inside restaurants – Page 3

Chef Suzanne Goin’s Savory Fruit Salad Recipe

I love eating salads, don’t get me wrong. But when it comes to eating out, I skip the leafy greens for the instant gratification of ordering a complex entrée that takes just minutes to come to the table, rather than hours of preparation at home. When I go out I want to have fun. When I’m home I want to keep it simple.

Once outside of the restaurant–be it the one I’m working for or dining at as a customer–I find myself craving simple dishes. I long for perfectly composed salads and uncomplicated appetizers that I see service after service as I wait tables at Tavern.

Thanks to my job as a server for Nancy Silverton, I craved Italian antipasti for years. But now that I work at a new restaurant, I find my cravings are colored by the seasonal whims of my new boss, Chef Suzanne Goin. Her food is rustic, Provencal and thoroughly inspired by the market. Go to the market and it becomes clear why a warmed heirloom tomato, a crisp plum, the lingering flavors of a basil stem could inspire entire dishes on Suzanne’s menu. Her dishes reflect California’s bounty and an unabated passion for great ingredients.

A recent culinary revelation was recently delivered to me via a white plate at pre-service (a daily meeting before dinner service begins). Suzanne described the dish as a fruit salad. More savory than sweet, one perfectly balanced bite made it was clear this was no ordinary fruit salad. Suzanne’s greens were lightly tossed with vinaigrette—ingeniously made with left over basil stems and not-so-perfect plum pieces—and studded with just ripe stone fruits and Marcona almonds.

I’ve been craving it every since. This is my interpretation of her recipe, as prepared for my friends on a recent hot summer’s day. I omitted the nuts, but you can add those back in.

[print_link]Suzanne’s Fruit Salad

1 large bag of mixed greens
1 head of radicchio
1 head of frisee
3 large plums, dark purple and heavy with juice
2 large peaches
2 large nectarines
2 small Geo plums (or a tart, crisp varietal)
1 small bunch of grapes
4 branches of thyme
2 branches of basil
3 oz. red wine vinegar
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 small tangerine, juiced
salt and pepper

To prepare the plum vinaigrette:

Staying close to the seed, slice the stone fruit so that you have two perfect rounds per fruit. Slice the fruit “cheeks” into consistent sized slices. Set aside.

Cut the remaining fruit off the seed of each fruit, being careful to save the uneven pieces for the vinaigrette. Place the random pieces into mortar and crush, being careful to extract as much fruit juice as possible. Put the pulpy juice into a small bowl and add the olive oil, vinegar and tangerine juice. Remove the basil and thyme leaves from the stem. Muddle the herbs’ leaves and the basil stem in a mortar and pestle. Add to the vinaigrette, stir and taste. Add salt and pepper. Taste for balance. Add more acidity (in the form of more red wine vinegar or lemon juice) or seasoning if needed. Put in a jar and let sit for a few minutes. When ready to toss the salad, remove the basil stems.

To prepare the salad:

Chop the radicchio into small slices. Chop the bottom off the frisee and pull apart into individual pieces. Toss the radicchio and frisee into the greens. Toss the fruit with some of the plum vinaigrette in a separate bowl. When ready to serve, toss the greens with the plum vinaigrette, using the least amount necessary.

To compose the salad, place a heaping tablespoon of dressed fruit on a chilled plate, then top with greens. Add pieces of the fruit on top, being sure to drizzle some of the juice over the top of the final salad.

July 8November 14

A Dash for Bragging Rights at Hungry Cat

It took weeks of verbal sparring to get Matt Jeronimo and John Curtis—two bartenders at the Hungry Cat—to the point where they needed to step outside to settle their argument. But on Monday, dressed only in their lightest gym outfits, the pair met up on Selma Avenue—a quiet block just outside of Hungry Cat—to finish the argument for good.

It all started as a casual conversation that was inspired by a friendly regular at the bar. He had asked about their past glory days, but soon after, the two co-workers were soon disagreeing. This was not a political or philosophical dispute. It was a different kind of argument that could not be settled by words. What was needed was physical proof.

The issue was, quite simply, who was the faster runner.

Both men were sprinters for their high school track teams. After comparing past race times and current exercise programs, Curtis didn’t hesitate to tell Jeronimo who was the faster runner. But Jeronimo refused to accept Curtis’ claim that he was the faster runner. Jeronimo wanted proof. “I threw down the white glove,” he explained just minutes before the race. “I suggested we do something like a 100 meter sprint.”

Curtis—a man unafraid of physical trials (he competed on the reality show “Wipe Out“)–was slow to agree to the foot race. After weeks of Jeronimo’s unabashed call to action, however, Curtis finally consented.

But by Monday at 2:45, some 15 minutes after the proposed start time of the race, it appeared that Curtis wasn’t going to show. Was Jeronimo concerned? Jeronimo pushed back his hair with one hand. “We work together behind the bar tonight. What are you going to do?”

Jeronimo insisted he wasn’t interested in winning bragging rights from a forfeit. “I still want to know who’s faster,” the brown haired bartender said as he waited for his competitor at the Hungry Cat’s bar and nursed a glass of iced orange juice.

At three o’clock, Curtis arrived, dressed for a foot race. Jeronimo’s face lit up as he eyed his sneaker-clad foe. “I gotta tell you, I broke a couple of ribs on the Fourth,” Jeronimo admitted as he lifted his sleeveless running shirt to expose a dark purple bruise under his right nipple.

Curtis stopped mid-stride and asked with true concern, “Sure you still want to do this?” Jeronimo nodded, solemnly. “I’m just gonna have to run through it. Nothing you can do.”

A camera toting blogger (yours truly) and a restaurant regular (my husband) marked the beginning and end points of the race. With nothing more than a friendly “on your mark, get set, go!” the race began.

A black-vested parking attendant and several curious passersby watched from the sidewalk as the two men sprinted down the center of Selma Avenue. Curtis’ lean form and tight running gait quickly gave him a measurable lead. His pained competitor grimaced as he struggled to keep up.

Within seconds, the race was over.

Curtis wasn’t a boastful winner. He smiled and offered a friendly set of knuckles to his co-worker for a fist bump. For the first time in what may have been weeks, the two co-workers smiled at each other with relief. The argument was over. The fastest man won.

As the two runners caught their breath as they retraced their route down the short distance of Selma, Jeronimo sighed with frustration. “Man, I just couldn’t find that other gear.” Then, without a moment of hesitation, Jeronimo added “Best two out of three?”

Curtis laughed, but it was clear there wouldn’t be another race any time soon.

