. Everything I tasted was scrummy, with a special shout out for the savory bread pudding. It's an herby, eggy wonder, light as a souffle, yet heavy on flavor. And my mother-in-law couldn't stop raving about her cocktail, Monice's Shrine, an elegant combination of gin, grapefruit juice, elderflower liqueur and sparkling wine (though she opted to swap the gin for vodka). And if the opening week crowds were any indication, you'll want to get there early and secure a spot at the bar as they don't take reservations.

Next on my agenda is an announcement about this cause, which is an effort to improve the quality of life for farm animals and prevent unnecessary cruelty to these critters while they're being raised. I won't get on a soapbox about it, but I will invite you to look at the site and encourage you to help gather signatures from friends and family if you'd like to help get this initiative on the ballot. And to all you cynics and naysayers, yes I still eat meat (selectively), but that doesn't mean I think animals should be kept in torturous conditions while they're being raised. Nuff said.

Now let's away to more pleasant pastures, like those in cookieville. Many of you must remember Stars, the San Francisco restaurant that was ever-so-popular in the early '90s. For years, I've recalled a cocoa confection they served in the form of light-as-air chocolate shortbread cookies and wished I could recreate their delicate flavor and texture. So you can imagine how pleased I was when a friend's mother unearthed the Stars cookbook and passed along the recipe. Now it's important to note that the resto version instructs you to spread the cookies with a mascarpone filling and make something like refined OREO sandwiches, but I love these crispy nibbles all on their own, piped with festive fondant icing.

The recipe is as follows:

Chocolate Shortbread "Stareos"

Ingredients (I doubled this to make a big ole batch):

8 oz cold sweet butter
1/2 c. sugar
1 1/2 c, flour
pinch salt
1/2 c. best quality cocoa powder, sifted

Process:

To make the chocolate shortbread, combine the butter and sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer. Mix on low speed for 15 seconds, using the paddle attachment. Add the flour, salt and cocoa powder and continue mixing on low speed for 3-5 minutes, until the dough comes together. It will look dry just before it comes together. Place the dough between 2 sheets of wax paper and roll out to 1/4" thick. Place in freezer to firm up before cutting. Chill them for maybe 20 minutes. The recipe says to do so for an hour, but I found that made my dough come out too hard and I had to defrost it before using, so....use your best judgement. Preheat the oven to 250 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment or wax paper and place cookie cutouts on sheet so they are not touching one another. Bake shortbread for approx 1 hour until firm (mine ended up taking a bit longer). Remove cookies, let them cool and decorate them with icing and sprinkles of choice. I used a fine tipped fondant writer from Sur la Table and loved how easy it was to make intricate designs. Enjoy!

In other sweet news, my sis-in-law just gifted me with Nigella Express, a cookbook devoted to delicious creations, easily assembled in short time spans. I read it before bed last night (her cookbooks are as fun to read as they are to bake from) and I've set my sights on a winter pudding in egg nog cream. Standby for a result report in the coming week.

Away from the stomach and onto the brain for a moment, the ambitious twin decisions to learn French and read Anna Karenina came about as a means to better balance the amount of free time devoted to Project Runway and Real Housewives of Orange County. A little mental nutrition to counter the junk I binge on, you might say.

And lastly, a warning: should you decide to attend any white elephant gift parties at which punky pranksters proffer gift baskets including porn movies, adult toys and powder packets of "Spanish Fly" and "Horny Toad", one should closely monitor one's cocktail glass should said pranksters decide to make mischief by spiking ladies' beverages with the intent to incite an amorous riot of randy ladies. I can personally vouch that said powder packets should be renamed Spanish Hurl and Barfy Toad. A less-than-pleasant note on which to close, but an important holiday warning for those fraternizing with pervy partygoers.

Now go eat at Serpentine, make those Stars cookies and sign on to protect animals in need of your support. And stay away from the Spanish Fly.

Southern fried goodness

2007-11-13T13:15:00.006-08:00

Whoa.

It's been a long time since I traveled to the Southland and partook of all the local delicacies. But last week was just such an occasion, and on the eve of my mister becoming a real-life 'murican citizen, I thought it high time we skedaddled down South and got him a taste of what this fine country has to offer, food-wise, outside the Bay Area. I mean, selling citizenship with promises of arugula, truffles and foie gras is pretty disingenuous. If you're going to get sworn in, you ought to know what sort of food we was raised on. And when I say we, I mean folk in the South, cause truth be told, I grew up abroad.

But these days, my folks live in Virginia and way back in the Grunge-y days of yore, I went to college South of the Mason Dixon, so I have a taste for good ole' fashioned home cookin. Or, you know, diner food that is billed as home cookin. So our culinary tour went a little something like this:

Stop 1: D.C.
Hardly the South, but it's where we kicked off the eating adventure. I'll skip the sumptuous sushi and yakatori dinner at Sushi Tarro because you've all had good sushi, but I will send a special thanks to Miz Amy Argetsinger for the reco. What you all haven't had, I reckon, is a latenight visit to Ben's Chili Bowl.
On recommendation of our cheerful and visibly well-fed cabbie, we hit up Ben's after a night of le rock 'n' roll. Said cabbie insisted it was the only place to dine after hours, and it being years since I lived in D.C., we went with it. Besides the obvious charms of a joint that stays open late, and serves every dish battered, smattered, smothered and covered in chili,
there was this: an unassuming little sign, printed on letterhead-sized paper, tucked quietly behind the counter.
And sometimes, little discoveries like this are all you need to make a late night food memory live on. That and a regrettable case of heartburn the next morning.

Stop 2: Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia
Next stops on the trip were two favorite college haunts of mine nestled up in the Virginia Blue Ridge: The Texas Inn and the Dahlia.
The Texas Inn is home to a famous-among-my friends burger, known as the Cheese Western. It's a cheeseburger with a fried egg, chopped onion and pickle relish, and it's that special brand of delicious you reserve for 2AM feedings when you're 19, starving and too liquored to care about the environs in which you dine. Sadly, the sign of the Texas Inn will have to suffice as I was too scared to snap a picture inside on account of the toothless grill cook who hollered "It's for eatin' not snappin' futtograffy of!"

The Dahlia was our home-away-from-dorm, a local bar, which, back in the day, was a biker bar complete with country jukebox and an unidentifable shrimpy smell (no food served there, btw). These days, it's been sexied up with a new neon light and a faux rococo mirror, but the grizzled and bearded mountain men at booth #1 clued us in that some things never change.

Stop 3: Durham, North Carolina
Next leg of the tour saw us visiting our friends Mark and Kate, they of the fabulous Motor Avenue Guitars, in Durham. A late night guitar hootenanny led to a big morning feed at a local BBQ joint, called Bullocks. It was pretty much what you'd expect: Carolina BBQ with all the fixins and a choice of 4 vegetables from a selection of well-known vegetables like Mac-n-Cheese, Deviled Eggs, Cheese Grits and Macaroni Salad. Mmmmm, vegetables! Sadly, this picture doesn't include the other delights we ordered, including fried chicken, fried okra, fried hushpuppies and fried green tomaters. Did we mention stuff was fried?

STOP 4: Diet detox
Needless to say, we're back in our city by the Bay (whoa ooo whoa whoa ho), trying to clean up our acts before the holiday season sets in, in earnest. This is helped not in the least by the arrival of shortbread treats my sister just sent from her new home in Scotland, or the imminent arrival of our Cheese-of-the-Month selections from Cowgirl Creamery.

Lawd, give me strength.

Halloween Greetings

2007-10-31T15:46:00.000-07:00

Hurried as I am, I wanted to send a groovy ghoulie greeting to all you cheeselings on this pagan high holiday. Truth be told, I am not in costume today. With a relatively low-key evening plan (involving steamed mussels, a fire, and in-laws) and a vehemently anti-costume spouse, I am somewhat uninspired. It wasn't always this way.....only a few years back, my beloved wowed the crowd as a washed up Chippendales dancer, and years before as a leprechaun. However, his rented elfen costume held some bad Rennaisance Faire juju and he has been off dressing up ever since. That didn't stop me proposing a series of genius couples costumes for us this year (Linda Evans & Yanni, Mystery & J-Dog, Sweet Lime & Jack Whitman). If those references elude you, don't worry. It's now a moot point as I got shut down on all counts. Or as Rick Springfield would say "the point is prolly moot.")

In any case, I hope the rest of you have a kooky costumed night of spooky shenanigans. And hey, don't egg my house. I am standing by with candy, at the ready.

Automatic aromatics

2007-10-17T17:35:00.000-07:00

Behold my lovely wheaten bread.

Nothing says "domestic goddess" like a loaf of freshly baked bread. And nothing says "all the glory with none of the effort" like this super-simple recipe from one Mrs. H. Gillan. I've never made fresh bread so easily or quickly. I'm even inspired to make it in the mornings to enjoy with tea or when friends pop by for cheese 'n' things. It's that effortless. But you can still pretend you slaved all day and emerged coifed, fresh-faced and full of party charms.

Wheaten Bread

6 oz whole wheat flour
2 oz flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar
1 teaspoon honey
1/4 pint buttermilk

Preheat oven to 350. Mix all ingredients in a medium bowl (I used my hands, but a mixer will do). It will be too sticky to work with so add a few more shakes of flour till you can reasonably mold it into a flattened ball. Place on a floured baking pan and bake for 35 minutes. Voila! Serve it warm & slathered with butter or sliced room temperature with sharp English cheddar and chutney. A nice cuppa tea or a pint and you're right as rain!

No, your eyes don't deceive you.

2007-10-16T13:42:00.000-07:00

I am in fact blogging.

Healthy, alive and back in the saddle. I'll skip the excuses, apologies, whining, et al. I may have been a slack correspondent, but I've been a dervish in the kitchen, which, I like to think, counts for something.

Now, onto the news of the day. First of all, this:
I found this wee pineapplet in Mollie Stone's today while cruising the produce section in search of a non-soggy avocado. And when these fruity friends caught my eye, I was stopped in my tracks. I trust you can discern the scale of this culinary curiousity as it rests in the palm of my hand. And I must emphasize the smallness of my hands lest you imagine some Seinfeldian "man hand" scenario at play. I assure you, dear readers, mine are the daintiest of digits. What's really remarkable about this tiny find is the potency of its perfume. I drove home with senses confused as I inhaled the summer scent of piña colada while driving through the driving rain. Which, of course, led to song composition ("If you like piña coladas, driving home in the rain...")

And that's not all this morning's market run yielded. As I ambled through the cheese section (hello, old friend....), I encountered a jolly Aussie peddling cheesy wares, including wafer-thin cracker crisps and molds of intense fruit and nut gelees to serve alongside one's fromage. It turns out it was this fellow though today he looked more like this, manning his stand of delectable comestibles. He explained he was on tour in the states, spreading the good word about his great products--and indeed his products are worth the effort. I started with the pear and hazelnut pyramid (which remains my favorite), then moved to the apricot and pistachio and closed it out with the fig and almond combo--a figgy flavor burst that will knock down any old newton. As you've by now surmised, I liked his products a lot. I bought some and you should too. I also liked that he was there, himself, taking it to the streets and promoting his product the old-fashioned way, with a friendly smile and a side of queso.

In other news, I was thrilled to learn our friends Jen and Chris just took the gold at the Sonoma Harvest Festival for their Syrah, Cuvee Julian. You heard it here first, people: (last summer, I believe)...Stark wines are simple and stunning. And people are starting to notice. Plus, their prices are afforable, so order some for the holidays before they get all high-fatulin' and jack their prices. PS--their viognier remains my favorite of all, so don't overlook it!

And that, my friends, is all the news that's fit to print. Or at least it's all the news that I can muster at this instant as I'm still getting over a nasty flu. No, I didn't get a flu shot and don't get me started on that racket. I am too delicate to argue the illogic of being shot up with flu serum when this year's strains are inevitably different than those that came before. Instead, I will luxuriate on this rainy afternoon, fire blazing, pup snoozing by my side (I call this one "Ruby in Repose") and husband snuggled on the couch studying for his citizenship. The little boy from Belfast will soon be signing on with Unky Sam. Well, not signing over his soul, he would be quick to point out; he can retain his birth citizenship as well. And with Belfast on the brain, I will retire to the kitchen to fashion some Irish wheaten bread from the ancient community cookbook sent over by a white-haired, Irish auntie. The only question is whether to make the recipe submitted by Mrs. C.E. Brennen from the Manse in Whitehead or that contributed by Mrs. H. Gillan, from Turroloskin, Ballycastle. I must admit, I am partial to all places Bally: Ballymoney, Ballyna, Bally-by-the-Waye. I guess we know which wheaten wins. And will it ever taste delicious dipped in the potato leek soup I'll serve tonight for dinner.

Ta, my cheeselings. It's good to be back.

Too bogged to blog

2007-09-12T19:42:00.004-07:00

Oh, how I have dreaded this day, beloved readers. Not because I would be reunited with you, my faithful friends (and a sincere thanks to those of you checking in and asking after my whereabouts), but because I must face you, head bowed, tail between legs, sheepish shrug–the works. The truth is, I've been too busy to blog. I know, I know, it is the lamest possible excuse, but in this case it's true. At present, I'm juggling 5 clients, which believe it or not, is a lot for li'l ole me. Especially when each demands your attention, requests your presence on site, calls sporadically throughout the day for impromptu conference calls and decides to work late at night or on weekends "to get ahead".....friends, it's been a bleak few weeks. Made less bleak now by your shiny, smiling faces (as I imagine them) and the generous glass of Syrah at my side.

If we've not talked about it before, I favor Syrah and Rhone-style wines. I like an old-world, earthy red with some tannin and easy fruit. The older I get, the bursting-berry, jammy wines of my 20s now make me pucker and shudder. Even Zinfandel and Pinot Noir often taste too sweet to me–which is a sad state of affairs, since they were long my go-to varietals. But here I sit, in the twilight of my youth, waxing oenophiliac on the more mature wine I'm savoring–a taste less sweet, less playful, more simple and straightforward–just the thing for what ails me (the prospect of repeating the client cycle tomorrow)....

The other factors that soothe me presently are the roasty autumn dinner smells filling my kitchen and taunting my hunger: pork chops, sauerkraut, roasted apples, butternut squash and mac-n-cheese. I know, it's a motley mash (especially that last), but it's an homage to coming autumn, which feels tonight to be on my doorstep. I'm even at this moment contemplating building a fire. It's only September, but the weather foretells the imminent arrival of my favorite season, and all the foods that follow. Tonight I'll taste my faves.

Also of note for its happiness-inducing effect is my birthday this coming Sunday. I suppose I should be lamenting the number 36, which admittedly shocks me when I see it written, but really I'm comfortable in my skin and happy for my years of experience (though I imagine my sisters and parents chuckling at this imagined wisdom from one they still call the baby). I love my birthday and take it as a time to reflect on all I've seen and done and most importantly, the friends with whom to celebrate. This year, many are traveling, but that's not stopping us from having a movie marathon at my friend R's pad, the now illustrious Hive.

There's so much to say, so much food to blog (remind me to tell you about our meal at Ame and our chance seating next to Al Gore), so much to look forward to in coming weeks (Rufus Wainwright at The Hollywood Bowl performing Judy Garland's entire Carnegie Hall set and The Waterboys at the Fillmore). And of course I'm antsy to blog all the yumminess that has crossed my palate and filled my dreams in the recent (gulp) month or so I've been away. I'm finally resurfacing and I promise to dive back in this week. Forgive this less-than-meaty post and know I'll be back shortly with lots of tasty anecdotes.

For once, I'm speechless

2007-08-10T09:59:00.001-07:00

I don't even know what to say about this.

Oyaji? Oh Yeah!

2007-08-06T11:11:00.001-07:00

It’s titles like this that tip you off I might write ad copy. I’m afraid my penchant for puns and my arsenal of alliterative phrases make it impossible to avoid ad-ish speak everywhere I jot thoughts: blogs, emails, bathroom stalls. It’s a blessing and a curse.

In any case, the Oyaji I speak of is an authentic Japanese Izakaya in the avenues, and if you’ve not ventured in, I highly recommend it. I joined a group of foodie friends there, including the doyenne of SF dining, the illustrious and incomparable Tablehopper. Good choice, Miz Marcia. The menu is long and varied and includes enough sizzling meat and steamy noodle dishes that you’d never even miss ordering sushi, though they have plenty of that too. Our tablehopping hostess suggested we go sans sushi so as to fully experience the other authentic options, but we did cave when it came to the Crunchy Wedding Roll. Stuffed with spicy hamachi and avocado, it was the inevitable handrolled edible.

Aside from all the Japanese hits and classic numbers, the menu includes some more daring dishes that may intimidate the Western palate. And by “the Western”, I mean my own. I manned up and tried them all, but feel confident that I won’t need to revisit items like the Horumon Yaki (stewed and skewered beef intestine), Yaki Onigiri (a sort of seaweed risotto cake) and the dreaded Kurage Su (jellyfish in vinegar sauce) any time soon. To be fair, this last dish was the least offensive in taste. It was sort of like a miso chutney. However, the gelatinous consistency was enough to nudge me away indefinitely. I do have a picture of it, but I trust you’ve all seen a jellyfish. Just imagine it on a plate, dolloped with marmalade and you get the picture. Now if you’re feeling brave about eating slimy sea creatures and innards, you’ll be amazed what the chef’s special soju can do in the way of bringing liquid courage.

Which brings us to the chef. An important note about Oyaji is that, in Japanese, the word translates roughly to mean “dad” but it also connotes “dirty old man” or "pervert...and somehow this is meant affectionately. And in this Oyaji, the owner has named the place with true intention, for never a pervier dude will you meet. He’s notorious for hitting the liquor and then hitting on the ladies. He makes the rounds and engages in conversation ranging from mildly to wildly inappropriate. Luckily (I’m told) we escaped the worst of this behavior, mostly owing to one eagle-eyed attendee at our table who alerted us everytime he got “out of the box” i.e., emerged from behind the sushi counter. He did proffer a bottle of soju from his secret stash, which smelled more like Jim Beam than the typically clear, clean-tasting stuff. And being good guests, we drank the whole thing. But we got out before its effects took hold, conceivably rendering us victim to unwanted advances. All in all, it was a delightful, delicious and yes, drunken evening. We’re going to give the overall experience two tentacles up.

In other recent news, we went to see Rufus Wainwright at Mountain Winery on Saturday. Sean Lennon opened (with a Yoko-circa-’68 doppelganger on keys) and sort of blew me away ( I bought his new album, Friendly Fire, as soon as I got home). Then, the two of them sang “Across the Universe” as an encore. And it was sublime. Lastly, Rufus did Judy Garland’s “Get Happy” in quasi drag (black blazer, stockings, fedora, earrings and pumps) while his backing band broke out all the broadway stops: jazz hands, plastered expressions of joyful surprise and even synchronized somersaults. If you all haven’t discovered RW's music yet, do yourself a favor and check out the performer Elton John called “the best songwriter of the century.” You shan't be disappointed.

Addendum: Here's a video of Rufus and Sean singing "Across the Universe". It's not the same show I attended, but it's a comparable performance. And yes, you guessed it, under that terry robe, Rufus is sporting his Garland getup. If you dig it, you can youtube them singing "This Boy" too. Then you could waste a whole afternoon streaming songs and singing along.

Say hello to my leetle fren

2007-07-20T11:25:00.000-07:00

Cheeselings, meet the spiral slicer. I know it looks like one of those wacky contraptions you see on the Home Shopping Channel that’s too gimmicky to purchase, but I am here today to sing the praises of this little blade runner.

I’ll cut right to the chase (cut, get it? hyuk hyuk). Plain and simple: it’s bikini season. And come the summer months, many of my favorite food groups are a highway to the danger zone (apologies to Kenny Loggins). See, when the weather gets warm and the sun is shining, I’d like to be frolicking on the sand and splashing in the surf. But I’m too busy cursing the pasta people (who I suspect are in cahoots with the tankini inventors).

