The Way to Eat

What a Cook Wants, 2

2011-12-10T22:45:00.000-08:00

This is rich.

A Baked Potato Bean Bag Chair

Have you ever looked deep within the fluffy white folds of a steaming baked potato and wished you could curl up inside its warm starchy walls and take a nap? Come on, people. For God's sake, it has A BUTTER PILLOW. This piece shows a true commitment to the foodie lifestyle.

Now I want you to channel your inner nineteen year old for one minute- seriously, close your eyes, focus on the exhale, and ask the crazy teen that still resides within. They will tell you: This is awesome!

Plus, it's hand made by an artist in Philadelphia (with a BFA from the Taylor School of Art). Shop small businesses! No children in China suffered for your carb fantasy. Ahhhhh.

The Baked Potato Bean Bag Chair is made from hand-dyed cotton and stuffed with more cotton; the butter pillow is made of silk. $300.

What a Cook Wants, 1

2011-12-07T09:56:00.001-08:00

Dear readers. After last year's Hiatus of Despair, I'm back with a great series of gifts for the cook in your life. Buckle up! I'll post fabulous ideas every day.

Great Pot for Less
Did I say Pot? I meant Pots. Hee hee. (Sorry. Too much time in California, I can't resist the weed jokes.)
Anyway, both Le Creuset and Staub offer a great, recession-friendly deal on two fabulous pots. For this price, you'd think they fell off a truck.

Le Creuset
1) Le Creuset is offering a 3 1/2-qt. wide oval French oven for a mere $129.95. That is peanuts in the world of Le Creuset. They're made in France, which means there's serious quality control and the workers are paid an actual living wage. When I got my first Le Creuset pot I thought, "This is pretty, but why the hype?" Now I reach for those first, every time.
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Staub
2) Staub is also a line of French, cast iron enameled pots and pans. For the holidays they're offering a 4-qt. Round Wide Cocotte for $129.95, also an incredible bargain. The amazing thing about enameled cast iron is that it's nearly non-stick, but without the terrible Teflon chemicals.

Either one will impress and delight the cook in your life, and probably guarantee the giver some lovely dinners in the new year. Bon appétit!

Why Care About Celery Soup?

2011-12-02T01:32:00.000-08:00

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Indeed. Unless you grew up with your mom cranking open that can of Campbell's (all WASPs please raise your hands), why would you care about celery soup? I'll tell you why: because Thanksgiving just happened.
But Tory, you say, I didn't serve celery soup for Thanksgiving!
Of course you didn't. Nobody does (until you've tried mine). No no, you care because if we are anything alike, your celery sits in the crisper after you use the three stalks needed for Thanksgiving and slowly rots until you throw it away in mid-December.
Happy Holidays.
In this time of recession and hungry people, I feel extra guilt for wasting food. This is my humble answer to what to do with that celery.
Because you can only eat so many ants on a log.

(Leftover) Celery Soup
This recipe originated from The Moosewood Cookbook. It was vegetarian and a bit bland for my taste, but I'm grateful to Mollie Katzen for getting this soup party started. It's low calorie, not that it matters- you're already beautiful! But it's a warming, healthy soup in the midst of our season of over-indulging. I'll give you the recipe, then the prep photos.
Serves 6

2 tbs. butter
1 cup finely minced onion
4 1/2 cups celery, divided: 4 cups in 1-inch chunks, 1/2 cup chopped very fine
2 tsp. salt, divided
1 tsp. celery seed
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
2 tbs. dry white wine (dry vermouth works in a pinch)

3 cups low-sodium chicken stock
1 big Yukon Gold potato, peeled and diced
dash nutmeg

1 cup milk
2-3 tbs. Greek yogurt or sour cream
white pepper to taste
2 tbs. minced fresh parsley or snipped chives

In large pot over medium-high heat, melt butter. Add onion, 1/2 cup finely minced celery, celery seed, ground coriander and 1/2 tsp. salt. Saute about 8 minutes, or until vegetables are golden and just tender. Add wine; stir until evaporated, about 30 seconds. Set vegetable mixture aside in bowl.

In same pot, bring chicken stock to boil. Add 4 cups celery in 1-inch chunks, potato, remaining 1 1/12 tsp. salt and pinch nutmeg. Return to boil, then lower heat and cover. Simmer about 18 minutes, or until potato is easily pierced with fork. Transfer to blender or food processor. Puree, in batches if necessary. Return to pot with reserved vegetable mixture.

Whisk in milk, yogurt, and salt and white pepper to taste. Serve warm and garnish with chopped fresh herbs.

And now the pictures!

I love beautiful prep:

Very finely chopped, indeed.

Go, celery, go!

Never fill your blender more than 2/3 full. TRUST ME.

Ahhhh. So lovely. I forgot the garnish and it's still delicious.

Summer's Echo

2011-11-23T01:15:00.000-08:00

Ahh, dear reader, I've missed you. Hello! I hope our sabbatical has been fruitful and peaceful for you, and that you're flourishing despite this difficult economy... or at the very least, eating well. This return post is due in part to my dad, who informed me he enjoys reading my posts even though he has zero desire to cook anything I talk about. In that spirit, I give you a story about how to make grape jelly. I imagine no one who reads this will be buying jelly jars anytime soon, but it should be be a delightful romp for us all.
Without further ado...

We begin with the grapes. Because home canning uses such simple ingredients, it's important to have the best. My dear friends Tanya and Erik have a house once owned by an old Italian man who brought grape vines from his homeland to make wine. He also planted fig, orange, grapefruit and lemon trees; they pretty much live in an urban orchard. Their vines run wild and all the grapes burst forth at the same time, too many for any one family to eat.

So when the vines explode I come with buckets and fight the spiders for the best grapes I've ever eaten.
I always pick the fruit in the late afternoon, when the light is most golden and warm. After a few minutes of chatting, Tanya usually goes back to the house to check on tiny Sadie, and then it's the grape vines and me, alone, bathing in the afternoon sun. I pull the clusters off the vine the same way people have for thousands of years, and in that moment I am no different from any of them. I feel the silence of the trees and the ground, disturbed only by the buzzing of drunken bees, and drink in the colors of pale, delicate periwinkle to a deep and lush velvet purple. There is a simplicity and connectedness I feel there, back and forwards in time, and up and down to the fiery gold above and the cool earth beneath.

[Pause. Breathe.]
To resume with the process: This year I got 55 cups of grapes, a great haul. Do you know how long it takes to de-spider, pluck and wash 55 cups of grapes? I do. It takes TWO hours... Next year I'm getting a jelly intern, jeez.

Then you briefly boil the grapes before turning your kitchen into a serial killer's den. (Yeah, you read that right.)

Every time I do this, all I can envision are heads in those bags.

Anyway, this is an area where crafting skills come in handy. I guess someone sells a product called "jelly bags," but not in the city of Los Angeles, my friends. So I bought lengths of cheesecloth (four yards), layered them in a cross shape and then tried to hang them up with kitchen twine. Except, oh, I have no kitchen twine. sigh. You know what else works as kitchen twine? Cords to electronic devices that you no longer own. That's right, that day they got a promotion from 'junk in drawer' to 'no-cost twine.' Sweet!

So then you let the bags hang for a couple hours or overnight. Here is something that makes me crazy: All the books say the same thing, "DON'T SQUEEZE THE BAG." In canning terms, it seems to be the equivalent of, "Whatever you do, don't push the red button!"
I don't know about you, but the minute someone says that, what do I desperately need to do? SQUEEZE THE BAG. It's all I can think about. It's all I want. It would feel soooo good. And yet, I DON'T. Why not? Because I didn't wash and de-spider 55 cups of grapes to f-- it up now. Damn!
Whew. That was a close one.

"When color is at its richest, form is at its fullest." -Cézanne

Then I put all the juice in the fridge for a couple days because I'm sick of grapes. I need my kitchen back.
Did I mention this makes the most delicious grape juice ever on earth? Complex, deep, rich. I sip this juice and understand why early Christians used it to represent the blood of Christ- if I tried this in church I'd be a convert too. Turns out it's also divine in cocktails. So then the challenge becomes not to drink more than a cup or two- there's jelly making to be done!
For you mathematicians out there, this year I got 22 cups of juice for my troubles. (I'll include an equation at the end. Hot.)

So before I go nuts and throw a party with the best grape punch on earth, the jelly making begins!

Homemade grape jelly consists of just a few things: grape juice, a little water, sugar, lemon juice and some cut up apples. You may be wondering, why apples? The answer is cool: grapes don't have enough natural pectin (a soluble dietary fiber that causes jams and jellies to firm up and take that gel-like viscosity). You can buy powdered pectin for canning, or you can use the pectin that occurs naturally in other fruits. Apples have a lot- I say, why not go the natural route? It increases the cooking time a little, but if I'm going to the trouble to do this from scratch then I want it to be the real deal. No factory-made shortcuts. I want it Great Grandma Pat-style.

Meanwhile, I sterilized the jars. They say you can wash them in soapy water, but I'd just as soon dunk them in boiling water, it's quicker.

After the jelly has boiled for a while, you start skimming off the scummy foam just like you do for chicken stock. Except this scum looks like a silly purple cloud.

And these are the tools of this sticky, sticky trade:

After what feels like 42 hours of some weird facial-by-jelly boiling (it's at this point that I start having abusive thoughts: Why am I doing this to myself? I can buy this at Trader Joe's for $3! This is not lucrative! This is not efficient! I've entered some sick Twilight Zone, my jelly is f--ed up, it will never set and I shall spend all of eternity in this sticky, steamy cauldron of a kitchen!):

the jelly finally, finally starts to set, and it's time to start pouring it into jars.
See the difference in color between the initial grape juice and the ready-for-jars jelly?
(At 1am, this is a profound moment.)