July 7November 14

Border Grill Taco Truck vs. Kogi

Since the beginning of the Mozza’s, Nancy Silverton has celebrated this nation’s independence day with her employees. Naturally gracious and generous, Nancy has opened her home to her dedicated kitchen staff (the chefs, prep cooks, dishwashers) and gregarious front of house employees (servers, bussers, bartenders) and invited them to eat, drink and be merry.

Every year a new challenge

The first annual Fourth of July Mozza party Nancy served trays of food from Marouch, the second year employees gobbled up burgers from an In-n-Out truck for hours and on the third annual Fourth of July party Nancy decided it was time for a culinary showdown.

I got a message from Nancy on my voicemail, late Friday night.

“Brooke. It’s Nancy. Nancy Silverton. Call me.”

Granted, Nancy doesn’t call me every day—or ever, to be honest—but the fact that my name and number lives in her phone at all makes me very, very happy. “I’ve got the Kogi truck and the Border Grill girls coming.” She told me early Saturday morning. “It’s going to be a taco truck showdown.”

The showdown

Kogi was the first to arrive. When the truck pulled into Nancy’s driveway, Mozza employees quickly began lining up for a chance to try Kogi. Kogi + a short line + free meal = happy employees. With plastic cups filled with beer and Italian wine, the party guests happily chit-chatted as they waited for their Korean tacos.

When asked if most people had tried Kogi before, many admitted they hadn’t. A few taco truck afficionados admitted they had and added, “It’s not waiting in one of those lines, though.”

Granted, the people that work at Mozza have very high standards when it comes to the food they eat, serve, and cook. But overall, the general consensus was that the Kogi truck offered good flavors but nothing that was worth waiting for in an hour line.

We all sampled the dishes before passing judgment*. The rich short rib slider was sweet and savory and offered the a perfect textural interplay between the chewy meat and the soft bun. But as we progressed though the spicy pork and chicken tacos we found the flavors to be too similar –everything is sugary sweet and red chili spicy–and the tacos didn’t offer any diversity in taste. Updating a classic street food can offer all sorts of great culinary discoveries, but unfortunately, the Kogi truck’s hand-held dishes all tasted the same. Hitting the same flavor note over and over again is monotonous.

It was about the time when most people were considering what to eat next when the Border Grill truck pulled up curbside. Within seconds of parking outside of Nancy’s beautiful ivy covered home, a line spontaneously formed.

With Kogi truck chef, Roy Choi, near the front of the line to sample the competition, we were all excited to see what the Border Grill girls had cooked up for us. Mozza guests ooohed and aaahed as co-workers at the front of the line offered views of their trio of tacos. The three Border Grill tacos were a bright rainbow of colors: Purple/red pickled onions, green guacamole, bright white sour cream excited hunger and signaled palates to be prepared for some taco diversity.

The sweet, crunchy acidity of the red onions gave a wonderful textural counterpoint to the soft and flavorful meat of the cochinita pibls pork taco. The squared cubes of potato in the potato rajas taco were cooling morsels between bites of the spicy meats. The guacamole had people licking their fingers and stealing mouthfuls from their distracted co-workers. The roasted poblano quesadilla with cheese was a mild choice good for a large party, but had big pieces of pickled jalepeno on the side for those that like to spice things up.

Two taco trucks rolled up. Only one wheeled-kitchen would win.

Based on the unabated line at the Border Grill truck, the tossed trays of half-eaten Kogi, and sophisticated discussion (and drunken banter) about the merits of the Korean tacos and the appreciation of classic Mexican cuisine– it very quickly became clear who the winner was.

Border Grill wheels away with bragging rights

As the trucks pulled away and inebriated–I mean satiated–party guests gathered their things, we gathered around our generous host to thank her for opening her home (and pool) to each and every one of us culinary misfits. We look forward to seeing what’s in store for next year’s party!

*I have had Kogi three times–once at the Alibi room (I waited 45 minutes for my trio of tacos), once at Nancy’s party (the tacos were free) and once at a food event (also free).

April 30March 14

Food Blogger Code of Ethics

Say the words “I’m a food blogger” in some circles and you may find eyes twinkle in appreciation. Say those same words in other circles (in a restaurant for example) and you may find yourself being asked to kindly leave.

As a food writer, restaurant professional and blogger, I travel within many different circles of people. Unfortunately within the restaurant community, food blogger is a derogatory term used to describe everyone from the angry Yelper to the thoughtful on-line food memoirist. Lately, I’ve found it more and more difficult to discuss my blog without giving some kind of footnoted explanation of What-Kind-of-Food-Blogger I am.

There’s room for all of us in the food blogging world. Thre’s room for the food gossips, recipe developers, food photographers and stylists, cultural commentators, gourmet media sites, culinary storytellers, recipe memoirists, chef groupies, restaurant reviewers, food obsessives and everything in between. But for better or for worse, in the new world of food blogging, anything goes.

A lot has changed since the handful of groundbreaking blogs (Orangette, Amateur Gourmet, Waiter Rant) first hit the Internet. Now there are hundreds of websites dedicated to offering opinionated food lovers a place to share their judgments on food related topics. There are even more sites dedicated to food porn, recipe swapping, restaurant reviews and restaurant gossip. The blog world is expanding exponentially, and with all this exciting growth, has come a wave of differing styles, talent and professionalism.

I take my blog writing very seriously. Too seriously sometimes. Recently, as I approached the opening day of the new restaurant I’m working at I started to think about all the food bloggers that would be descending on the fledgling restaurant. How would these food bloggers write about the restaurant? Would they be fair? Would they offer a first impression or would they write a post and call it a full review after only one visit?

These questions got me thinking…Why shouldn’t bloggers hold themselves to the same kind of guidelines as restaurant reviewers? Why aren’t more bloggers concerned about full disclosure, accountability, good research and standing behind their words?

The Food Blog Code of Ethics

In order to define myself as a food blogger, my friend and writing partner Leah Greenstein of Spicy Salty Sweet decided to create a food blogger manifesto. We call it the The Food Blog Code of Ethics.

We felt it was important to us to define what our ethical standards are and hold ourselves to that higher code because there are many food bloggers that offer judgment without full disclosure and due diligence. The Code is not meant to be a mandatory thing for everyone in the blogosphere. This is our way to define what our standards are.

Please take a moment to swing by our website. Read through our pages. Tells us what you think. And if you feel like you hold yourself up to these kinds of standards in food blogging, join us!

April 24January 3

Behind the Scenes at the Pebble Beach Food and Wine Festival

Ok. Let me tell you what really happened at the Pebble Beach Food and Wine Festival.

