Food Woolf – Page 14

Recipe for Good Service on Valentine's Day

Valentine’s day is difficult enough as it is. You either embrace the holiday, ignore it to the best of your ability or enjoy openly reviling the one day of the year couples are supposed to celebrate their love. You either have plans, are actively seeking to avoid romantic arrangements or are desperately trying to piece together a night to remember.

With the Internet’s pages thick with last minute Valentine’s Day recipes and romantic ideas, I offer a different type of pre-Valentine’s day nugget of information.

A Restaurant Insider’s guide to making it through Valentine’s Day

1. Make reservations to your favorite restaurant well in advance of Valentine’s Day.
Granted, on the day before Valentine’s Day this advice comes late, but it’s an important reminder for all of you that think that calling the day before Valentine’s Day is reasonable. Getting a table at 7:30 the day before Valentine’s Day is like trying to get concert tickets for a Bruce Springsteen concert an hour before the show. It will take a miracle to get you in. Valentine’s day is one of the busiest nights for a restaurant. Most people know this and book reservations for Valentine’s Day a month in advance. See below.

2. If you’re late in booking reservations don’t take your frustrations out on the reservationist or manager.
It’s not the restaurant’s fault you’re late on booking. If you’re flexible about dining times (i.e. coming in really early or really late at night), they might actually be able to work something out for you. Walking in without a reservation isn’t a good idea if your date wants to be seated right away. A one to two hour wait time for a walk in table is reasonable on Valentine’s Day.

3. Don’t double book reservations
It’s great to have options, but if you have more than one reservation, cancel one of them now. There are hundreds of people dying to take your spot (see #2) and the restaurant counts on you showing up for dinner.

Why not? Well, in nicer restaurants for example, very few people walk in to a restaurant on Valentine’s Day without a reservation. If you don’t show, the restaurant loses the equivalent of two guests sales.

4. If you don’t have reservations and don’t want to take a chance on walking in to a restaurant start making plans to eat at home.
There’s nothing wrong with making a great meal at home. You may very well save some money, be close to the bedroom for when the romantic mood hits and with a more flexible budget you can splurge on a nicer bottle of champagne and beautiful desserts from the local bakery. See suggestion # 11.

5. If you can’t afford dinner out at a fancy spot, don’t go there
Though this may seem obvious, this is a point most overlook. Sure you may want to go splurge, but if you think a $40 dollar entrée is expensive, don’t go to a restaurant that serves $40 dollar entrees. A $40 entrée you can’t afford, regardless how masterfully it’s prepared, will disappoint you.

6. If your loved one has food allergies or dietary restrictions make sure the restaurant you’re going to has dishes they can eat.
If your date can’t eat meat, don’t go to a steak house. If your date can’t eat dairy, don’t go to a cheese bar. Seems obvious enough, but many people think that they can change a few things around on the menu and create a reasonable substitution. Unless you’re going to a restaurant that caters to your loved one’s particular food requirements, don’t expect a modified, sauce-on-the-side entrée to wow your guest. Modifications are last minute changes to long time perfected dishes and are often a real disappointment. Chefs don’t like to modify their recipes, just like you wouldn’t want to have to re-cook an entire dinner for one guest that showed up late or unexpected to your house for dinner.

7. Valentine’s Day is the day to celebrate love. Share some with those around you.
People get very stressed out around major holidays–Valentine’s Day in particular. Some of the worst behaviors are witnessed on these days. In my more than 15 years of waiting tables I’ve seen many a Valentine’s day inspired horror show. Sure there are lots of cute, sweet couples, but more often than not the restaurant is filled with angry spouses, bitter couples desperate to speed up cooking times so they can depart and guests so twisted up with expectations (see #8) they can’t even get out of their own way to have a good time.

For the sake of everyone around you, please be nice to the people that wait on you or take care of you.

8. Have reasonable expectations
A restaurant is a place that serves food and beverages. Even though Valentine’s day may be special to you, restaurants continue to do what they have always done: serve the same food they always have (with the exception of romantic decorations or “romantic” specials)

Minor adjustments aside, regardless of the holiday a restaurant will always be a place that serves food. It is not a location that offers magic dust or romance pills. Please don’t get mad if the food tastes like food or the waiter doesn’t give you an ego-massage. We’re not there to entertain you (unless you’re going to a live music restaurant), the restaurant staff are facilitators of serving great food with a pleasant attitude.

9. Don’t linger at your table
This one is hard for most diners to understand. If your dinner has been cleared and the desserts were finished long ago it’s time for you to go. If you are still sitting at your table chit chatting you should know that there is a couple standing up at the host stand yelling at the manager for being late on their reservation. You are the reason why people aren’t being sat on time for their reservation. For God’s sake get up from the table and go make kissy face at home!

10. If you hate Valentine’s Day avoid restaurants that cater to couples on the night of Valentine’s
Though we’d love to see you come in, you’re probably going to get very upset by the spectacle of handholding (and browbeaten) tables for two. You’ll also most likely have to suffer through a “romantic” prixe fixe menu that is likely to make your skin crawl.

11. Think about take out
If you really can’t stand the idea of cooking, I would suggest the take out option. Ethnic food take out is your best bet for limited wait time. If you want something fancy, do keep in mind that the busiest time for the fine dining kitchens on the night of Valentine’s day will be between 7:30 and 8:30, so don’t be surprised if you have to wait a while for your food.

OTHER IMPORTANT NUGGETS:

Why can’t I get a reservation on Valentine’s Day?
It’s a math thing. There just aren’t enough tables for two in one given night. If a restaurant only has 4 tables, on Valentine’s Day the booking manager will more than likely try to put couples on all four tables—regardless of their size. See below.

THE MATHEMATICS OF VALENTINE’S DAY

Regular Saturday night of small restaurant at first seating:
2 TABLES OF TWO = 4 people
2 TABLES OF FOUR = 8 people
TOTAL TABLES IN RESTAURANT = 12

Valentine’s Day in a small restaurant
2 TABLES OF TWO = 2 couples–4 people
2 TABLES OF FOUR = 2 couples—4 people
TOTAL TABLES IN RESTAURANT = 8 total

In a short time the restaurant must cater to a slew of couples—which taxes the restaurant’s seating options to the maximum. On this special night, tables that are usually held for four or more guests suddenly become viable real estate for the restaurant to use for couples—thereby minimizing the amount of people they can seat that night.

Thank you for your support.

February 10November 14

Animal–A restaurant insider's pick

(taken with my late night iPhone cam)

In the world of restaurants the late night, post-shift meal with co-workers is a ritual that is relished and celebrated in various and unruly incarnations. Some find sustenance in a handful of bar snacks and a gullet full of cocktails. Others speed across town to the 24-hour drive-thru and late night taco stand to silently devour a well-deserved meal in mere seconds. While some—exhausted individuals craving to commiserate–speed across town to a late-night restaurant en masse to eat and drink away the shift’s miseries, swap stories and revel in debauchery.

In Los Angeles there are many all-night spots popular with restaurant folk. Taco stands, 24-hour hamburger joints and Korean noodle houses aside, there are few places in the city of Angels that offer food and a service staff that cater to the rich and exotic tastes of restaurant folk. Animal Restaurant, a meat obsessed late-night spot in the Fairfax district, is a rare example of a celebrated late night eatery that has found a dedicated following of night owls and restaurant insiders.

Founded by the handsomely tussled chef-duo Jon Shook and Vinny Dotolo, Animal’s menu is dedicated to all things meat. The dishes are small but pack a lot of flavor (and fat filled calories) like the six hour Bolognese on Parmesan polenta ($8), pork belly with kimchi, chili soy and scallion ($11), or melted petit basque on a bed of chorizo with garlic bread ($11). Favorites with my fellow-late night diners are the house smoked pork belly, lentil & butterbean salad ($14), fall off the bone pork ribs with a rocket, fennel and citrus salad ($15), blow-your-diet foie gras with a salty biscuit and maple sausage gravy ($22).

(late night iPhone cam)

The one dish that keeps the folks at Mozza coming back for more is the French Canadian comfort food poutine: made here with a rich oxtail gravy, melted cheddar cheese on a bed of French fries ($14). Though a perfect finale for a long night of drinking, this is a dish that requires an iron stomach. Poutine on an empty stomach at 2 AM is a really, really bad idea.

For those with a late night sweet tooth, recommended dishes include the decadent tres leches cake ($7), jar of chocolate pudding (topped with bacon!) ($7) and Animal’s signature bacon meets chocolate dessert, a Kit-Kat inspired bacon and chocolate crunch bar ($8).

With words like “changes and modifications politely declined” printed on the menu, Animal restaurant is a restaurant insider’s pick.

Animal Restaurant
435 N. Fairfax Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90036
(323) 782-9225

Open Seven Days A Week
Sunday – Thursday 6pm-11pm
Friday – Saturday 6pm-2am

February 4November 14

Support Good Food on KCRW

It’s pledge time at KCRW, Los Angeles’ public radio station and home to the amazing culinary radio show Good Food, the international news program The World, sit-in-your-car-to-listen-til-it’s-over This American Life and inspired music programming. Though the state of the economy has hit us hard, KCRW needs everyone’s help to stay on the air. After the recent demise of Indy 103, one of LA’s most beloved independent radio stations, it’s clear that this is no time to sit back and do nothing.