Then, the ladling into the hot sterilized jars begins. Here is my late night attempt at an artistic perspective:

And here is what it actually looks like:

I fill up the rack with full jars of jelly, their lids screwed fingertip tight (just loose enough that air bubbles can escape, thus they won't explode in the pot), lower them into the roiling depths and wait 15 minutes while they're processed. It takes several batches, and I should note that by this point both I and my kitchen are completely covered in a thin layer of delicious purple stickiness. I believe I legally qualify as a grape now. My arms stick to the counter. *sigh*

When the time is up, I carefully transfer the jars to a towel-covered table in a non-drafty portion of my kitchen-- which also helps avoid jars exploding. Who knew making jelly was so high stakes? Look at these babies, they're gorgeous:

Then comes the most satisfying sound on earth (or at least at 2am in my kitchen): Thhhhhunk! Thhhhhunk! Thhhhhunk! Thhhhhunk! As the jars cool, the lids seal themselves and make that sound. (It's similar to opening a Snapple bottle.)

Then I shower, pass out and dream of ANYTHING BUT JELLY. Later, when I'm rested, I make cute labels for the jars.

For you mathematicians, here is this year's equation: 55 cups of grapes + 4 yards of cheesecloth = 22 cups of juice, which ultimately = 17, 8-ounce jars of The Best Grape Jelly On Earth. Yes!

But the best part of the jelly making process? It comes months later, nay just days before Thanksgiving on a freezing rainy Sunday when I open a jar and sit down with my toast and coffee. They say God gave us memories so we could have roses in December, but I say God gave us jelly so we can taste the sweet warmth of summer on even the coldest, shiveriest morning.

Chocoholics, Take Note

2011-01-06T16:57:00.000-08:00

I don't have much of a sweet tooth. This means when I get around to eating chocolate, I like it dark, strong, subtle and barely sweet... like my coffee. What were you thinking?

One of my delightful Kitchen Coaching clients introduced me to the Chocri folks, a web company that allows you to customize a chocolate bar with all kinds of craziness for about $10.

You can add candied rose petals, sour cherries, sea salt and other fancypants toppings, or let out your inner 5th grader and add banana chips, pop rocks and gummi bears.

Usually with DIY chocolate items the bar itself is crap, but I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the dark and milk bars. It's probably because it's a German company; Europeans respect their chocolate much more than we do.

My favorite creation entailed dried sour cherries, fennel and pistachios, a riff on Persian deliciousness. The chocolate wasn't overly sweet nor waxy, but had a delightful intensity and balanced flavors. Plus the packaging is totally cute:

So indulge yourself or a friend (your favorite food blogger?) as you slog through the winter doldrums; this is a brilliant gift that fits just about anyone.

I Will Make You Crack Pie For A Mere $50

2010-11-05T23:25:00.000-07:00

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Momofuku Milk Bar's Christina Tosi, a brilliant baker by all accounts, is now shipping her famous Crack Pie to Angelenos for $103 with shipping. I guess people in L.A. are paying for it, but seeing as how the L.A. Times published the recipe not too long ago, I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse: I'll bake you a Crack Pie for a mere $50 and deliver it to your home the day it's made.

I may not be Christina Tosi, but the price can't be beat. $50 for a pie? Come on, I'm giving it away.

The Stealth Herb Garden

2010-11-02T14:28:00.000-07:00

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Once I had a beautiful, abundant vegetable and herb garden that brought me great pleasure and joy. Sadly, it was one of the things I loved that got swept under and destroyed in the tsunami that raged through my life in the last year+.
exhale
But like any relentless survivor, after pulling myself from the wreckage, I began to build again. The place I live now did not come with a garden, but that did not deter me. Around the pool I noticed a lush array of drought-tolerant greenery (LA is a desert- having a grass lawn here is not good use of resources!). I thought to myself, Huh, you know oregano would blend right in over there...
And the Stealth Herb Garden was born. Today I cultivate basil, oregano, parsley, mint and German thyme around the pool. The other day I was putting in a new mint plant and an old Armenian lady stopped to watch.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
I got nervous- would she bust me?- but what's the point of lying. "Planting mint. You can have some if you want." I pointed out the other herbs too.
She smacked her forehead, "Twenty-five years I lived here, and I never thought of that!" And we grinned at each other.
It felt good to have something to share.

Always organic? Not in this economy...

2010-11-01T12:05:00.000-07:00

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So I try to buy organic as much as I can- it tastes much better, helps preserve the environment and often supports mid-sized and small farms- but (as I'm sure many of you understand) in the last few years it's become too expensive to buy everything organic.
So then how do I decide, standing there in the produce aisle biting my lip, which kinds of apples to buy? For a while I was choosing based on price: potatoes, onions and carrots are cheap anyway, so going organic there wasn't much of a price jump. Raspberries? Forget about it.
But I recently came across this handy pocket guide and thought it might help my readers too. Below is a little card you can print out and put in your wallet that shows which produce gets coated in pesticides (so buy organic!), and which ones are less heavily sprayed (so save your pennies!).
Plus, it's cute.

You're a Wonder...

2010-03-05T13:24:00.000-08:00

I've loved Wonder Woman since I was 6-years-old and watched her inspiring tv show. Though today I reluctantly admit she isn't technically real, I still admire what she stands for and her constructive problem solving skills (if only I could find my own golden Lasso of Truth...).

The last year has involved a lot of upheaval and sadness, and I freely admit one of my biggest comforts has come from this:

The script says, "As lovely as Aphrodite, as wise as Athena," an excellent message to see over and over throughout the day. It's ceramic and feels solid in my hand, and it makes others smile.

A few weeks ago I left it on top of my car, drove off, and it shattered when I turned the corner and my cheery yellow mug smashed into the ground. Losing Wonder Woman pushed my last button; I pulled over and had a complete little kid meltdown. I thought, Really, God? You had to take my Wonder Woman mug too? (It's been a tough year.)

Earlier this week I was driving past Warner Bros. studios in Burbank. I thought, Hey, don't they sell Wonder Woman stuff there? I pulled over, parked, walked through the metal detectors and Holy Diana! There it was! $18.61 later, balance is restored and I am on my way once again.

Latté Love

2010-02-25T17:37:00.000-08:00

My friend Eve made me this delectable item today:

Her employer, Square One, uses Intelligentsia coffee and does hardcore training for its staff. I overheard some of it; I believe there were advanced calculus problems involved and I realized~ yet again~ many things I love I actually know very little about. *sigh*

I find very very good espresso doesn't give me the jitters. I don't know why; I'm sure there's the same amount of caffeine in a great or terrible shot, but this latté went down smooth and mellowed me the heck out. Maybe it's because you just can't gulp the good stuff. Like a nibble of exquisite cheese or a chunk of serious chocolate, when there's serious umami a little goes a long way.

Pharewell, Philly

2009-12-29T11:09:00.000-08:00

I flew back from Philadelphia the other day. I get crazed before I fly; I find it unbelievable that a many-ton metal tube won't fall out of the sky. It's also hard to say good-bye to my family. But amidst my packing chaos, I had the good sense to holler down to my dad and ask him to call Lee's Hoagie House and order an Italian hoagie packed for travel.
This priceless gift (well, $5.95 for a half, which is huge) comes on an Amoroso roll made by Italians in South Philly sometime the night before, then has peppered ham, Genoa salami, Capocollo and another kind of salami, provolone cheese, shredded lettuce and tomato, oregano, and I like it with thinly sliced onion and oil, plus sweet peppers. Simple, right? Kind of in the 'duh' category, yet behold this magnificence:

Why can no one in L.A. come close to this masterpiece?
I ate half on the plane, and then polished off the rest of it last night at a friend's place. The last bit of hoagie or cheesesteak is always bittersweet: I know I'll have to make do with taco stands again, and it means I won't see anyone I'm related to for a while... at this point in my life, that really is a bummer.

What a Cook Wants, 11

2009-12-18T23:10:00.000-08:00

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A Platter with a Purpose

I like trees. They're strong and steady and their silence leads me to believe they're kind. This square recycled glass serving plate is graced with two trees and is made by hand in western Pennsylvania. The company that makes them donates 10% of their profits to CASA, Court Appointed Special Advocates of Allegheny County, which is a volunteer organization of folks who advocate within the legal system for kids who've been neglected or abused.
A pretty platter that serves more than food sounds perfect for any season.
Trees Platter from Plates With Purpose, a 14-inch frosted recycled glass square, $72.

What a Cook Wants, 10

2009-12-16T23:59:00.000-08:00

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Delicate, Crunchy Macarons

French macarons have delicate, crisp exteriors that bely their chewy insides; they're essentially a meringue (made with ground almond) cookie sandwich with a lush, naughty filling. The best ones I had were at Boule, which sadly did not survive the recession.
But I hear the macarons at L.A. Burdick are mighty fine, and they're definitely the fabulous, perfect-end-of-the-party cookie right now. They seem almost too debonair to be called cookies, but that's just their French mystique.
Harvest Flavor Macarons in seasonal flavors: pumpkin, cinnamon and chocolate, $22 for a box of 15.

What a Cook Wants, 9

2009-12-15T23:32:00.000-08:00

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Eco-Chic Grocery Bags

In Los Angeles, anything can be a fashion contest. Your car, your dermatologist, your dog; it's all fair game. Now generally, these are contests I lose. And I'm ok with that, I have other fine qualities.
But in the kitchen I'm fashion-forward every time.
So I love my Envirosax shopping bags. They roll up very small, I fill them with heavy cans and they don't sweat it, and they save the planet from more landfill. Plus, they're the hippest grocery bags in town! It's hard to argue with that.
Envirosax polyester market bags, $35 for set of five.