I got a one day pass to the final day of the Food and Wine Festival from my friends at Foodbuzz. I was having a hard time justifying the cost of flying or driving up until I found out Nancy and the chefs of Mozza would be cooking at the Pebble Beach Festival and they were feeling short handed. Having the chance to spend time in the kitchen with my culinary hero Nancy Silverton was the deal breaker. I had to go.

If you’re lucky enough to have a conversation with Nancy Silverton at the end of a shift and she happens to mention that she’s going to be at the same food event as you and she casually suggests that maybe you should swing by and “help out in the kitchen”, then you sure as hell better take full advantage of the invitation and show up. Early.

Getting There

Which is how I ended up in my Volkswagon at 6 AM, happily speeding north for six hours until I reached Pebble Beach. Because, despite the fact that I have worked for Nancy for almost three years as a server, I have never had the opportunity to spend any significant time with her in the kitchen.

As far as I’m concerned—despite my years of service to great chefs—there has always been a certain line drawn between me and the men and women in chef’s whites. Because even if you’re in a great chef’s restaurant on a daily basis, the only way to truly know and understand a chef, you have to work with them in the kitchen.

Finding my way to the kitchen

After several wrong turns and an unnecessary tour of downtown Carmel, I arrived at Pebble Beach some time around noon. I parked my car at my friend’s hotel, rolled on an extra layer of anti-perspirant, threw on my Dansko clogs and grabbed my camera. Minutes later I was in a shuttle headed to the Inn at Spanish Bay where the Pebble Beach Food and Wine Festival was headquartered.

Past the grand brass doors of the Inn at Spanish Bay, I found Nancy’s boyfriend Michael (a talented crime writer) lounging on a couch with Robert Oaks of Boulevard Restaurant.

Michael greeted me with his sly, sideways smile and introduced me to Oaks. My oddly syncopated banter with the larger than life Mr. Oaks gave away my nervousness.

“Want me to show you where Nancy and the girls are down in the kitchen?” Michael said as he ushered me away from Mr. Oaks.

“Come on,” he said with an almost East coast accent. “Let me show you where they at.”

Underneath the Inn

Behind the Employee’s Only entrance and two floors below the Inn’s main floor, was a labyrinth of pastel linoleum tiles that led my eye past kitchen prep stations, storage rooms and employee dining halls. We took a hard left past the speed racks and the metal storage shelves and walked into the sweet, chocolaty air of the pastry kitchen.

Like a child amazed to see her favorite cartoon characters cavorting together on screen—I was startled to see the familiar faces of my friends in the foreign kitchen. Newlywed and hard working pastry chef of Mozza, Dahlia Navarez, oversaw chocolate dipping as Katie Brucker, Nancy’s tireless Publicist and PR person for La Brea Bakery, Katie shook excess chocolate off a pyramid of dipped candied almonds.

Their day in the kitchen started at 6 AM, the same time I was pouring coffee down my gullet and speeding north. Dressed in chef’s whites speckled with dark chocolate, Dahlia rolled her eyes. “We don’t serve dessert until 10:30 PM.” I checked my watch. It was 1:30 PM.

I spotted Nancy–elegant in her European blue apron and corkscrew curls pulled up into a flowing bunch at the top of her head—orchestrating chocolate production in a side prep room. Amongst the speed racks stacked with sheet trays of perfectly formed candies, was Nancy. She looked downright exuberant as she sprinkled pistachios onto chocolate covered honeycomb.

Watching her work was a revelation. Nancy’s way in the kitchen was so efficient and so gentle, it’s almost as if she wasn’t exerting any effort. Unlike many chefs of her caliber, her effortless grace feels like a soft breeze, rather than a turbulent storm in the kitchen.

Where most chefs are gruff, Nancy is soft spoken. Where most chefs would rather talk oven temperatures and seasonings, Nancy never fails to say a brief something to the people around her that lets them know she cares.

“Hello, Brooke,” Nancy said with an impish grin. “How was your drive?”

TO WORK

Like any mundane prep work, the actual task—peeling potatoes, removing pin bones from a fish, placing hash marks onto a chocolate cake–may not seem like an important effort in the greater drama that will unfold during service, but it is an absolute necessity for the success of the final dish. In tandem with all the other mundane jobs, prep work adds up to the final something that matters.

I say this because the tasks I was given weren’t difficult.

With the giddiness of a girl scout on her way to earn her first badge, I melted chocolate over a water bath. I dipped candied honeycomb into chocolate. And with a dizzy head from no food, drink or coffee for that matter, I scored sheets of chocolate cake with three-inch marks so that a much more talented person than me could cut perfect triangle slices for individual servings.

After several hours of slow and quiet work with sweets, a walkie-talkie crackled with the news that the Michelin Starred Chefs Dinner (LA vs SF) had begun. It was 7PM and it was time to wrap everything up and bring our ingredients to the staging area for plating.

My stomach flipped with excitement as Dahlia (or “Dolly” as Nancy calls her), protected her day’s bounty—three hundred and thirty desserts’ worth of chocolates—with a tight and continuous sheet of plastic wrap. Volunteer pastry chefs pushed Nancy’s chocolate laden speed racks onto elevators bound for the main floor, while Nancy, Dahlia, Katie and I stepped into the employee changing room to freshen up before plating began.

Nancy buffed her shoes and reapplied a cherry red lipstick. Dahlia put on a crisp white chef’s coat. Katie checked her makeup in the mirror. I snapped pictures, trying to cover the fact that my nerves had really started to notch their way up as I calculated the hours before our 10:30 dessert plating time. With more than three hours of work ahead of us and no coffee or food around for consumption, I knew I would have to pace myself.

Staging room

As Nancy and the pastry crew arrived at the staging room, Los Angeles chef Michael Cimarusti of Providence Restaurant was finishing the final plating of his appetizer course. Sous chef’s wiped plates and dropped cilantro flowers onto shot glasses filled with a cauliflower panna cotta and tongues of pink uni. White gloved servers in black polyester tuxedos zipped by carrying pristine white plates of decorated fish.

As the final plate was taken, Cimarusti looked up from his work and breathed an audible sigh of relief. We applauded the three hundred-plate effort as Cimarusti and Nancy greeted each other.

“Good luck, Chef”

The plating of the dessert was slow. One piece of dense, flourless chocolate cake has a way of smudging white plates that is just about as difficult to remove as blood from a white tee shirt. Slowly, with a curled up damp napkin, I wiped away every chocolate blemish from the white plates until each and every plate looked ready for a food magazine close up.

As the time edged closer to 10 PM my nervousness only increased. There were still more than a hundred plates to wipe and yet three more elements to be added to complete Nancy’s dessert. My shoulders tightened and my back ached as I looked up from wiping a plate. There, across the room, was an un-mussed Nancy, smiling at me. She was nonchalantly sipping a glass of red wine like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Aren’t you nervous?” I said as my plate wiping got me closer to Nancy. “Nervous?” she smiled. “Of what? We have plenty of time!”