If you live in LA and enjoy the programming on KCRW, please make a donation. I know times are tough. I’m sad to admit I haven’t always been able to afford to be a paying KCRW supporter–I’ve donated some years and volunteered when money in my budget was in the negatives. In this year’s pledge drive be sure to do something–KCRW needs all of its listeners to do what we can, however we can.

My generous friends Todd and Diane from White on Rice are making the donating process even more enticing for food lovers across LA. Listeners that donate at least $75 to KCRW can take part in one of their amazing culinary tours of Little Saigon (featuring a guest appearance by Evan Kleiman). And remember: ask for the White on Rice Little Saigon Tour!

Be sure to call in at 1-800-600-KCRW or go on line to give what you can. .
NPR is radio worth paying for.

Thanks to La.foodblogging for creating the Good Food video to remind food bloggers and food lovers alike to support KCRW.

NOTE: White on Rice’s donated prize is still in the works! Please stay tuned to KCRW’s Good Food to find out the details!

February 3

The Modern: North End's Best Cannoli

Even before my love of Italian cuisine was ignited, I fell for cannoli. What’s not to like about a tube of fried pastry dough filled with a sweet, creamy filling? Between my sweet tooth and appreciation for foods with a fan-base, I was enamored with the cream filled pastry before I took my first bite.

You had me at cream-filled pastry

Originally a Sicilian pastry, cannoli is a beloved pastry of all Italian Americans. A fried pastry shell filled with sweetened ricotta or pastry cream, the cannoli is a dessert with many variations. Some argue a cannoli isn’t a cannoli if it isn’t piped fresh. Others say ricotta is the only proper filling. Italian pastry chefs argue over authentic cannoli toppings like powdered sugar, pistachios, chocolate chips and sprinkles. Though cannoli may seem like a simple dessert, this crunchy-creamy confection has the power to start culinary wars.

In the Italian neighborhood of Boston, there’s a sort of Capulet and Montegue division of cannoli eaters that inspires heated arguments between North End couples and families when ever it’s time to eat dessert. In the North End, the Capulet family would be played by 50-year old Mike’s Pastry
and the Montegue clan would feature the 70-year old Modern Pastry shop.

I was inducted into the Mike’s Pastry camp the day I had my first bite of cannoli by a life-time Mike’s pastry customer. By default, I remained a dedicated customer of Mike’s throughout my decade living in Boston. But after ten years away from my East coast city, I felt it was time to test my affiliations.

After a side-by-side taste test (that required some crafty hiding of competitor pastry boxes) I must proclaim The Modern the clear taste test winner. Though Mike’s will always hold a special place in my heart—they were my first cannoli after all—I must admit they are not the best cannoli shop in Boston*.

The key reason for the Modern’s win is the crispness of its pastry shell. By piping the cannoli to order, the Modern’s pastry maintains its structural integrity and crisp texture. With its sweetened ricotta filling, the Modern cannoli is, in my estimation, the perfect expression of the classic Italian dessert. Its beguiling texture and perfectly sweet filling makes sharing a near impossibility. The vanilla cream cannoli is velvety and sweet, but in my opinion doesn’t match the simplicity of the ricotta filled classic.

Be sure to try their ricotta pie and Sfogliatella when available!

The Modern is a lovely place to enjoy a pastry and cappuccino and listen to the old men chat in Italian at the neighboring tables.

*Why not Mike’s?
Though Mike’s Pastry makes its cannoli fresh daily, their cannoli sit on the shelves for hours after being piped fresh that morning. The result, the pastry dough’s fried shell is slightly soft, and doesn’t have the crunch a freshly-piped cannoli should have. The ricotta filling is dense and sweet—almost too sweet for my palate—and requires a good strong cup of coffee to balance things out.

January 29

Eggs al Forno Revisited

Open most refrigerators in America and you’re likely to find an egg.

As food groups go, the egg is one of our most versatile ingredients. Prepare it simply, dress it up with common or elegant ingredients, manipulate it with good technique; the versatile egg has the ability change into something completely unlike itself.

An egg can be a snack, a meal, a condiment or a building block for something grand. In the home, an egg is a culinary hero. In professional kitchens, a poorly prepared egg can be a career killer. In my case, the egg marks my relationship with cooking.

Early in my days of cooking, I mangled even the simplest preparation. Later, I simply advocated my egg-cooking duties to boyfriends and feigned ignorance. A handful of years ago I gathered my courage and began cooking eggs with an experimental attitude. Now, after a year of serious cooking and culinary studies, I see a dozen eggs as an opportunity to step up to the stove and prove what I’ve learned. Sometimes, my eggs turn out to be really, really good.

This Eggs al Forno dish (Italian for baked eggs) is a recipe I developed after tasting a baked egg on toast that my friend Bryant Ng (former Chef of Pizzeria Mozza) pulled from a pizza oven. Though simple, the dish has all the bells and whistles: creamy soft eggs, crunchy fresh bread, the smoothness of a great olive oil and zing that only a well-made cheese can offer. Eggs al Forno is an effortless show stopper that requires great ingredients and a chef’s confidence.

I submitted this recipe to La Brea Bakery* and recently learned that they decided to feature it on their website recipe page. I include the recipe here with these suggestions: Hand select your ingredients: a great bread (wedge from an artisan bread like a sourdough, pullman or herb are good choices), a flavorful melting cheese (preferably Fontina or medium bodied sheeps milk cheese), a good finishing olive oil and maldon sea salt. Throw some prosciutto or bacon on top for some extra bacon love.

[print_link]

Eggs al Forno (Baked Eggs) For Two

2 miniature casserole dishes (6×4 inches)
4 eggs
1 tablespoon butter, softened
¼ of a La Brea Bakery Demi Baguette or regular sized Baguette (any variety), cut into 4 1-inch thick slices
¾ cup Fontina or mild cheddar cheese, grated
2 tablespoons grated Parmesan
¼ cup olive oil
Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven 500°F. Meanwhile, rub the inside of each mini-casserole dish with a portion of softened butter. This will prevent the ingredients from sticking to the dish. For each individual serving, place one or two slices of bread (in a single layer) on the bottom of the butter-lined casserole—making sure the bread fits snuggly—adding or trimming if necessary. Drizzle the bread with one tablespoon of olive oil. Then, add a sprinkling of half the grated Fontina cheese. Gently crack two eggs, adding them to the layer of grated cheese. Drizzle with one more tablespoon of oil. Repeat process for the other dish.

Place the two casserole dishes in the oven (you may place a cookie sheet underneath to protect your oven from bubbling ingredients) on the middle rack. Bake until eggs are set, about 10 minutes. Carefully remove the casseroles from the oven. Top each serving with one tablespoon of Parmesan and a pinch of salt and pepper.

Using oven mitts, carefully place each casserole onto a dinner plate topped with a folded cloth napkin (this will ensure a more stable surface for the hot dish to rest on). Serve immediately, making sure to warn your loved one of the dishes’ hot temperature!

Full disclosure: I do freelance copy writing for La Brea Bakery’s marketing department.

January 25November 14

Foodbuzz 24,24,24: Boston Revisited

photo by nickphotos on Flickr

Working in restaurants was never meant to be a career I’d fall in love with. It was a means to cover my bills until I reached my goal of becoming a professional screenwriter. Despite my creative aspirations, however, by the spring of 1998 I was thoroughly embedded in the restaurant scene in Cambridge/Boston. I was the only female bartender—a singular position I relished—at Toad, a popular locals’ bar and music club (albeit tiny) in Porter Square, Cambridge. Four nights a week I was the person that everybody knew–the friendly bartender to regulars, tourists, Harvard academics, rocket scientists and musicians like Patty Griffin, Peter Mulvey, Ellis Paul and the band Morphine. At Toad, everybody really did know your name.

The excitement I felt working at Toad (and their sister restaurant Christopher’s), was a kind of siren song of easy money, camaraderie, casual lifestyle and untraditional hours that was so completely beguiling I felt the need to flee the Boston area—for fear I would never truly break free of the world’s best bartending job and pursue my dream of becoming a screenwriter. An acceptance letter to a prestigious film school was the solid lead I needed to empower me to leave behind the pull of Boston’s budding dining scene.

In the early 1990’s, Boston’s culinary scene saw its first spark of national attention when Boston Chef Todd English earned his James Beard award and was named best chef of the Northeast. Other hot young chefs like Chris Schlesinger (East Coast Grill), Gordon Hamersley (Hamersley’s), Lydia Shire (Biba) and Paul O’Connell (Chez Henri) gained notoriety for their innovative cooking. In a town that was once known only for its pubs, clam chowder and baked beans, these and a handful of other Boston-based chefs, busied themselves with creating New England-inspired menus and revelatory dining experiences that would soon make Boston and Cambridge a culinary destination.

Distance makes the heart grow stronger

Despite the ache to revisit the haunts of my old life, I kept my distance from Boston and Cambridge for a decade. Like a broken hearted lover might stay away from an old flame, I feared that one good visit might make me throw in the towel on my film writing career and go back to what I once had when I was in Boston.