What a Cook Wants, 8

2009-12-14T23:45:00.000-08:00

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The Sweetest Snowman in Town

We don't get a lot of snow in L.A., so there aren't many mountains of white stuff... well, unless you have a coke problem. Anyway, we have to get creative when it comes to snowmen: the Life of the Snowman by Maxim Velcovsky solves that problem very sweetly. Pour the sugar into the head and depending on your dulcet desires Frosty will melt slowly or quite fast!
Life of the Snowman by Maxim Velcovsky for Qubus, blown glass, $60.

What a Cook Wants, 7

2009-12-11T23:25:00.000-08:00

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Expressive Knives

I first saw these in red plastic form at a friend's place. They're called, "The Ex." I thought, well that's a little aggressive.
This year? I get it.
So get your favorite friend whose heart got crushed, ground and blown into the wind this gift that will make them laugh and may even help in the kitchen.
The Ex 5-Piece stainless steel knife set, $100.

What a Cook Wants, 6

2009-12-10T23:06:00.000-08:00

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A Mug to Drink That Fine Coffee Out Of

Ok, so very few people actually need another mug, I acknowledge that. However, I love these mugs from Pantone, the fascinating color company. They're like a Rorschach test for how you see someone, but with color. Or, if you lean towards the East, you could give them out according to the chakra color that feels right (yes, I've been doing a lot of yoga). These are sold as a set, but a lot of museum and hip home stores are selling them individually.
(In case you're wondering, I'm drawn to the grape, royal blue and red. What do you think it means?)
Set of ten Whitbread Wilkinson mugs under license from Pantone, $128. Give them as a set, or take care of ten gifts at once.

What a Cook Wants. 5

2009-12-09T15:51:00.000-08:00

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Ridiculously Good Coffee

This coffee is in the category of affordable luxury. The folks at Intelligenstia are the best sort of coffee fiends, they're in it to win it and just as OCD as our good friends at Cook's Illustrated magazine. I like these types: they obsess so I don't have to.
If you have a coffee lover in your life this is an economical way to delight them, plus an easy way to be the belle of the ball at any sort of holiday gift swap you attend. I'd suggest starting with the house blend, it's bright, slightly fruity with notes of chocolate and perfectly balanced. $14 might seem like a lot for a pound of coffee, but it's cheaper than an espresso machine!
Intelligentsia House Blend coffee, $14 per pound. It's worth it to go to the page simply to check out the choice of grinds. There are 14 options. Sweet.

What a Cook Wants, 4

2009-12-08T23:29:00.000-08:00

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Some Serious Pot

This year I finally got a Le Crueset pot of my own. Actually, three. Now I'll admit, even I was skeptical about the price tag. Sure, it's French, but $250 for a pot? Seriously?
I'm here to tell you, dear reader, it made a true believer out of me. They're made in France, not an oppressed third world nation, and each mold is destroyed after the pot is cast.
But the proof is in the pot, my friends. I made a beautiful four-hour bolognese sauce on a fateful night this summer, and though ultimately credit must go to the cook(!), I tell you it would not have turned out as perfectly without the awesome pot. Because it's cast iron underneath the enamel it heats perfectly evenly, and the enamel ensures nothing sticks. It's like teflon minus the cancer. And you'll have it until you're dead.
So if you have the coin and you truly love the cook in your life, make his/her year. I've had a horrible year, but these pots have truly been a bright spot. And at least they'll last and provide years of great cooking.
Start with the Le Creuset 5 1/2-quart Dutch Oven, you can find it on sale for about $185 in myriad colors.

What a Cook Wants, 3

2009-12-07T23:16:00.000-08:00

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More Exquisite Cheese

There is a lady named Sally Jackson who lives on a 140-acre farm in the Okanogan Highlands, which are in the eastern part of Washington state. She and her husband Roger have been making cheese from the sheep, goats and a Brown Swiss and two Guernsey cows they raise. American artisanal cheese making has exploded in the last decade, and these days it's a bit of a foodie race to find the newest, loveliest specimens.
At the end of an astonishing meal at Providence, I had the pleasure of a slice of Sally Jackson's chestnut leaf-wrapped raw cow's milk cheese. It was semi-soft, the color of Irish butter and complex with a mere hint of funk. I wanted to cry, but I was too happy. You could serve this to most folks, it's not too intense and really pleasing, and totally wow your foodie-est friends.
Sally Jackson Chestnut Leaf Aged Cow Cheese. They don't make it until you order it, heaven.

What a Cook Wants, 2

2009-12-05T23:48:00.000-08:00

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Plats de Poulet

It's true, chickens are the new black. Restaurants have them as decor/fresh egg providers, urban hipsters keep them as pets and let them freely roam in their backyards, they even make fun party guests.
Not everyone has the space or desire to raise chickens, but we can all enjoy their antics. These ceramic desert plates offer two fowl perspectives, one near, one far. It's just the right touch of silly for your sweets.
Marla Dawn Chicken Desert Plates, set of 4, $42.

What a Cook Wants, 1

2009-12-04T11:41:00.000-08:00

Dear readers. I am sorry for the lack of posting; these are dark days. Betty Lou and Tiina Fey are gone and I shall not be married much longer. I've been too sad to write about the joy of eating, but fear not: I am determined to bring glad tidings of great food once again. My heart may be crushed, but my palate still works. Thank God.
If ever there were cause to enjoy a cocktail, this is it. This first gift idea is apropos.

ÍS Vodka

The cook in your life needs to kick back, relax~ heck, just sit down for a minute. This vodka- pronounced "ice"- is made from melted Icelandic glacier water [harvested in an eco-friendly way] and non-GMO English wheat. They distill it seven times. Artisanal water is pretty hot these days, why not make booze with it?
The bottle is tall and dramatic with nearly Ionic columns and a curvy lady on its crest. I found the stopper hard to remove and replace, but that's what we'd call a quality problem.
The spirit itself is incredibly smooth and clean, no jagged edges. There's a brief hit of clove at the very end of the sip and that's it. It's great in a cocktail and perfect for sipping, if that's your thing.
ÍS Vodka, about $40 for a 750mL bottle.

Perhaps if I drink enough of it, I will be spirited away to Iceland for some quiet peace here:

Breakfast In A Time Of Sorrow

2009-09-02T13:27:00.000-07:00

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When things are terrible, I find it helps to seek beauty in small places. This morning I toasted a blue corn tortilla over the open flame of a gas stove, laid a slice of pepperjack cheese over it, poached one of Betty Lou's eggs and chopped a fragrant golden tomato. Then I drizzled the whole thing with olive oil and sprinkled it with rough sea salt. I made good coffee.
Sometimes, this is enough.

A Tale of Two Chickens, 1

2009-08-11T14:47:00.000-07:00

Dear reader, I am a newlywed.

The main thing I've learned about marriage so far is that I don't know anything about marriage. I think it falls into the category of something you only learn by doing. And there are lots of surprises...

Recently, my lovely husband Adam came home at lunchtime. "Baby, I got you a present! It's in the car." he said. "We can build it together!"
Aww man, I thought. That doesn't sound like earrings. "Can I eat lunch before we build anything?" I asked.
"Well come to the car and see it!" He was lit up with little boy excitement so I walked to the car and he opened the passenger side. On the floor were two very tall paper bags, closed at the top, with little slits on the side.
"What is it?" I asked. "Listen," he replied. I leaned in and as I got closer one of the bags began to shake, which got the other one shaking and then I heard it: bwak bwak bwak. Bwak bwaaaak, bwak bwak.
Oh God, I thought. Not chickens. "Are they chickens?" I asked.
"Yes!" So jubilant. "My mom had chickens when I was growing up, they're great! I like the sounds they make, and baby I wanted you to have fresh eggs. The coop is in the back, we can build it together!"
I was very suspicious about this turn of events, but tried to focus on the greater good. And I did like the idea of fresh eggs. My fantastic Great-Grandma Pat had neighbors who gave her eggs from their chickens, and I remembered the bright orange yolks and better taste. Ok, I'm in.
Plus, I got to name them. Dear reader, meet Betty Lou and Tiina Fey.
Betty Lou is the lighter one. They're Rhode Island Reds and were raised together. According to Adam they're pretty friendly chickens. We decided they'd be free range. Though their coop is nice, all living creatures prefer to run around, stretch their wings. We'll probably have to get their wings clipped so they don't fly over the fence. I hope it doesn't hurt them.
We were worried about Sam the Dog, but it looks like he's too old to catch them. He growled as they first walked by and tried to lunge at them, but by the time he stood up they were three feet away. Then Tiina Fey jumped on his head and pecked at him and he barked and ran off. I think they'll be fine.
So please join us on our fowl adventure! Oh lord, here we go...