Enter the spiral slicer. This little baby makes vermicelli and capellini style strands out of raw veggies like zucchini. And believe it or not, when dressed with a gingery soba sauce or a fresh pesto, THE STUFF TASTES LIKE PASTA! I mean, if I really, really concentrate, of course it’s not the real thing, but it’s pretty amazing how textures and shapes can fool your mouth into thinking you’re enjoying a carbtastic treat, when really it’s raw veggie stuff.

I discovered this wonder tool over at the bro-and sis-in-laws’ place, and I can tell you, it’s going to be a summer staple. When I perfect the soba, I’ll share the recipe and you can try it for yourself.

And no, I’m not off pasta for good. Heaven forfend! Just cutting down on carby pleasures so I can be a beach bunny, not a beach bum. (Get it, bum?) Clearly, all this sun is going to my head. I’ll sign off now and resume healthful living.

Sunday Supper: Pasta with Vodka Sauce and Pork Sausage

2007-07-16T11:30:00.000-07:00

I'm exhausted. On Saturday, we drove to LA for a friend's art show and then drove back Sunday, which is, in my opinion a grueling amount of time to be in the car, in 100+ heat, on the 5. We did however manage to squeeze in a poolside lunch at Casa del Mar and some sketchy late night behavior. (And I mean that literally--our hosts, who are acquaintances at best-- welcomed us home latenight, and then broke out their sketch pads and started drawing us. Seriously. This, to me, was hilarious, since they were both totally straight-faced and didn't even acknowledge it--just sketched away while staring intently at us and holding another, completely unrelated conversation. The worst part was, when the final products were revealed, they were horrifying. Michael announced he was ending his friendship with the sketchy male upon seeing his rendering of me.)

ANYWAY, we were tired. So tired in fact, that we wasted $70 worth of tickets to The Alarm/Psych Furs/Fixx show at the Mezzanine, and instead, watched Bret Michaels in "Rock of Love" and Scott Baio in what has to be the saddest reality show ever conceived. Poor Chachi has the emotional depth of a sea pudding.

However, as most of you know by now, my cravings are powerful things, and even in a state of utter fatigue powerful enough to keep me from three great '80s rock bands, I will do what it takes to eat something super-satisfying.

On this particular Sunday, it was a Penne with Vodka Sauce and Pork Sausage.

Sadly, I was too tired to photograph it (yes, that tired), but I made it in under 20 minutes (beat that, Rachael Ray).

This is so easy and so delicious, I highly recommend it for a quick dinner that's good enough for guests.

Penne with Vodka Sauce and Pork Sausage

1 pkg penne
4 cloves garlic
26 oz diced tomatoes, including juice
1/2 c. Vodka
1/2 c. cream
1/2 pound ground pork sausage (w/fennel, if poss)
Parmigiano Reggiano
crushed red pepper
ollive oil
sea salt and coarse ground pepper to taste

Bring large pot of water to boil, add salt and olive oil and add pasta.

In separate skillet, warm olive oil and add garlic, minced. Keep heat on medium so garlic turns golden, but doesn't burn. Once you're there, add the tomatoes including their juice. Add a few shakes crushed red pepper, plus the vodka and bring to a boil. Once it boils, reduce to a simmer. In a second skillet or small saucepan, sauté your pork sausage until it's thoroughly cooked through and then set aside. By now, your pasta should be ready, so drain it and set aside. Your tomatoes and vodka will have been simmering for a few minutes, but you should probably let it go a bit longer to make sure the alcohol's been cooked out. I would say it should simmer at least 10-15 minutes, all told. At that stage, add the cream and salt and pepper to taste. Give it a stir and then add the penne and sausage to the sauce so everything gets blended and mixed through. Serve with generous gratings of parmigiano on top and enjoy.

Breakfast of champignons

2007-07-13T09:30:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when you wake up, you know tea and toast just isn't going to cut it. Such was the case this morning, when I awoke with a dull headache owing to last night's festivities with my husband's relatives, who are in town from London. (More on that to come.)

So for whatever reason, after a losing battle with the treadmill at the gym (I kept envisioning those cartoons in which a character slows down on the treadmill and then gets sucked through the conveyer and flattened like a pancake. Not to worry, I emerged in 3-dimensional form. Rather more than I'd like, I'm afraid.) I was just winded and starving and overcome with a craving for sauteed mushrooms. Hence this morning's breakfast creation: Poached eggs on toast with shiitake and truffle ragout, alongside arugula tossed in blood orange olive oil. Do I need to tell you how good it was? I think not. I'll just include my prep notes and pictures so you can see for yourself.

Poached Eggs on Toast with Shiitake Ragout and Blood Orange Arugula Salad

4 eggs (if you're cooking for yourself and a honey)
2 slices rustic bread (I used Grace Italian country bread)
8 shiitake shrooms (or more)
3 tbspn truffle oil
chives
handful arugula (extra nice if it's fresh from the garden)
blood orange olive oil (we used one from Asti, 2003)
coarse sea salt
coarse black pepper

Fill a saucepan with water to poach your eggs and set it on a high flame. Cut two slices of bread on the diagonal so they make nice long slabs and then pop them in the toaster. While you're waiting for the water to boil, slice up your shiitakes in small strips, discarding any rough stems. In a small skillet, sauté the shrooms in a little olive oil and then finish them with the truffle oil and a sprinkle of sea salt and cracked pepper. Set aside. By now, your water's boiling and you're ready to poach. This is the time when I holler for the husband to take over because he's an impeccable poacher. If you're the best poacher in your house, carry on. As I've mentioned in earlier posts, I'm not going to walk through the poaching process as it's delicate and there are hotly-contested issues regarding best practices (vinegar v. no vinegar, etc). There are plenty of handy how-tos for this online, so I'll leave you to your own devices here. The last thing to do is rinse and dry your arugula, then toss it in the blood orange olice oil with a little sea salt and pepper. To plate, spread the toast with mushroom ragout, top with 2 poached eggs and clip chives on top. Serve with the arugula salad on the side. The fruity citrus of the salad is refreshing alongside the earthiness of the mushrooms. You won't be disappointed.

As usual, I photographed the results to entice you to try my creation, but for reasons you'll soon see, I had to include two shots. The first is here for the close-up.

The second for The Unbearable Cuteness of [a small] Being.

And lastly, I have to circle back to the aforementioned evening with the Londoners, they being Auntie Anna, the stern but loving family matriarch; Cousin George, the tough-talking lager lout who's actually just a big softie that loves puppies and his mum; George's bird, Donna who loves a pint and a fag and their precocious daughter Louise, who I repeatedly engage in zoo-related conversation just to hear her say zeh-bra in a lovely little lilt.

Anyway we were all on the deck making merry and catching up when Auntie Anna hauled out a suitcase with gifties "for the boys" and flopped it open. Now let's be clear that "the boys" are my husband (38), his twin (you do the math) and their brother (36). I am not telling a word of a lie when I say that that super-sized suitcase was chock full of candy and weird British sweeties that "the boys" go crazy for. The contents included soda bread, Bakewell tarts, Bird's custard, Jelly Babies, Wine Gums, and more, which, with the exception of the soda bread, I find to be vile foodstuffs, all. But, it's food from the homeland and the boys dove in with a rarely-seen glee. My boy alone netted this load, which, I can assure you, will be gone by nightfall.

The only thing that even interests me remotely here is the Turkish Delight. And that's only because I was such a Narnia-freak as a kid that I still conjure Romantic visions of the white witch luring the kids to her sleigh with the stuff. Once I tasted it, however, I remember thinking "they went with the witch for *that* stuff? Those kids got suckered, big time." So I'll leave you with visions of sugary sweets dancing in your head and sign off with a cheerio, pip-pip, ta ta and all the rest.

At the risk of scaring you off...

2007-07-10T13:46:00.000-07:00

I will admit it. Like most bloggers, I like to look at the sitemeter, which lets me know how many (if any) of you are reading the blog. I like to see how readership picks up when I write frequently and tapers off when I get lazy. It keeps me motivated.

And sometimes, while I'm there, I notice where you come from, you worldly readers, you. I mean, if the hit comes from Amman, Jordan, I know it's cousin Yorke (hi Yorke!). If it comes from Dublin, I know it's my darling friend, Aisling (hi Aisling!) And if it comes from somewhere like India or Japan, I know someone probably made a mistake or else googled something über-specific like "saenkanter" ....

In any case, this exercise provides some low-grade entertainment when I'm killing time at a client's office.

The reason for noting this is that I need to come clean on one count. Generally, I only see cities from which hits originate, though on rare occasions, I see a company server name. And generally, it means nothing to me. However, some time ago, I started seeing repeat hits from a company whose name seemed to be food-related. We'll call it Yum Marketing. And as a food writer for fun (and a marketing writer for, um, the opposite of fun), I thought, by golly, I should know more about this company. Maybe this reader is scouting me out for some fabulous food-writing opportunity, which would require me to travel the world and eat everything in my path, and pay me gazillions of dollars for writing my impressions.

As it turns out, the company is really nothing like what I imagined. I mean, it seems cool and all, just not food-related. I poked around the site anyway, 'cause I was there, and bored. Then I happened upon the company profiles, which included pictures of the small team. And of course I checked them out. That's when I started to feel like some sort of Internet double-agent, quietly lurking on a company's site trying to imagine which one of its employees likes to look at my site. It felt like when you voyeuristically look into someone's window with binoculars, only to see a similar pair of binocs staring back at you. Not that I know what that feels like, or anything.

Anyway, at this stage, my curiosity was in overdrive. Is it the guy who appears to be enjoying a croissant? The dude who likes gumballs? The one with a fauxhawk? Or maybe it's the chick who plays pool? I'll never know, I'm sure, and I think it's best that way. In fact, I don't want to know. I only wanted to come clean and say, hey whoever you are, I appreciate your regular readership. Really, I always think "Oh, look, Yum Marketer is checking in!" Now, if only you could start working for a food-related venture and recommend me for the above-mentioned position, which requires exotic travel and pays gazillions, I'd be forever grateful.

See what you can do to make it happen, mmkay?

And if not, just continue checking in–I love that I have repeat visitors and your familiar blip on the screen feels like a friend.

Cheesehounds, let's get back to basics

2007-07-05T21:29:00.001-07:00

All too often, one of you gentle readers pipes up and laments the dearth of dedicated cheese posts, and time and time again, I'm forced to direct you to the "n things" part of this here blog. The thing is, there is just too much yumminess out there to limit my scribbling to cheese-based observation. But when a fantastic cheese crosses my path, or more appropriately, my palate, you know I'll be here telling you about it.

Enter Charvollais from French affineur, Herve Mons.

I discovered this delectable delight while nosing around the cheese counter yesterday, pre-Fourth of July revelry, and man, am I glad I did. This fine fromage is goaty, with a thick creamy, golden layer between itself and the rind. It elicited "oohs", "ahhs" and even a few guttoral grunts of approval from the very cheese-loving company I keep. In fact, it was so toothsome (note to self: use the word "toothsome" more often) that I called my fromagerie friends back today and inquired about the likelihood of procuring this cheese again, and often. It seems Monsieur Mons is a highly-celebrated affineur and his cheeses are prized and somewhat hard to come by. Translation: make it your business to find some of this stuff and buy it when you can. You shan't be disappointed.

We found the Charvollais to be sublime on its own, but also nice alongside grilled figs drizzled with honey.
We served all of the above with a chilled Vinho Verde that, itself, had notes of honey and green apples–perfect on a summer afternoon.

Other than that, I've been eating a lot of fruit. It's what you do in summer, and when everything's ripe and juicy and looking this good, how can you not start your day this way?

Finally, I don't usually use this blog to make reading recommendations, but I'm loving "Cooking with Fernet Branca" by James Hamilton-Patterson and I think you will, too. It's a rollicking summer romp and I'm forcing myself to savor it since I can already tell I'll be sad to see it end.

So, to recap, your shopping list should now include Charvollais, Vinho Verde, and a ripe pineapple to enjoy under the trees while sipping your morning tea and reading "Cooking with Fernet Branca." You dig?

Happy Birthday, America!

2007-07-04T10:50:00.000-07:00

This morning has seen a frantic attempt to create a themed CD for the afternoon's events. At first, I was bogged in the mire of Sousa marches and Skynyrd songs, but then inspiration came charging like a frontiersman across the wild, wild West. Neil Diamond! Elvis! Don McLean! Too-many American-themed songs to download! Mellencamp! And let's not forget Hendrix wailing The Star Spangled Banner! Kid Rock's "Cowboy"? Genius! Morricone's epic "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly"? I'll be whistling it all day long! Even "Born in the U.S.A." and a Green Day rant about W....what would an all-American overture be without a protest song or two? Just a little something I like to call freedom of speech, people. Let's remember the rights we're celebrating!

So anyway, this mix is shaping up to be a patriotic tour de force, which our hosts (and their neighbors) are sure to love.

As far as food, I'm sorry to report that the day's menu is really looking more Greek than American. I hear mumblings about lamb and fresh figs plucked from the tree out back. Not to mention Don Julio, a little nod to the newest Americans, who break their backs taking the jobs we won't. But really, it being well into the summer, we've been doing our fair share of good ole American chowing down. It is, after all, fair season, and we're no strangers to the midway diet of corndogs, icy cold Bud and funnel cake, all served up by a toothless-but-still-grinnin' carny. Plus, with an all-American backdrop of acts like Cheap Trick and Benatar belting it out across the county fair circuit, we've been having a marvelous time.

This summer has also seen us stay in a yurt in Santa Barbara (hey naysayers, g-d made yurt and yurt don't hurt), a cabin in the Russian river and a plush pad in Tahoe, all of which provided backdrops for more decadent dining. To wit: my recipe for grilled halibut on rosemary skewers will be posted soon. But right now, we've got flag waving to do. You know, in the barbecueing, good-timing, fire cracking sense–not the "America's number one, this is an awesome war" sense. I think we all understand the bittersweet complexities of being an American today, but I, for one, will shout it from the mountaintops: I love my country and I'll be goshdarned if I'm not going to revel in it today.

And last but certainly not least, a spirited salute to dad and both granddads for their proud service! "Anchors Aweigh" we go!

They say nothing good ever comes in the mail

2007-06-13T10:40:00.001-07:00

But they are wrong. So very wrong.

This morning, a mysterious package arrived. It was made even more mysterious by the "perishable" label, alerting me that it was either a new puppy (hooray!) or something I could eat (huzzah!) and yes, all you sickos, the two are mutually exclusive.

Then I discovered the cold packing, my curiousity building.

I waded through the sea of green peanuts to find a rather unremarkably-wrapped bundle.

And then, a very remarkably wrapped bundle.

And at last, the gilded grail:

This magnificence was sent unexpectedly by a friend. A friend, let it be said, who is possibly birthing a baby at this very moment. But that didn't stop her sending me this most luxurious gift of chocolate. And not just any chocolate. Chocolate molded into the shape of traditional Latin American milagros or "miracles" that serve as good luck charms. And that's not all....these amulet confections are made of exquisite Valrhona cocoa dipped in delicate, edible gold leaf from Todos Santos in Sante Fe, New Mexico.

Do I feel like a queen? Yes, yes I do.

Gracias, Sylvi. Muchos besitos all over your big belly!

Chootneh, loov?

2007-05-31T09:15:00.000-07:00

That's my super-serious Scouse accent for chutney. Why, I don't know, except that whenever I think of the word, I hear it in my head that way. Maybe because when I first fell in love with the stuff (in earnest, I mean–when I discovered the real deal, not some bastardized American version), it would have been in a sandwich shop in Cambridge, circa 1989. I was there studying and, between tutorials, we'd walk the windy streets to a little shop for cheese sandwiches–the kind made with that good, hard English cheese, like maybe a Gloucester–and the question that always came when I ordered was, "chootney, loov?" To which my answer was always a resounding "yes, please!"

Now, most of what we ate that trip was not to my liking as we were shuttled about to stuffy scholar dinners, which, though often impressive, high-table, formal affairs, introduced us to the likes of halibut mousse and creamed sherry. And lets remember, I was 17. So as you might imagine, the daily cheese sandwich with chootneh was a high point. I even enjoyed it more than all the teacakes and sweeties that came later in the afternoon. And to this day, I could still be happy with a daily ploughman's lunch of good bread, sharp cheese and chootneh–those strong, satisfying flavors are always welcome with me.

Anyway, all this comes to mind since I've taken the notion to create a few chutneys that capture island flavor. These won't be the pub-style chootnehs, like the homestyle stuff I've just recounted above, they'll be more exotic and adventurous with tropical ingredients. But before I dove in, I wanted some advice from the chootneh champ herself, Alison McQuade of McQuade's Celtic Chutneys. Alison's chutneys have been taking the Bay by storm, and they've found their way into top markets and restaurants, like my beloved Cowgirl Creamery. Plus, Alison's been a faithful reader of this blog since the beginning, so I figured she'd be up for the project. And true enough, she was. We met at the Ferry Building for brunch, on what turned out to be a foggy summer morning, and sat outside anyway. The damp weather seemed to bode well for chootneh making, and Alison smiled, "it reminds me of home."

So, we explored all kinds of island ingredients. Papaya and passionfruit. Coconut and curry. Cinnamon and Allspice. And I settled on a few combinations from which I expect heavenly results. And of course I'll recount all my findings once I've completed the experiment. But really, when it comes to chootneh, sometimes the best ones are the simplest. The kind you find on a cold, foggy day–served on a rustic white roll with hard white cheese–and wash down with a Guinness. The kind you eat on a day like today. Good thing The Pelican Inn is so close by. Better yet, good thing I have that standby jar of Branston Pickle in the fridge.

French Laundry reprise

2007-05-26T14:30:00.000-07:00

Well cheeselings, I survived the French Laundry experiment, though my stomach is still distended and my palate is still spent, a full 48 hours after the event.

I'll try to give you the rundown with accompanying photo essay, but to be frank, articulating each culinary nuance and flavorful flourish would take all day. And despite what many of you think, I don't sit here in my jammies and pink fuzzy slippers blogging the days away. There are fledgling veggies to be tended, chutneys to be invented (more on that to come), and frillies to be mended. That last one's not likely to happen today, or in the next long while, as the old Singer's been gathering dust, having taken a backseat to all the kitchen activity in recent months.

So, let's get on with it then.

First, naturellement, le mise en scene:

Kelly, our hostess, opted for a casual setup with small plates and wine pairings around the kitchen island. The low lights cast a warm, coppery glow that felt like an elegant brasserie, and I so appreciated the decision not to seat us around a formal table in straight-backed chairs, clinking silverware and minding manners. This way, no one hesitated to lick fingers, double dip or dive into the saucepan with torn hunks of rosemary bread after a particularly luscious course.

And now, the food.

Cornets with Wild Salmon Tartare and Red Onion Creme Fraiche

Kelly made these delicate little lovelies and in the spirit of their creator, gave them a playful name when she had to alter their shape due to equipment restrictions. Rather than forming them into cones, she used a cannoli mold and thus, dubbed them salmon cannoli, a nice nomenclature nod to the always clever Keller.

Gougeres

I made these and gratefully found the recipe straightforward, though it seemed heavy on the salt. I suspected something was off when I tasted the pate au choux batter, and my suspicions were confirmed when all agreed the finished pastry was far too salty. I have to think the full tablespoon of salt listed in the recipe is a mistake–it's hard to imagine Keller's gougeres tasting like a salt lick.

Sweet Pea Soup with Parmesan Crisps and White Truffle Oil

Tori made this soup, which was a marvel of delicate flavor layers. She made a veggie broth of sweet peas, carrots and fennel and I was amazed that I could taste all three in a harmonious balance. The soup was drizzled with white truffle oil and served with a reggiano crisp.

Fava Bean Agnolotti with Curry Emulsion

Kelly decided to make this last minute, and I for one, am tres grateful. It was the creamy, dreamy piece de resistance. The fava beans encased in silky pillows were bathed in a subtle curry buerre blanc, and just the thought of it makes me swoon.

Salad of Haricot Verts, Tomato Tartare and Chive Oil

Watching CC assemble this was a lesson in patience and precision. First the chive oil, stenciled with a tin round. Next, the tomato "tartare" gently tamped into a cake. Topped with haricot verts in a cream sauce, assembled crosshatch, like a log cabin. Capped with a bouquet of frisee. And finished with tomato powder. Yes, powder. Not purchased, made fresh that day. And yes, I was well out of my league.