Of course, the lure of restaurants was too strong to resist. As I continued to be disciplined about writing screenplays, my work in restaurants was something that was difficult for me to leave behind entirely. Though I continued to write screenplays, I secretly imagined myself a future restaurateur.

I read with interest the stories of great Boston restaurants emerging in my old neighborhood. Friends from back home told me of bustling breweries, high-end pizza shops and fine dining establishments replacing old pubs. Family shared culinary gossip about burrito joints and Asian restaurants sprouting up in a city where the only ethnic food to be found was Italian. In 2004, I felt the first real pang of missing the Cambridge dining scene when I saw my old friend Tony Maws on the cover of Food and Wine’s best new chef issue, for his newly opened Cambridge restaurant Craigie Street Bistro.

As the years passed, my work within restaurants morphed and altered the focus of my writing. In 2007, I embraced my shadow side and began exploring my love of food and restaurants when I began writing this food blog. Then in 2008, I read Frank Bruni’s review of the country’s best restaurants and his pick for the number one restaurant outside of New York City—a Boston-based Japanese restaurant named O-Ya. After a decade of keeping my distance, I was ready to see what had become of my beloved Boston/Cambridge dining scene. It was time to go home for dinner.

Then and Now

boston at night

The plan: to see just how much the Boston/Cambridge dining scene has changed and just how much has stayed the same. My husband and I flew out of LA early in the morning and planned to land in Boston hungry and get to eating right away. We would try Boston’s most celebrated restaurant and visit my old stomping grounds. First stop: dinner at O-Ya.

Chef Tim Cushman and sommelier Nancy Cushman, are the charming husband and wife team behind this 37-seat restaurant (17 of the seats are at the Chef’s counter). The award winning restaurant is a tiny oasis of warmth in a snow draped city. The interior–a renovated firehouse–features arched-beams, warm wood and brick walls, cozy seating and cool tunes. The Cushmans and their professional staff lavish the diners with an uncommon grace and a menu dedicated to only the finest ingredients.

Since its opening in 2007, O-Ya has been called best new restaurant by numerous publications (Boston Magazine, Zagat, Robb Report, Gourmet) and Tim Cushman received a best new chef of 2008 award by Food and Wine Magazine. Cushman—a New England native—has a diverse culinary background in Japanese cuisine. He sources ingredients shipped from as far away as Japan and Santa Barbara while at the same time prizing the local Boston fishmarkets. With some 80 small plates—an exciting mix of Nigiri sushi, sashimi, udon, tempura, as well as cooked pork, chicken and wagyu beef dishes—O-Ya is an exciting restaurant for all types of palates.

My husband and I enter O-Ya a few minutes before our reservation. We are greeted by Nancy Cushman, a striking young woman with the presence of a doyenne. An immediately warm host, Nancy ushers us to our seats at the Chef’s table (the sushi bar). She welcomes us as if we were long lost friends.

We squirm in our seats like excited school children as we scan the small plates menu. With some helpful suggestions from our server, we order. As a 1920’s jazz tune plays as we study the happy faces of the diners and admire the dance of white chef coats as the sushi chef deftly craft the diverse and sometimes architectural raw fish dishes.

As we await the beginning of our meal, Nancy arrives with a ceramic dish topped with shaved ice and a selection of hand made sake cups. Our clever hosts offers us the plate and asks us to select our cup.

“Don’t worry,” she smiles. “This isn’t a
psychological test.” My husband and I smile and take our individual glasses. Nancy pours our Yuki no Bosha Junmai Ginjo sake ($38for a 300ml half bottle) and has us taste. The flavors are subtle and complex with floral clean notes. A perfect cold sake for our meal. As Nancy walks away, my husband and I can’t help but wonder aloud that maybe the glasses we pick really do say something about our personalities. Mine is wide mouthed and speckled brown like a pony. His is tall, lean and colored black as night with a blue lip. We are busy musing on the meaning of our glasses as the first dish arrives. It’s a stunner.

A tempura fried Kumamoto oyster ($14) sits atop nori-wrapped sushi rice with a yuzu kosho aioli and a perfect sphere of squid ink foam. It’s a perfect bite of soft rice, salty-sweet meat of the oyster, delightful crunch of tempura and a playful brininess from the squid ink bubbles. My husband and I lower our heads in reverence to the chef. We know we are in great hands.

It’s impossible not to appreciate the artistry of the sushi chefs. Their movements are that of an orchestra conductor; a hand rises to prolong a beautiful note of flavor, as the chef carefully adjusts the amount of chives to layer atop a dish. Watching great sushi chefs work is like watching a kind of gastronomic folk dance—the way their hands cup to form a curve of sushi rice, or their fingers fly over a piece of fish—all of these culinary gestures that have been perfected and handed down for centuries.

The diver sea scallop sashimi ($18) arrives on a long, glass dish that resembles a slab of polished ice. The sweet tender scallop is sliced thin, topped with a tempura fried sage leaf and olive oil foam. This is raw scallops at their best—their briny sweetness play against the exciting crunch of sage and intriguing texture of collapsing olive oil foam.

The hand cut squares of hamachi sashimi ($21) arrive swimming in a shallow bath of Vietnamese mignonette and topped with a julienne of Thai basil and chopped shallot. The sweet acidity cuts through the natural fattiness of the fish and the anise flavored Thai basil and red chili give the dish a refreshing jolt of spice.

Feeling the freedom that only a few glasses of great sake can give, we order the Faberge Onsen Egg ($38)–a slow-cooked soft-poached egg (it’s cooked in a water bath of a sustained 62 degrees) that’s topped with a generous scoop of black river Ossetra caviar in a shallow puddle of sweet, thick dashi sauce and green onion. The poached egg is almost translucent—like a polished glass egg—and once broken, the egg white holds its form as the center yolk mixes with the textured dashi sauce. The salty caviar and spike of flavor from the green onion is too much for my husband and I. The sushi chef blushes as we moan in unison.

“Lots of caviar,” he nods, seemingly understanding our current state.

The sake braised shortribs ($32) arrive on a bed of dashi soy simmered potatoes. The dark, iron rich meat’s dry texture breaks apart and begs for the moisture of the veal-stock sauce beneath it. The soft textures are set off by the crispy tempura fried onions and ginger. Though flavorful, after the four star dishes I’ve tasted so far, this transitional dish into the cooked portion of the menu made me realize the Cushmans are human.

Tea brined pork ribs ($16), cooked in hot sesame oil, honey, scallions. The two rib dish reminds me of a gourmet version of teriyaki beef I used to crave as a kid. The ribs’ meat is fall-from-the-bone moist (the kind of moisture that you can only get from slow cooking) and tastes like meat candy with its lick your fingers brown scallion sesame sauce.

To finish we order the chocolate gelato with a caramel mousse. The dessert offers sweetness and a final touch of savory with its salty, dry choclate flavors and fluffy caramel sauce that’s set against a light crunch of sesame.

With the evening coming to a close, my husband and I admire the restaurant as the evening’s last diners finish their meal. As I feared I might, by the end of the meal I find myself imagining myself packing a bag, moving back home, and working as a server in the restaurant. Though my dream to write full time continues, for me, the mark of a great restaurant is one that makes me want to drop everything and work there.

Some things never change

My husband and I take the T (public train) to Porter Square Cambridge to see just how much or how little things have changed at Toad. Just as I left it, the little bar has a line out the door of twenty-something Cambridge-ites waiting to get inside the tiny club. Once inside, I realize that though the faces of the customers are unfamiliar, nothing has changed in this place.

With the exception of the state mandated smoke free environment, Toad hasn’t changed much at all. As a matter of fact, three of my co-workers from more than 12 years ago still work there several nights a week. The graffiti has been painted over and drawn over by new hands. But there’s still the same old beer stained ceiling, not-yet-discovered talent singing on the miniscule stage and customers eating hardened piles of nacho chips from metal to-go containers. Just as they had when I left ten years ago, the ceramic toads that once looked down on me as I poured beer after beer, still hold their position on upper columns of the wood bar.

As I stepped up to the bar to order a Boddington’s beer and a shot of Maker’s Mark for old time’s sake, just like the old days, there was a friendly face behind the
bar ready to give me service with smile. Some things change. Some things don’t.

January 18

Meyer Lemon Trifle: a Bittersweet Recipe

“When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” –proverb

“When life gives you Meyer lemons, make as many things as possible.” –Food Woolf

After eating a mouth-puckering Meyer lemon trifle at Suzanne Goin and (her husband) David Lentz’s restaurant, Hungry Cat, I decided to try my hand at recreating the dish for Leah of Spicy Salty Sweet and my annual New Year’s celebration.

With sweeter juice, supple peel, and approachable acidity, the Meyer lemon appeals to cooks seeking bright and floral citrus notes. For a desert-phobe like me, this one hundred year-old lemon hybrid’s approachability is a siren song that inspired me to go beyond my comfort zone. The process of making the dessert required my utmost attention and care; in the end, the trifle was a bright finale at the close of an incredible meal (Matt Bites polished off his trifle in two, happy minutes).

As I prepared to collect information about the history of Meyer lemons and recipe information, I discovered that the cookbook that could make this dish possible had gone missing. I checked under the stacks of papers on my desk, scoured the trunk of my car, examined the space behind the stove, eye-balled under my bed, lifted dishes (just in case it was hiding between them), and scanned all of my book shelves. From what I can gather, a hungry black hole swallowed the hardcover whole. Surely Suzanne Goin doesn’t have a legion of muses that require karmic payment for inspiration…Or does she?