Pringles Restaurant Cravers: Terrible, Terrible Food

2009-08-03T21:31:00.000-07:00

Dear reader, a confession: I love trashy junk food. Sure, I'm happy to discuss the ephemeral notes of clover in stinky Époisses cheese or each ingredient in your favorite sauce, but I also lust for Bugles. And the awesome Snyder's chips of my youth, which came in flavors like Steak & Onion or Kosher Dill. Delish. No raised nose here, bring it.
But I abhor bad trash.
I was in the grocery store a few weeks ago, starving for a snack to get me through rush hour on the 10 freeway and I happened upon Pringles' "Restaurant Cravers" Mozzarella Sticks & Marinara chips. I thought to myself, what genius marketing! We're in a recession, people are eating out less; they can munch on these and pretend they're at Applebee's or Friday's (which I despise. Again, bad trash is no good.).
I make it to my car before I tear the can open, and what awaits? They taste like Pringles sprinkled with powdered Campbell's tomato soup. There's an empty tomato note and that's it. No cheesy goodness, no hit of oregano or spike of garlic.
After a handful, all I desperately wanted was to take the nearest exit and go to a restaurant to eat real food. Their marketing completely backfired, and instead became a cruel taunt: No restaurant for you, commuter! Only metallic tomato powder chips! Suffer.
What a waste of $1.73. Bad trash!

Real Damn Pizza

2009-07-24T19:59:00.000-07:00

Dear reader, I know it's been months. I'm sorry. I moved and got married, lost clients in this recession-- in short, I've been distracted. But last week I spent some time with my uber-achieving friends in Brooklyn, and while I was there I ate real pizza.
I'd forgotten. In L.A., unless you're traipsing through Pizzeria Mozza (heaven in the mouth, but a bit snooty to actually go there), you're eating triangles of doughy, bland crap. Oh sure I've been to Damiano's where it's so dark you can't see your slice but it tastes alright (especially if you've been drinking), but mostly I'd stopped. In the land of fab tacos, why bother seeking puffy pizza?
But my friend Amy took me to Grimaldi's, and this is what we ate:

I forgot that good pizza makes your toes curl. I forgot how nice it was to see hot Italian guys working in an actual Italian restaurant. I forgot that a proper slice makes that crackling sound when you fold it in half.
I'm back, friends. And damn am I hungry.

What a Cook Wants, 11

2008-12-16T17:06:00.000-08:00

Faux-scratch Cookies
I am very, very tired, dear readers. The move went well, but I'm beat! So when contemplating an ideal gift, today I'm envisioning a very tired, slightly cranky cook who can't find most of her kitchen tools and toys because they're ALL IN BOXES. Rrrrgh.
What does that cook need, besides a nap and perhaps a massage? Holiday cookies that aren't "from scratch" but rather "faux scratch". Enter The Lazy Baker cookie mix. The company's founder used to make cookies with her Nanny from Czechoslovakia, but as a kid would only show up at the end for the fun part. Well, I'm ready for the fun part and I bet you are too. Mmm, cookies. Then we can all enjoy some good cheer!
The Lazy Baker cookie mixes in chocolate chip, oatmeal cherry raisin, double chocolate chip, brown sugar pecan shortbread and holiday gingerbread, each $11 except the gingerbread, which is on sale for $9. At Whole Foods and Bristol Farms on the West Coast, otherwise you have to use the interwebs.

A Quick Note

2008-12-12T17:04:00.000-08:00

Hello, my loyal tens of readers.

I am moving in with my lovely fiancé this weekend. My apt. looks like a tornado ran through it, and I am quite certain there will be no time for posting. So please hold tight until Monday, when I'll offer more lovely gifts for your favorite cook.

This is what the inside of my brain looks like right now.

So pray for me as I make this big change! I can't wait to meet you again on Monday.

What a Cook Wants, 10

2008-12-12T16:43:00.000-08:00

Chocolate Babka
My West Coast friends have rarely heard of babka, unless they're Seinfeld fans. But for those raised in the Northeast, even us gentiles, chocolate babka is a magical treat. It looks like a loaf of bread, but inside is a magical, sweet eggy bread-mine with veins of rich chocolate. It's dessert pay-dirt.
It's a thoughtful gift for your Hebrew pals, but who wouldn't like their very own loaf?
Chocolate Babka, $10, serves 6-8 (but who are we kidding, it serves 1 just fine) and is Parve (dairy-free). In cinnamon also, but why bother?

What a Cook Wants, 9

2008-12-11T23:58:00.000-08:00

A Cheese Cave in Your Fridge
This paper is designed for storing cheese. According to the manufacturers, it recreates the conditions of a cave for cheese-aging right in the cold cut drawer of your refrigerator, and keeps other odors from invading your sacred wedge.
I haven't tried it, but I do love cheese and it's a good gift for your favorite fanatic. I'll admit I'm a little heartbroken each time I pull out the drawer to discover the last tasty morsel has turned a hostile shade of blue. Save the cheese!
Formaticum Cheese Paper, $9 gets you fifteen 11x14-inch sheets and labels.

What a Cook Wants, 8

2008-12-10T14:32:00.000-08:00

Clean Water *Without* Killing the Earth
This isn't technically a cooking thing, but it relates. I've noticed most cooks have a better sense of the cycles of nature than the average non-cook; we know (and anticipate!) when certain fruits and veggies come into season, and have perhaps a deeper appreciation for an orchard's beauty. We also feel the pain when swordfish is over-fished, or farmed salmon pollutes the waters and we have to give them up.
Good cooks have been selfishly green-minded way before it was hip: veggies just taste better when they haven't traveled 1,000 miles to the dinner plate.
So what's the next sustainable step? Enough with buying and tossing all those water bottles! Here's the solution: the a self-filtering water bottle. It's the last bottled water you'll ever buy. There's a built-in Japanese-inspired water filtration system, and the exterior is made of those plastics that won't kill you. Once a year you replace the filter. That's it.
The water tastes great, one bottle is cheaper than a year's worth at the store *and* you can sleep better/lord your green superiority over your friends.
Wellness H2.0 Enhanced Water Bottle, $50. Yearly filter, $20. Saving the earth? Priceless.

What a Cook Wants, 7

2008-12-09T13:04:00.000-08:00

Serious Salami
This salami makes me want to cry. In a wonderful way~ kind of a watered-down version of how I felt the first time I kissed my husband-to-be. The first taste wiped out all memories of salamis past; in that transcendent moment I was tasting salami for the very first time.
Armandino Batali (yup, Mario's dad) has been turning out the Lord's salami in Seattle for the last 6 years with delightful results. And though perhaps his initial splash was fueled by the name, the success is because of the old world love and luscious umami in each succulent slice.
I love the lardo for its decadence, the smoked paprika for its gentle heat and the mole for its exuberance, but any of them will astonish your palate.
Salumi Artisan Cured Meats, 1 12-inch, 1.25-1.4 lb. gorgeous salami in a variety of styles, $15/lb. They also sell other cured meats.

What a Cook Wants, 6

2008-12-08T23:13:00.000-08:00

A Rainbow of Cutlery
Throwing a great party comes down to the details. What I delight in at any shindig are the small, thoughtful touches. Sure there may be a taco bar, but the embroidery on the edge of the napkins? Fantastico!
That is why I love love love this festive cutlery. It's made by an Italian company of super-sturdy plastic and was inspired by some baroque flatware from the 19th century. The colors sing, and best of all? You can throw it in the dishwasher. Fabulous and eco-tastic? Let's get this party started!
Pandora Design's Baroque Plastic Deluxe Cutlery, $20 for 4-piece setting in a rainbow of colors.

What a Cook Wants, 5

2008-12-07T23:13:00.000-08:00

The Newest Toy for Espresso Fiends
You've heard by now about my little coffee, uh, problem. Not that it's really a problem because I can stop any time. I can... I just don't feel like it right now. Whatevs. You're not my mom. Back off.
*cough* Anyway, you don't have to be espresso-obsessed to enjoy the ingenuity of this electricity-free press. The guy who invented the aerobie frisbee is also a fan of the dark bean, and he designed the acrylic tube system that uses simple physics to brew the espresso in less than a minute, thus avoiding a lot of the harsh tannins and bitterness. And satisfying your serious coffee jones, pronto.
Heck, you could even take it camping.
The Aeropress Coffee & Espresso Maker, $30 and worth every cracked-out nickel.

What a Cook Wants, 4

2008-12-06T11:40:00.000-08:00

F***ing Good Beef Jerky
My dad loves beef jerky. This means I gnawed my way through a lot of it growing up, and I still think about him whenever I tear into a dried slag of meat. So when my foxy fiancé and I spent a night up in Big Bear and drove past a boldly lettered, big white sign that said BEEF JERKY, we had to stop. You know they're confident when the sign only names one food.

Inside the store they were selling overpriced candy and beef jerky in a room temperature glass case. There were 7 or 8 different flavors: hickory smoked, teriyaki nuggets, turkey teriyaki, hot chile bbq and others. The fellow behind the counter, Chris Wilson, told me he'd been making jerky for over 20 years (he must've started at 17 because he had very smooth skin and wrinkle-free blue eyes. Must be all that clean mountain living). I tried almost every bit in the case and went home with a half pound, some for me, some for my dad's Christmas present... if I can keep from eating it up!

This jerky is surprisingly moist for dried meat, expertly seasoned and very satisfying. It's probably the best I've had. And I ain't jerkin' you around.

Smokey's Beef Jerky & Candy Co. 909.866.4511. (no website!) Gift baskets start at $30 and they'll ship anywhere. Bon Appe-meat!

What a Cook Wants, 3

2008-12-05T10:50:00.000-08:00

Storage that Doubles as Design
I love this wall-mounted wine storage unit. It's made of walnut and is silly and useful at the same time. How many pieces in your home can say that?
Full disclosure: The guy who runs Modern Cellar, the company that makes it, was kind to me when I misspelled the name of his co. in an article I wrote. Forgiving *and* makes gorgeous products? I'm a fan.
Sporadic Wall Panel in walnut by Modern Cellar, $160.

