Starters – Food Woolf

Restaurant Stock

I may have started working in restaurants when I was 16 years old, but it wasn’t until much later that I began to learn culinary techniques I could use at home. I can’t blame my lack of development on anything more than circumstance. I started in a small town in Massachusetts where the best seafood was fried or boiled, every restaurant kitchen had a microwave, hamburgers were unpacked as frozen beef patties, and iceburg was the only lettuce we knew.

Graduating from country club catering and seafood shacks, I began working in restaurants where the people in the kitchen weren’t summer help, the stainless steel counters were clean, knives were sharp, and saute pans and gas ranges cooked every dish to order.

The greatest lessons I’ve learned from the men and women of Los Angeles’ best restaurants is to pay attention to the little things. Simple fundamentals—cooking techniques, tools, and ingredients–create memorable food and extraordinary dining experiences.

One recent discovery came from my restaurant’s former chef, Evan Funke. I was inquiring about the minestrone soup we were serving. The flavors of the broth were so round and full of flavor, I was having a hard time believing the soup was vegetarian.

Chef Evan assured me that the minestrone was one hundred percent vegetarian. “The trick to the flavor,” he said, “is from sweating down onion and garlic, and adding Parmesan rinds to the stock.”

Soon after I decided to try out chef Evan’s trick. Rather than staying with a fully vegetarian stock I used left over vegetable scraps, a chicken carcass, and a tupperware filled with handful of leftover Parmesan ends. What resulted was the most flavorful, golden broth I have ever had the pleasure of making in my kitchen.

What kinds of tricks have you learned along the way that have made all the difference?

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Easy stock
I always make stock the day after I roast a chicken. Now that I’m adding Parmesan rinds to the base of the broth, things are really getting tasty. You don’t need to use chicken or any meat (for that matter) to make tasty stock. The key to making a flavorful stock super is to collect your vegetable scraps over a week’s time, keep them in the freezer in an airtight container, and add as many rinds of hard cheese as you have!

Frozen vegetable stems, tops, skins (carrots, kale, potato, etc.)
Chicken carcass and bones*
Hardened Parmesan rinds

Place the chicken bones and vegetable stems in a pot. Fill the pot with cold water, just until the chicken and most of the vegetable scraps are covered. Do not fill the pot to the top with water. The less water you use, the more flavorful the stock. Turn to high heat. When the stock comes to a boil, immediately turn down to a simmer. Simmer for at least 45 minutes to an hour. Taste. Season with salt and pepper. Strain and pour into small containers. Let cool. Freeze what you can not use within 3 days.

*Chicken carcass and bones are optional! Remove for a fully vegetarian stock!

September 4October 2

Cucumber, Watermelon, Mint and Feta Salad

Labor Day — A Sketchbook Pro painting by me

Couldn’t find the words this week. The truth couldn’t come through. There was a moment when I thought I would rather not post than create paper-thin architecture of a few words to hold up a recipe. Instead, images came. Colors, shapes, and textures spoke to me. I grabbed my iPad and started painting with my SketchBook Pro app. I followed the muses. I kept the internal editor at bay.

Sometimes this is how creativity comes. Who am I to say no?

So this week, I give you a recipe in rosy pinks, creamy greens, and clotted white. I’ll let the simple flavors of summer speak for themselves. Make this salad. It’s simple but the textures and flavors are profound.

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Cucumber, Watermelon, Mint, and Feta Salad

1 small watermelon, cubed

1 cucumber, cubed

4 branches of mint, trimmed of stems. Only leaves.

1/2 a block of feta, a little less than a cup

2 tablespoons of EVO

Sprinkle of S&P

Optional: Hot sauce

Try to keep all the cubes of the ingredients the same size. Mix the watermelon and the cucumber together and then add pieces of feta and mint. Mix. Drizzle with a little oil. This salad tastes best if all the ingredients are cold. Enjoy.

May 31June 18

Most Improved

It was the summer between my junior and senior year and I was away at a summer youth music school. My parents were getting a divorce, my home life was a mess, and I was happy to spend almost two months with other kids my age focusing on the one thing I really loved: music.

I spent the summer working hard on my vocal performance. I auditioned for groups and tried out for the privilege of private lessons. I didn’t make the special chorus but I did qualify for one-on-one sessions with a vocal coach. I was excited. I was going to grow as a performer.

By the end of the summer I had learned more than I had ever bargained for. I even fell in love. On the last day of camp, hundreds of students and teachers gathered in an auditorium at the University of New Hampshire for a final ceremony.

I wore a loose tee shirt and a jean skirt as I sat in my seat feeling butterflies. I desperately hoped I’d be given an award. I wanted something to prove to the world around me that all of my hard work that summer was good. Really good.

Despite the fact I had rather low self-esteem, I did feel with some certainty that I would get an award. I just knew I had achieved something great. I had matured as a young woman, a student, and as a performer. But as the awards ceremony stretched out, I started to doubt my intuition. Hadn’t I proven my commitment and my passion for music?

Near the end of the awards ceremony, when it seemed as if all the awards had been handed out, the chairwoman of the vocal department stepped up to the podium. She cleared her throat before reading some handwritten words from a small note card.

“And lastly,” she said, “we have an award for this one very special person who worked hard, was committed to learning, and grew in leaps and bounds…The award for most improved singer of this year’s Summer Youth Music School is Brooke Burton.”

“The Most Improved” Award? I sat in my seat completely dumbfounded. I was struck by the thought that maybe the faculty had created the prize in a last minute show of pity. The self-loathing teenager I was–the person who told herself that her body was too square to be attractive and that the deep tone of my contralto voice was too manly–became undeniably uncomfortable in this long hoped for moment. I began to sweat through my tee. I was terrified.

Someone elbowed me to go up and take the award. I could barely feel my feet underneath me as I walked up to the stage. That’s it, I thought to myself. Now everyone knew the cold, honest truth. I was a terrible singer, only made better by a lot of hard work.

I felt humiliated by the award. Because when you’re seventeen years old and full of self-doubt, humility and pride is a hard thing to come by. Humiliation is what shows up, trucked in by the dumpster. “I guess I really sucked,” I said when I got back to my seat. I said it because I half believed it and also so that that person sitting next to me wouldn’t say it to me first.

Continue reading “Most Improved”

September 6

Caramel Pork Banh Mi

Certain foods elicit recollections of childhood, others conjure up the essence of loved ones. Rare though, is a flavor so particular and influential, the act of consuming it has the power to alter the course of the eater’s life. Turning point foods are those that not only evoke an eater to remember, it defines the eater. So it is for me with Banh Mi.