Whipped Brie de Meaux with Croutons and Mache

Here, I whipped the brie and then created quenelles (smooth, oval scoops) and stacked them between crostini atop a port reduction. The side salad was just a simple mache tossed in blood orange olive oil.

"Banana Split" Roasted Banana Ice Cream with White Chocolate Banana Crepes and Chocolate Sauce

What can I say? Jodi's dessert was bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S. From what I understand, this was four days in the making. And yes, it tasted *that* good.

And merci to Terry, house sommelier.

Wow. Blogging that was like actually eating at the French Laundry: a reeeeeallly long affair. Looks like I won't get to last night's lamb or this morning's adventures in chutney till tomorrow. Until then...

Dinner at French Laundry...sort of

2007-05-24T09:56:00.000-07:00

So tonight I'm attending a dinner party for which each guest must prepare a dish from the French Laundry cookbook. At last check, the menu was looking like:

Cornets with Wild Salmon Tartare and Red Onion Creme Fraiche

Gougeres

Sweet Pea Soup with Parmesan Crisps and White Truffle Oil

Fava Bean Agnolotti with Curry Emulsion

Salad of Haricot Verts, Tomato Tartare and Chive Oil

Whipped Brie de Meaux with Croutons and Mache

"Banana Split" Roasted Banana Ice Cream with White Chocolate Banana Crepes and Chocolate Sauce

Luckily, my cheesy ways have ensured that I was assigned an amuse bouche (gougeres) and a cheese plate (the brie de meaux). I was a little trembly imaging the multi-day prep some of the other dishes required. Anyway, you can expect a full report and pictures in the near future.

Here's a preview of our gougere-making. Look closely and you'll see the smallest–but most enthusuastic–cheese fan looking on.

Breakfast is served

2007-05-20T09:52:00.000-07:00

Growing up, I was always an Eggs Benedict devotee. It was the weekend staple, if I could get my hands on it, and it was a great aid in helping me put on 15 pounds at the end of my college senior year. For that reason, and the advice of my chef friend John (*never* eat the hollandaise at a restaurant), I've retired the vice.

But sometimes I still crave yolky poached eggs, stacked with other yumminess for breks.

And so I concocted this:

It's simple, savory and still somewhat slim-friendly. With this fresh alternative to ye olde Benedict in my arsenal, I can proudly say, I've never looked back. And frankly, now the old saucy version makes me feel heave-ish.

This has yet to be named, propah, but it's known around the house as "Eggs Jamie."

This recipe should feed 2 hungry humans.

arugula, (weather willing, we'll be picking it soon)
1/2 red onion, sliced into rings
4 slices prosciutto
1/2 c. parmagiano reggiano, shaved into sheets using potato peeler
4 eggy weggs
Couple fingersful of capers
1/4 c. quality balsamic vinegar
4 whole grain english muffins
Sel du mer or any coarse salt
Freshly ground pepper

So first, I slice my onion into thin rings and carmelize them in balsamic vinegar. Put both into a small skillet on medium heat and once they start sizzling, turn the heat down a bit and let the vinegar reduce til it's a thick syrup coating the onions. You'll need to give them the occasional nudge, but you don't have to stir consistently. The goal here is to cook the onions til they're soft, not soggy, and nicely coated in a thick balsamic jus. Once you've achieved this, scoot them into a small bowl off to the side. Now tear your prosciutto into thick strips and add them to the pan. You want to crisp the stuff up a bit, but not so much that it gets tough, You're probably looking at a few minutes, tops. While the pig is crisping up, toast your muffins and make long, smooth sheets of the parmegiano by shaving it with a potato peeler. By the time you're done with those tasks, your prosciutto will be ready to relax on some paper towels nearby.

Now, to poach the eggs. I have to be honest and tell you, not everyone can do this skillfully. I still employ my husband, when he's nearby, to handle this task. For whatever reason, his huevos always emerge looking more artful than mine. I won't give you the poaching lesson here as there are plenty of good references online. Use them.

Now while your eggs are bathing, toss the arugula in a few drizzles of olive oil, balsamic, salt & pepper to taste and capers. Once the greens are well-coated and tasting good, toss in your cheese and prosciutto.

To present the dish, start with your two toasted muffins, as you would a traditional Benedict, then layer the dressed salad, the eggs, and top with the carmelized onions. And honeys, you're going to thank me for this one.

Pining for pesto

2007-05-20T09:11:00.000-07:00

As all faithful cheeselings know, all my cooking and eating is craving-driven. That is to say, what I make on any given night is never a result of weekly planning or forethought at the grocery store. Each and every day, usually by lunchtime, I know what it is I *need* to have for dinner. Sometimes the cravings arrive in the form of an entirely "baked" concept like, say, blasted chicken with roast potatoes and minty peas–a perennial favorite. Other times, the cravings are more flavor-based, and pop into my noggin in the form of thoughts like, "I wonder what fennel braised in white balsamic would taste like..." and then a dish is built around that notion.

So yesterday, it was nearing dinnertime, and my daily craving had not yet presented itself. (I wish it would arrive on schedule like Daily Candy in my inbox...."Good morning, Jamie. Today the food you can't live without is snozberries"...)

So anyway, once I started ruminating about the possibilities, it was clear I needed to have something ultra-garlicky. And what better than a summery, zesty pesto?

What's so great about this craving is that you can whip it up fresh in a matter of minutes, and few things taste as good. You'll need:

2 bunches basil, stemmed
1/2 c. good olive oil
1/2 c. grated parmigiano reggiano
1/2 c. toasted pine nuts
3 cloves garlic
pasta (unless you intend to eat it with a spoon, which I've been known to do, much to the dismay of anyone within breathing range)
blender or food processer

First, toast your pine nuts in a dry pan. You can do this in the oven or on a burner, but I recommend the latter so you can keep an eye on the little buggers. They'll burn before you can say "$7 down the drain!" Use medium heat and keep them movin' and a-shakin. Once they're a lovely golden brown, rescue them from the heat and pop them into a blender or food processer. I use a mini FP, perfect for salad dressings and such. Now add your olive oil, basil, reggiano and garlic and give it a good long buzz so everything's well chopped and blended. Beware that sometimes large garlic nuggets remain, having not been completely pulverized by the blade. Fish them out or leave them in for a good liver cleansing.

Now boil your pasta and then spoon this savory spread on top. You don't need much because it's pretty potent stuff. A few lovin' spoonfuls will nicely spice your whole dish. Now eat up, bambinos! Mangia, mangia!

You got ta know when ta hold 'em

2007-05-20T09:05:00.000-07:00

Presenting my winnings! Why? Because it was my first attempt at poker, and you can bet this will never happen again. The best thing about this scenario was that our hosts were seasoned sharks, who, I am convinced, invited us over to ply us with tequila and then fleece us. Not so fast, compadres. I'm not a gambler by nature, but I came through and showed them what's what. And I will tell you that the high of walking out of there with all their money lasted a good long time.

Good for what ails you

2007-05-11T15:37:00.001-07:00

You know, when you get sad news, sometimes busying yourself in the kitchen is as therapeutic as a good cry. Plus, you can cry while you do it, and just work yourself into a meditative zone of tranquility. I find baking bread is especially good for those moments, as is the taking of baths, the former of which I'm doing now, the latter of which, I need desperately.

Today, I made Barbari Bread, also known as nan-e-Barbari. It's a Persian flatbread I remember eating as a kid when we lived in Iran. Oh, you didn't know I'd lived in Iran? Well, more on that to come. In the meantime, try some of this satisfying bread. The taste of the warm toasty flavor will make your stomach smile and the act of making it will make your heart feel better.

Yasou, Halloumi!

2007-04-29T11:43:00.001-07:00

Yasou is Greek for hello.

Halloumi is Greek for delicious cheese you can grill.

And yesterday, after a long day in the garden, I was craving some tangy, Greek goodness with tart, lemony flavor. At first, I thought about making tzatziki, but my arms were sore from clipping hedges, so the thought of grating all that cucumber lacked appeal.

Then I thought about halloumi.

I love this cheese because it's briny, but more mellow than a feta. It also offers a pleasing texture, something like a firm mozzarella, and it holds up over heat, so you can plonk it right on a grill or in a frying pan. It doesn't even require oil if you use a nonstick pan. Then, when it's golden brown, you can spritz it with fresh lemon and grate some pepper on it, maybe add some herbs or a few capers, and you're good to go. I served it with toasted farm bread, roasted red peppers and olives and it was so satisfying we didn't even eat dinner afterwards.

Once you're sampled this Greek treat, I'm confident you'll add it to your list of regular grillables. You can even cube it and skewer it with other veggies. Give it a try at your next Greek party (and no, I don't mean the kind at your frat). And hey–for those of you wondering about the wine...yes, I paired a red with something lemony. So sue me. It probably would have been more PC (palate-ically corrrect) to serve white, but I'm a real daredevil that way. If you're not sure what'll work with it, I think beer would be a lovely accompaniment.

And voila! Presenting le pepper rose panna cotta.

2007-04-25T13:46:00.000-07:00

Here she is, to tempt your taste buds. The recipe however is still under lock and key as I am refining my spice mixture. Will post it as soon as it passes my stringent test kitchen standards.

A moment of silence

2007-04-13T13:44:00.001-07:00

For Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. 1922-2007

So it goes.

A rose is a rose is a rose

2007-03-31T12:57:00.000-07:00

But when Gertrude Stein wrote those most famous words, she certainly wasn't accounting for rose syrups. Just look at the difference in these two rosey contenders. Some are red, some are clear. Some are cloying, some are sublime. My job today is to make something divine, drawing on this morning's rosey inspiration.

I just returned from the Ferry Building Farmer's Market, every eater's dreamland. Between the brown-sugar smoked salmon "candy", the fiddlehead ferns and the coconut meat, it's perishable paradise. And I can't think of a San Francisco springtime activity I enjoy more: sitting on the pier, eating breakfast (this morning a prosciutto and arugula scramble on grilled bread), perusing the produce and just generally gathering culinary inspiration.

So while I was there, I snapped up some exquisite roses and hyacinths. The roses were everywhere, huge and bursting open and perfuming the air. And coincidentally, also while I was there, I was gifted with a gorgeous bottle of Italian rose syrup by my lovely sister-in-law and cooking conspirator, Adriana. I decided it seems only right that with such floral, fragrant resources at my disposal, I should be making a dessert that tastes like flowers tonight. (If only I could remember the name of that Italian late harvest rosé that tasted like rose petals to compliment my confection.) Wine aside, I'm leaning toward making a rose panna cotta because Adri bought a beautiful gingered one today and its delicate image is fresh in my mental kitchen. It's been on my list for some time to create a honeysuckle-flavored something anyway, so perhaps this afternoon is the time to let my creativity bloom. Like that? Hey remember, this is *cheese* and things.

Anyway, as far as the rose syrups, the red one is the gorgeous new addition. The blue label was purchased at my fave Indian market, Bombay Ice Creamery on Valencia. It's more of a rose water than a true syrup but it is a bit sticky-viscous, so I guess it qualifies. Now that I have two such sugary nectars on my hands, a true tasting is in order. So the test kitchen is open and I'll report back with my floral findings.

And finally, check out this little bit of serendipity urging me onward: the iTunes is set on "random" and it just served up Edith Piaf, crooning La Vie en Rose at me. If ever there was a sign from the universe!

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Quelle chance!

Meet my doppelganger, Stepford Jamie

2007-03-12T14:06:00.000-07:00

[author's note: the following entry was written in the lazy days and hazy daze of Springtime. Brace yourself for a syrupy sweet meditation on gardening, worthy of someone's gramma or a Junior League cookbook. It's hard to realize your own frivolity at writing such a post when the world's in such a sorry state. But I suppose it's nice to know a sunny day can still bring happy satisfaction from something so simple as gardening.]

Previous plans for yesterday’s sunny Sunday in the ‘70s included a trip to Petaluma for the first annual artisan cheese festival and a stop by a friend’s art show at Eos. But when it turned out to be The Most Beautiful Day Ever (or at least in recent memory) I decided to skip the afternoon of eating and drinking to till the soil and prep the veggie garden.

Every year around this time, I spend an afternoon or two pulling the weeds, cursing the crabgrass, befriending the earthworms and banishing the snails from my little veggie kingdom. And yesterday’s weather was a sign that the time had come to perform this annual ritual so that I can begin planting in the coming weeks.

To date, my mix of plants has been experimental, with the only staples being arugula, butter lettuce and tomatoes. The mint is there year round, growing like a weed and keeping us in mojitos through all four seasons. The chives are also pretty robust residents. Everything else is determined each spring according to my fancy on seed-buying day. I’ve played with radishes, carrots, zucchini and peas, but none produced memorable results. This year, I also intend to grow flowers solely for cutting. I figure, buying blooms can get expensive, so there’s no reason I shouldn’t be growing my own.

That said, I believe this afternoon’s activities will include a trip to the seed store and a subsequent planting. So there’s no recipe to share today, but my outdoor effort will bring plenty of edible inspiration in the coming weeks. And there’s nothing so gratifying as tasting a recipe you’re concocting, realizing it needs a little something more and trotting out to the garden to snip it right then and there.

And with the last keystroke I typed in that paragraph, I realized how quaint and cloying and “Martha” it sounds. I apologize. I think the arrival of Springtime and the added hour of daylight have me positively giddy. So much so that if I belched right now, it would probably manifest as a little spritz of perfume on a cloud of cotton candy, wrapped up in ribbon and carried from my rose petal lips by sweetly, singing birds…..

Hm. Well OK. I checked and it’s actually nothing like that.

Good to know it’s still me under there.

A dense, decadent dessert: mi favorito, Tres Leches

2007-03-11T14:22:00.000-07:00

Friday night, we had friends from Toronto visiting and I'd decided to make a Mexican meal featuring guacamole, carnitas tacos, real margaritas (you know: fresh limes, no mix) and for dessert, Tres Leches cake. My rationale was that these Canadian folk don't have the same access we do to good Mexican, so I reckoned I'd make something really authentic. This totally cracked Michael up, my being of German & Scottish descent and all. Anyway, snickering aside, I was determined to make the themed meal, and especially the cake, since a) it's divine, b) the best one I've ever had was from Market Hall and I'll be damned if I'm driving to Berkeley for something I can make at home and c) I found a recipe online that sounds super-simple and dead-on delicious.

If you've never had Tres Leches, there's something important to understand: It can be knock-your-calcetines-off amazing, or it can be muy, muy nasty. In the latter case, it's usually because it was produced by a grocery store and slathered in veggie-oil based frosting, like those sheet cakes you get from Safeway. In the former case, however, when it's delicioso, it's probably because it was made by some little abuelita who gave it plenty of TLC. With that thought in mind though, you may be surprised to learn that I chose a recipe from Emeril, who–as far as I know–is neither Mexican, female nor anyone's granny. He does have a recipe however that sounded right on based on the cake I wanted to create. It yielded a dessert that was dense with milky moisture (the desired effect) and sinfully sweet. In short, it was perfect.

And this is it.

Please forgive the poor photo quality. I still haven't replaced my camera, so I'm relying on my built-in Mac computer cam in the meantime.

If you do choose to make this cake, start the night before, so all tres of your leches can soak in overnight.

Also, know that when you make it, you will simply have to eat two pieces, so it ends up being seis leches in the end.

Tres Leches

Cake:
6 large eggs, separated
2 cups granulated sugar
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 cup whole milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Cream topping:
1 14-ounce can evaporated milk
1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
1 cup heavy cream

Icing:
3 tablespoons water
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3 large egg whites

To make the cake: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly grease and flour a 9 by 13-inch baking dish and set aside.

In the bowl of a mixer, beat the egg whites on low speed until soft peaks form. Add the sugar gradually with the mixer running and peak to stiff peaks. Add the egg yolks 1 at a time, beating well after the addition of each.

Sift together the flour and baking powder and add to the egg mixture, alternating with the milk. (Do this quickly so the batter does not lose volume.) Add the vanilla. Bake until golden, 25 minutes.

To make the cream topping: In a blender, combine the evaporated milk, condensed milk, and heavy cream and blend on high speed.

Remove the cake from the oven and while still warm, pour the cream mixture over it. Let sit and cool to room temperature. Cover and refrigerate until well chilled, at least 4 hours or overnight.

To make the icing: Once the cake is completely chilled, in a saucepan combine the water and sugar. Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and stir to dissolve the sugar. Cook until the mixture reaches the soft ball stage, 235 to 240 degrees F. Remove from the heat. In a medium bowl, beat the egg whites to soft peaks. While beating, add the hot syrup in a stream. Beat until all the syrup has been added, the mixture cools, and a glossy icing forms.

Enjoy!

Gingerlicious juice

2007-03-01T15:39:00.000-08:00

We really don't talk enough about juice. But you know, when you make it yourself, there's really nothing better. I used to juice stuff all the time, back when I was a yoga fanatic and I attempted healthy livin'. Needless to say, that trend didn't last long. I like food way too much to give up the good stuff. But I still love fresh juice, especially when it's spiked with spicy ginger root. This here is a cool glass of apple-ginger-pear nectar I just squeezed/squoze/squaz, and man, I wish you could taste it.

I used 6 pink lady apples, 6 red d'anjou pears and a honkin' 3" piece of peeled ginger. !Que bueno!

Something American for your cheesetooth and something British for your sweet tooth

2007-02-28T11:34:00.000-08:00

Those who read this blog regularly know that I’ve mentioned SF’s newest food attraction, The Cheese School, on more than one occasion. And now, having been there twice, it’s time to reflect, record ….and go on a diet. See, what happens when you attend this forum of fromage is that you’re met by a flight of wines and a dinner plate of cheese samples, which are arranged around the perimeter like numerals on a clock. Then, at the instructor’s bidding, you work your way around the plate, starting at 12:00. Two hours later, you’re delirious. In a cheese sweat, if you will. And for me, that’s somewhat literal because when I eat a lot of the stuff, my face gets red and my cheeks feel hot, sort of like after an enzyme facial. It may be some mild form of an allergy, but I refuse to find out. I mean, me being allergic to cheese would be like Tammy Faye finding out she was allergic to make-up. Tragic and life-altering. Anyway, I digress.

My most recent foray to The Cheese School was a belated holiday gathering with 3 of my girlfriends. We usually plan a holiday dinner, but this year we decided to just pay our way to a class at the Cheese School and give that to ourselves in lieu of gifts. So, there we were at the class on American Cheeses, taught by the doyenne of domestic cheese, Laura Werlin. If you don’t know her name or read her books, you should. This one-woman dynamo took it upon herself to learn about, sample and appraise all the artisan cheeses being made stateside and then she wrote it all down. The result was a James Beard award, which is like the Nobel Prize in the culinary arts.

Needless to say, it was a highly engaging and spirited class--this owing not only to Laura’s knowledge and witty repartee, but also to the bottomless glasses of wine in front of us. As we all loosened up, class participants began belting out their impressions. "It's goaty!" they cried. "I hate riesling" one wimpered. Graciously, Laura welcomed the comments one and all, though I don’t know whether she was charmed or scandalized when, from our corner of the room, came the revelation that the “nose” on one particular cheese was distinctly redolent of bongwater. She only acknowledged that such an association was “a first” in her experience. I shall refrain from naming the cheese in question, lest I offend the maker. I will however post my fave cheeses from this class shortly.

And as far as recipes go, I’m cheese-free at the moment. My latest creation was a traditional British sticky toffee pudding. We always seek it out when we’re “across the pond” or when we’re at our fave tea house in NY, Tea and Sympathy. It’s so sticky-sweet, your teeth will ache, but your belly will surely smile. I made this on a dreary, rainy day while I cranked up some equally sticky-sweet pop tunes and sung my lungs out. For those who enjoy sugary power-pop confections, treat yourself to Brendan Benson’s album, The Alternative to Love... It’s a delicacy I can devour all day long.

Sticky Toffee Pudding
(Note: this one’s not my own. It’s from Gourmet, via epircurious.com and, as you can see from the photo, I used 5 individual ramekins, rather than one 8" cake pan--your choice).