What a Cook Wants, 2

2008-12-04T22:34:00.000-08:00

A Knuckle Sandwich
This is for the big bruiser in your life. Maybe it's your cousin who works in "sanitation" and is always disappearing at 2am, maybe it's your high-powered attorney friend, maybe it's your mom. (We've all met those moms.)
The mug is actually a slightly fabulous piece of art, from the L.A. duo P.A.D. They're only doing runs of 100 each, so give 'em to your favorite tough cookie fast... you don't want to fight for this.
Gold Knuckles Mug in black or white from P.A.D., $98. It makes the coffee stronger and a little bitter. Grrrrrr.

What a Cook Wants, 1

2008-12-03T11:04:00.000-08:00

Now That's a Knife!
When you see the price of this knife, you may be confused. You may ask, but how can you recommend a common, inexpensive knife when there are gorgeous, $100-plus blades for sale out there? With a much finer pedigree, by the way.
To which I would reply: sometimes we get lucky. Sometimes we do eat the free lunch, find true love, elect the right guy. Sometimes it just works out.
This Victorinox 8-inch chef's knife with Fibrox handle sits well in the hand, has a lovely balance and a blade that will slice that carrot tip clean off.
*A note on knife giving: some folks believe it's bad luck to give someone a knife, that it's a cosmic act of aggression that brings misfortune to the receiver. Well, I'm pleased to report superstition has given us a cure, too: if the receiver offers the gifter a penny, all otherworldly threats are mitigated... if only it were that easy at all holiday gatherings.
The Victorinox 8-inch chef's knife with Fibrox handle, a mere $22. Sounds like a Christmas miracle to me!

Yoga Soup

2008-08-28T23:01:00.000-07:00

I've noticed a funny thing: the more yoga I do, the less meat I want to eat. I've been on a bit of a yoga binge lately~ my pass was about to run out and I hate to waste money! Plus, kundalini yoga chills me out like no other legal substance or activity I've ever found.
But it's odd, afterwards I usually crave lentils. Last night I'd been to five classes in seven days, yeah! But what to eat for dinner? The exercise speeds up my metabolism, so I couldn't wait long for food to cook and was out of tofu. (Yes, I've learned to make tofu worth eating. Well done, Philly girl!)
Then I remembered, I have those white beans in the fridge I made from scratch... wow, it's been a summer of beans, hasn't it? I like to saute a mirepoix (which is diced onion, celery and carrot, the holy trinity of cooking) with a clove of garlic, throw in a pound of dried great northern beans and add a bay leaf. Pour in six cups of water and let the slow cooker do its magic on medium-high for about 6 hours. I add a spoonful or so of salt at the end, and voila! Healthy deliciousness.
Here's the soup:
Yum!

Here's the recipe:

Nearly Instant Yoga Soup
serves 1 hungry yogini or 2 as first course

1 1/2 cups cooked white beans (drain and rinse a can's worth if you're not hanging out making beans from scratch)
1 handful fresh spinach
1 clove garlic, chopped
1 1/2 tsp. grated fresh ginger
1 tsp. garam masala
1 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. curry (if it needs it)
hot sauce to taste (sambal olek if you've got it!)
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

1 diced plum tomato
2 tbs. chopped peanuts
handful of fried shallots (only if you have them on hand)

Put beans and enough water to thin to your liking (about 3/4 to 1 1/4 cups) in a medium pot over medium-high heat. Add spinach and next 5 ingredients. Bring to boil and simmer 3 minutes.
Pour soup into blender or food processor. Whiz until pureed (thin with more water if desired). Return to pot and add hot sauce, salt and pepper to taste. Heat through 2 minutes more.
Pour soup into bowl and sprinkle with tomato, chopped peanuts and fried shallots.
Sat nam!

Beans of Love

2008-07-30T18:25:00.000-07:00

Dear reader, I have discovered a true love potion. It was not what I imagined, not at all my vision of oil of rose and powder of dove with a pinch of mystery mixed under the light of the full moon.

Turns out it's Baked Beans.

I know, I felt the same way. If you told me Boston Baked Beans paved the road to true love, I would've refused to date you. But hear me out: on 4th of July, my boyfriend and I went to his mom's house to celebrate the holiday with the fam. My contribution was homemade Boston Baked Beans, prepared in my slowcooker from scratch. It's a dish I feel all native Californians could learn more about; I was doing my part. They were a hit; I made them with turkey bacon because his family is 'healthy'~ they can't help it, they're from here~ and the beans turned out nicely balanced between sweet and savory with a teensy kick from the cider vinegar to keep it interesting.

When the festivities ended, he and I headed to the LBC (Long Beach, that is) to see if we could catch the fireworks down by the water. Snoop Dogg blaring, wheels bouncing, we finally made it off the 710 to discover the cops were blocking all roads into the LBC. I guess the party reached capacity.
"Why don't we drive up the coast and try to find another spot by the water where we can watch fireworks," he suggested. He's not usually a 'let's go to the ocean' kind of guy, but I love to be by the water and it wasn't that late. Why not? As we drove the cars thinned out and the surroundings became increasingly suburban. We ended up somewhere in Palos Verdes, and I thought, 'We're lost. He has no idea where he's going. It's getting late, the fireworks are done for tonight.' I looked at the clock and decided I'd go another ten minutes before saying, 'Baby, I'm tired. Can we go home?'
30 seconds later we pulled off the side of the road onto a bluff overlooking the ocean. There were no streetlights. In the moonlight the ocean was vast and black, and when we looked up the stars shone brilliantly where the water began. We pointed out the few constellations we knew, "Is that w-shaped one the crab?" and then fell into silence.
He turned to me after a few moments and said, "Tory, I'm so glad we're best friends," and I answered, "I know, this last year has been wonderful with you Adam. I'm so glad we found each other."
Pop! About 50 yards away there was a hiss and crack as a wily teenager set off two elaborate (and illegal) glorious purple fireworks. We both were stunned and still for a few seconds as the lavender lights faded. As I turned I said, "Wow, I guess we got fireworks after all," and there he was on one knee, ring in hand.
"Tory Davis, will you marry me?" Before I could respond he jumped up and said, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you!" My hand shook as I said, "Nothing would make me happier."
We spent the rest of the evening tearing up and making out. I feel like we said our vows that night, in between weeping and kissing.

So here is my favorite photo of us, and the recipe for slow-cooked Boston Baked Beans. They taste best the day after you make them. I can't guarantee they'll bring you love, but it worked for me!

Beans of Love
serves 6 as a side dish

2 cups dried great Northern beans (they're white in the bag)

2 strips thick-cut bacon, sliced into thin strips (I like Niman Ranch)
1 small white or yellow onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
5 1/2 cups water
1/2 cup dark molasses
1/2 cup maple syrup, ideally B grade
1 bay leaf
1 tbs. dry mustard
1 tsp. fresh minced ginger
pinch ground cloves

1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
2 1/2 tsp. salt

Rinse and sort beans. Soak overnight in enough water to cover, or pour boiling water to cover and let sit for an hour. (Or do neither and just let them cook longer at the end.) Drain.
Saute bacon, onion and garlic in slow-cooker until bacon is crisp and onion is soft. Add beans, water, molasses, maple syrup, bay leaf, dry mustard, ginger and ground cloves. Cover; cook 6 to 8 hours on medium until beans are tender.
Stir in cider vinegar and salt; cook at least a half hour more, until beans are tender and tasty.
Serve immediately, or the next day when they'll taste much better.

Cukes and Cukes Alone

2008-06-24T13:06:00.000-07:00

Dear reader, I'm back! And I missed you. I'm sorry I was gone so long, if I were a lover I'd totally break up with me. Fortunately, I'm just your friendly food writer and intrepid eater... hopefully we can rebuild our delicious trust!

In LA we're at the tail end of a heat wave, ugh, and the only food I can think about while sweating is... cucumbers. Cool and refreshing, our long green friends came originally from India or Thailand (locales that know unrelenting heat!) and have been cultivated for thousands of years by grateful panting people.

I like that these humble, low-cost veggies can be transformed into fancy finger sandwiches for wedding showers.

Some friends and I hosted a wedding shower tea for our friend Tanya. It was a delightful soiree:

Because Tanya is of German descent, I also made tea sandwiches with very dark pumpernickel bread: I smeared them with whipped cream cheese (it's easier to spread), draped some smoked, wild-caught Alaskan Sockeye salmon (wild-caught has a brighter color, tastes better and lived a happy fish life until it got hooked) and topped each with a dill sprig.

(That's me worrying that I didn't make enough... and I always make too much.) The colors popped and livened up the fairly monochromatic cucumber sandwiches, they tasted great, and I like including elements of people's heritage into shower celebrations. That stuff matters when you're creating a new family.

So thanks for checking back in, my friends! I've got plenty more to say and eat as soon as it cools off. We'll be chowing down again soon.

The Perfect Omelette

2008-03-24T12:18:00.000-07:00

Dear readers, check it out: a three minute dinner with class... and my small screen debut as a Kitchen Coach! Please, tell your friends and fellow eaters :)

Many thanks to the ever-talented LJ: director, producer, dear friend and omelette-lover rolled into one!

Sickie Soup

2008-01-21T17:18:00.000-08:00

Oy vey, the first part of this month I had a terrible cold, replete with fluid that filled my ears and made it hard to hear. What? Oh yes, I'm feeling better now, thanks. When one is sick and has a partner, spouse or roommate, there's a built-in Nurse Agreement for when one of you can't leave the couch (well, hopefully; if your arrangement does not include this deal, perhaps it's time to re-examine your options?). However, when you live solo and have difficulty asking for help *ahem* it presents a problem: what do you make for yourself when you're ill and just getting up to use the loo makes you sway?
I offer you my solution: Sickie Soup.
Please forgive the shaky hand~I was super-sick when I took this!
This soup has just 3 ingredients (with 2 optional additions), all of which can be kept in your larder so you don't have to forage beyond the front door. The best part? It's delicious even when you're not ill; serve it to guests and they'll never suspect you tossed it together in a mattter of minutes.