I never expected a spicy Vietnamese sandwich called Banh Mi, would have the power to delineate my life. And yet, the simple and ultimately complex sandwich—the result of a tumultuous relationship between the French and the native Viets—has lead me to a whole new culinary realm and brought me significant friendships I will cherish forever.

My first taste of Banh Mi was a wake up call from the fiery spirit of a Vietnamese muse. I was living in New York City during a sweltering summer and working as a General Manager and consultant for a soon-to-open restaurant under construction in the Lower East Side. Despite the fact that I was new to the vibrant city, and lived in the heart of a new food mecca (Katz’s Deli, Russ and Daughters, Stanton Social), I lost myself to 16-18 hour work days. Rather than cherishing the opportunity to experience a new city, I poured myself into every passing minute at the restaurant. I was missing everything.

That’s when Banh Mi stepped in to kick my ass.

Continue for the full Vietnamese Caramel Pork Banh Mi Recipe »

June 24January 3

Happy Food Dance and Green Gazpacho

gazpacho wine — Green Gazpacho with a sparkling rose Txakoli Gurratxaga

I think we’ve all experienced The Happy Food Dance at least once in our lives. Food obsessives–and I consider myself one–might engage in food-inspired ballet at their dining room table on a weekly basis.

I’ve seen toddlers bounce up and down and pound their fists with glee when moms present an especially tasty morsel. I’ve witnessed teenagers in a rare moment of no self-awareness squirm and twist in knots as a bowl of ice cream is placed before them. Even aged men with walkers and life-worn ladies with canes do a jig when presented with their most favorite dish.

No matter what age, certain foods set us dancing in our seats.

As I mentioned before, I adore food. So you’re more likely to see me sashaying in my seat than hitting the dance room floor. I dance for a perfect piece of fruit, Nancy Silverton’s pizza, a great bowl of pasta, a well-made morsel I’ve crafted in my kitchen. The dance is different for everyone, but it usually begins like this: a plate with enticing food gets fingers squeezing, and toes tapping. Then a sly grin appears, the head bops back and forth, and a bounce of excitement pulses so strongly, the whole body begins to move in a sideways, chair specific dance. All of a sudden you’re wiggling with anticipation and expectant joy. Your mind sings “I’m gonna eat this! I’m gonna eat this!” and your hand goes flying for the nearest utensil and zip goes the food into your mouth. Ecstasy. Dance complete.

I’ve been in the thick of training for my new job, so I haven’t had a lot of happy food dance moments at home lately. But all that changed the other night when I made a bowl of gazpacho from a recipe I found in my much-oggled Lee Brothers’ Simple Fresh Southern cookbook. It’s the first recipe I’ve made from this most delicious looking and inspiring cookbook by the two brothers–based on the table-side boogie it inspired, this is just the beginning of my explorations.

Continue For a Refreshing Cucumber Gazpacho with Tomato Salsa Recipe »

March 5

Raw Fish Revolution: A Recipe

The Italians call raw fish crudo and the Japanese, sashimi; even the Spanish have a word for their citrus soaked raw fish preparation, ceviche. But what is the word for the dishes that American chefs create with uncooked fish? Naked fish? Raw appetizers?

Here in LA, a broad range of award-winning chefs serve raw fish on their menus every night. There’s a a raw fish trend spreading through fine dining American restaurants, Baltimore fish joints, Cal-Euro bistros, and even Cal-Mex-Spanish fusion eateries. What’s so appealing about eating a barely adorned piece of raw fish? Simple. The fresh flavors of the sea mixed with oil, citrus, herbs, or salt is a wonderful way to engage the palate and awaken the appetite.

Though one must be careful when consuming raw or undercooked fish, a thinly sliced piece of fresh-from-the-sea fish prepared with a handful of ingredients is—without a doubt—an understated show stopper. I’ve sampled Chef Quinn Hatfield’s of Hatfield’s Restaurant’s version of crudo: fresh fluke that’s marinated in beet juice and finished with sea salt, oil, and micro-greens. I’ve gorged on raw fish at Hungry Cat with Chef David Lentz’s raw snapper on a puree of edamame with blood orange supremes and shiso leaves. The flavors of raw fish mixed with citrus, flavored oil, and salt results in delicate, poetic starters that leave me hungry (and inspired) for more.

Continue For an Easy To Make Crudo Recipe »

February 4January 3

Healthy Edamame Dip for Super Bowl Sunday

edamame dip one — Forever Green Edamame Dip

Okay, so I’m not a sports fanatic. But count me in as a front row enthusiast if there’s a lot of great food involved. Take for example this healthy dip for Super Bowl Sunday. Throw a handful of fresh ingredients like garlic, parsley, and bright green edamame into the food processor and in just minutes you’ll have a fresh and easy dip that’s high in protein, big in flavor, and makes eating it a guilt-less pleasure. What a great change from the high fat onion dip of my past!

I grew up in Massachusetts eating chips and salsa, submarine sandwiches, and cherry-red chicken wings on Super Bowl Sunday. My friend Jason Travi, the former chef of Fraiche and Riva, showed me that a Super Bowl party could be a culinary opportunity. This Massachusetts chef never even thought about serving popcorn and cheap beer, and instead offered us caviar on blini, handmade meatball subs, champagne, and artisan beers. It was, by far, the most elegant spread I’d ever seen for a Pats game. I was a changed woman.

Continue to Snag this Great (and Healthy) Super Bowl Sunday Edamame Dip Recipe »

December 21January 3

Delicata Squash with Browned Butter and Sage Recipe

One of the best things about being a gastronome and a restaurant professional at an award winning restaurant is that my work environment is a constant source of inspiration. Some of the dishes we serve at the Osteria are incredibly complicated and require hours to prepare. Other menu items are based on grandmother’s traditional recipes. The simple, classic dishes that haunt me the most. They compel me to tear off my waiter’s uniform, get into my home kitchen, and cook.

A new contorni (that’s Italian for side dish) went onto the menu last week. Ever since that first pre-shift bite of the buttery sweet squash with browned butter and sage, I’ve been obsessed with the need to figure out how to duplicate those warm, sweet flavors.

Lucky for me and my culinary obsessions, the Delicata squash contorni is a rather simple one to make, and requires only basic cooking techniques.