Ah well, despite the loss, I’m happy; with a dessert this good and relatively easy (this coming from a dessert-phobe), I willingly give an offering to the culinary muses.

photo by White On Rice Couple

[print_link]

Meyer Lemon Trifle
Inspired by a dish at the Hungry Cat
Serves 8

Ingredients:

2 2/3 cups sugar
3 sticks unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 1/3 cups fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons grated lemon peel
1/4 teaspoon salt
10 large eggs, beaten to blend

small container of heavy whipping cream (1/2 pint)

two lemons
3/4 cup sugar

Optional: home made or store bought cookies or pound cake for crumbling between layers

For lemon curd:

Combine first 5 ingredients in heavy medium saucepan. Stir over medium heat until butter melts and sugar dissolves. Remove from heat. Slowly add the beaten eggs—being careful not to cook the eggs by adding them too quickly—and whisk constantly. Once you have added all of the eggs to the mixture, return to a medium-low heat. Whisk constantly, until curd thickens (this may happen within 3-4 minutes). Be careful not to let the mixture come to a boil. Strain curd through a sieve into bowl or medium sized casserole dish if you need to chill the mixture quickly. Press plastic wrap directly onto surface of curd and chill, preferably overnight.

For candied lemon zest:

two lemons
3/4 cup sugar

To make your own candied lemon zest:

Wash lemons. Using a vegetable peeler, cut wide strips of zest, being careful to avoid the white pith. Place zests in a small saucepan, cover with cold water and bring to a boil. Let boil for 3 minutes. Remove from heat, drain water, and repeat process two more times.

Next, add 3/4 cup of water and ¾ cups sugar to zests. Cook over low heat until the sugar mixture starts to thicken. Cooking time will be approximately 10 to 15 minutes. *This recipe makes more zest than needed, store extra zests in their candied liquid in an air tight container. Perfect for topping ice cream.

For whipped cream:

In a deep (chilled) metal mixing bowl, beat the half pint of heavy cream until soft peaks form. Use a mixer or a whisk if you want to get an upper arm work out.

Sprinkle with confectioner’s sugar and ½ teaspoon of vanilla extract. Beat until soft peaks return, being careful not to over beat.

To make the trifle:
Fill individual glasses (or bowls) with a layer of lemon curd and whipped cream. Sprinkle crumbled cookies or pound cake on top. Add another layer of lemon curd and whipped cream. Top with candied lemon zest and a cookie.

* Meyer lemon season in Southern California starts in January and can extend to April.

Author’s Note: The missing cookbook was later discovered. It was hiding underneath a stack of ignored bills.

January 10November 14

Kitchen Readings

Thanks to a posting on Places for Writers I found this website for “The Kitchen Reading Series,” where authors read three minutes of their material–on videotape–in their kitchen.

Most of the writers featured in this first series are poets with a sprinkling of fiction/non-fiction writers. Though taped in authors’ kitchens, there isn’t a clear link between their work and the location.

Food Writers: A call to action!

If you have a video camera and short piece of literary material you’re proud of, I say submit your work! Clearly, there’s a need for food writers to represent themselves on their home turf!*

Of all the videos posted, I found Anna Leventhal’s reading of her work to be the most powerful. Though beautifully written and hauntingly staged, Leventhal’s reading does include some disturbing/offensive language.

*Anyone in the LA area care to loan me their video camera for a few hours? I’m very trustworthy. 🙂

January 9November 14

Barack, the food critic

If you could invite any three living people to dinner, who would you invite? Based on a recent, unscientific poll of co-workers, the most frequently invited guest to dinner was Barack Obama.

In what may be a first for many Barack-loving foodies, we find this clip (thanks Karen R. for the Los Angeles Times heads up!) of President Elect Obama on a never-aired 2001 public television show “Check Please.”

After seeing the video clip, I’m tempted to ignore my other two hypothetical invitees (sorry Alice Waters, sorry Ceasar Milan) and plan for a hypothetical dinner for two. What an amazing dinner that would be…

from flickr member mikeskliar

January 8

SEO (search engine optimization) for food bloggers

The hardest thing about writing is writing.

The actual act of writing—the sitting in the chair, the stilling of the mind so that the buzz of thought clarifies into one clear idea, the placing of fingers on the keyboard (or pen to paper if you’re really old school), the act of scrawling–the stringing together of letters, words and paragraphs to create a cohesive story—is downright difficult. Writing can be so demanding that the addictive itch of procrastination is enough to make the process nearly impossible.

Take cleaning the bathroom, for example. As tasks go, most people would rather assign the job to someone else. But when writing gets tough, cleaning the bathroom becomes a very fun idea. Or laundry. Laundry can always perk my interest when I’ve got something complicated to write. Checking email or Stumbling through a series of websites just to see where I end up, always entertains. Dusting can be fun when I can’t get my brain wrapped around a story. I love the immediate gratification of seeing a once dirty ledge become clean—just with a simple swipe of my hand!

Based on my procrastinating history it seems that reorganizing the refrigerator, eating a banana, brewing a perfect pot of tea, pacing, reading hundreds of other peoples’ blogs, sweeping, washing dishes, bleaching grout, or making long overdue phone calls with long-lost cousins I haven’t talked to in decades can be much, much, more appealing than writing.

However, I must admit, crafting a really great sentence does give me goose bumps. A well-polished paragraph makes me want to dance, sing, and show off. Truth be told, writing a great story makes me feel like a hero. Dusting never makes me feel like that.

But now that I write about food, I find that it is much easier for me to get my butt in the chair, put my fingers on the keys, and listen for the words to come—granted, a string of sentences can sometimes take me hours, but they do come. The act of writing about food makes me less prone to postpone my work on a regular basis. I’m much more disciplined now. I have to schedule myself to clean the bathroom or bleach the grout. You should have seen my home during my screenwriting days.

So when it comes to my blog—the place where I dedicate many hours to food writing—the last thing I want to consider is search engine optimization. As a matter of fact, it took me nearly half a year before I knew 1) what SEO was (search engine optimization) 2) why I should think about such things.

When I started the blog, my main goal was to do the work and eventually have people find me. I was operating from the Field of Dreams build-it-and-they-will-come philosophy. Though I did receive some immediate recognition, my modest approach didn’t exactly make me an overnight success. I continued to write frequently, but my low traffic numbers started to concern me. What was I doing wrong?

After one long week of procrastinating (researching what SEO was, how one can improve SEO, how much it costs to have someone tell you how to be seen on line), I discovered Lotus Jump, a relatively inexpensive way to improve websites’ search engine ranking.

MAKING SEO FUN

Lotus Jump, I discovered, is an Internet based SEO software service that creates custom link-building tasks that helps boost websites authority and rankings. After watching the demo, I understood the service to be sort of like an in-house consultant that I could turn to whenever I wanted.

Since I didn’t have a lot of money to spare, I decided to sign up for a month to check it out. I’m still in the beginning stages of working with Lotus Jump, but within a month of doing the assigned tasks—and I haven’t been going crazy doing everything, else consider myself a full time SEO procrastinator–I’ve already seen a 100 percent jump in my traffic.

If you’re a blogger and have no idea what SEO is, then I suggest just taking a peek over at their website and see how it works. (Full disclosure: I am NOT getting paid to write about Lotus Jump. I will, however, be featured on their blog.) Lotus Jump offer a seven day trial for free, so if you want to get a crash course in SEO, go over to their site and sign up for a week. I can’t say that Lotus Jump is perfect. They still need to work out some kinks for us food blogger types (i.e. not all of their suggested activities are applicable) but they seem open to suggestions and the activities themselves are an excellent way to train yourself to think about maximizing your efforts in building yourself a bigger readership. Maybe I’ll continue using them, maybe I won’t. I’ll give it some more time to see if it’s worth it.

In the mean time, as much as working the lists of Lotus Jump feels like procrastinating, it has had verifiable benefits. Using Lotus Jump’s guided to-do lists have created a huge (100 percent) increase in my blog’s traffic in a very short time. In short, time on Lotus Jump equals better SEO ranking.

My goal as a writer is to continue to write great content increase my readership. Lotus Jump has helped guide me through SEO and, most importantly, taught me to think about SEO as part of the writing process, not procrastinating.

January 7November 14

Butternut Squash Gratin, 2009 Revisited

If a face can launch a thousand ships, what power could a butternut squash have? Turns out one baked butternut squash from Tuscany topped with melted sheep’s milk cheese had the power to change my life.

Flash back to more than a year ago. While on my honeymoon in Italy, my newly minted husband and I stopped for a late lunch in the town of Montepulciano at a tiny restaurant named Osteria Aquachetta.

Among the many Tuscan dishes we sampled, it was a simple side of fresh-from-the-hearth butternut squash with melted sheep’s milk cheese that made us return for dinner several hours later, only so that we could taste the contorni again. The flavors of sweet, caramelized squash united with the oozing, nutty and tart layers of sheep’s milk cheese in a combination of flavor so powerful, I found myself reconsidering everything I knew about food.