Sickie Soup*
Serves 3-4

about 1/3 of a 1lb. bag of dried cheese tortellini (Trader Joe's brand is nice)
2 14-oz. cans chicken broth (Swanson's is tastiest)
a fist-sized chunk of frozen spinach OR 3 handfuls of fresh spinach
optional pinch of nutmeg
optional grated Parmesan cheese for sprinkling

Boil the tortellini in a pot of boiling salted water until just barely al dente. (Resist the urge to boil them in the chicken broth; canned stock has a fair amount of sodium and in the time it takes to cook the pasta the broth will reduce and become terribly salty.) Drain well. Rinse out pot; add chicken stock, cooked tortellini, spinach, optional nutmeg and ground pepper to taste. Briefly bring to simmer over medium-high heat. Serve with additional ground pepper and optional Parmesan cheese sprinkled on top.

*This recipe was inspired by a similar version made by my Aunt Linda Petrone, whose cooking and warm heart always made me feel loved and cared for.

What a Cook Got!

2007-12-28T17:29:00.000-08:00

It's a Christmas Miracle!
Dear reader, Santa came for me this year! My lovely sister Jen and friendly brother-in-law P.J. are avid readers of my blog (God bless them!) and live in the Boston area. When I waxed on about Formaggio Kitchen in Cambridge they went to check it out, and Hooray! sent me a fabulous selection of five French cheeses from the Western Loire Valley. They were divine; I had to use all my willpower to not polish them off before Christmas! And they arrived with smoked salt-- a few grains went a long way, and made each cheese really pop. The smoked salt was also superb on the roast beast I made for Christmas dinner (along with the fabulous spinach lasagna for the vegetarians!).
As usual, Brendan showed up early to work his magic with the green beans, and I pressed my dear friend LJ into service arranging the glorious cheese platter. That's some serious Christmas magic right there.

What a Cook Wants, 20

2007-12-20T23:07:00.000-08:00

The Way To Cook
I spent a summer on Nantucket as a personal chef for a grumpy, demanding woman named Mrs. Bingham who had a marvelous house~ with an untouched tricked-out kitchen!~ tucked deep into the sand dunes with its own private beach. Our neighbor was the Kennedy compound (if only they'd dropped by!), and my housemates were two very spoiled but sweet Scottish terriers.
The only problem? I didn't really know how to cook. Sure, I'd worked as a short order cook at college, waitressed at a place where we made Caesar salad tableside (I still make the best, baby!), and I'd nearly perfected the microwave Egg McMuffin, but it turned out this lady was able to get tables at NY's most luscious restaurants and loved poached salmon and crème brûlée.

I had no idea what crème brûlée was.

I had never poached a salmon.

After we discussed the first menu I stood in the kitchen alone, my heart clanging against my ribs. I knew I was a good cook, knew I could channel my Pop-Pop's palette and read a recipe as well as anyone else, but I was beyond my skills. I was screwed. My throat began to tighten, but then I noticed the shelf. There were books on it, and one of them was Julia Child's The Way to Cook. That title held promise, and Julia delivered. She was precisely what I needed, and as the summer continued I grew more ambitious with homemade tarragon mayonnaise (there's a reason the French call it a sauce!) and an apple crisp that made Mrs. Bingham the toast of the dinner party circuit.
Her style was so accessible and friendly, she was fearless as she dismantled raw ducks and shucked oysters; she wasn't intimidated by the thought of poaching a huge 4 pound salmon fillet. I borrowed her courage.
I suppose I borrowed it again when I started this blog. My title is an homage, even though no one gets it. I realized I could help people find the joy and fearless pleasure in eating, just like Julia did for me with cooking.
Which is all a very long-winded way of saying this cookbook would make a great gift. For anyone.
$26 for this 512-page tome. It changed my life. How many books do that?

What a Cook Wants, 19

2007-12-19T23:35:00.000-08:00

Exceptional Chocolate
One of the benefits of working with the Mean Girls was the obscene amount of fabulous chocolate sent to us. I now have a highly trained palette when it comes to good chocolate; I don't care much for sweets (give me salami any day), so my brain is not clouded with lust when I bite into a bar or truffle. Though with the good stuff, lust is often the result!
MarieBelle makes expensive and absolutely lovely chocolates. The artwork on the top is chic and fun, and the flavors! They're clean and intense, and the chocolate itself is powerful, rich and smooth. They're not meant to be gobbled, though I suppose you could, but savored. When I fantasize about being under a tree with a bottle of juicy red wine, runny cheese and a fine lover, this is the box on the blanket between us.
$24 for a box of 9 chocolates. Some flavors include Dulce de Leche, Champagne, Lavendar, White Kona Coffee, Caipirinha, and Cardamom.

What a Cook Wants, 18

2007-12-18T23:08:00.000-08:00

Her Very Own Egg McMuffin Machine!!!
We didn't eat a lot of fast food growing up. My mom realized it was crap with no nutritional value so it was Cheerios with wheat germ for us! However, once or twice a year when we went on vacation there would be so much pandemonium getting 3 kids ready and 5 people's stuff packed in 1 small red car that my folks kept it simple: we'd hit the drive-thru on our way out of town. Egg McMuffins taste like freedom to me, the promise of adventure mingled with the delectable saltiness of orange American cheese and rubbery egg white. Yum.
My sisters and I devoted a lot of after-school time to microwaving eggs in the small bunny dish (we had no ramekins, sigh) and carefully toasting English muffins in our attempts to recreate that masterpiece. It was tasty, but we only had white cheese and finding Canadian bacon in the fridge was rare. We managed to gobble down the results though.
In my fancy grown-up foodie life I still like a drive-by at the golden arches on my way to the airport, but today I discovered this ingenius product that might be even better. The Back to Basics Egg & Muffin toaster and egg poacher times it so the toast pops precisely when the egg finishes steaming. There's a compartment for heating up sausage and bacon, and I read a veggie burger will fit there too (ewww). Hmm, Canadian bacon is already cooked so it would only require a quick reheat...
$30 for the Back to Basics Egg & Muffin toaster/poacher (though technically it steams). Apparently it also boils eggs, do you think it does the dishes, too? I haven't had a chance to try it yet, but Amazon readers gave it rave reviews.

What a Cook Wants, 17

2007-12-17T23:51:00.000-08:00

A Serious Pepper Mill for All that Pepper!
I realized today that a million fancy peppercorns are no good without a way to crush them! Though a mortar and pestle are great when I feel angry, most days I'm pretty happy and don't need that outlet. You probably don't either... right, dear reader?
A good mill makes a difference. A few years ago the awesome electric one with a light (for all your midnight peppering needs) my sister Jen gave me finally up and died. I was feeling broke at the time and bought a manual one at Crate & Barrel for around $17. Well, you get what you pay for: my mill blows. The pepper doesn't want to come out no matter how full it is, and I can't adjust the grind so there are enormous chunks of pepper in my scrambled eggs. Gross.
So be smarter than I was, and get this excellent model from our friends at Penzeys. I wish I had one!
$34 for an 8-inch tall peppermill with the crucial adjustable grind from Penzeys. And they send it full of Tellicherry peppercorns. Nice.

What a Cook Wants, 16

2007-12-16T23:29:00.000-08:00

Low and Slow is the Way to Go
Slow cookers, to paraphrase Mark Bittman, are basically super-braisers. I love mine with a passion that borders on weird. Most folks agree that slowly simmered stews and meat sauces, beans you cooked versus opening a can~ these taste much more delicious when made from scratch, but do you have 8 hours to spend stirring? Enter the slow cooker.
I make barracho beans, Cuban-style black beans, a pork and tomatillo stew, a Provencal chicken stew, Mung bean daal, and other fabulous dinners with very little effort. You can too.
Cook's Illustrated recommends an All-Clad slow cooker for $150; the one I have from West Bend is cheap and the folks at CI said stunk, but it's worked for me. They're all simple machines, I think the only thing that matters is how big they are: go with 5 quarts or more, that way you can easily fit an entire chicken. In the winter it's the most comforting experience to come home to a warm, fragrant house and know in the time it takes to make rice and a salad I have a homemade dinner for myself and any friends I invite last minute. It feels luxurious.
$150 for the All-Clad 6.5-qt. Slow Cooker with Ceramic Insert. It's programmable, has a stainless steel exterior, and will make you the envy of all your pot luck pals!

What a Cook Wants, 15

2007-12-15T11:18:00.000-08:00

4,000 Different Kinds of Salt
If you are not a cook or foodie, this will not make sense. You may think, Why would anyone need 15 different kinds of salt? Don't they all taste, well, salty? In a sense you'd be right. But then I'd respond, Are all home runs the same? Does each Steinway sound the same? Does each Bush presidency cause the same damage?
Of course not.
Let me show you, I'll get out my salts now... hmmm, Korean sea salt is smooth with a delicate flake. Trapani sea salt from Italy is intense and tough. Utah Lake Salt is mellow, pale pink and crunchy. Dead Sea salt from Israel is bright, kind of melts in the mouth, and should really call its mother. See what I mean? Sure, they're all salty, but there's so much nuance in the variations.
It becomes a game: what salt goes best on top of my crispy tilapia? Which should I rub into my Christmas roast? Which shade of grey or pink or black completes the still life painting on this plate? We grown-ups need to play more. And to be practical, it's one of a few ingredients that never goes bad.
$70 for Chef Stefan: Salts of the World sampler. It has 15 salts in cute little tins. I've had it for 3 years and there's plenty left. The exterior packaging is a little 80's, but it's still a super-fun present.