2 sticks (1 cup) unsalted butter, softened, plus additional for greasing pan
1 cup self-rising cake flour plus additional for flouring pan
1 cup pitted dates (5 oz), finely chopped (I used medjool)
1 1/4 cups packed dark brown sugar
1 large egg

Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour an 8- by 2-inch round cake pan.

Simmer dates in 1 cup water in a 1-quart heavy saucepan, covered, until soft, about 5 minutes. Let stand, covered, off heat 5 minutes.

Beat together 1 stick butter and 1/4 cup brown sugar in a large bowl with an electric mixer at medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 4 minutes. Beat in egg until combined. Add flour and 1/8 teaspoon salt and mix at low speed until just combined. Add dates and mix until just combined well.

Pour batter into pan and bake until a wooden pick or skewer inserted in center comes out clean, about 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, melt remaining stick butter in a 2-quart heavy saucepan over moderate heat and stir in remaining cup brown sugar, 1/3 cup water, and a pinch of salt. Boil over moderately high heat, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until sugar is dissolved and sauce is reduced to about 1 1/4 cups, 2 to 8 minutes. Remove from heat and cover.

Transfer pudding in pan to a rack and poke all over at 1-inch intervals with a chopstick. Gradually pour half of warm sauce evenly over hot pudding. Let stand until almost all of sauce is absorbed, about 20 minutes.

Run a thin knife around edge of pan. Invert a plate over pudding and invert pudding onto plate. Pour remaining warm sauce over pudding and serve immediately.

All hail, Year of The Pig!

2007-02-21T18:24:00.000-08:00

Sorry for the belated well wishes for a happy Chinese new year. By now you know I'm prone to posting tardiness. But surely you don't mind. If you did, you'd be reading "Punctuality 'N Things" or "Anal Blogger" right now. But no, you're here for me and my cheese. So I'll share my thoughts and reflections on this, the auspicious arrival of The Year of The Pig.

I, of course, am a Pig, which explains my attention to this important occasion. It also explains my quintessentially piggy characteristics. My calm nature. My artistic sensibilities. My superior manners. And of course, my love of food and drink. Yes, I am a pig from my little pink snoot right down to my dainty trotters.

And as such, this year promises to be the highlight of my 12-year cycle, bringing me a virtual tsunami of luck. "Virtual" of course, because we all know how unlucky the other kind is. Anyway, I'm ready for it. I spent the weekend getting the house all feng shui'd in anticipation of all the luck and great ch'i that's coming my way. Why, I even have a friend learned in such things coming over tomorrow to appraise my efforts. I'll let you know how it goes.

In any case, as all this hoopla relates to food, I am not surprisingly inspired to make something Chinese. Or quasi-Chinese. Like you used to do at International Day in elementary school. It may be completely inauthentic, but it's still totally delicious.

These are little dumplings you can boil or boil and fry for a crispy pot-sticker texture. I love to make this the day after I make my blasted chicken. That way, there's usually just enough meat left on the carcass to stuff these little lovelies.

Jamie's Dumplings

1 pkg pot sticker/wonton wrappers (fridge section of good grocery stores or Asian markets)
1 can water chestnuts
1 can Asian mushrooms (button or oyster)
2 bunches baby bok choi
1 cooked chicken or 2 cooked chicken breasts or whatever leftover chicken you've got
1 piece ginger, approx 3", peeled & finely sliced
1 bunch scallions
2 cloves garlic, finely sliced
1 egg
sesame oil
peanut oil
soy sauce
Dried red pepper flakes or vietnamese pepper sauce
basting brush

In small bowl, combine 3/4 c. soy sauce, garlic, ginger, 3 tbsp sesame oil, and a pinch of dried red pepper flakes or a teaspoon of red pepper sauce. I typically up this part of the recipe, but I like it a lot spicier than most. Use your discretion. And be sure to taste it. This is a very happenstance creation and I just add little dashes and pinches until I can taste ginger and garlic and spicy soy. Whisk it all up and set aside to marry the flavors. As an aside, you can add some crushed up peanuts or a little peanut butter if you're feeling frisky. Me, I like it simply gingery.

Now, shred your chicken so you have 2-3 cups of meat. Thinly slice water chestnuts, mushrooms and the green stems of your scallions. Add them all to the bowl of chicken. In a small skillet, heat a few shakes peanut oil and add the green leaves of your bok choi. Sauté quickly til it's just wilted and soft. It will shrink considerably, which is fine. Add that to the bowl of chicken as well. Stir ingredients.

Whisk your egg in a small bowl to make an egg wash. Lay one pot sticker/wonton wrapper in front of you and scoop a little pile of the chicken mixture in the center. Brush the edges of the wrapper with the wash and then lay another wrapper over the pile, sealing the edges by pinching them between your fingers. Set aside. Repeat until you have 3-4 dumpings per person or until you've used all your chicken mixture.

Bring a pot of water to a boil and once it bubbles, gently ladle your dumplings into the pot, reducing the heat to a gentle simmer. They only need to "cook" for about 2-3 minutes as all your filling ingredients are already cooked. Once they're done, remove with a slotted spoon. You can then choose to serve them right away, soft, or throw them into a skillet with peanut oil and brown them for a crispy coating. Either way, you should serve them in shallow bowls, drizzled with your soy mixture.

I hope you enjoy and Gung Hoy Fat Choy (you know, a week late).

That's amore!

2007-02-14T10:49:00.000-08:00

Ciao bambinos, and buon giorno Valentino!

This entry comes to you after a week of serious foodrinkery and parental fanfare. My units were visiting from the other coast and it rained almost every day. Which meant we were stuck inside. Which meant nothing to do but eat and drink. There was one Scrabble game, a wood fire or two and plenty of book reading, but mostly we cooked and ate and drank. We also had a fab meal at the always enchanting Slanted Door. I won’t detail it here though, because you should just go there and experience it yourself. I will recommend the lamb however, despite it being the least Vietnamese thing on the menu.

So what did we make this week? A lot of things. A meyer lemon budino. That "no-knead" bread that’s so en vogue right now. Gruyere grilled cheeses. And a totally bitchin’ puttanesca. On my parents’ last night here, I went Italian through and through and I have a few things to share that I know you will love.

First of all, Burrata.
Have you tried it? Till recently, it was only a rumor to me, an elusive cheese that’s not easy to find as it has to be imported fresh from Italy. I’d been wanting to hunt some down when I passed a sign outside A.G Ferrari that said, “Burrata is here!” I promptly went in for a taste and (close your eyes, dad) $17 later I was driving home with a luscious lump of it. And yes, I believe it was worth every penny. The stuff resembles a fresh buffalo mozzarella and it comes packed the same way, in water. But once you cut into it’s lovely silky exterior, the inside is ooey and gooey with rich, heavy cream. Good God people. It’s delicious. We ate it as a starter, on crostini with prosciutto, sprinkled with sel du mer and drizzled with olive oil. Molto bene!

We followed with a salad of pepper cress, dried arugula flowers, radicchio, tangerines, blood oranges and toasted hazelnuts. This I tossed in an orange dijon dressing and garnished with some blanched miniature red carrots I found at the farmers market.

Then it was on to the main event: a sassy, saucy and certainly spicy puttanesca. Incidentally, this dish originated in Napoli, so it seemed a nice nod to the years my parents and I spent there when I was a wee bambino myself. While I made it, I thought about my dreamy memories of the first landscape I experienced: dad’s Cinquecento, our apartment view of Vesuvius and the accordion player who played sad songs under our balcony. Molto romantico….

Here’s how I made it.

Puttanesca alla Jamie

2 pounds of chopped tomatoes (I used 2 boxes of Pomi brand, my fave)
1 large onion, diced
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 c Kalamata olives, pitted and chopped
1 c Spanish green olives, pitted and chopped
½ c capers (the big ones, preferably)
handful chopped fresh basil
handful chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
8 anchovies, finely chopped
2 teaspoons dried hot red pepper flakes
1 cup red wine (I used the Valpolicella we were drinking)
4 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
½ c. olive oil
s&p to taste
strozzapretti, penne or similar small, chunky pasta (I know puttanesca's often served with linguine or spaghetti, but I like the way these cuts hold sauce)

Chop your onions and garlic and sauté them in the oil until golden brown and translucent. Next, add your chopped olives (both kinds), capers and thinly-sliced anchovies. Pour in your chopped tomatoes and red pepper flakes followed by your wine and balsamic vinegar. Then bring it all to a boil. Once it bubbles, reduce to a simmer and let it cook gently for about an hour. Of course you can cook it less; it would be fine to eat it once it gets warmed through and the wine has cooked off (meaning you only see chunky sauce and no residual boozy liquid), but I found letting it simmer on medium-low for an hour or so really married the flavors. Stir it occasionally, and add your salt and pepper to taste.

When you’re almost ready to eat, boil your pasta water with a few splashes of olive oil and a few tablespoons of salt. Add your pasta and cook according to package (fresh only takes a few minutes, dried maybe takes 10-12). When your pasta is ready, scoop out one cup of the used water and add to your red sauce. The starch will thicken it up and bind it together. Finally add your basil and parsley and give it a few more stirs. Serve immediately over pasta and top generously with grated parmagiano reggiano. Serve with a nice Italian red that compliments a spicy sauce. We enjoyed a Northern Italian Valpolicella and some warm, crusty bread. Close your meal with a gelato (we had meyer lemon and ginger) and buon appetito!

Ciao ciao for now.

Tonight we're gonna party like 2 happy valentines

2007-02-05T13:10:00.000-08:00

Did you guys watch the Superbowl? I’ll come right out and admit that not only did I skip it, I still don’t know who played. Call me culturally illiterate, but I’m ok with this omission from my awareness. I know it will come back to bite me when next I play Trivial Pursuit, and I’m at peace with it. What I did watch, belatedly and excitedly, was Prince’s dazzling halftime show. Can we talk about how phenomenal he is? Besides breaking out some Purple Rain-era classics that make me wanna party like it’s 1989, he segued into a Foo Fighters song, of all things. And gave it some guts. You know Dave Grohl must have peed his pants with excitement.

Anyway, this will come back to food, I promise. I plan to share the aforementioned Lamb Tagine recipe for Valentines Day, but I had to bring up The Big Game because Prince is inextricably linked with Valentines Day for me. And since I have your attention, I’ll tell you why. A few years ago, Michael surprised me with pretty much The Best Valentines Day Present Ever. We were eating at The Indian Oven in the lower Haight, which was already plenty romantic since it was the site of our first date. But then things got all crazy-great when he mysteriously handed me an envelope. Inside there was a simple, one-sided card with this on it:
All it said was “The Fillmore. Midnight. 2.14.04.” See, Prince had announced a secret show that very night and we were within hours of experiencing his Purple Reign, live. I don’t know if it was the best show of all time, but I’m not ruling it out. Seeing him perform at the halftime show brought it all back and got me thinking about this upcoming February 14.

This year, my beloved is taking me to The Most Glorious Place on Earth. No, not a couples getaway at Club Med, sillies. I’m talking about The Cheese School. We’re doing a champagne and triple crème cheese tasting, so you know I’ll be one happy little piggy. Now, I planned to gift him with some palate pleasers too, but unfortunately, he discovered his gifts before I had a chance to hide them. The one he’s most excited about is the truffle salt. from Far West Fungi in the Ferry Building. And with good reason¬it’s exquisite. It makes high-grade truffle oil taste like canola. It’s that potent. It was introduced to me by a friend who carries it in a vial in her purse so she can sprinkle it on food wherever she goes. And when you taste it, you’ll understand why.

So on to Valentines Day. And hey, I don’t mean to suggest you have to spend it being all lovey-dovey with a mate. You might be (as the ‘70s t-shirt says) “single and lovin’ it”. You might hate all manner of Hallmark holidays, which is certainly understandable. You might want to spend the evening with a bunch of friends, as I’ve done happily on many February 14s over the years. The point is this: I’m giving you Kelly Whalen Molloy’s recipe for Lamb Tagine for 2, but it’s easy to alter the amounts accordingly, whatever your plans. It will make you burst with love, if only for the fine flavors mingling in your mouth. Happy Valentiines Day to you, dear readers, avec amour.

Moroccan Lamb Tagine with Cinnamon, Orange, and Dried Plums

1 lb. boneless lamb, trimmed and cut into 1 ½” cubes
1 yellow onion, peeled, and cut into quarters
1 clove garlic, peeled and cut in half
2 T. olive oil
pinch of red pepper flakes
¼ t. each dried ground ginger, cumin, and paprika
1 t. salt
freshly ground pepper
1 can, 14oz., chopped or diced tomatoes
½-1 cup water
1 strip orange zest
1 cinnamon stick
½ bunch of cilantro, chopped & some whole leaves for garnish
12 large pitted dried plums
1 ½-2 T. honey
1/3 c. sliced almonds, toasted

Preheat oven to 325. Place the lamb in a medium-sized bowl and set aside.

In a food processor combine the onion, garlic, 1 T. of the olive oil, pepper flakes, ginger, cumin, paprika, salt, and a few grinds of black pepper and pulse until mixture is smooth. Pour over lamb and mix well to combine. Cover and refrigerate overnight, or set aside on the counter for one hour.

Heat the additional T. of oil in a medium sized pan over medium heat and using tongs, pull meat out of onion/spice mixture and brown meat in batches evenly on all sides. Remove meat from pan and set aside. Turn heat down to medium and place remaining onion/spice mixture from the bowl in the same pan. Cook, stirring, for 3-5 minutes until mixture smells very fragrant and has cooked down a bit. Add lamb back to pan along with tomatoes & their juices, water, orange zest, cinnamon stick and ½ of the cilantro. Mix well, cover and place in oven for 1 ½ hours until meat is very tender.

While meat is cooking, place the dried plums and honey in a small saucepan with just enough water to cover, and simmer for 10 minutes. Add the dried plums, their liquid and the remaining cilantro to the tagine during the last 15 minutes of cooking. Adjust seasoning if necessary, and serve garnished with sliced almonds and cilantro leaves.

Appetite for seduction: Moroccan nights & forbidden fruit

2007-02-01T13:55:00.000-08:00

When I first moved to San Francisco, 14 years ago, I was struck by the late September sunsets that paint the sky fuschia and firey orange. A friend's father told me they were called Moroccan sunsets, and the association has stuck ever since. Anyway, it seemed an especially fortuitous omen the other day when just such a sunset appeared--so far out of season--as we were about to create a Moroccan meal. Through a rather involved series of events, I ended up hosting a party with a private chef, who shared her recipe for a lamb tagine and other dishes she learned when traveling through North Africa. Thanks to Miz Kelly Molloy Whalen for sharing her divine recipes and inspiring us all.

I intend to post them all, of course, but you know what they say about good intentions. Oh, you don't? Well, apparently, the road to hell is paved with them. So, Hades here I come. In the meantime, the dish I will show you now is oranges, bathed in a sweet spicy syrup.

It's a simple, healthy dessert, but one that tastes so exotic and alluring, I'll call it forbidden fruit. It's a fabulous alternative to the regular apres-entree confections, and its flavors are ever so seductive. This recipe is for 2 (perfect for Valentines Day, oui?) If you are serving more people, you'll want to double or triple it.

Forbidden Fruit

2 seedless oranges, rind and pith removed, and sliced 1/2" thick
juice of the two oranges (reserve when cutting)
Orange Flower Water
2 medjool dates
handful fresh mint
1 T. honey
I cinnamon stick, broken into pieces
1/2 Nutmeg, cracked in pieces
Pinch ground cardamom
3 whole cloves
black peppercorns

Slice oranges and arrange them on a serving platter or individual dishes. Sliver dates over the oranges. Then, in a small bowl combine juice from the oranges, orange flower water and honey. Drizzle oranges and dates with o.j. mixture.

In a spice grinder, combine all the spices until finely ground. Sprinkle lightly over oranges and dates (you'll have leftover spices you can use the next time you make the dish). Garnish with fresh mint and serve immediately.

Now, share it with someone special. And eat it with your fingers, letting the honey drip down your chin. Or, if you're flying solo, pick up a copy of one of my favorite books, Paul Bowles' The Sheltering Sky. You'll be experiencing the exotique je ne sais quois of Morocco in no time.

Misery loves company. And meatloaf.

2007-01-25T18:40:00.000-08:00

I'm sick again. This cold/flu/plague just keeps flaring up and keeping me at home with a sniffly, sneezy, snotty head. But who wants to read about that on a food blog? I'll spare you any more unsavory adjectives and focus on the fun part of being sick: comfort food. In today's case, I'm thinking of that homey old favorite, meatloaf. I only got the notion to make it a few moments ago, and it's actually in the oven as I type. That shows you just how quick and easy it is. And it's just the thing to comfort me in my time of dying. Well OK, I'm not actually dying, but I am listening to that song right now. You know, "In my Time of Dying" by Led Zeppelin. If you don't, shame on you for not memorizing every song on Physical Graffiti. I mean, come on people. Rock 'n' roll 101.

Anyway, despite my hearty appetite for big, crunchy rock stomps, I didn't feel much like eating today. Instead, I just drank hot honey lemon water until I couldn't take it any more. Of course the temptation to add whiskey and turn it into a toddy occured more than once, but that's probably how I got sick in the first place. From the devil's juice. As you may recall, the acupuncturist says I have an angry liver. And we all know how that happens.

So, since now the liver AND the respiratory system are angry at me, I decided to make nice with the stomach. You know, just so someone's still on my side. So I searched the cabinets for some alluring edibles that wouldn't require me to brave the cold... and lucky for me, I stumbled across all the makings of what promises to be a lovely loaf of meat.

Best of all, it will be relatively healthy. In the sense that it abides the liver-cleansing diet I've been attempting. For some reason lean meat and eggs are ok on this liver-friendly plan, which sounds kooky to me, but who am I to argue? I'm sparing the ornery organ bread, dairy, wine and all the other good stuff, so what's a little protein between (estranged) friends?

And with that:

Simple meatloaf. To my liver, with love.

2.5 pounds lean ground turkey
3 eggs
1 yellow onion, chopped
1/4 c. worchestershire
1/2 c. chopped Italian parsley
1/2 c. whole grain rolled oats
1 cup tomato sauce (I used a simple organic heirloom tomato sauce)
Cooking spray (or something to grease pan)
Bread pan (apprix 9"x4")
Sea salt
Coarsely ground pepper

OK, ready for this? The genius of this dish is how easy it was to make.
1. Preheat oven to 350.
2. Spray bread pan with cooking oil.
3. Beat eggs with worchestershire, salt and pepper to taste. Set aside.
4. In larger bowl, mix meat, onion, parsley, oats and egg mixture.
5. Form meat mixture into bread pan.
6. Spread tomato sauce on top.
7. Bake for an hour fifteen to an hour and a half (make sure center's cooked thru)
8. Enjoy!

As Rachael Ray says, yum-o! Just kidding. Don't ever say what she says. Or do what she does. And by that, I mean creating noxious concoctions like superbowl snackaroos of the canned chili & easy cheese variety. If you want easy, sleazy food, come find this meatloaf recipe. It ain't soigne**, but at least it isn't themed around a tv sporting event.

**Extra credit for any reader who knows what other annoying TV chef insists on referring to his/her dishes as "soigne" on a regular basis. Saying it once was obnoxious. Saying it twice was slap-worthy. First correct answer in the comments section wins.

Pulling Mussels (From the Shell)

2007-01-23T10:45:00.000-08:00

Not a bad song, that. But the actual act is even better.

Especially if you haven't made them recently–or ever. I hadn't prepared mussels in years and I'd forgotten how cheap, easy and impossibly delicious they are when steamed in a boozy broth. I decided to do it because I had a few friends over to help me with the daunting task of narrowing down paint colors for the guest bedroom. You'd think it would be easy enough since I had already decided to go from an autumnal orange to a softer hue, but picking the right one is no small feat. Tangerine? Apricot? Honey mustard? The subtleties were too much to handle alone, so I called in my color experts, Sylvi and Julie. The former teaches color theory. The latter is a stylist. Hence, they are better equipped for the job at hand. My eye just can't translate that 3x3 swatch into a wall of color. I mean, I have an idea, but the risk of ending up with pastel peachiness is too horrifying a prospect. I needed their input on particulars like the ochre base to ensure a nice dirty orange result.