Quite simply, when I took that first bite of butternut squash gratin, I saw God. As I relished in the simplicity of the dish—the tender orange meat layered with gooey rounds of sheep’s milk cheese–I could see in perfect detail just how lucky I was to be alive, to be in love, and to be eating as well as I was. In this culinary aha moment, I knew that my time had come to use my craft as a writer to document each and every great meal.

A FOOD WRITER IS BORN

After that fateful meal, I returned home with a new perspective. For the first time I could remember, I began thinking about food as an art form I could master. I put away my novels and began reading cookbooks. I studied the knife skills and cooking techniques of the restaurant’s chefs. I took note of every prep cook’s secrets (like how they de-boned salted anchovies under a steady stream of cold water). I mustered my courage and asked my culinary hero (and boss), Nancy Silverton, for detailed culinary advice about how to perfect this recipe.

After multiple attempts, I settled on a simple recipe with good ingredients that proved to be as close as I could get to the original dish I sampled at the Osteria Aquacheta. I posted the recipe on my newborn blog and moved on.

photo by White on Rice

Since posting that first recipe in November of 2007, a lot has changed. I cook differently. I make meals with confidence. I cook with growing understanding. Cookbooks are my friends but not my sole confidants.

The following recipe is a tiny reminder of all the things I learned in 2008. Where I once was stymied by a lack knowledge, I now have the vocabulary and a growing skill set to know where to look for answers. Though I may still be a padawan learner, I am on the right path.

My updated Butternut Squash recipe has texture and another layer of sweet, nuttiness from fresh pistachios. The crunch of breadcrumbs, the sweetness of the squash, the salted nuttiness of the sheep’s milk cheese and the unifying flavors of the pistachio nuts makes this dish my favorite dish of 2009.

photo by White on Rice

[print_link]
My 2009 Butternut Squash Gratin

Find the longest necked butternut squash you can find for this recipe. Reserve the seed-holding cavity of the squash for another use.

2 Butternut Squash necks, cut into 3/4 inch rounds
½- lb Pecorino Fresca, cut into ¼ inch thick slices. (Idiazábal, a Spanish hard cheese made from the milk of the long-haired Lacha sheep is a good substitute. Grate, if the cheese is too hard for slicing)
½ cup olive oil, with extra for drizzling
½ cup home made bread crumbs*
1/4 cup chopped pistachio nuts
Maldon sea salt, to taste
Freshly ground pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 375. Peel the squash, cut into uniform rounds. Toss the butternut squash with oil in a medium sized bowl, making sure to coat the rounds with oil. Arrange the squash rounds in a medium-sized casserole dish, allowing for some layering. Pour the remaining oil over the squash. Bake in the oven for approximately 30 minutes, or until the squash is tender enough for a fork to pierce the meat, but not buttery soft. Remove from oven and set aside to cool. This step can be done in advance.

Once the squash is cool enough to touch, begin layering slices of cheese between the rounds of the butternut in the casserole dish. For individual portions, stack two or three butternut squash rounds on top of each other with layers of cheese in between.

When finished layering, sprinkle the entire dish with bread crumbs, then top with the chopped pistachio nuts. Drizzle lightly with olive oil to moisten the breadcrumbs. Finish with a sprinkling of Maldon sea salt and black pepper. Bake at 375 for another 10-20 minutes, or until the cheese is melted and the squash is soft.

If you desire, turn the oven to broil to caramelize the top of the gratin. Put under the flames for just 2-3 minutes. Serve. Add additional seasoning or red chili flakes if spice is desired.

*Grind left over bread (or toasted fresh bread) with a food processor until a mildly course texture. Add 2 tablespoons of chopped parsley and a hearty pinch of Malden sea salt. Toss. If bread is soft, spread onto a cookie sheet, drizzle with a touch of olive oil and toast in oven (250-300°) until a light, golden brown. Store extra breadcrumbs in an air tight container.

December 31November 14

Happy New Year

There is nothing to eat,
Seek it where you will,
But the body of the Lord.

The blessed plants
And the sea, yield it
To the imagination
Intact.
—William Carlos Williams

May 2009 bring you happiness, good health, incredible journeys, inspiration, fearlessness, a connection with a long lost friend, love, creativity, success, prosperity, delicious meals, beautiful fruit and vegetables, wonderful conversations with farmers and artisans, and peace.

December 23November 14

Everything tastes better with bacon

Just when things started to get stale around here…Somebody added bacon to my website!

A sincere shout out to the brilliant individuals that came up with this tasty treat! Click here to learn how to add bacon to your favorite website!

December 22

Christmas Cookies in Los Angeles

Christmas in Los Angeles is a strange thing for an East Coast girl like me. As religious holidays go, Christmas in LA has been, more or less, a disjointed and soulless affair.

Christmas in my hometown was a quiet, snowy thing. Far from the reaches of a noisy city, our snow-draped village was so quiet you could hear the poetic sound of snow falling outside the window. The days leading up to Christmas meant we spent a lot of time thinking about putting on multiple layers of clothing, sturdy hats, thick gloves, weather-proof boots, and using ice scrapers and collapsible shovels in the trunk of our car so that we could venture out into the world an find presents for our loved ones.

Out here in Los Angeles, it’s hard to connect to winter celebrations when flowers continue to bloom and lush palm trees go on swaying in sunny Southern California. LA’s climate makes eggnog too rich and hot apple cider seem frivolous.Without the snow and the chill in the air, Christmas in LA seemed like a hectic, commerce-driven affair. I worked in restaurants through the twelve days of Christmas, serving people that talked about “re-gifting”, casually abused me with aggressive waving or cool comments. I bit my lip when people paid for their expensive dinner and then skimped on the a tip.

But with the global and financial climate changing things for everyone, I see a different kind of Christmas unfolding in LA—one where friendships and family are celebrated with simple gestures. Parking lots of consignment and charity shops are packed with customers looking for simple gifts. Spontaneous craftiness has taken over as homemade gifts top the list of things to give. Suddenly, homemade gifts aren’t frowned upon. Friends all over town give music mixes, tins of cookies and chocolate, and homemade jams and jellies.

This year, I celebrate Christmas with a warm stove, a full glass, a happy heart, and my family of friends around me.

[print_link]

Lexi’s favorite chocolate chip cookies
From the Martha Stewart Cookbook: Collected Recipes for Every day

1 pound (4 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
3 cups packed brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
4 eggs
2 tsp vanilla extract
3 ½ cups all-purpose flour
1 ½-2 tsp salt
2 tsp baking soda
1 ½ cups semisweet chocolate chips
* Parchment paper (this makes for easy removal and perfect bottomed cookies!)Preheat oven to 375° F. Cream the butter in a large bowl until smooth; add the brown and granulated sugars. Beat in the eggs and vanilla until well blended. In another large bowl, sift together the flour, salt, and baking soda. Beat this into the butter mixture. Stir in the chocolate chips.

Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper. Drop 2 to 3 tablespoons of batter onto the paper covered baking sheet, about 2 inches apart. Bake for 8 minutes until golden brown.

Remove the cookies from the baking sheets and cool on a rack.

Happy holidays!

December 15November 14

Artisan beef tasting with Oliver Ranch

Thanks to America’s thriving love affair with food, many eaters today are keenly aware of what’s on their plate. Though yesterday’s diners were content with the simplicity of chicken with mixed vegetables, today’s food lovers desire something more specific—say, a dish that features local organic produce, butter from a family farm, imported sea salt and a flame-grilled free-range, organic Jidori chicken breast.

This relatively new found appreciation for food politics and understanding an ingredient’s history and origin may be due in part to the influence of the culinary media, innovative restaurants like Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse and best-selling books like Michael Pollan’s Omnivore’s Dilemma. Perhaps due in part to the booming wine industry, the US is populated with people that have made words like organic, varietal, terroir, and mouth-feel common in the national argot. In less than fifty years we’ve gone from a country of iceberg lettuce-eating jug wine-drinkers to a nation of arugula-nibbling wine aficionados. And despite the lagging economy, the market is full of flavor-seeking, politically minded, socially conscious consumers that are attentive to the ingredients they buy.

So it shouldn’t have come as a monumental surprise to a big city butcher when, in 2005, Carrie Oliver—a 40-something home cook and brand-marketing specialist—asked where the NY strip steak she bought came from. The butcher knew only the basics: the beef was hormone free, raised locally and considered USDA Prime meat. But, Oliver asked, after buying the same cut of meat week after week, why did the steaks taste so different if she was cooking them all the same way? The butcher shrugged. Could the steaks be from different kinds of cows? What were the cows fed? How was the cow raised? Why did identical cuts of meat sometimes have such a variety of flavor and texture?

Oliver was hungry for more information. Without a widely recognized book like Omnivore’s Dilemma to fuel her research in the practices of beef producers (the non-fiction tome would hit the best seller list one year later, in 2006), Oliver decided to start her own grass-roots study.

The quest to find the perfect steak

Armed with a handful of identical cuts of steaks purchased from local butchers and city grocers, Oliver and friends set out to taste through the grilled steaks to uncover what made each one different.