Continue Reading for a Delicious Delicata Squash with Browned Butter and Sage Recipe! »

December 10

No Drip Vietnamese Spring Rolls: Gourmet Airplane Food

It’s December, the month of holiday travel, and I’m here to tell you that before you step foot onto a plane (or car for a long road trip), you really ought to take a few minutes to plan what you’re going to eat while your traveling.

Because, bottom line, you love good food and the stuff they serve on airplanes is terrible. What’s worse, they make you pay a handful of dollars for food you would otherwise walk right past–had you not been stuck in your seat with no food options. Even if you took the time out to buy a snack from the airport terminal, the food is downright overpriced and unhealthy.

So why aren’t more people obsessing over packing their own meal for their trip? Maybe the new baggage requirements have something to do with why travelers aren’t packing their own airplane meal; but planning a simple meal for your flight doesn’t have to be difficult. As a matter of fact, packing a lunch for a trip can be downright fun.

Granted, menu planning at 3 a.m. before leaving to catch an early flight isn’t ideal. So I recommend putting together your snack the night before while you’re making dinner. That way you can get all of your prep and clean up done in advance of any bleary-eyed wake up call.

Continue for a Terrific, No-Drip Spring Roll Recipe! »

September 19

A Whole New Beet

best beet

I was five years old when I remember eating my first beet. It was from my mother’s garden, picked earlier that day. She cooked the red root vegetable for dinner and I remember being skeptical that I would like it. “Just try it,” she said. And when I tasted its earthy sweetness and saw how the slices could stain my tiny finger tips a bright shade of pink, I knew I was a fan. Food that could double as a magic marker and was sweet, was automatically good stuff in my book.

Since then, I’ve made a lot of beets. I prefer the wrap-in-tin-foil-and-roast method of cooking . I love sautéeing the green-red tops for a midday snack. But recently, after seeing a favorite farmers market vendor offering up thin slices of beets soaked in citrus hot pepper, I thought it was time to try his technique.

After rinsing my bunch of freshly picked beets, I used a mandolin to slice the red root vegetable into thin rounds. I juiced a handful of lemons and limes (2 of each) and poured the mixture over the beets. I added a generous sprinkling of kosher salt and cayenne pepper until I could taste the salt and the spice against the sweetness of the beets. I sealed my plastic container and waited a day to taste the results of the marinade.

Unfortunately, even after a day, the beets lacked the tart, pickled quality of the farm stand’s beets. Something was missing. I waited another day and found that the beets had taken on much more of the citrus flavors. By the third day the beets were nearly perfect and were great in salads or popped directly in my mouth for a snack. On the fourth day, just before I ate the last spicy beet slice, I dreamed of bloody Mary’s garnished with beet slices.

The following week I returned to the market to find out what key ingredient I had missed. It turned out that my market partner and friend, Leah, was equally besotted by the crunchy treat and had the very same questions. Thanks to the translation skills of the farmer’s young son, we learned that lime juice was the only citrus needed to soak the beets. And as for the spice, we learned we had missed one key ingredient–paprika.

Now that I have the recipe for that great citrus-soaked beets, I’ll be making this recipe often. I hope you do, too!

Marinated beets at Hollywood Farmers Market

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Lime Marinated Beets

These get better the day after you make them.

1 bunch of small beets (no more than three)

1 bunch of limes (4 or more depending on how big your beets are)

2 tsp kosher salt

1 or 2 generous pinches of cayenne pepper

1 or 2 generous pinches paprika

Thinly slice beets on a mandolin. Toss beets in a mixing bowl with 2 teaspoons of salt. Add a generous pinch of cayenne pepper and paprika. Juice 4 limes and toss the mixture together. Taste for balance. Add more spice or salt if necessary. What you’re going for is a nice, spicy flavor. Put beets in a shallow dish that allows a thin layer of beets submerged in lime juice. Add more lime juice if necessary. Wait a day or two before serving. If possible, move the beets around to allow for a more equitable distribution of lime juice.

Serve citrus soaked beets in salads, or as a garnish for a fancy Bloody Mary or Martini.

*PS A special thank you to Diane at White on Rice for her help making my beet picture the best it could be!

July 29

An improvised recipe for Maryland Crab soup

(Photo credit: from Diane at White on Rice)

There’s something really beautiful about having the confidence and skill to improvise. Musicians do it when they see beyond the black notes on a chart and close their eyes to jam. It’s the same with creating something impromptu in the kitchen; it comes when the cook understands more than just the basic chemistry of cooking and ratios and starts to feel their way into a never-before-created dish.

Like a musician that can hear a tune unwind in their head, a chef must be able to cook and taste a dish before ever slicing into product or turning on the stove. The day I cooked crab soup from beginning to end without ever boiling a pot of water, was the day I realized I had started to think like a chef.

Take me to the bridge!

I have my friend Chef Brian—sous chef of Hatfield’s restaurant–to thank for my recent transformation. Over the past year he’s taken me under his wing, described the way he creates dishes and has talked me through the way prepares every ingredient. Thanks to his willingness to share culinary secrets, he’s given me information that can only learned by spending thousands of hours in the kitchen.

I recently invited a handful of my very best culinary friends to our Los Angeles apartment for a night of eating. I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate our love of food than with a casual dinner that celebrated the bounty of California’s farmers’ market featuring freshly caught Santa Barbara crab. With the Hungry Cat Crab Fest–one of my favorite LA dining events–as inspiration, I began to put together my menu.

Standing in the Hollywood Farmer’s Market I saw it all so clearly. I would serve a multi course dinner, starting with a cucumber and lime cocktail. I’d begin with a savory fruit salad (Suzanne Goin style), follow it with a Maryland-style crab soup and corn bread, and finale with a huge Santa Barbara rock crab, mallets and plenty of corn on the cob. I felt confident about the salad and the simple boiling of the crab and ears of corn–but the soup was a different matter completely.

I didn’t have a recipe, nor any hope of finding one. I asked my boss (Suzanne Goin herself) if she had a copy of her husband—Chef David Lentz‘s—soup recipe but she didn’t. Oddly confident I thought, I can figure this out.

I began to doubt my abilities the moment after I had navigated through the crowded Hollywood Farmers Market with bags stuffed full of fresh produce and angry Santa Barbara crabs. Suddenly my mind was flooded with an imagined future of disappointed food bloggers politely eating a watery crab soup.

Just as I was at my lowest low, the culinary gods smiled upon me as I stumbled across the path of smiling Chef Brian—a Maryland native and crab expert.