I looked around the room one last time. With less than ten minutes before the final course would be finished and still we needed to run down to the prep kitchen to retrieve the hot fudge from the warm water bath they were in.

Clearly, finishing more than three hundred desserts in ten minutes was nothing to this woman.

The service manager, a tall man in a razor sharp suit, entered the room with his walkie-talkie crackling. “Dinner is complete. We’re clearing for dessert.” The service manager called out the announcement I had been waiting to hear all day. “That’s a go for dessert!”

What happened next was one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in a dining room.

Some people love going to the ballet. Others enjoy a great pass on the football field. But for me, one of my biggest enjoyments is to see great service in a restaurant. I watch with wide-eyed appreciation as a bartender mixes a perfect hand-made cocktail or a server floats through her busy section with grace or a chef creates a single plate masterpiece amid the chaos of service. Just like any great sport or physical feat, great service is an art form.

Within seconds, the dining room was a blur with white chefs coats. Squeeze bottles filled with warm hot fudge was dribbled onto plates and gold leafed almonds were placed on cakes. Cimarusti and his sous chefs appeared from god-knows-where and joined the pastry brigade to put together the final elements of Nancy’s dessert. My heart pounded with excitement and utter amazement. How was it that everyone knew what to do? How ever did Katie Brucker notice the missing nougat on that one odd plate amidst hundreds? Where did Nancy find the serenity to offer guidance to the unfamiliar chefs and volunteers around her without ever raising her voice?

As the swirl of activity ebbed, a sense of relief spread through the staging area. Chefs patted each other on the back, clinked wine glasses and beer bottles and smiled. They had done it. The dinner was complete.

The staging area quickly filled with exhausted Michelin starred chefs–David Myers of Sona Restaurant, Josia Citrin of Mélisse, Michael Cimarusti and others—joined together with their sous chefs to congratulate each other on a job well done.

And, for the first time in more than a decade of service, I could say that WE had done it. I was lucky enough to have been part of that amazing brigade.

April 20November 14

Pebble Beach Food And Wine: notes from the road

Nancy Silverton’s mind blowing chocolate dessert at the Pebble Beach Food and Wine Festival

Wow. What an incredible 48 hours. Thanks to the generosity of Foodbuzz and my friends at Pizzeria Mozza, La Brea Bakery and the Pebble Beach Food and Wine Festival, I just experienced two full days of award winning dishes, hand crafted wines, restaurant industry gossip and culinary insights. Not to mention numerous chef-star spottings.

After 6 hours of driving south from Pebble Beach, my head is swimming with details to share with you. But unfortunately, I’m sticky (it’s 90 plus degrees here in Southern California), road weary and delirious and can’t quite muster a focused post.

Nancy Silverton plates dessert at the LA vs SF Michelin Starred restaurant dinner

Forgive the delay for a much needed shower, sleep and a home cooked meal…But I just had to share with you a just a handful of pictures. More details, stories and photos to come soon!

Jacques Pepin in the house!

The Beautiful Michelle Bernstein

April 17January 4

Think Like A Chef: Quinn Hatfield

I’m lucky to have chefs for friends. It’s one of my most favorite benefits of working in the restaurant business. Not only are professional cooks really entertaining to hang out with* they also are invaluable resources when it comes to anything culinary. And, if you ask nicely and aren’t afraid to embarrass yourself, chefs have lots of great insights on cooking techniques, recipes and how to improve your performance in your home kitchen.

Chef Technique

In order to cook like a chef you have to think like one. In a professional kitchen, cooking isn’t done on a whim. Everything is thought out in advance and prep–small tasks like shelling beans, peeling potatoes and making stock–is done before the first diner ever walks through the restaurant’s front door. The chaos of a busy kitchen is powerful enough to ruin any chef–regardless of their training and stature–if they haven’t properly organized, planned and maintained great technique.

Thanks to several recent off-the-clock visits with the chefs of Hatfield’s restaurant, I’ve been able to pick up a lot of great ideas I frequently use at home. Beyond learning about the best inexpensive kitchen tools, I’ve also been able to pick up some key cooking techniques. The following recipe is a great example of how learning an invaluable and time-tested cooking technique can make cooking at home so much easier.

Thanks to the generous guidance of my Michelin starred chef friend, Quinn Hatfield, I now am pretty certain how he makes Alaskan halibut taste so good. This recipe is a slightly modified version of a dish I recently tasted Hatfield’s.

Alaskan Halibut can be sublimely sophisticated when good planning, preparation and technique are employed. Advanced prep is the key to creating this elegant entree without ever breaking a sweat.

Before you start, read the recipe through from beginning to end

Rather than cook as you go, think about meal preparation as a two part process: prep and then cooking. Preparing dish elements in advance is an adjustment, but with all the chopping and complicated busy work taken care of in advance, there’s a lot less stress in the kitchen at dinner hour.

[print_link]
Crusted Alaskan Halibut with Shrimp Mousseline and Spring Vegetables**
Makes 4For the fish:
4-6 oz. halibut fillets with skin removed (Check for pin bones. Remove with tweezers, if necessary)
1 small loaf of brioche (to be frozen in advance of prep)
shrimp mousseline (see ingredient list below)
parsley butter (see ingredient list below)
Maldon sea salt

for shrimp mousseline
8 medium to large shrimp, with shells removed and de-veined
¼ cup heavy cream
1 small clove of garlic

for parsley butter
6 tbsp of butter, room temperature
¼ (heaping) cup of parsley leaves (removed from stem)
1 small clove of garlic
salt and pepper

Spring vegetables
3/4 lb of mixed spring vegetables (baby carrots, baby zucchini, baby pattipan squash)
6 sprigs of thyme
4 tbsp butter or olive oil
salt and pepper
Maldon sea salt

Tools needed: metal cake tester, wax paper, pastry brush, steamer, mini-Cuisinart (or blender), mandoline (inexpensive plastic version can be found at Asian markets or at cooking stores like this.

Mise-en-place (can be done several hours in advance):

Cut brioche in half. Freeze the bottom half and save the rest for another use. When the bread is completely frozen, remove the crust and slice the bread into rectangular strips that mirror the shape of the fish fillets. Keep in mind you will only need to slice enough bread to create a single layered “crust” for each fillet. Slices should be no thicker than 1/8th of an inch. Line a sheet tray with a sheet of wax paper then add the brioche in a single layer. Cover with clear plastic and refrigerate.