What a Cook Wants, 14

2007-12-14T23:13:00.000-08:00

Ridiculous Amounts of Exquisite Cheese
I find cheese to be one of life's better pleasures, both satisfying and revealing. A bite of great cheese tells its own story: a beginning that delights, a middle that surprises and an end that soothes, much like a sip of lush wine. It's a decadent, sensual experience that requires no lover and only a bit of money. When I've been lonely and broke I'd buy a small piece of phenomenal cheese, and it reminded me that I was still ok, there was still new pleasure to be had and decadence within my reach.
Formaggio Kitchen is one of the best online retailers of superb cheeses, oils, grains and pastas. They're the real deal, with a retail store in Cambridge, MA, and the internet for the rest of us. The offer a Cheese of the Month Club in 3-month intervals; maybe, just this once, some money spent can bring you happiness. Or your generosity will.
$180 (shipping included) for each 3-month stretch, delivered to your door with special packaging to keep it pristine and fresh. What they send is determined by what's in season, but it'll be about 1.75 pounds each time. Enjoy!

What a Cook Wants, 13

2007-12-13T23:50:00.000-08:00

A Super-Expensive, Hand made Pie Server
Dear reader, I have a confession: I am writing this post inebriated. I've never done this before, but I had a bunch of martinis (some with rose petals and white tea!) at the holiday party for one of the super-nice magazines I do freelance work for, and now you're hearing from a drunk Tory. I was going to slack off entirely and not post at all, but my boyfriend, the love of my life actually, convinced me it was better to keept my commitment drunk than not show up. He's such a good man.
So anyway, if I were a rich lady, this is what I'd buy for myself. Janet Torelli is a real artist and, from my limited interactions with her, a truly nice lady. So if you have money to burn, why not? It's pretty.
$275 for the Catalpa pie server, sterling silver. If I were rich, I'd buy it.

What a Cook Wants, 12

2007-12-12T23:25:00.000-08:00

Zee Schaschlik
This knife block is even more fun if you pronounce it like you're The Govenator; that's appropriate because it was designed by Martin Robitsch, a clever, free-spirited Austrian. It's made from European pine and bamboo skewers (how sustainably Gore-tastic!), and you can slide in your knives or other long tools whereever the heck you please. Which means all your venerable Santoku knives will finally have a home.
$125 for this handmade hipster conversation piece. And my goodness, it's functional too!

What a Cook Wants, 11

2007-12-11T23:29:00.000-08:00

The Best Vegetable Peeler in the World
Leave it to the Germans. The Messermeister is sharp as hell and gets the job done with no complaints. I'd probably be nervous to let a kid use it, but Lord it'll have your cucumbers naked in about 10 seconds flat. The blade is serrated so it leaves pretty stripes on the vegetables.
You may be thinking, A vegetable peeler? Tory, that's a lame-ass gift. But you would be wrong. Any cook would be psyched to have such a well-made tool in her drawer. Who doesn't like using the best equipment~ it only encourages you to cook more.
$6 for the Messermeister vegetable peeler. You won't regret it.

What a Cook Wants, 10

2007-12-10T22:55:00.000-08:00

The Sexiest Apron Ever!
I heard about the KitschN*Glam company just a month or two after Anna Michelle Wang got it started, and was so enamored by their sultry, flattering cuts and retro-cute patterns that I pitched it to the editor of the holiday gift guide at Bon Appétit magazine. A few months later their aprons had a national audience, and it's been uphill ever since. I don't want to take *full* credit for their success... and I can't, because these suckers sell themselves.
Each time I teach a class, cater a shindig, or make a video I wear one of these aprons with smashing results. I feel festive, foxy and fun, and it totally comes across!
$62 for the "Jubilee" apron~ be sure to check out other patterns and styles! They make them for kids, men and plus size ladies, because everyone should feel fabulous in the kitchen.

What a Cook Wants, 9

2007-12-09T23:33:00.000-08:00

To Smell Like Cake?
Since I'm on a baking streak, who doesn't want to smell like a delicious vanilla cake in the shower? The Jaqua sisters up in Santa Barbara have made a Pink Buttercream Frosting soap with shea butter, palm oil and glycerin that has such an enticing fragrance the package comes with a warning label: Do not eat!
Often I don't have time to bake a cake, but it's somehow comforting to smell like one.
$10 for a bar of fragrant, delectable pink soap!

What a Cook Wants, 8

2007-12-08T23:52:00.000-08:00

(I got sick of the Roman numerals.)

A Little Something To Go With The Vanilla Beans
Yes, dear reader, this would be the *perfect* accompanying gift for those lusty vanilla beans! Everyone wants a shiny KitchenAid on their counter, I don't care if you're Michelle Myers or Leona Helmsley (who only stomped into the kitchen to yell at the cook!), that gorgeous standing mixer makes all your gastronomic shenanigans legit, even if you've only got a packet of ramen boiling on the stove.
Furthermore, it turns out you don't have to get married to actually own one of these! I had no idea (the oppression of the patriarchy is so sneaky!), but it turns out the wedding police won't stop you at the store exit to check for a ring~ a week ago a bunch of us chipped in to buy one for our fantastic friend Nina's birthday. She's still working for the Mean Girls and is an amazing, exciting baker who wows our Cooking Club month after month. We got her a shiny red KitchenAid, it was awesome. And admittedly, a bit self-serving...
If you get one of these powerful workhorses for the baker in your life, what a fragrant and delicious new year awaits. Go on, get shopping!
$349 for the Artisan 10-speed Tilt-Head Stand Mixer in Empire Red. Comes with a flat beater, dough hook, wire whip, wide chute pouring shield and 5-qt. stainless steel bowl. It can make 4 loaves of bread, 9 dozen cookies, and 7 pounds of mashed potatoes... let me know if you need my number to invite me over :)

What a Cook Wants, VII

2007-12-07T19:53:00.000-08:00

Real F***in' Vanilla
I am not a baker. Not even close. I can bake a chocolate cake with milk chocolate frosting for your birthday, the family brownie recipe, passable banana bread and this past Thanksgiving, God help us all, fancy pants biscuits that were nearly tender. But I am not a baker.
However there was a time in my life when I made crème brûlée once a week, during that Nantucket summer of love. I encountered a *real* vanilla bean during that first terrifying custard experience. It was weird. It looked like a shriveled up monkey finger a witch would throw into a smoky cauldron, but the scent! Totally different from my mom's small bottles of alcohol-drenched vanilla extract. The fragrance was creamy and rich, with a slight green vegetal note at the back and whispers of jasmine. I was shocked such a creepy object could smell suspiciously like the love of God. When I cut one open and scraped out the itsy bitsy flecks with the tip of a knife, I finally understood the value of the speckles in the "fancy" Breyer's French vanilla ice cream of my youth. Ahhhh.
So if you love a baker, spend the $7 for three beans at Penzeys (check out all their spices while you're there, they rock). Tahitian beans are on the fruity/spicy side, Madagasgar beans have creamy, orchid notes and Mexican vanilla beans are darker, woody and very mysterious. You really can't go wrong, and you might be rewarded with ambrosial delights!
$7 for 3 beans, or $27 for 15 beans. Be sure to take a sniff before you hand them over!

What a Cook Wants, VI

2007-12-06T23:30:00.000-08:00

Bacon Wrapping Paper
No seriously. Hear me out. This is so fantastically silly, who could argue? For all your freaky pork-obsessed friends (you know, the ones who wax on about speck versus guaciale), for the aspiring butcher in your life, for the cop you love, or if you're Jewish and feeling aggressive, what could send a better message than a gift wrapped in bacon? The only bummer is it doesn't smell like it too. But really, what in this life is perfect?
$8 for a set of two packages of 4 pages each. But can we put a price on gift-giving silliness? Do you hate the baby Jesus? I hope not.

What a Cook Wants, V

2007-12-05T22:48:00.000-08:00

To Go Nuts!
The Fastachi Nuts folk make delicious, fresh tasting nuts and mixes. You're probably thinking, Nuts? Who cares? Nuts are just nuts! But that only proves you don't know nuts, my friend. My grandmother always put out bowls of nuts for the holidays... I'm not sure what pistachios and walnuts and those awful Brazil nuts that take 8 hours to crack and then don't even taste good have to do with the life of Christ, but I'll tell you this much: I see a bowl of nuts, and all I think is "Christmas. Sweet."
$100 for the Epicurian Gift Tower shown, and then price varies according to type of nut or mix. If you're thinking, That's a lot for some freakin' nuts! well, I assure you Fastachi makes some of the tastiest in the business.

What a Cook Wants, IV

2007-12-04T17:00:00.000-08:00

A Happy Hanukkah!
Who doesn't love the story of Hannukah? The Maccabee brothers, who were small in number, fought for freedom from the big army of Greco-Syrians who had controlled them and put an idol of the Greek God Zeus in their Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Against all odds, the small but scrappy army defeated their oppressors after three long years of battle. At the end of the fighting there was only one small jar of undefiled oil left in the temple, enough to light the ner tamid for one day. But a miracle occured: in the seven days it took to purify new oil, the light continued to burn brightly. That's why Hanukkah is known as the "Festival of Lights" and the menorah is lit for eight days.
I take the story as a reminder: for those who fight for the right reasons, even if they are small and outnumbered, God (whatever that is) gives a helping hand. And for me, even when my battles don't work out the way I'd like, there are still small miracles to behold.
(But I'm no rabbi! Please check in with an actual Jewish authority for a legit take on this holiday.)