As the group tasted through the steaks they took notes. Some steaks tasted gamy—like blue cheese or liver–while others tasted of sawdust, or buttered popcorn. Textures varied as well. Some steaks were mushy while others were firm or chewy. Though all the meat was cooked to the same temperature, Oliver and her group realized that every steak offered different textures, mouth-feel, flavors and balance–factors that seemed undeniably similar to wine tasting.

The parallels with wine making peaked Oliver’s interest. The more Oliver researched, the more she began to understand that the way the cows were raised—on the land vs. in a pen–had a very direct correlation to how they tasted. Beef’s taste and mouth-feel is the result of terroir (where the cattle is raised), technique (how they are fed and treated), varietal (the animal’s breed), and—in a way—vintage (what sort of stresses that year’s environment presented). It became clear to Oliver that artisanal practices of ranchers, beef brokers and processors were undeniably similar in results to those of thoughtful wine makers.

So why couldn’t great ranching practices be rewarded with market dollars, just as attentive wine making techniques have been? Beyond the political and ethical issues of grain fed cows (cows are ruminants and can not properly digest corn), Oliver hypothesized that thoughtful ranching and ethical husbandry were undeniably linked to taste.

A brief glance at Harold McGee’s book On Food and Cooking, tells us she’s onto something.

“Despite the prestige of Prime beef, the current consensus among meat scientists is that fat marbling accounts for no more than a third of the variation of the overall tenderness, juiciness, and flavor of cooked beef. The other important factors include breed, exercise and feed, animal age, conditions during slaughter, extent of post slaughter aging, and storage conditions before sale. Most of these are impossible for the consumer to evaluate, though there is a movement toward store and producer “brands” that may provide greater information about and consistency of production.”–Harold McGee, On Food and Cooking

If marbling accounts for no more than one third of flavor, Oliver wondered why more people aren’t spending more time thinking about the other two thirds.

A revolutionary is born

Looking at the relatively recent success of artisan wine making in the United States, Oliver realized that the beef industry lacked a market that focused specifically on beef that was raised, processed, and butchered using only artisan techniques. Granted, books like Pollan’s Omnivore’s Dilemma has had an effect; Whole Foods market offers only hormone free beef and has grass fed and grain fed meat available at most stores. But national support for ethical practices in the 74 billion dollar beef industry has been minimal at best.

“Where there was once only Sanka or Juan Valdez for the American coffee drinker, ” the bright-eyed Oliver recounts at a recent beef tasting, “We now have a market saturated with coffee options—Ethiopian, Kenyan, Guatemalan. You name it.” But with beef? Oliver crosses her arms and gives her most enthusiastic grin. “Black Angus is today’s Juan Valdez.”

Undeterred by the powerful machine that is the beef industry, Oliver left behind her life in corporate America to start her own artisan beef business. With a mission statement, a website address, and an employee roster that included only herself, Oliver began the Oliver Ranch Company in February of 2006. Oliver’s goal was clear, she wanted to offer consumers beef that had a traceable history from farm to fork, had no added growth hormones or preventative antibiotics and consumed a100-percent vegetable based diet. What she created was an on-line, specialty food company that offers artisan steaks, sausage and beef jerky from a handful of handpicked beef ranchers, and is shipped directly to consumers.

Oliver’s biggest challenge is, like any new food-based businesses, is making that first contact with a group of consumers that do not yet realize the value of a specialty food. In today’s suffering economy it takes a very convincing argument to make someone want to buy meat on-line, rather than around the corner at the local butcher or grocery store.

There’s no denying the carbon footprint of shipping meat across the country. Oliver insists, however, that her business model for shipping artisan beef direct to consumers’ homes is a better choice for the consumer and the artisan beef producers in the long run. “If we properly reward those who are conscious stewards of the land and follow superior animal husbandry practices, we will be able to eat cleaner, more healthful, better tasting meat,” Oliver’s voice rises with a passionate staccato. “Most importantly, families can stay on their farms doing what they do best.”

Oliver admits her ace in the hole is flavor. “Once you taste the difference between one hundred percent grass fed or a grain finished meat,” Oliver explains to a recent tasting panel, “you’ll know exactly what it is you like.”

Oliver Ranch’s most popular product is the Taster Pack, a selection of four or eight different steaks (all the same cut, all from different ranchers and breeds), that allows people to blind taste test–in the style of a wine tasting–an array of steaks from different ranchers and different aging techniques. Since individual’s tastes differ, the winning steaks vary based on opinion.

At a recent beef tasting in the Costa Mesa home of Todd and Diane of White on Rice, Carrie Oliver led a small panel of food writers (Leah from Spicy Salty Sweet, Matt from Matt Bites, myself) and invited chef, Steve Sampson, Chef of a soon-to-open Orange County restaurant Osteria Ortica, to a blind taste test of six steaks. Each steak was grilled for the same amount of time and was seasoned lightly with salt in order for tasters to understand the true flavors of the meat.

Tasters’ palates vary greatly, leading to a handful of favorites. Despite the Costa Mesa tasters’ socio-political aversion to corn fed beef, the overall winner for taste, however, was a corn, hay and fermented grass fed dry-aged Charolais-Cross (the breed of the cow) from the Elliott & Ferris Family Ranch in Front Range Region, CO. The Charolais-Cross’s meat had a tight grain, with a juicy, complex flavor that lingered, a good texture, and excellent bite. Other taste winners included a wet-aged Holstein-Friesian (a cross breed from a familiar milking cow) from Bob Beechinor of 3 Brand Cattle Company in Imperial Valley, California. That steak was complex and surprisingly gamy with its iron rich meat and almost liver-like flavor.

Groundswell vs. the elite revolutionary

Starting a demand for responsibly raised beef isn’t easy. With much of the beef industry’s concern in maximizing profits, cost per pound of meat, increasing marbling, grabbing USDA prime labeling and reducing cattle loss by increased use of antibiotics and hormones—Oliver’s fight has a David vs. Goliath ring to it.

Some could argue that Oliver Ranch’s choice to offer a variety of grass fed and grain fed beef isn’t the best socio-political choice. But with many consumers driven by flavor first, the promise of humanely treated animals is enough. In hopes of elevating the cause of seeking out the best ranching practices, however, Oliver created the Artisan Beef Institute, an organization that supports the discussion of ethical treatment of animals—from the farm, to the abattoir, and the butcher’s board—and educates consumers about good ranching practices, breed variations, the affects of feed on different breeds.

“There’s a lot of misinformation in the category of beef. You want to do the right thing,” Oliver explains, “but how do you do it?”

With politically-minded food lovers like Michael Pollan, Alice Waters, Barbara Kingsolver, and Carrie Oliver working hard to create a common language and understanding of the origins of the foods we eat, we may very well be on our way to having better ingredients on our plate.

December 8November 14

Cork Sculptures with Francesco Ferrario

Cork. Nature’s stopper.

If you’re a wine lover or work in restaurants, you’ve plucked plenty of wine corks from bottles. Some, you’ve tossed. Other corks, you’ve held onto.

There are plenty of people that collect corks for sentimental reasons. Some get crafty and make homemade wine cork-boards, coasters, or trivets. And then there are the artists–people like my friend Francesco Ferrario–who see another kind of potential in wine corks.

I invited Francesco Ferrario to display some of his wonderful cork-inspired characters and answer a few questions about what motivated his newest art from.

What inspired your cork sculptures?

I have a lot of corks laying around the house, because wine is an integral part of all our meals. One night I was trying to find something funny to leave for my son to find when he woke up and I made up a little cork airplane…

What are they typically made from?

Corks are the main matter, and everything else I can find around the house; toothpicks, lentils, pieces of t-shirts…

You told me you started making the sculptures for your son, Luca. Have you made the sculptures for anyone else?

After I told and show some friends about the little dolls, they started asking me about making some for them; elephants, cats, lions, and I made a couple of cooks for some chef friends…

Do you have a background in art? Anyone else in your family have your talent for the arts? Where did you study? What was the focus of your studies?

Not at all. My son is always trying to build and design new things out of anything available, and give me the idea to do the same. 7-year-old’s can be very inspiring…

Where are you originally from?

I was born and raised in Milan Italy, until I moved in the States when I was 21- years-old.

You work in the restaurant business. Where do you work and what do you do?

I am a manager. I run the beverage program of The Lobster in Santa Monica

Do you have plans for your little cork brigade?
Not really

Beyond cork sculptures, what are you working on/creating right now?

Wine lists and homemade games for my son

What was the best meal you’ve had/cooked in the past week or so?

After a visit to the Wednesday Santa Monica farmer’s market I roasted some orange and yellow carrots and some softball-sized cauliflowers with olive oil and lemon zests. I roasted chicken breasts with a parsley pesto and sautéed tiny (4-inch long) corn husks with a little white wine and lemon juice. I served it with Jasmine rice and a nice bottle of Sancerre.

If someone was interested in buying a sculpture, how could they do so?
For now I have made them only for fun…

Thank you Francesco! We look forward to seeing more of your charming wine-cork sculptures.

December 6

Coffee-Braised Bison Shortribs: A Low Fat Indulgence

Have you ever noticed that soon after learning a new word, or becoming interested in the latest subject matter, you begin to see signs of that new thing everywhere? You overhear people talking about it. Read a headline focusing on it. See a photo of it on the side of a bus. You do a double take–did everyone know about this thing but me?