To make the mousseline:
Place the cleaned shrimp, cream and garlic in the bowl of a mini Cuisinart. Purée until mixture is thick like a paste. Remove from bowl with a spatula and refrigerate in a covered container.

To make the parsley butter
Clean the Cuisinart’s bowl. Add butter, picked parsley leaves and garlic. Purée until smooth. Temper the butter over a low heat in a small saucepan or non-stick pan. When tempered, remove the brioche slices from the refrigerator. Spread parsley butter onto one side of bread. Flip the bread (butter side down) on the wax paper. Save remaining scallion butter for bruschetta or buttering bread.

Fish prep:

Spread a thin layer of mousse on the fish with the back of a spoon. When finished, salt and pepper both sides of the fish. Using the shrimp purée as a sort of glue, flip the fish (mousseline side down) onto the unbuttered side of the brioche bread.Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ready.

45 minutes before serving time:

Remove sheet tray with prepped fish. Carefully flip the fish so that the wax paper is top side up. Cut around the wax paper so that each fish has wax paper covering its bread crust.

Add several inches worth of water to a pasta/vegetable steamer. When steamer has begun producing steam add the prepared fish, keeping the covered crust facing up. Do not crowd the fish. Crack the lid with a spoon, making sure the lid is tilted at an angle—otherwise the condensation will make the bread soggy.

Let the fish steam for 20 minutes. Carefully remove one piece of fish with a spatula. Using the cake tester to check the done-ness of the fish, insert the thin metal pick into the fish horizontally so that the tester hits each of the fish’s internal segments. If you feel the ping-ping-ping of the connective tissue, the fish will need more time to cook. Return to steamer. When the cooking is complete, the connective tissue will be buttery smooth and can not be perceived by the cake tester method.

Meanwhile, heat a small sauté pan over a medium heat. Add butter and, when melted, add the spring vegetables (if cooking carrots, add first before softer vegetables). Sauté until just soft. Add a sprinkling of thyme, salt and pepper. Taste and adjust for seasoning and cooking temperature. Remove vegetables.

When fish is finished steaming, add a generous tablespoon of butter to the warm sauté pan. When the butter has melted, carefully add one or two of the fish fillets (breading side down) to the pan. The point here is to quickly brown the bread, no more than 30 seconds to a minute. Carefully remove the fish and place on a warmed plate. Repeat with the other two fillets.

Spoon vegetables on the side of the warmed plates. Sprinkle the fish with Maldon sea salt and serve.

Should you decide to host a dinner party and skip going out for dinner altogether (despite the fact that there are plenty of restaurants out there willing to slash prices to get you in the door), this Alaskan Halibut is an excellent choice for maintaining calm in the kitchen as your guests arrive.

*Chefs are like pirates: they like danger, work odd hours, enjoy free time with an undeniable vigor, have fascinating stories to share and fire and sharp steel are their friends.

**This photo shows this dish made with Fregola sarda (a round pasta that resembles cous cous). I chose not to include prep for the pasta so as not to overwhelm!

March 21October 14

Zuni Café Whole Chicken and Bread Salad Recipe

zuni roasted chicken recipe — Zuni Roasted Chicken

Perfect Sunday Supper–Best Whole Roasted Chicken recipe

Great restaurants are beguiling, addictive places that create dishes so captivating that guests are rendered awestruck and wanting more. Great chefs—people like Keller, Achatz, Goin, Adria, Batali, Waters–can turn ordinary diners into devotees with just one astonishing, well-made morsel. Transformed diners are rendered helpless and willing to do anything to recreate those first orgiastic moments of consumption. Sometimes, these dish-craving regulars beg the chef for the recipe. Or, if the guest happens to frequent an especially popular restaurant, they buy the cookbook and pray that their skills are up to the task of recreating the dish of their obsession.

Then there are other times, when diners come to know a great chef via their cookbook first. In lean times such as these, cookbooks are a food lover’s best tool to getting to know the style and flavors of our world’s best chefs from the comfort of their own home.

Zuni Café Cookbook

Though I have never been to Zuni Café in San Francisco, I consider myself a fan. Not only are Chef Judy Rodger’s recipes easy to follow and well constructed, her cookbook is written to teach the reader how to think like a chef. Her words are clear, direct and always informative. Reading a Judy Rodger’s recipe is like going to cooking school, one recipe at a time.

Continue For the Zuni Café Whole Roasted Chicken Recipe »

March 4November 14

Chef's tips on kitchen tools and gadgets

I’ve worked in the restaurant business off and on since I was 16-years old. Granted there were whole years I did my best trying to get away from the sharp knives, angry guests, dangerous flames, greasy floors, empty ketchup bottles, pressed linen, heavy wine crates and demanding hours–but one thing that’s remained constant in my working life is my love of food and my undeniable appreciation of restaurant industry. A restaurant workers’ life may be a pirate’s life, but I love it.

I met my husband while serving at a wine restaurant. That might have something to do with my appreciation of the food/service industry. But beyond true love, restaurants have given me valuable information about food and real skills in the kitchen.

Hoping to save you from long hours and low pay, here are a handful of tips my chef friends have taught me along the way.

Kitchen secrets:

1. Make the most of a small counter space. Use plastic dining trays as a cutting board

After watching me prep dinner in my tiny kitchen, my chef friend Brian suggested I buy myself a set of cafeteria trays. A perfect solution for a small kitchen, these plastic trays can be can be swapped out in seconds, whereas cleaning a counter top can take minutes.

Plastic cafeteria trays like this one can be found at restaurant supply stores. I found mine at Surfas.

2. Stay organized with a mise-en-place

French for put everything in its place, the Mise-en-place (or “mise” for short) are the uncooked/prepared elements of a recipe. Ingredients like chopped onions, minced garlic and skinned chicken may eventually all end up in the same pan, but individually the ingredients couldn’t be more different in flavor and preparation.

Though a thorough mise may require extra dish washing at the end of the meal, it will keep a chef organized and focused on cooking. This is especially important when an extra minute of cooking can make the difference between a dish being burned or browned.

3. Use prep containers to prepare food and store items in one container

When preparing ingredients in advance of a meal, a to-go container is perfect way to maximize a single container for both preparation and storage. Using an immersion blender, you can prepare a creamy dressing or puree a soup in batches in one of these tall plastic prep containers. Pop a lid onto the container and the ingredients are ready to be stored for future use.

4. Reuse to-go containers for left-overs.

Though this may seem obvious in a green-conscious time, I’m always amazed when I see people throw away their to-go containers. Watch a chef in his kitchen or walk-in, and you’ll see ingenious uses for to go containers.