“My god,” I gasped. “Can you tell me how to make crab soup?”

With my hands occupied with heavy sacks, he ran down the basic procedures of preparing a Maryland crab soup. Unable to take notes, I visualized the cooking of the crab, the messy job of pulling out the crustacean’s sweet meat, the sautéing of the shells and cooking the bodies down with mirepoix to create a rich stock. I saw it all as I repeated the steps all over again at the stove. Thanks to Brian’s advice and my newfound confidence, the soup was a huge success.

Like a family recipe that is shared through generations, this soup is created by feel and instinct. I offer you the recipe here, as it was described to me at the Hollywood Farmer’s market.

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An Improvised Maryland Crab Soup
As shared by Brian Best, Hatfield’s Restaurant

4 large Santa Barbara Crabs
1 large bunch of carrots, peeled and chopped
1 large bunch of celery, chopped
3 large onions, chopped
6 ears of corn
fingerling potatoes (1-2 pounds), peeled and chopped into small pieces
2 small cans of tomato paste
2 dried ancho chili
2-3 tbl Harissa from a tube
Vegetable oil for cooking
Olive oil for cooking
enough water to cover the crabs
left over vegetable scraps or herbs

Crabs should be alive before you cook them. Leave crabs in the coolest section of the refrigerator until you are ready to cook them. Putting them in the freezer for 10 minutes before you cook them will make the cooking process less difficult for the crabs (and you).

Fill a large pot with water. Bring the water to a boil. Add the crab one at a time to make sure they are fully submerged in the water. Cook separately if necessary. Depending on the size of the crab, cook for 12-15 minutes but no more. Remove the crab from the water, let cool. Reserve the cooking liquid if possible.

Cover your worktable with newspapers. This is going to be messy. Using a mallet, hammer, or crackers, break the claws to reveal meat. Using chopsticks or picks, remove the meat. Put crab meat in one bowl and the shells in another. Rinse crab’s top shell of the dark internal liquid, as this juice will make the soup bitter. Break down the top shell with a hammer.

Using the same large pot, heat pot over high heat with a little vegetable oil. Add an acho chili or two, the crab shells and pieces. Stir crab shells frequently, making sure to heat all the shells evenly. The crab shells should start to smell of the sea, about 10-15 minutes.

In a separate pan, add half of chopped onion, carrot and celery to a hot pan with olive oil. Sautee down until the mirepoix ingredients begin to soften. Add to the sautéing crab shells. Add herbs and any vegetable scraps you may have. Add cooking liquid or water to the crab shells, being careful to add just enough to cover the shells. Simmer on stove for an hour. Taste. Drain the crab stock with the finest sieve you have. Cook down the stock for 30 minutes to an hour.

In your sautee pan, cook down the remaining mirepoix ingredients until soft. Add softened mirepoix and potatoes to stock. Remove the corn from the cob and add to stock. Add tomato paste, stir to dissolve. Add crab meat. Cook down for 30-60 minutes. Taste for seasoning. Add Harrissa if you desire more spice. Serve immediately or freeze.

Serve with cornbread.

June 19January 4

The Rosetta Shallot

Sometimes it’s the smallest lessons that have the power to change every aspect of the way you think. Some people call that life changing moment a “shift”. Oprah branded the concept and named it the “Aha” moment.

If I were an influential branding agent, I think I would find a word to signify the transitional moment in the kitchen when cooking is forever changed by a single lesson. Maybe I’d call it “the cast iron moment”, or maybe I’d go with something quite simple, like “shallots.”

My culinary brain was irrevocably rewired the day I understood shallots. Not long ago, while dining for the first time at the Chez Panisse Café, I found myself marveling at the tiny outbursts of sweet and crunchy acidity hidden between leafy mixed greens. I pulled the plate closer to discover the delicious source of the complex flavors. My charming waiter, Daniel, stepped up to the table as I inspected the perfect, tiny cubes of purple and white hiding underneath the wild arugula on my plate.

“What is that amazing flavor?” I asked him with awe. “Onion?”

Daniel smiled politely. Without a bit of judgment he blew my mind with these three words: “They are shallots.” Well drop a pin in my map of culinary time and mark it “shallots”. My salads and mignonettes have never been the same since.

Pre-Shallots (PS)

Before I truly understood the subtle power of the shallot (the 12th century crusaders called the shallot “valuable treasure”), I mistakenly thought them to be a smaller, more expensive version of the onion. Though shallots may have a similar structure to onions —concentric rings and a papery skin—they are a different species altogether.

Rosetta shallot

Now that comprehend the role shallots play in simple salads and gorgeous mignonettes, I can, so to speak, understand their language. Now whenever I go to the farmers’ market, I’m sure to pick up a couple of tight, heavy shallots (I prefer the smaller ones for their mild flavor and sweetness) for my week’s menu.

At home, I transform the shallots into a pile of tiny, mignonette squares, drizzle them with red wine vinegar, cover the stuff, and leave the precious mix in the refrigerator. Having this shallot mise-en-place on hand saves time and creates the most incredible salads in just seconds.

Shallots can be found year round, but the prime time for them is from April through August. When choosing shallots, look for firm ones that are heavy for their size. Avoid shallots with soft spots or are sprouting.

[print_link]Simple Salad with Shallot Vinaigrette
One of the best parts about learning basic technique, is that you don’t need to have recipes. Salad making is one of the best places to learn how to create by feel and with your taste buds. Allow this to be a simple guide.

Two big handfuls of greens (washed and dried)
2-3 fresh radish (or another lovely market vegetable), thinly sliced
great olive oil like Oleificio Chianti extra virgin olive oil (Alice Water’s olive oil of choice)
Salt
Pepper
1 shallot, cubed uniformly
good red wine vinegar

Toss the cubed shallot into a small bowl and drizzle with red wine vinegar. Let sit for at least 15-20 minutes. Fill a salad bowl with enough mixed greens for the number of people you are serving. Season with salt and pepper. Drizzle lightly with olive oil. Gently toss with clean hands. Take a generous pinch of the wine soaked shallots and add to salad. Toss and taste for balance. Drizzle more vinegar if needed. Add some of the sliced radish and toss again. Taste and then plate the salad onto cold plates. Add the final amounts of radish to the plate for color and serve.

May 28March 14

Market Vegetables with Meyer Lemon Cream Recipe

As a food lover, working at a restaurant can be a wonderful and cruel thing. You’re surrounded by food and required never to take a bite. You may be hungry but there’s no time to eat (and the last thing the kitchen wants to do is make an employee a meal). Working in restaurants is like being stranded on the ocean in a dingy: You’re surrounded by a beautiful, beguiling thing that you can not consume.