Sometimes finding a new ingredient is like that, too. You become excited about the item–feeling uniquely able to uncover the ingredient’s culinary possibilities–only to discover everyone around you talking about how they ate it, cooked it, or shopped for it. You realize you’re not alone in your discovery. Either everyone else has just learned about The New Great Ingredient, or your culinary discovery is more a coming-to-your-senses moment.

Bison is my New Great Ingredient. After a lifetime of never cooking, eating, or even seeing bison, I suddenly see signs of bison everywhere. There are bison burgers on the menus of burger joints all over Los Angeles. Iron Chef’s battle with bison as their secret ingredient. Bison vendors sell their vacuum packed meat to lines of dedicated farmers’ market customers. Magazine articles extol the virtues of bison’s low fat, high-protein nutrition profile. Though bison may be one of America’s original meat sources, the industry seems to be breaking through to a nation of meat eaters like me, that are interested in healthier and low-fat alternatives.

Suddenly, I’m very interested in bison. And to tell you the truth, I’m craving the stuff.

Continue for a Super Easy Coffee-Braised Shortrib Recipe »

November 29November 28

Thanksgiving musings and food blog photography

Out of habit, I photograph what I cook and what I eat. Though this is not a novel idea—many food writers and bloggers do such things—but I often forget how unusual a two minute food photography session may appear to be to all of my non-blogger friends.

Take for example Thanksgiving dinner. The oddity of my habit was illuminated (literally) after the first course was served. As guests lifted their first spoonful of cauliflower and almond soup to their mouths, I snatched my bowl off the table and placed it on the floor. As the room went silent, I stood small white bounce card along side of the white puree, pulled my Lowel Ego light from its permanent near-the-dining-room-table-spot, powered up my camera, turned it to the “flower” setting, and started snapping photographs.

You could have heard a pin drop as my ten dinner guests stopped eating and watched me snap photographs of the soup.

“For those of you who don’t know,” my husband explained “Brooke is writing about our meal tonight for her blog.” Guests nodded, still stunned by my lighting set up.

Hans continued with his gracious explanation of my handiwork. “And if for any reason you do not want to be photographed–for fear of being seen by some authorities somewhere…Now is the time to let us know.”

Luckily, our guests were happy to fully participate.

Foodbuzz 24, 24, 24: Family Meal–Restaurant Orphans' Thanksgiving

Like emergency room doctors and military personal, restaurant people don’t experience holidays like everyone else. Unlike doctors and the military, we don’t save or take lives. We just feed people who act like we do.

Restaurant people—as a group–are not part timers or after-school pick-up-shift dabblers. Restaurant people are passionate and hardened individuals that pay their bills by making or serving people food. We beat up our bodies (burn, cut, bruise, starve, deprive ourselves of sleep) and work extremely hard. And then, when it’s all over, we play hard and eat like Tudor kings.

When you’re a restaurant person you say goodbye to your family’s holiday dinner traditions and say hello to one in the morning champagne toasts with a band of depraved co-workers. Holidays, for us restaurant folk, are required days of service that line our wallets with much needed cash. Holidays are where we make up for the slow weeks to come and take our licks for being on the receiving end of customer expectations. And if you’re lucky to work for a restaurant that closes for Thanksgiving and Christmas, these are the two days out of the year that you can count on not being called in to work last minute.

Though twenty-four hours to celebrate a holiday is an amazing thing, it often isn’t enough time for big city restaurant folk to make their way back to their family—as many food service professionals are transplants from towns all over the country. Since most restaurants don’t allow staff time off during holidays, more often than not holidays are spent with co-workers.

This is the world of restaurant orphans.

Hosting Thanksgiving dinner for orphaned restaurant friends is a tradition I started several years ago. Unlike the long-established Thanksgiving dinners of my childhood, this is a celebration of food peopled by passionate food lovers. Though the guest list may change year to year, there is one common characteristic: my guests are restaurant professionals that work extremely hard and beat up their bodies–burn, cut, bruise, starve, and sleep deprive themselves for the job–and when the shift is complete, they play hard and consume food (and wine) like Tudor kings.

Restaurant Orphan Thanksgiving 2008

Thanks to my many years toiling away in the Los Angeles dining scene and my current position at a critically acclaimed (and Michelin awarded) restaurant, the caliber of guests attending this year’s celebration was extraordinary. This year’s guest list included:

–sous-chef of Hatfield‘s, a Cal-French, Michelin-starred restaurant.
–general manager/managing partner of Osteria Mozza–Mario Batali, Joe Bastianich and Nancy Silverton’s three star Italian restaurant
–manager of Jose Andres’ newest restaurant concept, the Bazaar
–a 1980’s new wave rock and roll star
–a Los Angeles, expert wine retailer and son of a world famous Burgundy wine importer
–front of house staff from Hatfield’s and Pizzeria Mozza
–a dominatrix (don’t ask)

With twelve invited guests, it was clear I would need to rely on my friends’ culinary talents. I plotted a five-course menu that featured specific dishes that showcased culinary passions and wine pairing abilities. Two weeks before Thanksgiving, I sent the proposed menu to my guests and requested they bring a wine that would pair with their dish. I checked in with my friends over the few days before our dinner, and I was relieved to discover everyone’s excitement about their assigned course. Seeing the menu in advance was just what they needed to understand where their dish fit in. We were all good to go.

Thanksgiving day preparation

As the host, I was responsible for the turkey, stuffing, gravy and, with my heart set on doing more than just the basics, a Brussels sprout side dish. Knowing full well that I would need to stay focused, I planned the days before Thanksgiving very carefully.

After a fair amount of research, I decided to dry brine of my turkey. On the Sunday before Thanksgiving I went to the busy Hollywood Farmers’ Market to pick up my pre-ordered organic, free-range turkey from Healthy Family Farms (located in Fillmore).

Based on the ravenous appetites of my friends, I purchased a 24-and-a-half-pound turkey. The locally raised, free-range organic bird cost $4/pound–but it was an easy purchase for both my conscience and pocketbook.

Once at home, I went straight to work. I followed the LA Times recipe (based on Judy Rodgers of Zuni Café’s dry brining technique), which consists of moderate salting and daily massaging of the bird. At almost 25-pounds, there was no denying the bird’s presence. Its strong legs, heavy body, pale skin, and blue veins reminded me daily of the sacrifice the bird made. Following three days of giving the bird gentle back massages and belly rubs, I felt a strange, almost sentimental connection to the turkey.

The day before Thanksgiving I prepped the chestnut, apple, and leek stuffing.

My husband and I peeled Brussels sprouts and, when we were finished, we rearranged our home.After careful reorganization, my husband and I turned our two-bedroom apartment into a small, twelve-seat restaurant with a comfortable lounge.

Thanksgiving Day

After a short run in the morning, I started work on the turkey. I felt a hint of anxiety start to build as I massaged butter and thyme under the bird’s skin and patted the residual moisture away. Would I be able to pull this off? Can a turkey this big still taste moist and tender. I soothed my nerves with a coffee break and a simple bowl of yogurt in our make-shift lounge.

My stress-free morning quickly ended, however, when I noticed two workmen with lawn equipment starting a gardening project just outside our first floor apartment. Carried on their shoulders were heavy, plastic sacks of steer manure—the very bags of cow dung I had eyed with curiosity ever since the pyramid of bags appeared on my landlord’s front garden, a few days prior. I watched in silent horror as the two happy men laid inches of cow dung onto the ground, just inches from my twelve-seat dining room.

If my time in restaurants has taught me one thing–it is to expect shit to happen. With an ironic laugh, I shut all the windows, lit some candles, and went to cooking my turkey.

The recipe required a high temperature start and flipping of the bird in the first half hour of cooking. The browned backside of the turkey made me proud, but in my struggle to flip over the monstrous bird I mistakenly ripped some of the turkey’s delicate skin from the leg and breast. After some swearing, rubbing of butter on the exposed areas, and patching with a toothpick and extra neck skin, I returned my Franken-turkey to the oven.

Every thirty minutes for the next four hours, I basted the bird. A half-hour before the proposed final cooking time, I checked the bird’s internal temperature. When the meat thermometer’s line sped past 165° and hit 180°, I gasped in shock. Had my fears come true? Would I really be forced to serve dried out, sawdust flavored turkey? The thought of 24 pounds of failure chilled me to the core. Hoping for the best, I wrapped the browned turkey in tin foil, set it on the table to rest, and tried to forget about it.

A half hour later–following the manager code of timeliness, my good friends David, the GM of Osteria Mozza, and his girlfriend Kate, a manager at The Bazaar, arrived at our appointed start time of 4 p.m. Minutes later Brian, the sous chef, and Lisa, the host of Hatfield’s, knocked on the door with their arms heavy with prep containers and coolers. The kitchen was a flurry of activity as David and Kate unloaded their milk-crate of pastries and numerous bottles of wine. Brian and Lisa unloaded a slew of plastic containers–a sort of portable mise-en-place–a beautiful apple pie, and containers still warm with cauliflower soup.

I conducted traffic, pulled plates from cabinets, directed dishes to serving tables, and kissed guests as I eyed the turkey drippings in the pan. I still needed to make the gravy, heat the stuffing, and prepare my Brussels sprout dish.