I’ve been amazed at how resourceful some chefs can be with to-go containers. I’ve seen cookies, cheese rinds, melted butter, left over bacon grease, bones for making soup and tons of other items stored (separately!) in to-go containers. Easy to stack and clean, a reused to-go container minimizes waste and reduces plastic wrap or aluminum foil usage. Do as the chefs do and label your to-go containers with masking tape and Sharpie so you know when you have a clear “use by” date.

5. Reuse to-go and prep containers for compact freezer storage.

Used in the freezer, to-go prep container can hold soup stock and left-over vegetable scraps to be made into future vegetable stock.

6. Use sheet trays for prep and cooking

Stronger than the traditional cookie sheet, the sheet tray is a durable and easy to clean metal cooking sheet. Perfect for baking, think of sheet trays as another work surface. Toss vegetables in olive oil and seasonings on the tray and put directly into the oven. Line a sheet tray with parchment paper and bake perfectly browned cookies.

7. Use squeeze bottles for frequently used oils and sauces

Like a mise-en-place, chefs need to have sauces and oils nearby and in a container that’s easy to access for multiple uses throughout service. Using a squeeze bottle (like the kind usually used for serving ketchup or mustard) is an ingenious way to avoid opening caps or bottles and get access to a frequently used liquid ingredient in mere seconds.

I use my squeeze bottle for olive oil I cook with and have a back up bottle for finishing oil if I’m cooking for more a large party.

8. Have finishing salt and cooking salts in individual dishes nearby

Though technically this is part of any mise-en-place, I like to think of my salt collection as a permanent installation for my kitchen. My sea salt collection (Maldon, Kosher and a fine sea salt) are always on the counter or on the stove for easy access and fast finishing of a plate.

March 3January 4

(Italian) Restaurant week in Boston

With plane ticket fares through the roof it’s impossible to hop a plane to Italy every time you get a craving for pizza or homemade pasta. And thanks to lean times, even eating a slice or a plate of pasta locally can seem impossible. But thanks to restaurant week, dining establishments across the country are offering deep savings to budget conscious diners to entice them to eat out.

No matter what kind of food you are craving, if you are lucky enough to live in Boston you can take part in this year’s restaurant week. From March 15-20th and March 22-27th Boston restaurant week participants will offer great money saving meals (multi-course meals for just $20.09 for lunch and dinners for $33.09) to cash strapped foodies looking to step out.

Participating in this year’s restaurant week is one of my new favorite North End restaurants, Daily Catch. Located in the nation’s oldest Italian neighborhoods, The Daily Catch is a family restaurant that has been in business since the early 70’s. This tiny, twenty-seat Italian restaurant specializes in fresh-off-the-pier seafood. Known primarily for calamari and Sicilian pastas served in the sauté pans they were cooked in, the Daily Catch offers hand-made specialties to Hanover Street regulars and visitors alike.

What you’ll find at the Daily Catch

Squeeze into a table and you’ll be just inches from the closet-sized open kitchen. No matter where your table is you will have a front row view of the hard working chef as he prepares every dish while he harangues the knowledgeable (albeit harried) server. But not to worry, a steaming pan full of perfectly cooked pasta topped with fresh clams or calamari is enough to distract you from the restaurant employees’ drama.

Start the meal with a Moretti beer or a crisp Italian vermentino and an appetizer portion of fried calamari. A touch of lemon is the only condiment needed to season the perfectly tender and lightly breaded squid. Though the Daily Catch has a very nice Italian beer and wine selection for its minuscule size, don’t expect the server to pull a pair of wine glasses from a non-existent shelf. In what must be a space and dish-washing saving measure, all beverages are poured into plastic cups.

All dishes are made to order and served in the pan they were cooked in–which practically guarantees the pasta is prepared for every diner with extra care. Seafood at the Daily Catch isn’t overworked or overly dressed up. Every bite is full of briny flavor.

Standout favorites are the fresh fish of the day, linguine and clams in olive oil and garlic and squid ink pasta Aglio Olio made with a flavorful seafood ragu made with ground calamari.

The Daily Catch
323 Hanover Street
(between Prince and Richmond)
617.523.8567

If you’re craving dessert

If you’re looking for an authentic Italian pastry, stop by The Modern for a freshly-piped ricotta cannoli and a frothy cappuccino.

Beautiful Wine, Amazing Selection

And speaking of deals, while you’re in the North End be sure to visit the city’s oldest wine shop V. Cirace & Son, Inc.. Since 1906, the Cirace family have sold an extensive collection of imported wines, spirits and culinary delicacies. Homey and welcoming, this family wine store features Italian wines, liqueurs and digestives.

Maybe even more impressive than their Italian wine selection, however, is Cirace’s free Italian reference guides that present customers brief write ups that include regional insights and maps, varietals and culinary specialties for each of Italy’s wine diverse wine regions. A perfect resource for any wine drinker looking to save some money, V. Cirace’s wine resource guides are not only free but are the invaluable crib sheets for learning Italy’s complex wine regions and grapes.

V. Cirace & Son, Inc.
173 North Street
Boston, MA 02109
Tel: (617) 227-3193
Fax: (617) 227-6941

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

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 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 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.

November 28November 14

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.

October 27November 14

Saint Pio at the Hungry Cat

Saint Pio at the Hungry Cat, originally uploaded by Foodwoolf.

Looking over each and every burger at The Hungry Cat restaurant is Saint Pio, the patron saint of burgers.

October 26March 14

Notes from the Road: Part III–Food Paparazzi

There I was, having coffee with Lesley Balla— the most powerful food gossip in Los Angeles–when she casually asked me what I was doing on Wednesday.

“Want to go to Las Vegas for the Michelin Guide awards party?” she asked.

Ask me to go to a Friday night movie premier and I’ll tell you I’m busy. Offer me a ticket to a great foodie event—any day of the week–and I’ll be in my closet picking out something to wear. I’m just that easy.

Breathless with enthusiasm, I volunteered myself for the road trip and quickly rescheduled my workweek and packed a bag in less than thirty minutes. I couldn’t wait to hit the road.

Meanhile, Back in Vegas

Delayed by our dinner and kitchen tour with pretty boy chef, Ludo Lefebvre, Lesley Balla and I rush through the subterranean world of the Wynn in order to get to the party on time. We struggle to pass the galumphing gamblers and dodge a line of Japanese tourists, all in our high-heeled boots.

We arrive at the Michelin Guide Awards event some thirty minutes late as Jean-Luc, the man behind the Michelin Guide, finishes his congratulatory speech to guidebook winners.

Balla and I head straight to the bar for a strong glass of fortification once Jean Luc’s speech is complete. With a Manhattan in hand, we are ready to face the crowd.