So anyway, I wanted to reward their patience with a nice wintry meal that was quick enough to make, but yummy enough to seem special. I opted for steamed mussels in wine broth, served with crusty bread and an incredible salad snagged from the sfgate website. I highly recommend the combo. You will love the pairing and your friends will love you for it.

Note: if you're making both dishes here, start the salad first. Only do the mussels right before assembling all the salad ingredients because that prep takes longer than this one and you'll want to eat these warm.

For the mussels, you'll need:

Mussels for the gang (figure a large handful per person)
White wine (I used a citrussy Viognier, which proved divine)
Italian parsley
Garlic
Shallots
Coarsely ground black pepper
Olive oil
Ice to pack them on until cooking

OK, first of all, if you can buy the mussels cleaned, it'll save you the hassle of wrestling with their little "beards". If they look mangy when you buy them, you'll have to rip that seaweedy stuff off and scrub them yourself. Obviously, if you can avoid it, it's preferable. I bought a couple pounds at Whole Foods and the fishmonger checked them all, discarding any that were open. They had also already been cleaned, so they were ready to steam. Ask the seller to pack them on ice because once these suckers warm up, they open and then you can't use them. The rule of thumb is: if it's open when you're ready to cook, toss it. If it's still closed after you've cooked it, toss it. You wanna start with them all closed tight and let them open from the steam. That's important to remember!

So once you've got them home, keep them packed on ice. I use a large shallow bowl which I fill with ice and then lay them across, in a single layer. As the ice melts, just add more or ensure they're sitting in very cold water. Then give them a good cold water rinse before starting, just in case there's any funk leftover.

OK, so for the broth, mince a couple shallots and garlic cloves. Maybe 2 shallots and 3 cloves garlic. This is an imperfect science, as all are my recipes, but you can't go wrong. If you are a garlic fiend, go crazy and add more, I don't think it's necessary, but it would be hard to ruin this dish. Now sauté the onion and garlic in a 1/2 cup of olive oil on low heat in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan (like a Le Creuset). Keep it on medium heat so everything just turns golden and translucent and doesn't burn. Once you're happy with the texture and color, add your wine. I added about 2 cups of Viognier, because it's what I was drinking at the time and it was open. Normally, I would have chosen a Sauvignon Blanc for this, but in the end, I was thrilled with the choice. The citrussy flavor of the Viognier added a sweetness to the mussel flesh that was fantastic. Of course some Viogniers are too sweet, more like dessert wines, so be sure yours is simply crisp & fruity, not cloying. Throw in a handful of Italian parsley, discarding any stemmy pieces, and add pepper to your taste. Stir it altogether and once the wine bubbles, turn to a low simmer, add your mussels and cover.

They should steam in here for between 5-10 minutes. It doesn't take long, but you want to ensure they all open, turn a nice orange color (you know, like apricot or tangerine--not peach) and absorb the steamy goodness. It's like they're having a sauna, only they're soaking the booze in, instead of sweating it out.

While these little guys are steaming, throw your crusty loaf of bread in at 350 or so to warm it through.

Serve the mussels and bread together, inviting everyone to dip big hunks of bread in the bottom of the broth bowl. The mussels are good, but the dipped bread is heaven. We ate these first, then had the salad as a sort of palatte cleanser. It was wintry, but still clean, light and refreshing so there was room for angel's food cake with raspberries. Perfection.

For the salad:

Fennel & Citrus Salad with Olives & Parmesan

(Mark Sullivan from the Village Pub in Woodside)

2 fennel bulbs
1 1/2 Meyer lemons, zested and juiced
1/2 cup premium extra virgin olive oil + more to taste
Salt, to taste
3 tangerines, skin and pith sliced off, and sliced into 1/4-inch thick wheels
2 blood oranges, segmented
2 ruby grapefruit, segmented
1/2 cup chopped mixed herbs (equal parts parsley, tarragon, chervil and chive)
1/2 cup firm green olives, pitted and halved.
1/2 cup toasted hazelnuts
4 ounces shaved Parmesan cheese (use potato peeler)

This salad is crazy good. I've wanted it every night since we made it. Something tells me you will, too.

To start, trim the fennel of stems and greenery. With a mandolin or knife, shave the fennel bulbs paper-thin into a bowl. Alternatively, cut the bulbs lengthwise and then lay the halves cut-side down on a cutting board. Slice crosswise, as thinly as possible.

Add the juice of the Meyer lemon and zest and 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil and stir to combine. Season to taste with salt, and set aside to marinate briefly.

In another bowl, combine the citrus fruits and herbs.

When you're ready to eat, lay out the marinated fennel on a low, wide platter, and top with the citrus fruit, olives and hazelnuts. Drizzle with more olive oil and garnish with shavings of Parmesan.

Alive and cookin'

2007-01-17T09:41:00.000-08:00

Faithful readers all,

I've been remiss in my blogging duties, so thanks to most of you for being patient and some of you for lovingly chastising me. I tried to find an image of a naughty child to post in acknowledgment of my bad blogging behavior, but the google image bank disappoints. I did however find this, which I find rather delightful. It's actually a pretty good depiction of how I've felt lately, all frazzled and bedraggled and in dire need of a manicure.

Anyway, you can chalk my absence up to holiday travel, a pick-up in client activity and a busted camera. I know I can blog without photo documentation, but it's so much more fun to see what you're going to eat.

The good news is, I have friends coming over tonight and I'm dreaming up a menu right now. If everything goes according to plan, a new entry with recipes is imminent.

Cheese freaks, Christmas is coming early this year.

2006-12-18T13:08:00.000-08:00

Readers, I give you Roaring Forties Blue Cheese.

After I decided the Spanish Castello was too creamy to use on my skewers of chateaubriand this weekend, I discovered Roaring Forties Blue. People, let me just say this. It was creamy, it was dreamy, it was heaven on a stick. While I chose the beef for it’s tender texture and succulent flavor, in the end the meat was merely a vehicle for this outstanding cheese.

Maybe it’s so good because it comes from Kings Island (south of Melbourne, Australia) where the cows are said to produce the sweetest milk in the land. I believe it because this cheese is equally sharp and sweet. Fruity even. Its complexities make it a little nutty, a little pungent and a whole lot of delicious. It was definitely the surprise hit of our holiday party. Well, that and the boys in girls’ bikinis in the hot tub.

Anyway, it’s fab with meat, perfect with pears and sinful on its own.

So run, don’t walk, to your local fromagerie and check it out. Happy holidays and you’re welcome!

Season's beatings

2006-12-15T10:09:00.000-08:00

Greetings, cheesy visitors. I haven’t forgotten about the blog, I’ve just been lost in The Keys and Miami for a week. I was also laid up, sick, for the better part of the trip, but there's nothing like a warm island breeze to steady a girl's constitution. In any case, I’m back now and frantically planning a menu for our Christmas party. I don’t have much time, so I need options that are nice on the palate and easy on labor. So far I’m thinking about the following:

Skewers of chateaubriand with Spanish castello cheese
Small onion toasts with lemon crème fraiche, smoked salmon and capers
Asparagus wrapped in prosciutto
Crostini with sweet pea and truffle puree
Spanakopita
Chicken drumettes in soy ginger sauce
And possibly something featuring gruyere, like gougeres or fondue. We’ll see.

I’ll let you know how it goes and post holiday pix and recipes when the flour settles.

In the meantime, if you’d like a recommendation for a great holiday cocktail outing, check out this still-somewhat-underground speakeasy in SF. If you can navigate the sneaky admittance policy, you won’t be disappointed. And once you've successfully gained entry, order an Aperol Sour. Seriously. It’s the drink so nice, I had to have it twice.

Cheers!

Staging a wine tasting any time soon?

2006-11-29T11:42:00.001-08:00

'Cause I am. If you happen to have any winemaker friends, maybe you'd like to do the same. It's great way to help them move merch before the holidays. And it's also a great excuse to eat all afternoon and justify your nonstop nibbling as a "palate cleansing" necessity.

Some of you longtime loyalists may remember my mention of Stark wines from a very early posting. This weekend, I’m hosting a wine tasting for those very same Starks to showcase their newest vintages, including 2 syrahs and 2004 viognier.

I’m still dreaming up the menu selections, so let me know if I’m overlooking some obvious, must-have accompaniments. Right now, I’m considering the following:

For the Syrah

5-spice Chinese riblets
Mushrooms with sage & sherry stuffing
Lamb sausages with mustard
Rosemary roasted nuts
Spanish olives marinated in citrus & spices

For the Viognier

Roasted figs stuffed with chevre & drizzled with honey
Manouri cheese layered with apricot preserves & toasted pine nuts
Shallot and fennel flatbread
Bacalau

Sound good?

On this day, November 23, in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Six

2006-11-23T12:56:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving always makes me nostalgic. All holidays do, I guess. But this one especially reminds me of my youth, so I'm always compelled to revisit things that take me back. That always means watching The Macy's Day Parade and today it also meant listening to The Police's entire oeuvre while I was cooking. Well, that's not entirely true; I started with Regatta de Blanc rather than Outlandos D'amour. Even though I appreciate their early punky flair, that first album is too raucous for cooking accompaniment. Anyway, there's nothing like Sting, Stew and Andy to take me right back to 12. I had discovered music by 8, but 12 was the year that saw me become obsessed with vinyl, plaster my walls with rock portraits and just generally sell my soul for rock 'n roll.

So anyway, a little music from back in the day is the best way I know to throw myself into Thanksgiving reverie. That, and making a list of everything I'm thankful for. So here goes.

I'm thankful for my lovely husband, who's sweet and thoughtful and even tells me I'm hot when I'm sick or wearing a showercap.

I'm thankful for my parents, who excelled at acheiving that perfect parental balance of unconditional love and stern discipline.

I'm thankful for my sisters and their husbands who always liven up the holidays with their stories and competitive croquet spirit and well-picked wine.

I'm thankful for my little niece Emma who just discovered Queen and loves to rock out, big arena anthem-style.

I'm thankful for my Irish in-laws who pretty much defy the laws of what in-laws are supposed to be.

I'm thankful for my girlfriends who are generous, hilarious and always dressed impeccably.

I'm thankful for my puppers Ruby who now has a happy life and will never know abuse again.

I'm thankful for my health.

And of course, I'm thankful, for cheese.

There's a lot more, of course, but the pressure's on to get over the river and through the hills to Graham-brother's house.

Happy thanksgiving!

Just in time for your Thanksgiving feast: my sprouty piéce de résistance

2006-11-21T13:34:00.000-08:00

So some of you have suggested attempting the brussels sprout recipe included a few weeks back on your day of giving thanks. While I've done it in the past, I don't recommend it if you have more than 4-6 people at your table. This year, I need to make a veggie side for 25, and if you think I'm hand-peeling enough sprouts to feed that many, you're sorely mistaken. Instead, I'm going to make this alternative option which is just as tasty, maybe even more so (see: addition of bacon).

I don't know what to call it, other than a hash, because it's got all kinds of things thrown in. And yes, it came about as a result of my fridge-cleaning extravanganza. It calls for sprouts, bacon, pear, thyme and acorn squash.

What you'll need:

sprouts (this number according to how many you're feeding;
estimate at least 7 sprouts per person)
1 pkg bacon (I used applewood smoked)
1-3 acorn squash (again, depends how much you're making)
1 sprig thyme
2-3 pears
coarse sea salt
coarse ground black pepper

What to do:

Pre-heat oven to 450. Halve your acorn squash, scooping out the seeds and pulp, but leaving the firm flesh intact. Pour olive oil into the "bowl" of the squash halves, brush it around so it covers the exposed flesh and then flip cut-side down in a pyrex dish. Bake the squash for 30-45 minutes, They're done when the flesh is bright orange, soft throughout and easily scooped from the rind with a spoon. Remove from the oven, let cool and set aside.

Prep your sprouts by washing, cutting off and discarding the bottom/base and then quartering them. Some of the leaves will come loose, but just keep them in the mix, they'll add nice texture.

Now take your pears, peel them and cut them into a fine dice, forming cubes that are about 1/2" around. Pretty small, you know? I think 1-2 pears is more than enough because you just want a touch of sweetness, not a flavor that overwhelms the savory nature of the dish. Now lightly sauté the pear in butter or olive oil, till it gets soft, but not mushy. Remove and set aside.

Now it's time to fry up that bacon. Choose a nice pig-to-sprout ratio. Don't overwhlelm, but make enough to distribute it evenly through the finished dish. Once it's all nicely browned, remove to cool and retain the grease in the pan.

By now, your squash should be cool and scoop-able. Scoop small spoonfuls of it, or extract it using a melon baller or dull knife. You just want it in 1" bits that will be tossed into the sprouts. Set aside.

Add your sprouts to the bacon grease and sauté, lightly tossing them to they cook through and begin to wilt without getting soggy. This doesn't take long (a few minutes) but taste one to be sure the core is cooked and not raw-tasting. Add your thyme by picking individual leaf clumps off and dropping them in. As always, don't be lazy and rip the whole twiggy stem. I would use a fair amount of thyme, like a couple tablespoons, but season it to your taste. Crumble your bacon on top, toss in your pears and acorn squash and mix everything gently. Season with s&p. Serve immediately.

Believe me, even people who don't like sprouts will dig this dish. The husband made a pig face about this dish (pulling his nose up with his finger) when he learned it had sprouts AND squash, but then he scarfed it down like a happy little porker feeding at the trough. He even asked for seconds. See what you think....

Pure & simple, every time

2006-11-15T10:59:00.000-08:00

So today I walk into my sometime place of employ, an agency that contracts me to do freelance work, and among the usual array of quaint baked goods (today: chocolate pumpkin mousse fudgie squares) and nasto trans-fatty grocery store snax, I spied an altogether unexpected offering: fresh jijcama, cut into generous cubes and splashed with lime juice.

People, it’s delicious.

The crunchy texture! The clean, fresh taste! The tart flavor explosion! It was like a bite of Florida. And by that I mean sunshine, and citrus and sea breeze, not trailer park and monster truck and cheese doodle. Anyway, I can’t think of anything I might have enjoyed more on this bleary, wine-weary morning. It's the best morning-after remedy since my sister introduced me to her swear-by concoction of freshly-squeezed pink grapefruit juice and ginger ale.

So look into it. Next time you’re hung all the way over and wake up with little woolen socks on all your teeth, you’ll thank me.

Sunday surplus strategy

2006-11-12T12:53:00.000-08:00

Being an avid eater and loving to cook is one thing. Being unable to resist buying every damn edible that looks enticing is another. And it's an increasing concern. Do they have food-shoppers anonymous meetings? Because I am ready to admit that I have a problem and I need help.

Whether I'm loitering around the cheese counter looking for handouts or nosing around Farmers Market stalls, I always end up with an overflowing basket of unquestionably delectable, but mostly impractical items. (See: recent purchases of candied rose petals, violet confit, orange flower water and honey made with flower nectar from Provence.) Can I help it that the descriptions of these products is so sublime? I may not be using my MFA in poetry these days, but allowing my senses to experience edibles like the above feels as poetic as any words I ever committed to paper.

And that being the case, I forgive myself these little food splurges. It's a pasttime that's mostly replaced my clothing binges and it's decidedly less expensive than a shoe habit. Plus, it provides infinitely more pleasure. The problem arises when I open the fridge and see an array of gorgeous food that's not being consumed at the rapid rate with which it's being purchased. Additionally, I recognize that eating this way is a pleasure, but it's also a bourgeois privilege. With so many people hungry in the world, wasting food is really unacceptable. With this in mind, I set out this morning to attack the problem.

I made a list of everything perishable or in current fridge rotation and then created a week-long menu using only these items. This way, nothing gets wasted and everything gets used. And I have to say, the process was more fun than anticipated. As a result of this little experiment, we'll be eating some unexpected, but very welcome dishes this week. And now I'll know not to buy additional food when there's more than enough to enjoy right here. I am so pleased with the outcome of this project, I think I'll institute it as a Sunday staple.

What I found:

1/2 pkg. applewood-smoked bacon
2 half-eaten containers fresh pesto
1 lb. pea greens
1 lb. brussels sprouts
1 sheet fresh pasta for ravioli
1/2 yellow onion
Leftover french green sauce with parsley and egg
2 dozen fresh eggs from a friend's hens
1 quart homemade chicken stock
Dijon mustard
English cucumber
Sprigs of fragrant lemon verbena
2 cartons heavy cream
Sprigs of sage
Arborio rice for risotto
Canallini white beans
1 lb yukon gold potatoes
1 acorn squash
2 bags pine nuts
Cheddar cheese curds
1/2 bulb garlic

What I'll make:

Check it out. This list of dishes uses every last thing on the above list, takes care of menu-planning for the week, encourages me to get creative in the kitchen, saves me from buying unnecessary food and prevents waste. Genius!

1. Acorn squash and pine nut ravioli in sage butter.
2. Pasta carbonara (uses eggs and bacon)
3. Pea green salad with canallini beans, cucumber and green sauce
4. Pesto risotto (also uses the onion)
5. Quiche with brussels sprout leaves and cheddar cheese curds
6. Roasted potatoes in garlic mustard sauce
7. Lemon verbena ice cream

Sounds good right? And it's all made by playing refrigerator surprise. Bravo, me.

...and now the latest installment in our continuing series: Snazzing Up Unpopular Vegtables

2006-11-09T10:12:00.000-08:00

I must confess, right up front, that I've not tried this recipe. But since it was relayed by my very gourmet sister, I can assume it's délicieux. I think you'll agree, just by reading the ingredients, that these modest foodstuffs will add up to A Taste Sensation.

So the unpopular vegetable in question? Lima beans. I know, I know. "Limas?" you say, skeptically. It's true. Frankly, it's not hard for me to believe they are the base of a scrummy vegetable dish, 'cause I'll eat them all day long with nothing more than butter and salt. But when I heard the following preparation, I imagined a new pinnacle of lima enjoyment.

Lima beans a la Trenholme

1 package good ole frozen lima beans
1 package turkey bacon (or real stuff/prosciutto if you want full fat flavor)
1 small white onion, finely chopped
parmegiano reggiano
thyme
tarragon
1 lemon
coarse sea salt
pepper

As always, I'm going to guestimate amounts. This is the sort of dish you can throw together favoring whichever ingredients tickle your taste buds.

Boil the lima beans, or blanch them or whatever. I can't really imagine the down-home packaging of Birds Eye veggies calling for "blanching" anything, but I think that's sort of what you'll end up doing.

Uh-oh.

We interrupt our regularly-scheduled recipe to bring you a totally unrelated tangent...using the word "blanch" reminded me that the very same sister who offered up this recipe played Blanche in her high school production of Streetcar Named Desire. I just had a flashback of living in Iran, being 5, sitting on her bed and watching her bring the drama with a Stevie Nicks-style fringed shawl and a Southern accent like molasses. There was probably some nag champa burning and Joni Mitchell playing in the background for added ambiance and artistic mood. I don't think I ever saw the full production, but I gave the practice monologues 2 tiny thumbs up.....

OK I'm back. Thanks for indulging me there.

So you've blanched/boiled your beans, and then drained them of the water. Set them aside and fry up your bacon or bacon-like substance. Be sure to keep all the good greasy stuff in the bottom of the pan for the following ingredients. Once the bacon's done, remove and set aside. Sauté the onion in bacon grease and once it's lightly translucent, add your thyme and tarragon. I'm thinking maybe 1 tablespoon of each, though you'll have to taste it and see. And remember, with the thyme, you'll want to pick the little leaves from the stem. Don't be lazy and cut the whole sprig, or you'll be picking bits of twig from your teeth later. Same for the tarragon--pull the leaves from the stem for the best flavor and texture. Then chop 'em finely, but not so much as to create a juicy, minced mess. So you've added your herbs. Season with salt and pepper, then throw the lima beans in and crumble the bacon on top, stirring everything until it's mixed and warmed and coated in fried, fatty goodness. Remove and plate, then top with grated parmegiano reggiano and a few drizzles of lemon. C'est magnifique! Actually, I don't know that firsthand, but I feel pretty good throwing that out there. These are not your mother's lima beans. Enjoy!