First course–appetizers

By five o’clock all of our guests had arrived. The restaurant orphans congregated in the living room with a glass of wine in hand and enjoyed Dan the wine seller’s contribution to the meal’s first course: an affetati misti, a delicious blend of dried, cured meats from Italy with a glass of Barbolini Lambrusco, a dry, sparkling red from Castelvetro DOC. Along with the salami purchased from the gourmet food seller, Joan’s on Third, Dan prepared a delicious Mediterranean dip consisting of anchovies, parsley, garlic, walnuts and salt cured black olives as well as pickled green beans.

While guest nibbled, Brian coached me through my final dish preparation in the kitchen. Brian is all skills and technique, a rock in the kitchen. A host’s dream for sure. He smiled as I tossed my Gourmet Magazine recipe for gravy aside, and like a good teacher, Brian talked me through the steps of crafting a gravy from the ingredients we had on hand.

When it came to separating the pan drippings from the residual fat (and butter) from the turkey, Brian had me ditch my thoroughly confusing gravy separator, and coached me to pour the turkey drippings into a metal prep dishes. We cleared room in the freezer and left the liquid to chill. Like magic, after several minutes the fat hardened on the surface of the bowl–making the separation of fat from juice incredibly simple.

Between cooking lessons, Brian warmed his perfectly thick puree of cauliflower soup on the stove. When it was ready to be served we deep fried his chiffonade of sage in grapeseed oil (for its ability to be heated to high temperatures without burning). Pilar—a beautiful Spanish server from Pizzeria Mozza—and I cleared the kitchen counter and, in the style of a kitchen brigade, plated all 12 bowls of soup at once.

“We need runners!” a common call from any kitchen line, was sung as three professional servers/guests swooped in, snatched up plates, and presented the soup in less than a minute.

Thanksgiving Menu 2008

Cauliflower and almond soup
With lemon oil

Paired with

François Chidaine
Clos du Breuil
Montlouis sur Loire, 2006

Mixed green salad with roasted beets and goat cheese
With a orange vinaigrette

Paired with

Wehlener Sonnenuhr
Riesling Kabinett
1996

When the last guest finished spooning the final mouthful of soup, a fleet of hands swooped in to clear the dishes. Out of habit, Pilar opened her hand and paused before taking away an empty dish. “May I (clear)?” she asked, and burst out laughing, realizing her inability to stop being a professional server—even on her day off.

Pilar and I donned our orange work aprons and went to washing dishes between courses. Meanwhile, without any fanfare, Brian began carving the turkey. As the first pieces were sliced from the bird, I held my breath as I watched him sample the meat.

“How is it?” I asked, nervously.

“In a word?” Brian paused, “Amazing.”

I said a silent prayer of thanks to the Turkey cooking gods and went back into server mode. It was time to serve the meal.

2nd course

Roasted, brined turkey

Paired with

Louis Jadot
Savigny-les-Beaune
Clos des Guettes
2005

R. Lopez de Heredia Vina Tondonia, S.A.
Vina Bosconia
Red Rioja
1999

Chestnut, apple and leek stuffing

Cranberry grapefruit compote

Brussel sprout leaves with pistachio and lemon

Sweet Yam puree with maple syrup and roasted walnuts

Paul’s Potato gratin

Gerry helps me light my food:

Sitting down with a full plate of food was an incredible relief. The bird was juicy, moist, and most importantly, tasted like a bird. The dry brine helped retain moisture while maintaining a truly flavorful taste. It was, by far, the best turkey I have ever tasted.

As guests shared stories and swapped glasses of wine, we relaxed and enjoyed the array of food on our plate. Sweet yams were creamy and thick with flavor. The earthiness of the turkey paired beautifully with the bitter and sweet cranberry compote. The buttery gratin offered the traditional flavors of potato while staying away from boring mashed potatoes. The big chunks of stuffing were scented with roasted chestnuts, buttery leeks and sweet and salty apples.

As friends went back for seconds, I dipped my spoon into Brian’s amazing sweet yam puree. The yam’s creamy texture and natural sweetness was the kind of dish I couldn’t be trusted around. I would have eaten the whole thing myself if it wasn’t for:

3rd course
Assorted cheeses

Paired with

Dow’s Vintage Porto
1985

4th course

Assorted desserts:

Apple Pie

Paired with

Elderton Botrytis Semillon
2007

Torta della Nonna

Some twenty bottles of wine later (remember–we restaurant people eat and drink like Henery the 8th) the night came to a hazy, happy close.

With all hands on deck we quickly cleaned the house, ushered people to cabs, and said good night.

I can’t wait to do it all over again.

Recipe for Roast Salted Turkey
Slightly modified recipe from the LA Times

1 turkey (12 pound? 15 pound? 25 pound? It’s all up to you)
1 stick of butter
fresh thyme
2 apples, quartered
2 onions, quartered
Kosher salt

1. Wash the turkey inside and out, pat it dry and weigh it. Measure 1 tablespoon of salt into a bowl for every 5 pounds the turkey weighs (for a 15-pound turkey, you’d have 3 tablespoons).

2. Sprinkle the inside of the turkey lightly with salt. Place the turkey on its back and salt the breasts, concentrating the salt in the center, where the meat is thickest. You’ll probably use a little more than a tablespoon. It should look liberally seasoned, but not over salted.

3. Turn the turkey on one side and sprinkle the entire side with salt, concentrating on the thigh. You should use a little less than a tablespoon. Flip the turkey over and do the same with the opposite side.

4. Place the turkey in a 2 1/2-gallon sealable plastic bag, press out the air and seal tightly. Place the turkey breast-side up in the refrigerator. Chill for 3 days, leaving it in the bag, but turning it and massaging the salt into the skin every day.

5. Remove the turkey from the bag. There should be no salt visible on the surface and the skin should be moist but not wet. Wipe the turkey dry with a paper towel, place it breast-side up on a plate and refrigerate uncovered for at least 8 hours.

6. On the day it is to be cooked, remove the turkey from the refrigerator and leave it at room temperature at least 1 hour. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.

7. Rub butter and herbs under skin, being careful not to tear skin.

8. Quarter two onions and two apples. Stuff in cavity.

9. Place the turkey breast-side down on a roasting rack in a roasting pan; put it in the oven. After 30 minutes, remove the pan from the oven and carefully turn the turkey over so the breast is facing up. (It’s easiest to do this by hand, using kitchen towels or oven mitts)

10. Reduce the oven temperature to 325 degrees, return the turkey to the oven and roast. **Every half hour, turn the baking dish and baste turkey with butter. Check bird’s internal temperature in the deepest part of the thigh, but not touching the bone. Stop roasting when the thermometer reads 165 degrees, about 2 3/4 hours total roasting for a 12-16 pound bird. About 3.5 hours for a 24 pound bird.

11. Remove the turkey from the oven, transfer it to a warm platter or carving board; tent loosely with foil. Remove apples and onions from the cavity and discard. Let stand at least 30 minutes to let the juices redistribute through the meat. Carve and serve.

Chestnut, leek, and apple stuffing
modified from Gourmet (November, 2008)

10 cups white bread cubes (crusts discarded)
3 large leeks (white and pale green parts only). Rinsed well then cut into 1-inch pieces (4 cups)
1 ½ sticks unsalted butter
4 celery ribs, sliced ¼ inch
1 tbsp chopped, fresh thyme
4 tart heirloom apples, peeled and cut into ½-inch cubes
1 jar of roasted chestnuts (16 oz.), halved
1 cup half and half
1 cup buttermilk
3/4 cup chopped flat-leaf parsley

–Preheat oven to 350ºF with racks in upper and lower position. Bake bread cubes on a four-sided sheet pan on the top rack for about 20 minutes, or until dry and slightly golden brown.
–wash leeks well. Submerge in a large bowl of water to remove grit.
–Melt butter in a large (12-inch) heavy skillet over medium heat. Add leeks and celery and cook for about 10 minutes until the vegetables become soft. Add thyme, apples, 1 ½ tsp salt, and 1 tsp pepper and cook—cover if possible—and stir occasionally, until apples are tender, about 5 minutes. Transfer mixture to a bowl and toss with toasted bread, chestnuts, cream and buttermilk, parsley, ½ tsp salt, and ¼ tsp pepper.

**Stuffing can be pre-assembled (but not baked) 1 day ahead. Bring to room temperature before baking.

When ready, preheat oven to 450ºF and bake in lower third of oven until the stuffing is heated through and the top is golden, about 30 minutes.

November 27

Thanksgiving Wishes

A wonderful Thanksgiving to all!

I am so thankful for the wonderful people in my life. My husband, my family, my friends — you enrich my days and fill up my heart with your goodness, humor, kindness, and always recipes! I am thankful for the amazing opportunities this blog has given me. I am thankful for mindful eating, farmers markets, Slow Foods, the inspiration of my mentors, the hope of our new president, and the daily reminder that one person to really can make a change.

I am thankful for you, dear reader, for taking time out of your day to visit these electronic pages. Thank you for your comments, support, and for being part of this wonderful culinary journey. It’s been wonderful meeting such wonderful people along the way!

So today, on this American day of eating and giving thanks, I wish you all the best.

I can’t wait to tell you all about my Thanksgiving adventures and hear about yours!

Love,

Brooke