The fact that I handle plates of beautifully crafted appetizers, sculpted entrees and arousing desserts on a nightly basis may have something to do with my obsession to recreate the chef’s dishes at home. And honestly, not eating and being surrounded by food begins to get to you. Especially when you’re so hungry you could eat your own hand.

One dish that’s saved me from nibbling off a pinky for sustenance is a market vegetable dish inspired by my new boss, Chef Suzanne Goin. Goin’s appetizer of market vegetables with Meyer Lemon cream and “burrata” is truly something to behold and a dish I’ve been pushing–I mean suggesting–to guests ever since Tavern Restaurant opened several weeks ago.

The dish is a beautiful combination of colorful blanched vegetables that have been tossed in a light citrus cream and finished with one of the world’s most decadent forms of mozzarella. It’s a celebration of all that is available at our farmers’ markets in one mouthwatering dish that is incredibly easy to prepare and, if done right, is a real scene-stealer.

Market Vegetables with Burrata and Meyer Lemon creamLet the market guide you to the ingredients for this celebration of the season’s freshest vegetables. Let freshness and diverse colors inspire your choices in vegetables! Also, don’t go too heavy on one ingredient and try to pick equal portions.

¾ lb baby carrots (small, fresh and straight from the market), washed and scrubbed
½ lb English snap peas
¼ lb pea tendrils
1 head of cauliflower, stock removed and cut into uniformed florettes
1 small head of purple cauliflower, stock removed and cut into uniformed florettes
¾ lb baby zucchini or baby squash, rinsed well
1 bunch of pencil thin asparagus, cleaned and cut into equal 2-inch pieces.
2 balls of burrata (this California- or Italian-made cream-filled mozzarella is available at specialty cheese stores or Whole Foods’ cheese counter)
Salt (kosher and Maldon) and pepper to taste
2 Meyer lemons (thinly sliced)
Meyer lemon cream (recipe below)
*optional flourishes: flowering chive or fennel fronds

Fill a large pot (preferably a pasta pot with a pasta strainer) with cold water. Add enough kosher salt to give the water a slightly salty taste. Bring water to a rolling boil.

When the water is at a full boil, prepare a large metal mixing bowl with ice water. Fill bowl with ice cubes and just enough water to cover the ice.

In separate batches—one vegetable group at a time–blanch the vegetables. Make sure not to add too many vegetables at one time in order to maintain a rolling boil. Cook the vegetables briefly—1-4 minutes depending—making sure they maintain their structure and become just tender. Feel free to test the cooking time early by sampling a vegetable for taste and texture. When the vegetable is just cooked, immediately remove them from the hot water with strainer and plunge them into ice water bath to stop the cooking process. The ice bath will set the vegetables’ bright color.

Remove vegetables with strainer from the ice water as soon as they are cool to the touch. Put the blanched vegetables on a paper towel-covered sheet tray to dry. Repeat process with all remaining vegetables.

Toss the vegetables with enough Meyer lemon cream to coat everything. Add Meyer lemon slices and toss again. Taste for seasoning. Squeeze more lemon over the salad if necessary. Tear pieces of burrata into the salad and serve immediately.

For the Meyer Lemon Cream
From Suzanne Goin’s Sunday Supper at Lucques

2 tbsp finely diced shallot
¼ cup Meyer lemon juice
½ cup plust 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup plus 1 tbsp heavy cream
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Add the shallot, lemon juice and ¼ teaspoon of salt in a bowl and let sit for 5 minutes. Whisk in olive oil. Then, gently stir in cream, being sure to add a few grinds of pepper to taste.

March 28November 14

A Beet Recipe for My Mother

I became mortal last week. One phone call and one letter took away that lingering innocence of youth and reminded me that no one, not even myself, can live forever. Here, in the center of my being, is the undeniable understanding that every moment we have is precious; every morsel of food is important; and nothing is to be overlooked.

The phone call was from my mother. She just got the news that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Then, in what felt like seconds later, I received a letter from my doctor. My blood tests came back abnormal. I have high cholesterol.

The news effected me in unexpected ways. When I spoke with my mother, I found zen-like calm, hope and positivity for my mother’s recovery. I felt oddly at peace, without fear and satisfied with the idea that we will find a treatment that will heal her. And then, in the privacy of my own home, I openly mourned the loss of bacon in my life.

Goodbye Guanciale

My off-the chart 250 cholesterol number on the doctor’s letter read like a foodie death sentence. The letter suggested in detail I “replace butter with olive and canola oil…Replace red meat with fish, poultry and tofu…Limit foods with high cholesterol.”

I started freaking out. No more fearless consumption of fennel sausage pizza at midnight? No more bacon draped hamburgers for lunch? No chicken liver bruschettas as a quick mid-day snack? What about those yolk-dripping bacon and egg sandwiches I love so much? No more gobbling up the frosting-heavy corner piece of birthday cake?

I paced my apartment. I was a vegetarian once. I could do it again, right? But now that I know what I know, how could I turn my fork away from all those great foods I’ve come to love and build my whole life around?

The cure for cancer

It’s been days since we received her first diagnosis. There’s still so much we need to find out. But in the meantime my mother and our collective family have been doing our share of internet research. My mother doesn’t care much for “traditional” medicine. She fears the mainstream medical line of thinking and clings to the old ways of healing.

My mother says she can cure herself of cancer with the power of raw food. She says that with lots of whole grains, flax seed oil and raw fruits and vegetables she can bring healing to her body without the use of chemo. There are other people—beautiful young and thriving people like Kris Carr of crazy sexy life–who say such things are possible.

The idea of clean living through a wholesome, locally sourced diet of fresh fruit and vegetables makes sense to me. I’ve seen the awesome power of food. The farmers’ market is my church. But what I don’t understand is HOW raw food can heal cancer. Is the cancer that my mother has responsive to such dietary changes? Will she need other helping factors to make the cancer go away? Will she need estrogen therapy? Chemo?

These are questions that will take time to answer. There’s still so much to learn. In the meantime, I offer this recipe for my mother. Because it’s her favorite dish from when she visited Pizzeria Mozza. And she asked for it.

Mom: I know this isn’t a raw dish. But I did find a way to incorporate some flax seed oil and the flavors of the beets make me feel so alive. I know it will do good things–for both of us.