The lights make guests look like shadows against the round, white couches and sparkling blue water of the Wynn Hotel‘s European pool. There are food stands from Michelin starred Las Vegas restaurants to entice guests. Tables are covered with mason jar rillettes and pate; baskets of French Fries; smoking plates of teriyaki and pristine sushi; a pastry chef offers gelato and fluffy pastry. Past the bright rental lights and boisterous catering chefs, we spy familiar faces of Los Angeles chefs gathered by the deep end of the pool.

Past the deep end

I scan the crowd. Long black hair and midnight black leather catches my eye. “Oh! Look!” I call out to Balla, like a tourist on a jungle safari. “There’s Kerry Simon!” I take a blurry picture of Chef Simon, of SimonLA, without a flash–careful to maintain a certain amount of dignified distance.

As only two food bloggers can, we pull hand held digital cameras from our purses and snap photos of chefs and the food they’re eating.

“Oh! Look! There’s Keller!” Balla says, and scurries away to grab a picture.

The energy of the night quickly increases as I begin to recognize more and more of my favorite chefs. There’s Daniel Boulud (Daniel Boulud Brasserie, café Boulud, Bar Boulud), Thomas Keller (Per Se, French Laundry), and Morihiro Onodera of Mori Sushi.

I put down my drink and stand wide-legged like a tripod, in hopes of stilling myself enough to grab a picture without a flash. I point my lens at Ortolon’s Chef/Owner, Christophe Eme, and his actress wife, Jeri Ryan as they talk with Michael Cimarusti of Providence.

Balla joins me and the two of us snap photo after blurry photo of the group, until I notice a certain unhappy look in Jeri Ryan’s eye. Realizing we look like a pair of food paparazzi, I make a move to introduce myself to the couple, only to discover their extreme dislike for us and our impromptu photo session has already been cemented.

From Eater LA: “The only one not smiling: Ortolan chef/owner Christophe Eme. The rest: Wife Jeri Ryan, and the Cimarustis”

After making small talk with the Cimarusti’s and the wonderful and delightful Donoto Poto (Providence’s GM), Balla and I quickly depart for another grouping of power chefs.

Celebrating (L to R): Morihiro Onodera (Mori Sushi), Donato Poto (Providence), Jean-Luc Naret (Michelin), Kerry Simon (Simon LA), David Kinch (Manresa), Michael Cimarusti (Providence), Christopher Kostow (Meadowood) from LA Eater

As the champagne flows and back-slapping congratulations are passed from chef to chef, the air around us becomes increasingly electric. Flashes pop as groups of happy chefs pose for pictures. Though there are only a few press people invited to the event, the flash bulbs blaze, making the chefs look like movie stars at a premier.

Josia Citrin reminds Lesley Balla of his two stars

As the food tables are picked over and the event ends, the guests share after party plans. Some will go out for a late night meal. Others will go to
the hotel’s nightclub for dancing.

At the after-hours party, I have a couple of glasses of champagne to celebrate. With the lights dimmed, Michael Jackson classics rocking on the loud speakers, and celebrity chefs buzzing around me, things start to get rather fuzzy.

Thomas Keller and wife watch as Amy, the Wynn Publicist, gets a photograph with Daniel Boulud

Huber Keller, of Fleur de Lis, tears it up on the dance floor

October 24November 14

Notes from the Road: A road trip with Eater LA

from Mikep on flickr

A helicopter hovers above the smoldering San Bernadino mountains as the car speeds West on the 15 highway. I’m riding shotgun in the car of Los Angeles’ most powerful food gossip, Lesley Balla. Our destination: the Wynn Hotel in Las Vegas for the Michelin Restaurant Guide awards party.

As the voice of Eater LA—the restaurant industry’s main resource for insider information–Balla is a powerful media presence that restaurateurs solicit and avoid, depending on the ever fluctuating status of their business operations. Today, I’m hoping to witness what Balla does best, finding stories in the daily details and dramas of every day life in the restaurant business.

Balla fights to keep her car at race-car speed, as the gale force Santa Anna crosswinds threaten to nudge the Honda off the highway. I hold a crumpled tissue against my nose as the dust and wind tickle my allergies and make my eyes well up with false tears. Balla eyes me with concern as she flips on air vent, hoping not to catch whatever ails me.

For two strangers on a road trip, the four-hour drive from Los Angeles to Las Vegas offers an even amount of time for two chatty women to get to know each other. The burning hills blur as we compare dining experiences and trade stories about the formative moments that made us dedicate our lives to writing. We cackle as we share off the record stories of lost chefs, addled servers, demanding restaurant customers and restaurant gossip too juicy for either of us to contemplate even writing about.

As we travel the straight path of highway to Vegas, I realize it’s been ten years since my last (albeit brief) visit to the gambler’s city. A decade ago, I stopped in Las Vegas–for the nanosecond it took to lose my one lucky dollar in a slot machine–during a cross-country journey from my home in Massachusetts to an unknown future in writing in LA. In just ten years, glossy food magazines and industry insiders like Balla describe Las Vegas as a culinary city transformed where the all-you-can-eat buffets have been replaced by Michelin starred chefs from all over the world.

By the time we arrive at the towering Wynn Hotel, a causal observer might mistake Balla and I as old friends. We step from the car wearing a matching California uniform of faded jeans, baggy shirts and flip-flops and a road weary look that only four hours in a car can give. Once inside as we check in, it becomes clear that even if Balla never considers me BFF material, I am about to become the very lucky, second hand beneficiary of Balla’s media clout.

A bright-eyed hotel staffer joins us at the check in desk and insists on leading us to our rooms. The chirpy blonde leads us through of Wynn’s ornate lobby of polished gold and mirrors. I wince in embarrassment as I notice the snapping of my rubber flip-flops against the white marble floors. Our tour ends on the 11th floor when the young woman hands us each a set of keys to our two-bedroom suite overlooking the hotel’s extravagant four pools. Within minutes of her departure, a flock of hotel staffers arrive with plates of charcuterie and aged cheeses and lush bouquets of yellow roses and green orchids. Pardon us, they say. Would we mind if they came in? Mind? Are you kidding me?

Though there may be gaming rooms and three-star restaurants beckoning, Balla can think of nothing but blog deadlines. “I’ve got six more posts to do for the day,” she says as she methodically plugs in her laptop and starts typing. “I want to be done in enough time so we can grab some dinner before the party.” I check my watch. It’s 11 o’clock in the afternoon.