What are you doing reading food blogs?

2006-11-07T07:57:00.000-08:00

Get to the polls and vote!

Some sage advice on sprouts, plus sherried crab with raclette

2006-11-04T12:34:00.000-08:00

OK, sorry. As soon as you realize this entry is literally about sage, I know you’ll be groaning at that there title. You have to excuse my temptation to use all the facile puns I am routinely denied when writing advertising copy. I can’t really help it, but right here and now, I’ll promise this: no forthcoming entries on beans titled “waxing poetic.”

But really, what nicer autumnal herb than sage? Sure, I can get down with rosemary this time of year, but nothing compares to the heavenly smell and velvety texture of fresh sage. When it’s around, I feel compelled to tear a leaf from the stem and rub it along my cheek so I can feel its lovely softness and simultaneously enjoy its aromatherapeutic effects. I think I’d like a luxe pillow and duvet set made wholly of sage leaves. Note to self.

In any case, my latest herby adventure paired sage with Brussels sprouts. And while you’d think the ungraceful bulk and bitter flavor of the sprouts would overwhelm the delicate nuance of the sage, its nothing a little butter and patience can’t overcome. The butter sweetens everything up. The patience comes into play with a peeling technique that transforms the sprout entirely. If you’ve never peeled the individual leaves from your sprouts, I’m about to change the way you experience this less-than-popular vegetable. Once you pull all the soft leaves from your sprouts, you turn the tough, chewy bulbs mom used to boil into a light pile of flavorful greens you can gently sauté. It’s a somewhat painstaking process to be sure, which is where the patience comes in. Especially if you’re preparing enough to feed more than 2 people. But if you can approach the task with your meditative, Zen mind, and a generous glass of wine, it’s a relaxing, gratifying process. I chose to quaff a 2003 Cuvée Saint Christopher rhone from Domaine de Cassan. It’s dry and smoky and gorgeous, and sadly, the case I bought is already down to 3 bottles. Note to self.

So, the recipe. I came up with this combo after modifying an older version of peeled sprouts with pistachios and thyme. That one’s good. This one is, dare I say it, divine.

Brussels sprouts with sage and pine nuts

A big mess o’ sprouts
½ cup pine nuts
Few sprigs of sage
Butter
Sea salt
Olive oil

Sorry I can’t be more specific about the measure of sprouts. It really depends how many you’re feeding. And as you know by now, I’m not very precise in the kitchen. I guess as a general rule, a handful and a half of sprouts is enough for one person.

So to peel the little guys, wash and cut off the tough base of the sprouts. Then start folding the individual leaves off and collecting them in a colander. If the peeling gets tough, cut a little more base off, working your way down ‘til you can’t peel any further. You’ll be able to peel them down to a nut-like little core, which you’ll then discard. I think that’s where the real bitterness resides, which is why this preparation is so much sweeter and more subtle than the expected sewage-y mouthful of sprout.

So you’re peeling. And peeling. For a while. Until you have an impressive heap of leaves. The one nice thing here is that they won’t shrink and wilt in the pan like spinach. Whatever you see in your bowl is more or less the amount you’ll end up with, post-cooking. Now that you’ve completed that bit, the hard part’s over.

Set aside your bounty and toast up your pine nuts. You can do this under the broiler or in a large frying pan, just take care to see that they’re only golden brown and not burned. It’s preferable to do them in a dry pan on a burner so you can keep an eye on them. Give them a shake here and there to ensure they’re evenly toasted. Once done, remove them and set aside.

In the same pan, melt a 1 - 2” pat of butter and then keep the flame low so it doesn’t burn. Add your sage leaves and let them crisp up without browning more than a little. I use about 6 sage leaves if I’m preparing this dish for 2-3 people. If you’re making more, up the herb content. Same goes for pine nuts. You want them to be sprinkled through the dish in the same ratio as, say, blueberries in pancakes. Enough to flavor everything, but not overtake it. Another example of my exacting culinary precision, that. Anyway, at this point, the butter should be gently bubbling around the leaves, filling your kitchen with a savory scent that’ll live in your olfactory memory for weeks to come.
Once the sage is just gently crisped, remove the leaves from pan (leaving the infused butter), transfer them onto a cutting board and cut into rough slivers. Set aside.

Now, heat the same pan, adding a pour of olive oil to the butter. Again, make it hot enough to sauté your greens without burning anything. Add your sprout leaves and gently toss them in the warm oil until they start to soften up and turn a brilliant, bright green. Cook just long enough for all of them to be softened up and warmed through, but not overly worked. Toss them with the pine nuts, sage and a few sprinkles of sea salt and serve immediately.

(Note: this pic shows pecans, though I prefer pine nuts.)

Now that all of that took so many words to convey, the thought of detailing the crab raclette melt is pretty daunting. So, I’ll give it to you as a DIY homework assignment. You’re going to have to be resourceful and read these instrux to ascertain the ingredients, but don’t worry—it’s easy to make and hard to mess up. You won’t regret it.
In loose terms, you’re going to

1. Make a simple roux (butter and flour) from any of the countless instrux online.
2. Add some heavy cream to thicken and create a more substantial base.
3. Grate in some parmagiano reggiano and season with salt, pepper and a touch of nutmeg
4. Stir in fresh crab.
5. Add a healthy pour of decent quality dry sherry (be sure it’s nutty and golden, not thick and syrupy like port)
6. Cook down 'til there’s no liquid, just thick, soupy crab goodness.
7. Spoon into individual tart ramekins and shred some mild raclette on top
8. Sprinkle with breadcrumbs and some finely chopped Italian parsley
9. Bake until cheese is golden and bubbly on top
10. Serve with champagne for a simple but decadent winter meal

An aside: I just noticed it's been nearly a month since my last entry. Sorry, if anyone's noticed. I see I still get regular hits on the site, so thanks to those who continually return, despite my truant ways. I smell a New Years resolution...

Why didn't I know about this sooner?

2006-10-11T11:16:00.000-07:00

Cheeselings, I'm in heaven.

Why did it take Daily Candy to make me aware of this fantastic foray into fromage ? I want to sign up for every class. Which means, of course, I'm going to need a new back-to-school wardrobe. I'm thinking a smart collection of garments in stretchy fabrics with elastic waistbands. Maybe something in the vein of those muu muus the Project Runway crew made for their moms. And yes, I am very excited for the show's conclusion tonight. Make it work, people.

Autumn associations or a feast for the senses. Please let's make Kaddo Bourani!

2006-10-09T15:12:00.000-07:00

There’s no other season that affects me so profoundly.

Maybe it’s because, since moving to the Bay Area, I long for fall. At the first hint of summer’s waning, I find myself consciously stretching my senses to pick up the scent of a wood fire or identify that specific dry crispness in the air. This time of year, I’m obsessed with experiencing the season in any way that heightens my senses. I want to build fires, not only for heat, but for the crackling snap of twigs and the smoky smell that fills the house. I want to cook roast dinners using lots of squash, pumpkins, parsnips and beets. I want to taste the deep, dark flavors of the season like maple and molasses. I want to make gingerbread cake and sticky toffee pudding. I want to bake apples stuffed with rosemary and brown sugar. I want to drink Beaujolais and drive through wine country and see the autumn colors. And I want to do it all day, every day, until Christmastime.

With all this in mind, I was thinking the other night about making something to eat that would, in one dish, marry all the flavors and smells and textures of autumn. I knew it would require acorn squash or pumpkin and I wanted layers of deep complex flavors, as well.

It had to be kaddo bourani.

A popular Afghani dish, kaddo bourani features roasted sweet pumpkin in yogurt sauce, often topped with lamb or beef. It’s a genius blend of sweet and savory that absolutely satisfies my craving for all things edibly autumnal. If you want to make it the traditional way, there are tons of recipes online. Or if you want to experience it in authenticity, check out The Helmand in North Beach–the only Afghan restaurant in the city, as far as I know. I’ve not eaten there, but I’m told this dish is a house specialty and I’ve no doubt they do it right.

If you intend to make it yourself, you’ll notice that most recipes online ask for a few cups of sugar to sweeten the pumpkin flesh. I can’t bring myself to just pour refined white sugar over that beautiful pumpkin, so I use a bit of maple syrup instead. Sure, it’s just as sweet, but somehow it seems less of an offense.

The following is my version of Kaddo Bourani, which is by no means traditional, nor is it exacting, but as with Indian food, you can play around with measurements and the flavors mix and mingle beautifully whether you favor the curry, the raita or the chutneys.

Kaddo Bourani

2-4 sugar pie pumpkins
1 cup grade B maple syrup (available at health food stores)
1 pound ground beef or lamb
2 cups stewed tomatoes
1 red onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2-3 cups plain yogurt (more if you like it tart, as I do)
a few leaves fresh mint, chopped, for topping
salt, pepper
allspice (optional)

So, to begin, cut the top off your pumpkin as you would a jack o’ lantern. Then cut down the side, splitting it into 4 slices. Repeat on each pumpkin. Use a dull knife or serrated spoon to scrape the seeds and pulp from the core, leaving the flesh intact. Once you’ve removed all squishy, icky bits, arrange the pieces of pumpkin, flesh side up, on a baking sheet that’s been greased or sprayed with cooking oil. Then pour a little maple syrup into the “cradle” of each pumpkin piece. Maybe drizzle it across, or brush each piece so all of the flesh has a little sweet coating. Pop the pan in a 450 oven and let roast for around an hour. This can take up to 2 hours, but the pumpkins are small, so an hour should be sufficient. You’ll know they’re ready when the flesh is soft and brightly colored and a fork easily pulls it from the rind.

While your pumpkins are roasting, sauté your garlic and onions, being careful not to burn either, but stirring them until translucent and golden. Remove and set aside. Now brown your beef or lamb, being sure to season with plenty of salt and, if you’re adventurous, a touch of allspice. Once the meat is browned, strain it to drain it of excess fat. You don’t want that nasty layer of lard coating your leftovers tomorrow morning, do you? Good. Then return the meat to the pan, adding the onions, garlic and stewed tomatoes. Turn it up to low-medium heat, add the yogurt, and stir until the sauce is all mixed and warmed through.

When the pumpkins are cooked, remove them from the oven and scrape the flesh from the rinds. If possible, do so to form little cubes, but it’s fine if it comes off in a mushy form. It will still taste divine. By now, the syrup should have soaked in, imparting a deep, sweet flavor. Top the pumpkin with the meat and yogurt sauce and sprinkle a few strips of fresh mint on top. I like to serve this with peas tossed with sherry vinegar and fresh mint or spinach sautéed with garlic, olive oil and rock salt.

Easy, cheesy pizza crust

2006-10-05T11:37:00.000-07:00

When it comes to pie crust (I mean sweet pie), I find the homemade variety a nice-to-have, but not a need-to-have. That is to say, if I have the time and inclination, I'll make it from scratch, but with so many readymade options that taste just as good, I don't mind cheating so I can concentrate more on the filling. Not so with pizza crust. I've been routinely disappointed by any sort of premade dough or crust, despite trying many brands and varieties. And don't even get me started on those vile Boboli shells.

Then I discovered the pre-made pizza dough at Trader Joe's. It comes in a small ball, just the right size to cover a petite cookie sheet and it really yields a lovely crust. Plus, ringing up at something like a buck, you just can't beat it for a cost-conscious way to feed a group.

Take last night, for example. I had a friend from high school and her husband coming to town and I was asked to make dinner for 6 to bring to someone else's house (because her kitchen is under construction). And yes, that was a ridiculous run-on. I blog like I talk--too much, too fast. Anyway, I prepared 3 pizzas and cooked them in advance, leaving them in the oven just a few minutes shy of their optimal cooking time. Then, once I transported them to her place, we finished individual slices in the toaster oven for perfectly crispy crusties.

Easy pizza idea

(This entry is really feeling like it should be on that "Semi-Homemade" show with Sandra whatshername and her crafty cheater recipes. There or one of those midwestern mom mags like Ladies Home Journal.)

Anyway, if you can get past the "cheating" aspect of this assignment, check out the refrigerated dough at Trader Joe's. Don't be tempted by the wheat or herbed versions. Stick with the basic old dough and grab a couple while you're there. To prepare them, let them come to room temp for 20 min or so. Then, liberally flour a work surface, rolling the dough around it and kneading and stretching it for at least 5 minutes. This is important so it becomes elastic enough to fit your pan. Lightly grease a small-sized baking sheet (or as many as you have rolls of dough). Then stretch and work the dough until it covers the pan. From there, you can go to town with the toppings. I like to make one with a tomato sauce (in this case, I used the red sauce I made by pureeing grilled tomatoes and onions from our last BBQ), a plain white version and, if I'm feeling saucy (groan), a pesto option.

A nice option for the white pizza is a grated fontina base, topped with rounds of goat cheese and finely chopped rosemary. It's so simple, but the strong rosemary flavor combined with the tart chevre is deeply satisfying. I also love to use olives anywhere possible, be they kalamata, green or picholine. That salty, briney taste really jacks up otherwise dull toppings.

Then, just pop 'em in a 350 pre-heated oven for 10-15 minutes, or until the crust is nicely browned and crispy. Molto buono!

So, that's about it for today. Sadly, I have no photos of my creations, but in my effort to keep posting here regularly, I have to march forth, photos be damned! (Well, until the next time I have my camera handy in the kitchen) Till then....ciao ciao my little cheeselings, and thanks for reading.

Gnote on the gnocchi

2006-09-26T20:26:00.000-07:00

Just a note here. My friend E tells me she attempted the gnochhi recipe listed here and when she spooned the little buggers into the boiling water, they just disintegrated. We're not sure if I miswrote the recipe or she mismeasured it, but you may want to hold off on trying that recipe until I have time to try it in the test labs. It worked beautifully when we made it, but as I mentioned, measurements were being guesstimated because Fanita was making it from memory. Update to come.

Kebabs, bread pudding and corn chowder

2006-09-26T19:24:00.002-07:00

Another too-long silence on the old blog here, and apologies to anyone who notices when I'm away. Shout out to Alison, who always sends kind inquiries when I neglect my posting duties. It's nice to be missed and it does encourage me to get busy. These past weeks, we've been attending a wedding a weekend, as well as entertaining houseguests and hosting a croquet party. I even managed to turn 35, which might account for why I'm slowing down. Just can't blog like I used to, kids.

In any case, my birthday was a lovely celebration at Sylvi and Matthias' place in Oakland. We spent the afternoon drinking beer and then made our way up to Lake Merritt where, believe it or not, we enjoyed a traditional Venetian gondola ride. It seems to be a well-kept secret but I'm blowing the lid off this thing just to make sure it doesn't go away. Our sweet gondolier, whose name escapes me, told us the history of the boat, which was indeed imported from Venice. He sang us traditional songs like "La Donna Nobile" and oddball choices like "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown" and while he was no Pavorotti or Croce in vocal abilities, he gave it all a good go and we fully enjoyed his renditions. We also brought plenty of wine and cheese and really, it was one of the nicest sunsets I'd experienced in some time. Maybe it was the symbolism of the sun setting on my young years, but we'll not linger on those associations.

On to dinner, Sylvi and Matthias whipped up a fantastic marinade for skewered lamb cubes and veggies. I believe it was a combination of red wine vinegar, molasses(!), olive oil, and fresh mint. At least, that's what I put in my version when I attempted to recreate it at home.

After we massacred the sweet, sticky kebabs, Sylvi presented me with a pie she'd made of peaches and pluots. That's right, pluots, the hybrid fruit of plums and apricots. Not only was the fruit fantastic, but she told me the secret ingredient was creme fraiche, baked in the pie as the first layer between the crust and the fruit filling. Absolutely recommended!

So besides relaying those nifty food ideas, I have two others to share. After the aforementioned croquet soirée we threw this weekend (and yes, a great success, thank you), I had a ridiculous amount of leftovers that I couldn't bare to waste. I've really become fanatical about finding creative solutions for abundant leftovers and this occasion was no exception.

With the reminaing jumbo pack of hot dog buns, I made a maple and walnut bread pudding and I've saved the leftover grilled corn, tomatoes and red onions for a corn chowder, to be attempted tomorrow night. I know the hot dog bun idea sounds a bit dodgy, but really, most baking recipes call for white flour so I figured those squidgy buns were essentially the same thing. The results were really quite nice, moist, maple-y and not too sweet.

Bread Pudding

8 hot dog buns
8 eggs
2 pints whipping cream
1 cup grade B maple syrup
1/2 c. orange juice
dash vanilla
dash nutmeg
dash cinnamon
1 cup walnuts, chopped, tossed in syrup and toasted on baking sheets

Beat eggs in large mixing bowl and add all other ingredients. Rip up buns or day old bread into 1-2" pieces and stir them gently into egg mixture. Let sit for 1 hour and preheat oven too 375. After bread has soaked up egg, spoon gooey mixture into two greased cake pans. Sprinkle walnuts on top and pop into oven. Cook for 45 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean and center of pudding is puffed up and nicely golden brown.

As for the corn chowder, I've not made it yet, but my plan is to shave the roasted kernels off the cob and then puree them with the grilled tomato and red onion pieces. I'll season with salt and pepper and add a few cups of chicken stock. Then I'll push the thick puree through my beloved chinois (strainer) using my wooden pestle. The resulting soup will be silky and thin and delicate. I know chowders are usually a bit thicker, but I've found this treatment really elevates the corn to an unexpected texture that refines the whole dish. Will let you know how it goes.

Ready for a Croatian sensation?

2006-09-07T17:09:00.000-07:00

Greetings! I know the entries have been lagging lately–it’s just been a whirlwind of weddings and weekend excursions this summer. Finally though, I have a moment of downtime before leaving for another wedding tomorrow. So without further ado, I’ll recap our adventures in Croatian culinaria.

We set out to make three Croatian dishes: stuffed peppers, gnocchi and cevapcici, a popular regional sausage. And indeed, we accomplished all three. In mass amounts, no less. Fortunately, a spontaneous dinner party broke out so we weren’t forced to eat everything ourselves. There were only 3 of us cooking, but the recipes yielded enough for 10. These recipes come courtesy of Fanita Divizich, our sister-in-law’s mother. She keeps them filed in her head so measurements are approximate, based on what we saw her do.

One aside before we begin. Everything in Croatia is served with a side sauce of roasted red pepper puree. You can buy some roasted peppers in a jar and puree them with some cumin and salt and pepper to taste. This makes a great dipping sauce for cevapcici, bread and fried potatoes.

Enjoy all of these dishes with red wine or an ice cold pivo (Croatian for beer)!

Gnocchi

8 potatoes (medium-large), boiled and mashed
1 ½ c flour
2 tbsp butter, room temperature
1 egg
Cheese grater

After you’ve boiled and mashed your spuds, add salt to taste. You’ll have to add multiple sprinklings, but taste as you go so you don’t go overboard. Let the potatoes cool to a lukewarm temperature before proceeding. Once the potatoes are mildly warm, add the flour, butter and the egg and mix or knead into a dough. Flour your hands and grab a small fistful of the dough and roll it into a long snakelike shape that’s maybe 3/4” thick. Be sure to flour your cutting/rolling surface and your hands so the dough doesn’t get sticky as it warms up. Cut the roll into 1” pieces and once you’ve cut the whole thing, roll the pieces into balls.

Now for the sneaky, secret part. Using your thumb, press a gnocchi ball lightly against the finest shredding blade of a cheese grater, making little indentations in the dough. Then, in one steady motion, roll the dough ball down the blade with your thumb, pressing lightly as you go. This action will ensure that the little indentations go all the way around the piece of gnocchi. It make take a few practice rounds, but if you ruin a piece, just roll it up and try again. This recipe makes quite a bit of gnocchi so once you fill up a plate with your completed pieces, sprinkle them with flour and lay a piece of wax paper over the top so you can create layers of them without any sticking together.

When you’re ready to eat, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and gently spoon the gnocchi in, cooking until they rise to the top. Try one before removing and make sure it is cooked through and not too doughy-tasting. Sometimes they need a touch longer from when they’ve risen. Serve with a light tomato sauce. Fanita makes hers by sautéing fresh tomatoes from her garden with garlic, red pepper and onion and then pressing it all through a very fine food mill. The result is light and sweet and perfectly compliments the dense, hearty gnocchi. They're also great with pesto or a meat sauce. Pretty much anything that's yum on pasta will be good here, too.