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Beets in Horseradish
Inspired by a dish at Pizzeria Mozza
Makes 2 servings

1 small bunch of baby beets (golf ball sized)
1 tbsp flax seed oil
1 tbsp fresh horseradish
2 tsp white wine or champagne vinegar
1 tsp Dijon or whole grain mustard
Salt to taste

Preheat oven to 425º. Rinse beets well, dry. Place on a sheet pan and tent with tin foil. Roast in oven for 30-40 minutes, or until a knife easily slices through the beets’ center. Let beets cool.

When cool enough to touch, slip the skins off with your hands. Roughly chop the beats into small chunks. Should be about 1 ½ – 2 cups. Put beets in a mixing bowl and drizzle with the flax seed oil. Toss to lightly coat the beets. Using a wooden spoon, gently mix in horseradish, vinegar and mustard. The beets should have a slightly creamy look to them. Taste. Add salt, if needed. Adjust for taste.

Serve cold or room temperature. Perfect as a side dish (literally), since beets have a way of coloring everything they touch!

March 13

Dinner with Infinite Fress

In my rule book, the sign of a great dinner party is a sink full of dirty plates and a table covered in empty wine glasses. Our dinner last night with Marisa and Steve, the lovely couple behind the erudite food blog Infinite Fress, was that kind of a party.

Self-admitted restaurant regulars (The chefs at Hatfield’s and Jitlada know them by name), Steve and Marisa know good food and aren’t afraid to criticize. Cooking for them would not only need to be good, but also needed to show them who I am as a fellow food blogger via my kitchen.

On their blog Infinite Fress, Steve and Marisa craft their true life food adventure stories and restaurant reviews with the care of a fiction writers. The food blog, built as an amusement for themselves and friends, has begun to collect something of a small cult following of hard-core Los Angeles food bloggers. Despite themselves, Infinite Fress is starting to get noticed.

I read a fair amount blogs (maybe too many, my husband would whisper) so it was rather surprising to realize that Infinite Fress may be one of the few (if only) food blogs out there that 1) doesn’t rely on food porn (or any photography for that matter) 2) has me reaching for a dictionary every few sentences. Infinite Fress may be text heavy, but I never want to miss the meaning of any of Steve and Marissa’s well-chosen words.

Dinner Menu

Using a favorite Dan Barber cauliflower recipe as a starting point for the evening’s meal, I found complementary ingredients that helped me create a meal that showcased my talents in the kitchen. To start would be a simple salad of fennel*, wild spinach and mixed grapefruit and nutty cow’s milk cheese. For dinner would be black cod, sauteed oyster mushrooms and cauliflower two ways. For dessert I would follow a Cafe Zuni recipe for chocolate pots de creme and put them in antique tea cups. My husband Hans visited the Wine Hotel for some inspired wine collections (thanks Dan! Thanks Paul!) and Steve and Marisa came bearing examples of two of their favorite wines.

The dinner, for the most part (I mistakenly shorted the dessert two egg yolks—creating a low fat and slightly milky pudding) came together without a hitch. The cauliflower steaks and the pot de crème were a big hit, but by far the most winning element of the night was the company. Steve’s hysterical food adventure stories had the four of us weeping in our wine glasses.

I enclose the following two recipes:

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Cauliflower Steaks with Cauliflower Puree Recipe

Adapted from a Dan Barber recipe
originally published in Bon Appetit February 2008

Makes 4 servings

The key to this recipe is to heating a heavy skillet on high heat and properly caramelizing the cauliflower. This is a recipe that is easily doubled when having a big dinner party.

Ingredients:
2 large heads of cauliflower
3 cups water
2 cups whole milk
4 tablespoons vegetable oil
1-2 tablespoons olive oil for brushing
fresh whole nutmeg, for seasoning
sea salt and white pepper

Preheat the oven to 250˚F. Trim the base of the cauliflower to remove the green leaves and part of the base of the cauliflower. Place the cauliflower root-side down onto the cutting board. Using a sharp knife, make two vertical cuts to cut away two one-inch steaks (cut from top to stem). Put steaks aside.

Cut the remaining fall-away florets into golf-ball sized pieces; this should measure about 6 cups worth. Combine florets, water and milk in a sauce pan large enough to fit the mixture. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Bring to a boil and cook the mixture until the florets are very tender, about 10-15 minutes. Strain, reserving 2 cups of the cooking liquid. Spread the drained florets onto a large rimmed baking sheet. Bake ten minutes until slightly dry. Transfer florets to a blender in batches. Add about a half of cup of warm milk mixture to the blender and blend until smooth. Continue until all of the soft florets are blended to a smooth texture. Return puree to same saucepan. Taste for seasoning. If desired, add a fine grating of nutmeg to the puree for an additional flavor boost.

Increase oven temperature to 350˚. Heat 4 tablespoons of vegetable oil in a heavy, ovenproof skillet over medium high heat. Brush the cauliflower steaks with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Place the cauliflower steaks in the heated skillet and cook until each side is golden brown, about 2 minutes on each side. Transfer skillet to oven and bake until cauliflower steaks are tender, about 10 minutes.

Divide puree equally and top each serving with a cauliflower steak.

*This recipe can be made in advance of meal. Re-warm puree over medium heat.

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Chocolate Pots (Tea Cups) de Crème Recipe
Recipe adapted from The Zuni Cafe Cookbook

Makes four servings

3 ounces bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped (save the extra for a garnish!)
1 half pint of heavy cream, ¾ cup for pot au crème the rest for whipping
¾ cup whole milk
2 tablespoons sugar
4 egg yolks
A good bourbon (or Calvados, Frangelico or Cointreau) (Optional)

Preheat the oven to 300˚

Melt the chocolate with ½ cup of the cream in a double boiler (a small metal bowl over a pot of simmering water). Stir occasionally, until the chocolate is melted. Remove from heat and set aside.

Warm the remaining ¼ cup cream, the milk and sugar in a small saucepan. Stir over low heat until the sugar has dissolved. Remove from heat.

In a medium bowl, whisk the yolk, then slowly stir in the warm milk mixture. Pour the mixture (through a sieve) into the melted chocolate. Stir to combine. Stir in a splash of your flavoring liquor of your choice.

Pour the mixture into four china tea cups and place them at least an inch apart in a baking pan or rectangular casserole dish large enough to hold the cups. If you don’t have tea cups use 4- to 5-ounce ramekins or custard cups. Add hot water into the baking dish (be careful not to splash water into the cups!) trying to get the water as high up as possible, without the water overflowing the baking dish. The hot water should come to almost an inch below the top of the tea cups.