From my separate bedroom, I can hear Lesley clicking away at her computer while mid-day sunbathers lounge on white beach chairs eleven stories below us. Feeling guilty for not being a better journalistic side-kick, I scan the Internet for breaking restaurant news. I hope to find a news brief worthy enough to lighten Lesley’s blogging load, but as the hours pass and the shadow of the towering Wynn casts an early dusk on the pools below, I find am no further along in my search than when I started. Every lead I follow tracks back to Eater LA. And, despite my dogged attempts, every possible news source I search has already been picked clean by the woman blogging in the room next to me.

TWELVE POSTS TO PUT TO BED

By five o’clock, I’m still waiting for Balla to finish. For entertainment, I step onto the bathroom scale and, thanks to the fluffy rug underneath, the scale announces a series of false weights for me: 96 lbs., 88 lbs. I giggle at my childish thoughts that maybe, just maybe, the Wynn Hotel is a truly magical place with powers to revert me to my original teenage packaging. My childish dreams shatter quickly, after I move the scale onto the hard marble floor. The balanced equipment tells me in cold, digital numbers that not only am I quite a bit more than 100 pounds, it’s time for me to go on a diet.

With just a few minutes to spare before our dinner reservations, Lesley finishes with her final post of the day. She’s glowing as she steps into the room wearing a crisp black jacket and midnight-blue jeans. Her hair is wavy, like a Roman goddess, and she smiles like a woman sprung from jail. “Let’s get a glass of champagne!” she says as she sashays out of the room and makes a beeline for the elevator.

We talk about the months she spent researching the restaurant, hotel, and nightlife scene in Las Vegas for a project she once worked on as we walk the footbridge to the Palazzo Hotel. Half way across the bridge she stops. “My shoes are already killing me,” she says with a frown. Then, in the blink of an eye, she shrugs and keeps walking at her usual break-neck pace. “Guess I’ll just have to start the night with a martini, then.”

MORE TOMORROW…

August 31November 14

Kitchen Secrets

Kitchen Secrets, originally uploaded by Foodwoolf.

There are things that we do at home–private things—that people never witness. Shaving in the shower, flossing teeth, scratching a hidden itch, dusting the bookshelves in pajamas or eating an over-ripe mango seed over the sink. In these solitary moments we are the most unpolished versions of ourselves.

There are things we do in the kitchen—unspeakable things—that our food loving friends don’t know about. Reheating five-day leftovers because there’s nothing else to eat. Cutting a corner of moldy cheese away and eating around the rest. Employing the “two second rule” to wayward foods too expensive or too limited to lose. Playing Iron Chef Leftover (only to lose terribly at our own game). We hide in the light of the refrigerator as we sneak a heaping spoonful of butterscotch sauce or peanut butter or one last bite of ice cream when no one is looking. We eat frozen food and tell no one.

Money is tight, hours grow short

After a long day of writing, I had less than an hour to shower, dress, and feed myself enough to keep hunger at bay during my eight hour, break-free restaurant shift. I grabbed a frozen Trader Joe’s pizza from the freezer, pulled a white onion from the crisper drawer and ripped a handful of fresh herbs from my purple basil plant.

As I drizzled a finishing olive oil over arranged onion slices and ripped basil on my $4 frozen pizza, I considered this covert business of consuming something I knew I shouldn’t be. I wondered if other food loving people do such things. Has a shortage of time, limited funds and unabashed cravings driven other foodies to hide away Twinkies and sneak purchases from the frozen food section?

As an arbiter of great pizza (I wait tables at a three-star pizzeria), the last thing I should be eating is a frozen pizza.

But for four dollars, ten minutes cooking time in the oven, and a handful of fresh ingredients to mask the almost cardboard flavor of the frozen pizza, this is a secret meal deal that just can’t be beat.

I know its been said “you can’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear”, but you can definitely gussy it up.

Question of the week: is there anyone else out there with kitchen secrets they fear to share?

July 14November 14

Zingerman’s: The Service

“Zingerman’s is the only deli-and-service nirvana I know” –Eating Well

When it comes to eating out, I’m obsessed with finding good food and great service. It’s hard for me not to, since I work in the restaurant business. In the words of my sweet, generous husband, I tend to “go all Norma Rae” on service issues. When I see bad service and poor management, I want to stand up on a table and say “It’s all about great customer service!” But then my husband reminds me that maybe that kind of behavior will either get me carted away by the police or fired. I take this stuff very seriously. Maybe a little too seriously.

When I find great food, I’m elated. When I find a passionate server or bartender, I clap like a giddy school girl. When I find both great food and great service (which, unfortunately, is rare) I become a volunteer spokesperson for the joint.

Unlike many diners, I always walk into restaurant ready to love it. Based on my numerous years in the restaurant business, I know my eagerness to see a place succeed is just not the norm. Call me the optimistic pessimist. When it comes to dining out, I always want to believe that something great can happen.

The thing is, so few restaurants want to put in the time and effort to create a great experience for the diner from the front of the house (the service staff) to the back of the house (the kitchen staff). The food may be well thought out, but the service staff is neglected and left to their own (bad) habits. Or the service could be impeccable and the food is sub-par. Getting both parts of a restaurant right is very, very hard.

Can I get a drum roll please

Which brings me back to Zingerman’s. I know. I’ve been writing a lot about that place this week. But after all the writing (okay, I’ll say it, cheerleading), I would be short changing the place if I didn’t take a moment to express how impressive Zingerman’s trademark service is.

Beyond the incredibly delicious hand picked heritage foods and their artful presentations, Zingerman’s well-trained staff is always attentive, ready to help, knowledgeable and prepared to go the extra mile for the customer.

On a recent trip, my mother in law was presented with a handful of balloons (that had to be painstakingly filled up on-the-spot) when she mentioned it was her son’s 40th birthday. Sandwiches were hand delivered with a smile by an employee that that had to search the two floor dining room in order to find us. Our Roadhouse server, seeing that I was an information hungry foodie, answered all of my food related questions and offered historical background for many of the dishes. Ari Weinzweig, owner of Zingerman’s, went out of his way to make myself and my family feel welcomed and appreciated. He even took the time to find and read my blog after I mentioned it to him. At the Roadhouse he even filled our water glasses while telling us the story of the Pennsylvania sweet corn.

Every time I visit Zingerman’s, I’m blown away by their can-do attitude.

How do they do this? By dedicating huge amounts of time and effort into their people. To borrow the words of Ari Weinzweig, my service hero and author of Zingerman’s Guide to Giving Great Service, in order to give great service one must:

1. Teach great service
2. Define great service
3. Live great service. The management staff spend enormous amounts of time walking the walk of great service by actively showing their staff how to give good service.
4. Measure it.
5. Reward it.

If you’re in the service business and take your job seriously, you ought to buy yourself a copy of Zingerman’s Guide to Giving Great Service. It will teach you everything you need to know about getting successful results for great service.