Stuffed peppers

PEPPER MIX:
5 green peppers
1 lb ground beef
½ lb. pork
¾ yellow onion
3 garlic cloves, finely diced
1 egg
lots of black pepper
1 c. rice
1 dash cold water

SAUCE:
3 cloves garlic
¾ c. onion
1 15 oz can tomato sauce
1 can tomato paste
2 cans (using tomato paste can) of water
1 ½ c. chicken stock

So these are super easy to make. They are great comfort food for fall and they keep well for yummy leftovers. This recipe is very basic and traditional, but I think you could really enhance it by trying other ingredients. I’m dying to try a more middle-eastern variety with ground beef, rice, raisins, nuts and chicken broth infused with spices rather than tomato broth. I’ll put that on the list. In any case, these are satisfying and hearty as they are.

To make the sauce, sauté the garlic and onion until translucent in a large saucepan, at least 4” deep. I recommend starting with the onion and adding the garlic at the end as it won’t take as long to cook. Add tomato sauce and paste and stir. Add water and chicken broth and bring to a boil. Turn down to a simmer and then prepare your peppers.

Make the peppers by cutting off the tops and scooping out the seeds and core. Mix all the above ingredients in a medium mixing bowl. Spoon meat mixture into the peppers and arrange them in the pan with simmering tomato sauce. Now cover the pan and leave it simmering, returning to the pan to spoon the sauce over the peppers every 15 minutes or so. They will cook until the meat and rice are cooked through and the peppers are totally soft, but still in tact. Probably 1 ½- 2 hours.

Cevapcici (Croatian sausages)

1 ½ lbs. Beef
½ lb. pork
1 onion, finely chopped
5 garlic cloves, finely chopped
Few shakes of paprika
Salt and pepper
1 egg

*note, you can also substitute some lamb or veal. The blend of meats is what gives these sausages their unique flavor.

Mix all your ingredients in a medium mixing bowl. Now use your hands to squeeze the meat through your fingers, ensuring that it’s broken down and easy to meld into sausage links. This takes awhile and requires some strength. You’re not going to be forming the links as you do hamburger patties–you’re really trying to make the meat almost a smooth paste rather than just ground meat. Just give it a thorough working through before proceeding to link-making. When you’re ready, form the links into 4” x1” sausages and lightly roll them in flour before assembling on a cooking sheet. Bake for 20-30 min at 350 and then test one to make sure it’s cooked through. Serve these with the aforementioned red pepper puree and enjoy!

2nd Anniversary souffle with shallots and gruyere

2006-09-01T15:57:00.000-07:00

Let me start by saying I've been remiss in my posting duties. I have a list of recipes I've been meaning to post here, but this has been a punishing week, workwise. I promise to do it soon, but tomorrow we leave for Santa Barbara and LA so all I have time for at the moment is a quick souffle recipe.

Much like my phyllo phobia, I've had a fear of attempting to make a soufflé. I always blamed it on having a windowless oven, but since we redid our kitchen and installed a mini Viking range, I have no excuses. The temptation to open the oven door to peek is now a non-issue, so we took the opportunity of our anniversary to attempt the light-as-can-be eggstravaganza. Surprisingly, it was a great success. I'm afraid the aerial view of the outcome doesn't do it's airy fluffiness justice because we used a larger-than-necessary ramekin. In my dreams, the pillow of egg would have billowed over the edge, so next time I'll have to downsize the crock.

In any case, it was a hit.

The one suggestion I'd add is that, while lovely and simple, this souffle is very basic. If I make it again, I'd add some veggies or mushrooms or crabmeat. Even herbs. I guess my recommendation is to use this as a base model and add your favorite ingredients to it.

Gruyere and Shallot Souffle

2 shallots, cut into fine rings
3/4 cup champagne (handy if you're celebrating an occasion)
3 tbsp butter
3 tbsp flour
1/2 c milk, warmed
salt
white pepper
pinch of nutmeg
4 egg yolks
3/4 c of shredded gruyere
5 egg whites
pinch cream of tartar
1/2 c breadcrumbs

Preheat oven to 375. Carmelize your shallots by sauteeing til translucent and then add champagne and cook down, scraping up any brown bits and stirring occassionally. Remove from heat. In same pan, make a roux by melting the butter and stirring in the flour. Whisk in the warm milk and cook until thickened. Season with salt and pepper and nutmeg. Add onions to mixture. Stir in the cheese. Whisk the egg yolks into the mixture. In a hand mixer or bowl mixer, whip the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. Fold the egg whites into the yolk mixture. Pour into a buttered ramekin/souffle dish that has breadcrumbs pressed against the sides and bottom. Bake for 30-35 minutes or until golden brown.

Anniversary Anecdote

2006-08-23T10:08:00.000-07:00

Last year around this time, we were cruising the Croatian islands on a yacht.

I know that sounds ridiculously decadent, but we rented a boat and a crew for our party of 10 and it was actually quite reasonably priced for the quality of food and sightseeing it provided. I knew it was going to be brilliant when, within the first 20 minutes, the crew were pouring us champagne and asking us to pick out a lobster for lunch. It so happens that our first anniversary fell during that trip as well, so we enjoyed a pretty spectacular backdrop for our 1-year celebration.

This year, we've decided to celebrate in more modest style by cooking at home. I haven't figured out our menu yet, but it occurred to me we could use this opportunity to recreate some of the dishes we enjoyed in Croatia, including stuffed peppers, gnocchi (we were just across from Italy, you know) and a local sausage called cevapcici. That's pronounced cha-vap-chi-chi for anyone who's wondering. Lucky for us, our sis-in-law's mother is a real live Croatian, born and bred. And she's agreed to show Adri and me how to whip up some of her native dishes this weekend.

Will keep you posted on the process and the results.

Peas Glorious Peas: Layered in Shepherd's Pie, Blitzed in the Blender and Spread on Crostini

2006-08-20T14:47:00.000-07:00

Today's entry was going to be about shepherd's pie, but then I got to thinking about peas and how I love to incorporate them into my basic pie recipe for a little extra flavor and texture. This of course led to thoughts of all my other favorite pea preparations, so a surprise theme materialized.

So before we move on to the main event, a few simple ideas for using peas in inventive ways. Twice recently, I've come across blended peas being used as the base for a crostini spread instead of the standard bruschetta set up. My friend Jen simply blended frozen peas with chopped up mint and spread it on toasty baguette rounds at a bridal shower. Then, I found a similar treatment at Sparrow, the new French Asian restaurant on Nob Hill. There, the chef had blended the peas with a little truffle oil, giving the otherwise delicate flavor depth and earthiness. It seemed to me the mint option is perfect for summer, while the truffle preparation would help peas stand up as part of a heartier fall meal.

Finally, we've often turned to Nigella's version of peas blitzed with creme fraiche and white pepper as a nice alternative to the whole variety. I'm not sure if Michael likes them so much because they're tasty or because he has a not-so-secret crush on Nigella. Either way, I can vouch for their deliciousness.

So pack those ideas away in your mental pantry, and let's get down to business.

Shepherd's Pie

4 pounds Yukon Gold spuds
5 pounds full fat ground beef
3 medium red onions
5 large carrots
2 cans petit pois peas (optional, but recommended)
1.5 cups red wine
worcesterchire sauce
1 cup cream
olive oil
kosher salt and coarse ground pepper
potato ricer tool (strongly recommended)
2 9" pie pans

This recipe makes two shepherd's pies, which is perfect because the first one will be gone within the hour. At least that's what happens around these parts. It's also nice to have a second on hand cause it keeps well and tastes just as good the next day. We're sending our extra pie over to an elderly client of Michael's who complains he can't find a good option around here and has to resort to Safeway's frozen version. And that, my friends, is a travesty. When it comes to shepherd's pie, no one should have to settle. I'll happily share a pie to spare him that particular indignity.

So before you begin, I recommend setting the mood. For me, this means pouring a glass of red (which is handy since you'll be opening a bottle anyway) or a Lillet Blanc on the rocks with an orange twist. Of course, a good old Guinness would do rightly, too. Sometimes I like to light my favorite candle, Tocca's Agadir, which is scented like sweet tobacco. I guess it's meant to conjure hookahs and opium dens (which seems like fun) but for me, it just smells like my grandfather'spipe. And what's a better cooking inspiration that remembering your granddad making a martini and then cooking sherried crab or making beer bread. Note to self: recreate Grandad's recipes for these two favorites.

Next, I like to put on some lazy singalong songs like Neil Young or Willie Nelson. Today though, it's Grant Lee Phillips' album Nineteeneighties, which I highly recommend. It's all accoustic, moody versions of my favorite acts from the '80s like The Smiths, The Psychedelic Furs and Echo & the Bunnymen. The result is sort of dreamier and moodier than the originals, which are generally kind of dark. However, he stays true to arrangements and phrasing for the most part so you won't be annoyed by overzealous interpretations. Now if anything I just said appeals to you in the least, I recommend you download it. Go ahead, I'll wait. I know I digress here, but this is my process so you'll have to bear with my tangents in order to get to the tastes. I suspect if you were looking for succinct recipes, you'd go somewhere else so I'm not too worried about it. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not one for brevity.

OK, so are we all settled in? Let's do this thing.

Pop your spuds into a large soup pot with salted water and set them to boil. If you've taken my advice and procured a potato ricer, you can throw them in, skins and all. If you're a luddite and you resist newfangled gadgets that make life easier, go ahead and skin those suckers. While the water's coming to a boil, roughly chop your onions and cut your carrots (which you will have to peel) into 1/4" rounds. Pour 1/4 c. olive oil into a large skillet and add both the onions and carrots. Sauté them until the onions are translucent and the carrots are soft, but not wilted. Sprinkle generously with salt and pepper. Once the veggies are adequately soft, bring out your secret weapon: the wine. Pour it in and let it cook down, stirring occasionally, till there's no liquid left, only a magenta syrup coating the veggies. Lovely.

By now you've heard the GLP cover of New Order's "Age of Consent". Might want to hit repeat on that one.

Moving on. Divide your coated veggies between the two pie pans and cover the bottom of each with the combo. Put your ground beef in the same skillet and set it to medium to start browning the meat. Now, if you're working at the same pace as I am, your potatoes will likely be ready to rice. Check their tenderness by inserting a knife. If it moves through without resistance, you're there. Scoop the spuds into the ricer and push them through the grater.
Incidentally, this will give you a nice little bicep workout, as well. Add your cream to the taters and fold it in. Slowly add salt, tasting after each sprinkle ('cause you know, once you oversalt, there's no going back).

Now return to your meat and give it a good stir to ensure it's cooking through. If you purchased the full fat variety, per my instrux, your meat will now be swimming in rendered fat. This is fine though, cause you're about to strain it. Once the meat is done, strain it out and then sprinkle it with a few healthy shakes worcestershire. You want enough to taste, but not to overwhelm the meaty goodness. Your call. Lightly salt it too, if you like.

Now the meat goes into the pie pans as the next layer, on top of the veggies. Next, open your cans of petit pois and spread one each over the meat layers. Finally it's time to spread the spuds on top and seal the deal. Using a flat spreading spatula, plop a pile of potatoes in the center of the layered pies. Then, starting in the center, gently spread the potatoes outward, working your way around the pie until it's all covered.

Now turn your oven to broil and pop those suckers in. Just long enough for them to brown on top a bit. They're already cooked, so this is just a finishing touch. Serve warm, ideally with an authentic Anglo brown sauce, like HP. You can order it online from British importers. Michael loves the fruity variety, while I'm partial to the curry flavor.

Go on, guvnah, take a bite. It goes down a treat!

Sister-in-law Slumber Party Smorgasbord: Spanakopita & Pear Tart

2006-08-13T17:09:00.000-07:00

So Friday night was a baking extravaganza. I invited my sister-in-law Adriana to come over and spend the night so we could attempt to make spanakopita and she could teach me to make her famous-at-every-family-occasion pear tart. She agreed to come over and to bring our dog Ruby's puppy cousins, Elvis and Chopper, as well as some chilled champage. Already, we had the makings of an eventful evening.

The spanakopita idea had been brewing for some time, but had never come to fruition. I crave it often and regularly lament the absense of good Greek restuarants in San Francisco. Sure, there's Kokkari, but that's sort of gourmet Greek. What I crave are the rustic flavors and preparations I remember from the 3 glorious years of childhood I spent living in Greece. My fondest memories are Friday nights at the local taverna eating souvlaki, fried zucchini and tzatsiki, and summer days at Piraeus eating calamari (so what if I spat my squid across the table upon learning I was chewing the same sorry creatures that were strung over the rocks along the nearby seashore. So what if I'd always assumed I was eating onion rings). I can chart most of my childhood memories in exotic locales by conjuring up the tastes and smells of the places. And when I think of Greece, I always imagine myself eating spanakopita purchased at a kiosk in some city square while waiting for a ferry.

Despite my love of this simple pastry staple, I've been phyllo-phobic for years now. It seems every recipe I read warned that handling the delicate pastry was an exercise in frustration. That thawing the phyllo improperly or neglecting to cover it with a damp cloth would ensure total failure. So the spanakopita, she's been a long time coming. But now I can say, with great pride I might add, that the pastries we made were simple to assemble, gorgeous to behold and gratifying to taste. I think the following combination will meet the standards of anyone looking to replicate "the real thing".

Spanakopita

2 lbs fresh spinach, well washed and dried
1 large bunch dill, stemmed and roughly chopped
2 c. finely chopped green onions
sea salt & pepper
olive oil
1 stick butter & brush to apply
1/2 lb feta
4 eggs
1 box phyllo pastry sheets

Pull your phyllo dough from the freezer 2 hours before using. If your box contains two individually wrapped stacks of phyllo, return one to the freezer as you're not likely to use it all in one go. Once the phyllo is thawed, pull in from its wrapper and lay it flat on a countertop with a damp, well-wrung rag on top of it. This is important to ensure the pastry doesn't dry up while you're assembling your pies. Preheat oven to 350. Combine the washed spinach, dill, green onions and sea salt in a bowl. Mix well and let stand 15 minutes, then press out all the liquid. Heat the olive oil in large skillet and saute the spinach mixture–in batches if necessary. Saute until spinach is well-wilted and drain liquid from the pan.Transfer to a bowl, add crumbled feta and pepper and lightly toss. Lightly beat 4 eggs and fold into spinach mixture. Melt a stick of butter in a small saucepan. Now uncover the phyllo and cut the sheets in half down the length of the sheet. You should end up with 2 piles of sheets, each about 12" by about 3". Cuts may differ brand to brand, but I imagine most sheets are this size. Gently lift 2 sheets together from one of the stacks and then cover the stacks again. Spread your two sheets out on top of one another and lightly brush the top layer with melted butter. Then scoop a spoonful of the spinach mixture on the left corner closest to you. Gently lift that corner and fold it as a triangle, with the filling inside, over towards the right. Then continue this triangular folding pattern up your strip of pastry until you've reached the end. Then just lightly press the pastry closed, brushing it with butter to seal if necessary. Place the folded pie on a greased cookie sheet and brush once over the top with butter to brown. Once your trays are full, put them in the oven. They will cook for between 15-30 minutes. Let them turn golden brown and crisp, but not too dark. When a toothpick comes out clean, the egg has set and they're good to go. Let them cool, take a bite, smash a glass and yell OPA!

Next on the menu was Adriana's pear tart. I've been enjoying her signature dessert for years now and never believed her when she swore it was ridiculously easy to make and called it "white trash" due to its reliance on canned pears. It's a beautiful product and it tastes as good as any Parisian fancypants tart I've ever had. So fool your friends and family with this ever-so-easy offering and pretend you slaved all day.

Bavarian Pear Tart

CRUST
1/2 c. butter, softened
1/3 c. sugar
1/4 tspn vanilla
1 c. flour
1/4 c. chopped walnuts
2 tart pans with removable base

FILLING
8 oz. cream cheese
1/4 c. sugar
1 egg
1/2 tspn. vanilla

TOPPING
2 28 oz cans pears

Preheat oven to 350. Mix all crust ingedients using hand mixer, blender or bowl mixer. Press mixture into bottom of both tart pans. Don't worry about pressing it up the sides, just cover the bottoms. Bake at 350 for 10-15 minutes and remove to cool. Beat ingredients for filling together in same mixer. Spread evenly over cooled crusts. It will make a very thin layer, which is fine. Drain pears and slice thinly, lengthwise. Starting at the outer edge of the tarts, place the pears around the perimeter, slightly overlapping them and spiraling in towards the center. Once you've covered the top with pear slices, sprinkle a little sugar and cinnamon on top and bake for 30 minutes at 350. Once they've cooled, gently push the tarts through the removable sides so they rest on the base alone. Then transfer to a serving plate and dig in.

And that's not the end. We made basil cinnamon ice cream and swapped a few additional recipes, including a summer salad and oven fries that rival any deep-fried spuds. Those recipes will have to come tomorrow 'cause carpal tunnel's setting in. Go make a pear tart and we'll talk mañana.

People, Get Ready.

2006-08-12T12:13:00.000-07:00

Last night was a sister-in-law showdown in the kitchen. It's going to take awhile to transcribe everything we achieved, but shortly I'll post recipes for our delicious and successful creations, including:

spanakopita
"crunchy" salad featuring peas, corn and endive
bavarian pear tart
cinnamon basil ice cream

Right now I need to recover from excessive champagne consumption (last night) and gorging at the Farmers Market (this morning). The neighborhood pool is calling my name. Back soon!

Weekend wrap-up: Gaspare's pizza, key lime pie and flame-retardant chicken

2006-08-07T18:19:00.000-07:00

So it's been a long weekend and there's a lot to cover. There are a few food-related items to report but they're scattered and unrelated and kind-of all over the map. While I do have a recipe to post, it's one that was passed on by my friend Kate and I feel I should at least attempt to replicate it before posting it here. She warns that it really requires a hands-on demonstration, but promises that, when executed correctly, it produces absolutely delicious and amazingly flame-retardant chicken. Best of all, asked what it tastes like, she replied "orange sunshine" (and here I can only assume she means a bright, summery flavor and not LSD). I hereby commit to attempting this recipe so you have something to look forward to. Go ahead and stock up on annatto seed. I hear you're going to need plenty. So to recap, no recipe today. Nor do I have any Martha-style food pix. The only pictures that did come out of this weekend are from the Eagles of Death Metal tourbus and I suspect those would act as an appetite supressant, so let's leave those for my yet-to-be-created rock 'n roll blog. When and if it comes to pass, remind me to comment on the size of that bass player's hands. Seriously, they are freakishly Frankensteinian meat paws.

So onward to appetite-inducing items.

1. Gaspare's Pizza . Have you guys been yet? 'Cause if not, put it on the calendar. Our friends Jeff and Julie introduced us to this cozy cucina a few years back and truly, it's a gem. It's a small, unassuming joint out in the avenues, which means it's remarkably convenient for us now that we're totally B&T. Anyway, the thing about Gaspare's is this: you'll go there, you'll hear the schmaltzy Deano tunes on the juke, you'll admire the murals of Italia on the walls, you'll quaff the chianti and you'll think "I wanna spicy meat ballah." But you'll be wrong. So very wrong. When you go to Gaspare's, there's only one item on the menu you should order. And that's the margherita pizza. Sure, you can supplement it with a nice antipasto platter or some pasta to share, but really, the margherita is where it's at. Cradled in a thin crust, doused in olive oil and generously sprinkled with garlic, it's pizza pie perfection. Fini.