Bake until custard is just set at the edges, but still quite soft in the center, about 45 minutes. To check, lift a tea cup and tilt it: the center should bulge. The eggs will continue to cook after you pull the custards out of the oven. The chocolate will harden as it cools. If the custard is already firm when you first check it, then remove the tea cups from the oven and set the cups in shallow bath of salted ice water to stop the cooking.

Cool, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate. (They will keep for several days but are best eaten within a few hours of cooking!)

When ready to serve, whip the cream (do by hand with a whisk for a great arm work out or a blender for speed) until soft peaks form. Add a splash of bourbon to taste.

Before serving, sprinkle a pinch of Maldon sea salt onto the top of the pudding (believe me, you’re going to love it!), a hearty dollop of whipped cream and a fine grating of chocolate over the top. Enjoy!

*Marisa claims that this dish converted her from being a fennel hater.

March 4March 14

Five-Spice Chicken Banh Mi Recipe

All it took was one bite of Vietnamese food to turn me into a hungry student of the cuisine. That first mouthful inspired me with its hot, sweet, and spicy. Rice paper was a revelation. Fish sauce was a pungent wake up call. The perfume of a fresh kaffir lime leaf and lemongrass enchanted me and filled me with a desire to learn.

My first encounter with the cuisine of Vietnam was in the kitchen of a rocket scientist who lived in the neighboring town of Cambridge, Massachusetts. My friend Mark was a smart guy who loved to travel the world for science and food. The aromas emanating from Mark’s kitchen were unfamiliar. The pot on the stove—the source of all that I smelled—was covered to hide its contents. There a book-marked copy of Mai Pham’s “The best of Vietnamese and Thai Cooking” perched on the nearby counter.

I was in my mid 20’s, living just a short drive from my small town, and knew almost nothing about Asian food cultures. My knowledge went as far as what to order at the local sushi restaurant and Chinese take out spot.

“Close your eyes,” Mark said. He spooned a bit of the soupy broth from the splattered stove top. “Taste.”

The high-note spices, the sweet aromatics, and the delicate textures left me speechless. What was that flavor? Pumpkin? Coconut? I was in the thick of a culinary awakening.

Soon after this experience, I got the news I was accepted into film school. I packed my bags for Los Angeles, but just before I left, Mark gave me my very own copy of Mai Pham’s cookbook. That cookbook became my passport to food exploration and, eventually, a bridge to cherished friends. My copy is colored with more than a decade’s worth of experimenting.

My Five-spice Chicken Banh Mi is truly is happiness on bread.

Continue for my Five-spice Chicken Banh Mi Recipe »

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

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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.

August 7

Squash Blossoms at Home

One of the great things about working at a really good restaurant is watching great food get made. One of the frustrating parts of working at a great restaurant is being around food for eight or nine long hours and never getting to eat.

The following dish is one of the signature appetizers of the restaurant I work at. Whenever an extra dish is “fired” (cooked) or doesn’t meet the chef’s standards, there’s a chance that the dish will be apprehended by a scavaging staff member ready to snag a quick bite, before the dish’s contents gets tossed.

This weekend’s farmer’s market was crowded with beautiful examples of squash blossoms, just begging to be made fresh.

There are two forms of squash blossoms available at local farmer’s markets from . When at the market look for squash blossoms that are either “unattached” (the male flowers) or the small blossom attached to a baby squash (the female flower). Either kind of blossom will require the removal of their internal “organs” (the pistil or the stamen) before they can be stuffed. The flowers are delicate and quick to go bad, so be sure to use the flowers right away.

I made this dish with fresh Buffala ricotta, which can be found at Bubalus Bubalis’s , the Hollywood Farmers market and a number of other cheese stores across the country. The taste and texture of this cheese is amazing but a fresh cow’s ricotta cheese will do.

Ricotta stuffed squash blossoms
A simple appetizer for two

For the blossoms
1 ½ cups of fresh buffalo ricotta or cow’s milk ricotta
pinch of salt
Freshly grated nutmeg (to taste)
Six (or more) squash blossoms

For the batter
1 cup panko (Asian breadcrumbs)
1 egg, beaten

olive oil (enough to cover the bottom of a small frying pan with a thin layer)
pinch of maldon sea salt
squeeze of lemon

Inspect the inside of the blossoms for insects and remove the inside flower “organs”.

In a small bowl mix together ricotta, salt and freshly grated nutmeg to taste. With either a small spoon or you fingers, stuff the cleaned blossoms with the ricotta mixture. Don’t over stuff, be sure to put in just enough to fill the flower’s belly with ricotta. Twist the ends of the squash flowers to close.

Pour the panko onto a plate. Dip the stuffed squash blossom into the beaten egg (let drip for a second) and then roll onto the breadcrumbs.

After you have breaded your squash blossoms, heat a small frying pan over medium to high heat. Add the oil and let it get hot.

Gently add one squash blossom onto the bed of the pan. Make sure the oil is hot enough to make the flower and breading sizzle. Add just enough squash blossoms to cook them but not overcrowd the pan. Turn the blossoms with tongs when golden on one side—about 4 minutes. Turn until the blossoms are completely golden. Put on a paper napkin to drain of oil.

Put on plate, finish with a squeeze of lemon and a quick pinch of Maldon sea salt. Serve immediately.

July 21

Prosciutto Wrapped Scallops: A Recipe from Alice Waters

After some seven months of posting recipes and food reviews, I was pleasantly surprised to receive a culinary request from my filmmaker-friend, Jesse:

I have a question to ask you: I’ve started hosting these little soirees at my house lately- a small group of intellectuals and artist types, who come for an evening of frolic, food and film. I pick a film that most of them have not seen or not seen in years, and design a meal around the film’s locale or origin.

We started with “Big Night” and I made timpano. Then we did a Chinese evening with “The Last Emperor” (my 2nd favorite film…”City Lights” is still #1 in my heart). And for my next eve, we are hitting the streets of Paris, with a George Roy Hill film I’ve always loved, “A Little Romance,” starring a young Diane Lane and an old Laurence Olivier.

For the menu, I’m thinking “Paris Bistro”…but am having trouble coming up with ideas for courses. So I thought you might have some suggestions?

How exciting! A request for MY food advice?! Hooray! My food blogging has paid off! Someone values my culinary advice! Sure, Jesse is a good friend…but a food blogging person has to start somewhere. Right?