2. Next order of business: key lime pie. Now you're probably expecting a key lime pie recipe here and I don't have one for you. I mean, I have a couple. But they're not mine and I have yet to find the right combo of ingredients that takes it over the top. I spent a lot of time in the Keys during the college years (Jamie Gone Wild) and so I'm pretty picky about getting the flavor just right. I really feel strongly about using real, live key limes or at least key lime juice. However, those buggers are hard to find around these parts so I'm working on a recipe using regular old limes that comes close. I made one recipe that I saw on the Barefoot Contessa the other day (I know, I know–so ridiculous) and it almost did the job. But here's something I discovered that I'm willing to share. When I'm making a graham cracker crust, I want that crumbly, buttery texture, but I can't stand how even a homemade GC crust sometimes ends up tasting like a bland, boxed mix or something. So I decided to add some spicy ginger cookies to the crumb mix and voila–the crust ended up with the extra zing I'd been craving. Seriously, this one small addition makes a big difference to overall crust quality.

3. Margaritas. We've moved past the pizza and now we're on to tequila. And let me just say, it's a fine addition to my Monday night. See, I made a tex-mex dinner on Saturday night and left an unfinished pitcher of margaritas in the fridge. I don't think I have to tell you what a welcome sight it was upon arriving home after a long, chafing day at an ad agency.

Right about now, I say salt, rocks, and make it a double.

Cheese is my raison d'etre

2006-08-01T11:43:00.000-07:00

I actually just caught myself saying this aloud. To another person, mind you, not as some sort of mantra, but still.

An intervention may be in order.

Happy Mondays: Beauty Night & Blasted Chicken

2006-07-31T18:01:00.000-07:00

Monday nights are my night alone. And I know that sounds like the prelude to a complaint, but on the contrary, Mondays are all about me.

The husband is in the city taking a class, which means I can get all hyper-girlie and luxuriate in a bubble bath with a mud mask on my face, sipping Lillet Blanc and listening to '70s soft rock. You can be sure Joni Mitchell, Linda Ronstadt and Carole King are always invited to Beauty Night. So, after my self-spa pampering rituals are complete and I've belted out "A Case of You" and "Blue Bayou" as many times as I care to, I like to read or watch trashy TV while eating whatever it was I craved all day. Thing is, slaving in the kitchen isn't really a part of the princess regimen, so if cassoulet's what I'm craving, I act a spoiled brat and refuse to make myself dinner. On the nights my palatte demands something too labor-intensive, I can always happily settle on the old standard, Blasted Chicken. It's a recipe that plenty of people know and rely on, but for anyone who hasn't tried it, you'll be glad to have this savory standby in your repertoire. It's easy, tasty and (thank you, Colonel) finger-lickin good.

Easiest Ever Blasted Chicken

1 4.5 lb chicken
olive oil
coarse sea salt, ideally Sel du Mer
coarsely ground pepper

Pre-heat the oven to 450. Wash and pat dry the bird. Truss the little drumsticks up with cooking twine and set the bird on a roasting rack over a cookie sheet. Pour olive oil all over the carcass and then generously cover with salt and pepper. The effect you're going for is more of a salt coating than a sprinkling. Pop that sucker in for 45 minutes and, as Emeril says, BAM yuh done! All you need to remember is 4.5 pounds at 450 for 45 minutes. Of course the chicken should rest for 10-15 minutes once you're pulled it from the oven. If the bird's a bit bigger or juices don't run clear after 45 minutes, you can leave it in another 5-10 minutes.

Chef's note: Blasted Chicken is best enjoyed in PJs, watching mindless TV while snuzzled under a comforter.

Mi casa es su casa: A little bit of old Mejico

2006-07-29T12:47:00.000-07:00

Whenever I get a hankering for comfort food, but the standard Sunday roast dinner doesn't excite me, I take it South of the Border and braise some pork for carnitas tacos. The meat is rich, greasy and crispy on the edges. Seriously, its porky goodness will rival even the tastiest bacon. What more do you need to know?

This is a recipe I concocted by mixing tried and true techniques culled from other places. I think every Mexican mama has her own secret voodoo for making carnitas absolutamente perfecto, but this is one gringa's humble attempt.

The nice thing about braising meat is, you don't have to be too exacting and you can throw in additional ingredients to spice or sweeten it up as you like. You can also substitute different kinds of broth, juice and booze to arrive at your own ideal combo. I usually buy about 3 lbs of meat for 2 of us 'cause it's great the next day. Just figure you'll need 1/2 lb of meat per person for the initial serving and add a few pounds to that if you want to enjoy it with your eggs the next morning.

Carnitas Ingredients

Pork butt or Pork shoulder (whatever size you like)
Orange Juice
Beer (I like to use a Mex brand but it doesn't have to be)
Chicken Stock (enough to submerge whole cut of meat--maybe 10 c)
1 lg white onion
Fresh cilantro–well washed!
5 Limes
Cumin

Additional items for toppings
-----------
Jack cheese
Salsa
Guacamole or avocado
White onion
cilantro
5" size corn tortillas

Brown the meat in olive oil for a few minutes in a deep soup crock. Roughly chop the onion and add to the pot. Saute onions with meat for a few minutes so they begin to become translucent. In one big handful, tear the cilantro leaves from the stems and add the leaf to the pot. Cover (or almost cover) all ingredients with chicken stock. Add a beer and a cup or two of OJ, pot size permitting. Squeeze the limes into the liquid and toss the peels (leaving them in makes for a bitter taste). Add a LOT of cumin (this is the main flavor) as well as salt and pepper. Bring to simmer. The meat will simmer for 2-4 hours depending on the cut size.

As the liquid boils down, keep meat covered by adding more beer and OJ. The amounts don't matter as long as the meat stays covered and simmering. You'll know the meat is ready when you fork it and it pulls apart easily like pot roast. Once this happens, remove meat with a slotted spoon and spread over a cookie sheet. Put it into the oven on about 400 for 10-20 minutes. Just long enough to brown it and make the edges crispy.

Serve on warmed corn tortillas with whatever toppings you choose. We like jack cheese, guac, minced onion, cilantro and salsa.

Ay Dios Mio, es delicioso!

Touring Toronto: crepes, mayo and more

2006-07-27T16:28:00.000-07:00

Newly back from Toronto, I’m anxious to share a few new epicurean discoveries. And while we didn’t head North to eat ourselves silly, that’s pretty much what happened.

Upon our arrival, our lovely hosts Paul and Tiffany whisked us off to a spectacular restaurant, Amuse Bouche. And indeed we were amused when the promised pre-meal nibbles arrived not once, but twice. Our absent-minded waiter appeared with a second round of tuna ceviche and proudly proclaimed its arrival as though we hadn’t just enjoyed the same artfully stacked spoonfuls only moments before. Of course, far be it from us to complain. Edible encore notwithstanding, we enjoyed everything and we’d gladly recommend this neighborhood spot for menu and ambiance.

Sunday night, we grilled steaks at home, content to relax on the deck with tumblers of rye and ginger after a stormy Niagara Falls adventure. We’d stopped at farm stalls along the way to buy fresh corn, tomatoes and raspberries, so scaring up the rest of the meal was an easy proposition at the corner grocery.
While I was slicing tomatoes, I noticed Paul slathering the raw strip steaks with mayonnaise, and by “slathering” I mean slapping a four-fingered scoop of mayo onto the meat and massaging it lovingly into the flesh. He must have noticed my puzzled expression in his periphery because just then he explained that the thick mayo creates a seal around the meat and effectively traps the juices inside. Wow, was he right. With no discernable mayo taste, the finished steaks were dripping with flavorful juices and tender as all get out.

We’ll definitely be using this tip at home.

Sunday morning, we got up early and headed to Pusateri's for pastries and coffee. Croissants were passed up for light, moist cakes fragrant with orange essence. I also had to buy a few vials of candied rose petals because you never know when you'll need them. $60 later we were en route to Muskoka, where Tiffany’s parents have a cozy lakeside cottage. The next few days were rightly spent swimming, fishing, napping, eating, drinking and then eating some more. The high point of this eating came when Tiffany made us her grandmother Mamine’s crepes. She recommended serving them with butter and real maple syrup and warned against drowning them in Aunt Jemima. Done properly, they’ll be crispy around the edges and golden in the center. We can’t wait to make them with lemon and orange butter sauces and eat them all summer long.

Crepes de Mamine

1.5 c. milk
1 c. white flour
2 eggs
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp sugar
dash vanilla
1 tsp melted butter
1/4 tsp baking soda

Blend all ingredients except baking soda in blender and let rest for at least 1/2 hour. When you're ready to fry, use a dash of corn or veggie oil along with a pat of butter in the pan. Right before you pour the batter, add 1/4 tsp baking soda to the mixer and blend quickly. Now pour a bit of batter in the pan and tilt the pan quick;y to evenly spread the batter around. When the edges begin to crisp, flip your crepe and serve when golden brown throughout and crispy on the edges. Keep the pan at medium, never letting it get too hot and continually adding more butter. Bon appetit!

Pickle-icious

2006-07-17T21:01:00.000-07:00

Just look at these lovely dill spears from Happy Girl Kitchen. Good people who make great pickles. Look for them at the Ferry Building Farmers' Market. Tell them Jamie sent you. And when they look at you like they have no idea, say "You know, Jamie...from Mexico." Then, when they shrug and look blank, say "You slept in her hammock." If that doesn't jog any memories, forget about it and focus on tasting some pickly goodness.

Late, lakeside dinner for 4

2006-07-17T19:15:00.000-07:00

This weekend was a Yosemite getaway with Sylvi and Matthias, which pretty much guaranteed we'd be eating well. Matthias is Swiss, which means the chocolate and cheese are always top notch. Sylvi is an artist and approaches edibles the same way she does her work, carefully considering color, texture and sensory response.
Plus, her parents' lake cabin is stocked with her mother's homemade jams (this time they were apricot, peach and plum). So besides lake swimming, constellation gazing and golf attempting, we planned to make a few simple but memorable meals. And indeed, we succeeded.

We got off to a late start Friday and knowing we'd arrive around 9, we needed a meal plan that would be easy to execute but tasty enough to feel rewarding after the drive. While we nosed around the produce at Berkeley Bowl, Sylvi suddenly remembered the perfect pasta to make on the run. It's her friend Carla's recipe, which, interestingly, features brie as its star ingredient. The beauty of this dish is that you toss all the ingredients for the sauce into a bowl and let them marinate and mingle for a few hours–like say, the amount of time it takes to drive to Yosemite (in our case, 2.5 hours). Then you need only cook your pasta and stir it, still hot, into the mixture. By this time the flavors have taken on a new depth and the hot pasta melts them into one gooey, glorious, pungent sauce. It couldn't be easier to assemble or more enjoyable to eat.

Brie and Basil Pasta On-the-Go

1 bunch basil
1 container small tomatoes, preferably grape vs. cherry variety
2 wedges ripe brie (the softer, creamier & more pungent, the better)
1 bulb garlic
3-4 c. decent olive oil
Fresh fettucine for 4
coarse ground pepper
coarse sea salt

Slice small tomatoes in half and then put aside in large mixing bowl. Peel approx. 12 cloves of garlic (you can use more or less depending on your taste). Crush them by placing them under the flat surface of your knife blade and applying pressure with your palm. Add the crushed cloves to the tomatoes. Cut brie into small cubes and add to the mixture. Add olive oil to mixture. Rip the leaves from the basil stems in one twist, discard stems and then cut about half of the leaves that remain into chiffonade (fine strips) and add to the mixture. Now give your melange of ingredients a good stir and add healthy grindings of salt and pepper. Allow mixture to sit for at least 2 hours. Before adding hot pasta, stir once more. Then drain boiling pasta, and pour directly into mixture and serve. **Be sure to advise fellow diners to eat around or pick out the uncooked cloves of garlic. (Or not. The more adventurous in your party may welcome the blood-cleansing, detoxing properties of the garlic. Particularly if their acupuncturists tell them that they have angry livers. But I wouldn't know anything about that.) Anyway, if you have leftover sauce, slather it on bread the next day. We did this at 2 AM after plenty of Dark and Stormy cocktails and it didn't disappoint. Simple, surprising and so satisfying.

Petits Fours–not just annoyingly cute anymore

2006-07-10T12:16:00.000-07:00

I recently discovered Dragonfly Cakes in Sausalito, a new bakery that specializes in producing petits fours. In the past, I’ve not much cared for these bite-sized cakes, observing that the fondant-to-cake ratio seems off and furthermore, that fondant itself reminds me of almond-scented candle wax in both taste and texture. However, on the quest to put on a traditional high tea for my friend Sylvi’s bridal shower, I sucked up the idea that I needed a hyper-girlie, bite-sized dessert that looks painfully precious on a plate.

Scones? Check.
Double Devon clotted cream and jam? Check.
Tea sandwiches with appropriate combos of watercress & butter, cheddar & chutney, cucumber and salmon? Check.
Cheese board featuring Gloucester, Stilton and Cotswold? Check.
Assorted teas including Earl Grey, English Breakfast and Apricot? Check.
Punchbowl of mojitos? Not in any way traditional, but double check.

And finally, petits fours. Since I had committed to the idea, I was determined to find a variety that didn’t sacrifice enjoyment for aesthetics. Not only did Dragonfly deliver on moistness, flavor and completely non-offensive coating, but they were happy to customize my order with tiny flag designs representing the heritage of both bride and groom. My cursory web search turned up the flags of their respective countries¬–Estonia and Switzerland–and a week later, these custom cuties were ready to go. Highly recommend using Dragonfly for any occasion where custom-designed bite-sized sweets feel appropriate.

No Viognier today

2006-07-09T14:11:00.000-07:00

It's been hot this weekend. Extra hot for these parts, and especially so just north of here in Sonoma where we spent the day yesterday. Now before you start conjuring images of us sipping wine in a faux chateau surrounded by picturesque vineyards, I feel compelled to admit we were actually at The Infineon Raceway. And not only that, but we were watching drifting, the relatively new offshoot of auto racing popularized by the summer flick Tokyo Drift. I will spare you the details as presumably you didn't start perusing this post to read about corndogs and Budweiser. (No promises on those subjects being off limits in the future though; both are awfully delicious.)

Anyway, despite the dusty, noisy surroundings, I was still thinking about drinking a crisp, citrusy Viognier. I guess mere proximity to grapes can do it. Or maybe the 115 degree heat did it. Whatever it was, I had a notion to order some wine today from our friends Jen and Chris Stark who make a lovely Syrah and a stellar Viognier. Imagine my disappointment in seeing that their fantastic Viognier is sold out just now that I had my heart set on it. Of course, the Syrah is super too and generally I do prefer red. If you like trying new wines and supporting small operations, I recommend keeping an eye on these guys. They're always trying new blends and everything they've made to date has been right nice.

Morning meditation on eggs followed by Michael's scrumptious scramble recipe

2006-07-08T09:19:00.000-07:00

Apart from cheese, eggs are probably my favorite food. This is determined not by any exceptional flavor or rare quality, for I think we can all agree, eggs themselves are simple sustenance. It's not the same as calling foie gras a favorite. I adore it, but a little goes a long way. I measure my favorites by frequency of consumption and in the case of eggs, I eat more than my fair share. Best of all, I do so in a guilt-free manner as I am blessed with my mother's non-existent cholesterol level. And anyway, these days, many say eggs are a welcome addition to the diet and so I continue on my eggy way.

Now is probably also the time to mention that we used to own chickens. It's a long story and one that tends to raise a few eyebrows, but for that glorious year, it was the height of egg enjoyment. Our french hens were great producers despite being hostile siblings to our dog Ruby. And as the Survival Of The Fittest theory proves time and again, dogs are higher than chickens on the pet chain. Sadly, we sent the hens away. Unsadly, they went to live in an idyllic sanctuary with peacocks, peahens, other chickens and ducks. And in loving memory, I will say, we haven't enjoyed a plain old fried egg half as much since. Not since those days have our yolks been bright orange and tasted buttery and creamy just by themselves. And I think it is because of our dear departed (but still happily clucking) hens that we moved in bolder breakfast directions. It was around this time that Michael invented his now famous scramble, a creation that equals the buttery, creamy goodness of our home-laid eggs even if it does take, well, butter, cream and aged gouda to do it.

The cheese used in the following recipe is Saenkanter, which I am loath to admit is a gouda. Most know gouda as the pale yellow, soft cheese sealed in a red waxy coating. What we're talking about here is a whole different class of cheese. While you can find similar kinds of cheese sold under other names like Beemster, Old Gouda, Old Amsterdam and Leyden ( a delicious alternative, sprinkled with cumin seeds), Saenkanter is the superlative. It is, as we say all-too-frequently in advertising copy, "best in class."

Aged for at least 3 years (the others listed above hover between 12-18 months), this cheese surpasses the nuttiness of parmigiano reggiano and offers a caramelized, butterscotch flavor that's unlike anything else. After discovering it in Amsterdam 4 years ago, we were hooked, carrying big hunks of it home with us only to discover good markets around these parts do stock it. Since that time, Michael devotedly devours it whenever it's on hand. Then he came up with this scramble that owes as much to the delectable cheese within as to his great patience and slow scrambling hand. I always rush a scramble, yielding a dry, bland result. His version is rich, decadent and slow-cooked to moist, gooey perfection.

Michael's Scrummy Scramble for 2

6 Eggs
1/2 c Saenkanter cheese (or other aged gouda)
1 Shallot
1/8 c. Cream
Butter
Coarse sea salt
White pepper

Michael is dictating this recipe as I type, so bear with the commentary. He suggests beginning with a sip of your tea. In his case, it's Belfast Brew, a blend brought back to us from Ireland by his mother Margaret, who tells us it's the very same tea the shipyard workers at Harland and Wolff quaffed while building the Titanic. I hope it doesn't bode as badly for our breakfast as for the Big Ship. Anecdotally, Michael mentions that this combo was inspired by the Tato brand cheese and onion crisps he remembers from childhood. Of course, Mill Valley has somewhat elevated his tastes as he's now using the refined pairing of top shelf cheese and shallots to replicate the flavors.

And now it seems we're down to business: Mince shallot and sauté in butter until translucent and golden brown. Set aside. Cool frying pan and pour 1/8 cup cream in. Then crack 6 eggs into the pan, making sure nothing's cooking yet. Turn heat to medium low, and gently blend eggs and cream until mixture is a consistent pale yellow color. Grate 1/4 cup Saenkanter into egg mixture. Adjust heat to lowest flame and stir continually. Summon your patience and keep stirring until serving–it takes a little while. If you see scrambling action before thickening, your flame is too high. Add two pinches of coarse salt and a few shakes of white pepper. When your eggs are properly cooked (moist but not runny), stir in the shallots. Top with one quick grating of the cheese. Serve with toast that cuts the richness like toasted sourdough or rye.

Savory Arugula Salad

2006-07-07T17:31:00.000-07:00

We've made this salad three times in the recent past and expect many encore appearances throughout the summer season. It's spicy and satisfying, but still light and refreshing.

One bunch arugula, washed and dried
One head fennel, stemmed and coarsely chopped
Parmagiano Reggiano, shaved in sheets using potato peeler
Capers
Prosciutto, coarsely ripped
Top Shelf Olive Oil
Coarse sea salt
Coarse black pepper
(Bosc pear, optional–best instead of prosciutto, rather than in addition to)

Note: The success of this salad was due, in large part, to the flavors of an award-winning olive oil (Balzana, 2005) and the nuttiness of the reggiano. Lesser quality substitutions didn't deliver, so break out the good stuff. Quantities are to taste, which, for me, means don't go crazy with fennel or capers, but be generous with the cheese....of course.

Directions: Mix arugula, fennel, capers, parmagiano and pear if you decide to include it. Tear prosciutto into bite-sized pieces, removing fat as you go–then sauté it until lightly crispy. Drain fat and add, while still warm, to arugula, fennel, capers and shaved reggiano. Toss all ingredients, drizzling in olive oil and sprinkling with coarse salt and pepper.

Embarking on a new culinary adventure

2006-07-07T16:50:00.000-07:00

As a regular reader of other food-based blogs, I've decided to stop lurking and start contributing. I'm a devoted fan of Sam Breach's Becks and Posh Nosh, so credit to her for inspiring me thusly. I'm not sure what I intend to post here or who I expect to read it, so it may end up being a repository of my own favorite recipes. Maybe the first entry will be my recipe for the divine arugula salad we've made three times in the last week. I must record the ingredients–a combination arrived at by happenstance using our trusty "refrigerator surprise" method. That way, I can recreate this salad at will when our arugula crop is ready for harvesting, a few short weeks from now.