Being one to respect authority when it’s given to me, I decided to do some serious research. After much cookbook reading, I felt it best to turn to one of our country’s greatest culinary icons: Alice Waters. Since the early 70’s, Waters and her Chez Panisse team have created mouth-watering dishes inspired by the French Bistros she visited as a college student. At Chez Panisse Café, the simple dishes are thoughtfully prepared from fresh, local ingredients that are either foraged from local environs or purchased from nearby farms.

The following dish is an incredible example of how fresh ingredients, when paired well, can create a memorable bistro dish made only from a handful of simple ingredients.

Baked Scallops with Proscuitto and Lemon Relish
Adapted from the Chez Panisse Café cookbook

Ingredients:

1 pound medium-sized fresh sea scallops Note: the scallops I bought were big enough to serve 2 scallops each (which are about 1/8 lb each). You may choose to cut big scallops in half—thereby creating the visual effect of a “larger portion size”

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

6 – 8 slices of Prosciutto

Handful of young greens (lettuce, cress, rocket or mache)

Few drops of red wine vinegar

Salt and Pepper

½ cup Lemon Relish*

Preheat oven to 475 F.

Remove the tough “foot” from each scallop. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper.

Heat a cast-iron pan or a heavy, oven proof skillet over medium high heat. Pour in about 2 tablespoons of olive oil or enough to coat the bottom of the pan. When the oil is nearly smoking, add the scallops in one layer. As soon as the scallops begin to sizzle, place the uncovered skillet on the top shelf of the oven.

Check the scallops after five minutes. They should be nicely caramelized and firm to the touch. If the top portion is not yet golden colored, gently flip the scallops with a fish spatula in order to caramelize the other side. Cook for an additional 2-3 minutes, or until caramelized. Remove from oven.

Drape the prosciutto slices over and around the scallops.

Quickly, put the handful of greens in a small mixing bowl and lightly drizzle with a touch of olive oil, red wine vinegar, salt and pepper. Toss by hand. Add individual portions of seasoned greens to each plate and then arrange the prosciutto wrapped scallops on top. Spoon a small amount of Lemon Relish over each serving.

Note: You may want to serve one perfectly wrapped scallop as a delicious first course, or a few as an incredibly satisfying main.

*LEMON RELISH
Adapted from the Chez Panisse Cafe Cookbook

1 large shallot, diced fine

1 tablespoon red wine vinegar (or lemon juice)1 large lemon (if Meyer lemon is available use it!)

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoon chopped tarragon

Salt and Pepper to Taste

Put diced shallot in a small bowl. Add vinegar and a pinch of salt. Let macerate for 10 to 15 minutes. Cut lemon into 8 wedges. Remove the seeds and white pith from center of each piece. Cut across the wedge into thin, triangular slivers. Combine the slivered lemon and shallot and add more salt. Stir in the olive oil, parsley, tarragon and some freshly milled pepper. Taste and adjust for seasoning.

Spoon relish on top of prosciutto wrapped scallops.

May 16

Beyond "regular"

Picture the scene. Busy restaurant. Tables packed with hungry guests. A guest in jeans and a tee shirt gives the menu a cursory glance. They scan the appetizers for words they know. Their eyes fall on the heading: bruschetta. They see chicken liver bruschetta then salt cod bruschetta and, suddenly, they’re confused.

“Don’t you have a regular bruschetta?” they say in a pained voice.

“I’m sorry,” I try to say with a blank look on my face (I hear this question twenty times a night). “What exactly do you mean by regular?”

Now, I know it’s not fair asking a question I already know the answer to. But I always want to be sure that my guest really is thinking that they want garlic bread with tomato, olive oil and basil—despite the fact that they have three or four other really amazing (and far better) options to choose from on the menu.

Unfortunately, “regular”, in the mind of my restaurant customer, actually means “what I’m used to.”

You see, when it comes to food, there really is no “regular”. There are regional dishes and traditional fare, but every chef in every culture has their own way of doing things. In the case of bruschetta, bruschetta is to the Italians what toasted bread is to us—it’s just a starting point for something else.

According to Italian food expert, chef and cookbook author Marcella Hazan, the word bruschetta comes directly from the Latin verb bruscare, which means to toast (as in a slice of bread). “In bruschetta,” she says, “the most important component, aside from the grilled bread itself, is olive oil.”

So, thinking beyond the “regular bruschetta”, I’ve been experimenting. I’ve been trying to stay within the world of Italian cooking, while thinking of bruschetta as a sort of open faced sandwich or a tiny vehicle to showcase a handful of exciting flavors.

I found some gorgeous Italian dandelions and fresh goat cheese at the farmer’s market this weekend and came up with this simple, and delicious nibble that’s just perfect for a before dinner snack. The dandelion greens are bitter so I recommend using something sweet to balance out the flavor. I used a slightly spicy (as in mustard, spicy) clementine jelly for mine. If you don’t have access to an Italian market then be sure to use a nice honey in its place.

Italian Dandelion, goat cheese and bacon bruschetta with salsa di Clementine
Serves 6–but feel free to adjust recipe to make as many or as few as you want!

1 bunch of washed and dried dandelion greens (cut into 1” pieces)
1 garlic clove (whole)
olive oil (for drizzling)
1 small container of fresh goat cheese (a fresh sheep cheese would also work)
3-5 pieces of bacon (cooked and cut into 1 inch pieces)
1/2 batard of rustic bread or ½ of a well made baguette
Salsa di Clementine (an Italian, spicy clementine jelly) Feel free to use any other moustarda jelly or specialty honey.

Cut the bread into ¼ inch thick slices. Heat up a saute pan over medium high heat, then add bacon. Cook until crisp. Remove bacon with a slotted spoon and place on paper towels to remove excess oil. If bacon hasn’t given off too much grease, throw cleaned and chopped dandelion greens into the same pan and quickly cook until wilted (about 2 minutes). Otherwise, remove the excess grease, leaving about a tablespoon worth of bacon fat behind in the pan for cooking the greens.

Meanwhile, toast the bread. When bread is done, rub the bread with the garlic clove. *this is my favorite part, watching the garlic melt like butter onto the bread. Then, drizzle bread with a tiny amount of olive oil and then spread a small amount of spicy Clementine jelly on top. Note: if using honey, drizzle honey over the greens at the end. Add a teaspoon of goat cheese to each piece of bread, then top with a heaping teaspoon dandelion greens. Top with bacon. Eat immediately.