So what does this have to do with delicious circles of chocolate wrapped in foil to resemble coins? I have no idea. But I will tell you that See's Hannukah gelt contains the best chocolate of all the gelt I've tasted. And I've gobbled up a lot, trust me~ I don't let my gentile-ness get in the way of Hanukkah candy consumption, heck no! So get some good gelt for a friend or two; the box contains four mesh bags of milk chocolate "coins" that unfortunately never last as long as that holy oil :)
$15 for a 1-lb. box of kosher milk chocolate gelt, divided into 4 mesh bags.

What a Cook Wants, III

2007-12-03T21:04:00.000-08:00

Popcorn That Tastes As Good As That Scratch 'n Sniff Sticker Smelled
In the 5th grade my favorite scratch 'n sniff sticker was the "Poppin' Good"~ it smelled fresh like toasty corn with a subtle buttery note. At the time I didn't understand the scent was high-tech food chemistry at its (frightening) finest, I just wanted MY popcorn to smell and taste as good. This was at the peak of microwave popcorn madness; it smelled tempting, but ultimately any corn taste was drowned out with those heart attack-oils that weren't very buttery. sigh We also had an air popper, which produced popcorn about as flavorful as stale cardboard. It took nearly a stick of melted butter to properly coat one big bowl's worth, which today in my healthy-wellness LA lifestyle is not generally a viable option. double sigh

But fear not, dear reader! I bring you glad tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people who have $25. For unto you this day, from the wise folks at Wabash Valley Farms, a Whirley Pop popcorn popper is now available in red!
My sister Jen sent me one of these years ago and it enjoys primo shelf space in my postage stamp kitchen. A spoonful of oil and couple handfuls of kernels makes a big bowl of crisp, fragrant popcorn. Turning the crank on the stovetop as the corn explodes is undeniably fun and goes pretty quick. There's enough oil evenly distributed that the salt sticks quite well, and you can even skip the butter without having that dreadful cardboard experience.
When I was quite small and my family lived on a limited budget we made garlands of popcorn and cranberries with a needle and thread to decorate our Christmas tree, which I would surreptitiosly nibble whenever I needed a snack. I would dance around the twinkly-lit living room with my doll Samantha to the Alvin and the Chipmunks 45 record, chewing tough dry popcorn. And I was happy.
Which is a long way of saying, Who doesn't want popcorn for Christmas?
$25 for a red, 6-qt. popper that comes with a wooden handle and crank, plus a 25 year warranty.

What a Cook Wants, II

2007-12-02T23:52:00.000-08:00

A Beautiful Table
I've been a fan of Lotta Jansdotter's design for a long time. Her work is mostly abstract and feels kind of timeless to me, but this tablerunner is festive for the season! This piece could be dressed up with silver candlesticks and a scattering of ornaments amongst your good china, or remain sleek and minimal adorned only with simple white plates. Either way you'll have a beautiful table for your feast.
$54 for the "Bunke" 12x70-inch linen tablerunner

What a Cook Wants, I

2007-12-01T18:27:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the Holiday Gift Guide, dear reader! 'Tis the season of giving AND festive eating, so this brilliant series is just in time! Each day I'll feature a fantastic gift for the cooks and foodies you cherish, because c'mon: if the cook is happy, odds are your belly will end up happy too.
For the last few months I've been writing a column full of hipster stuff to buy for 805 Living magazine, so my brain is in a bit of a shopping mode~ please, spend that holiday money! My dad would say you're helping the economy, and I say don't forget to get a little something for yourself too. You deserve it.

Have French Press, Will Travel

The Double Shot Travel French Press Mug
We can all agree that aside from an expensive espresso machine, a French press makes the best coffee. Well some wise, on-the-go fellow coffee fiend was clever enough to modify it for travel. Your lucky recipient doesn't have to suffer that office swill any longer~ s/he can now be the happiest commuter ever.
This mug not only fits most cupholders, but the bottom has room to store additional grounds for two more cups! Sweet. In theory you could also brew loose leaf tea in this sucker, but I prefer the black gold myself.
$29; it's made of 18/8 stainless steel with a baked enamel finish that comes in so many colors one might even match their car~ how clever!

( hungry ) lessons learned on the journey from fat to thin

2007-10-27T16:59:00.000-07:00

I just polished off this delightul morsel by Allen Zadoff. Dear reader, it kicks ass. This is my first book review here, what a great one to start!
Full disclosure: the author, Allen, is what I would consider a Friendly Acquaintance. We haven't been out for coffee, but we've been to many of the same gatherings and chatted at length. I respected him before I read his book. Make of it what you will!
I haven't written about eating disorders before either, because I (luckily) don't have one. However, I think it's hard to be a person in America~ let alone a lady in Los Angeles!~ and not struggle with some body image issues. I have difficulty accepting my juicy thighs, for example (see below) and know many friends who hate their breasts, or are ashamed not to have six-pack abs.

Zadoff's book is the best sort of memoir: he gives up the juicy stuff most people don't divulge, is brutally honest and bitingly funny at the same time. We never drown in a puddle of pity or despair because he doesn't either. He's shockingly compassionate as he reflects on his lowest moments (an example I appreciate!), and explains complex emotional processes and motivations in simple, clear ways that helped me identify my own.
He takes an unflinching survey of his relationship to food and overeating: from his delicious discovery of Devil Dogs at age six through teenage loneliness compensated by large pizzas and Doritos, his frantic run through a zillion failed diets and a mid-twenties full of misery and isolation (with its steady companion, fantasy), until his scale tipped way over 300 pounds. At 28 he finally surrendered and reached out for help; the meatiest cuts of the book follow. His words are best here,
Over the course of a year, more than 100 pounds fell from my body, and my thin life, the one I'd been waiting nearly 30 years for, finally began. It was nothing like I expected. For starters, Calvin Klein did not call with a modeling offer. The gifts of the thin life, which I'd always assumed included a beautiful wife, gorgeous house, and handsome Labrador retriever, did not materialize. My life was not suddenly perfect. It was a lot more interesting than that. It turned out that losing weight was only the first step in a much larger and more amazing journey.
I've read a lot of literature on eating disorders; Zadoff doesn't offer elaborate food plans, "tricks" for cutting calories, or grand theories as to why so many over (or under!) indulge. He does something far more shocking: he gives us a spiritual perspective on the journey "from fat to thin," with humilty and humor. And he admits his slim tome is not a self-help book, "because I cannot help myself." What a delight to hear from someone who admits he needs the wisdom and guidance of others, whether it be the community of overeaters he discovers or his "personal connection to a power greater than myself." His lack of ego and gentle tone actually made me listen a little closer.
I picked it up last night and couldn't put it down until I finished it this afternoon. Please check it out if you're so inclined, what a thrilling ride through a tempestuous Devil Dog sea!

I Came, I Comme Ça, I Chowed Down

2007-10-18T11:41:00.000-07:00

I recently attended the opening of Comme Ça, chef David Myers' newest venture. (see above and below)

Myers has beautiful eyes and a smoldering intensity (but perhaps more pertinent to this blog!) is a cuisine-forward, thrilling chef to behold. This is his second venture after Sona, a restaurant I love dearly. What I like about his cooking is that it gracefully dances that razor-thin line between
1. advanced, intellectual dishes and
2. food that is actually delicious and accessible.
Most chefs who fall into category 1. completely forget about 2. I love having my brain stimulated while I eat, but ultimately the pleasure that matters most is in the mouth.
But I digress, dear reader, back to Comme Ça!

The focus of all restaurant openings, oddly, isn't the food. Openings are basically an amped up catering experience (seriously, there was a catering truck out back, though to his credit it did belong to Myers), which is ok because the purpose is not to dazzle the palette but rather convince everyone there that This Is The Place To Be! Look at all the cool kids! So hopefully they'll tell their friends, and more cool kids will come (like these gals).

Standard-issue LA Hotties, exhibit A

Comme Ça's opening was quite successful to that effect: it was crammed with hipsters young and grey, well-cut suits and too-cool-for-school $60 t-shirts, a few dedicated foodies, other talented chefs, and a lot of folks eager for free drinks.
And the drinks were superb, oh my goodness. I'd never had scotch with anything other than soda (P.S. I hate scotch, the smell makes me want to hurl), but their fabulous 'Penicillin' with scotch, ginger, lemon and honey made a believer out of me. Sweet Lord, it cured all my ills. Likewise, the 'Rumble' with rum and bruised blackberries was its own modern art, gorgeous in the glass and jiggy on the tongue.
The restuarant will be an LA brasserie, something this city sorely lacks, though I can only assume (and hope!) Myers will put his own tasty twist on the classic French dishes. I was delighted by his Salad in a Spoon. Frisee (I like to think of them as thistles), lardon~though they seemed suspiciously like tiny cubes of pork belly, yum~ and a delicate hard-cooked egg, all in one perfectly assembled bite? Tory heaven.
There were also crusty, lusty breads from Boule, Michelle Myers' gift to the LA pastry (and chocolate!) scene:
But perhaps my favorite part was the 3 cheese stations: goat, cow, and bleu! Excellent cheese is always the right answer:
That tasty bit had butter, a nutty bleu who's name I forget (somebody had one too many Penicillins!), and was drizzled with honey. Decadence of the finest sort.

Let's see, final credits... all the photos here were taken by Victor Rodionoff and pilfered by yours truly from MetroMix (thanks guys!). And look, I even made it into one of them! Yes, I am famous now, very exciting.
>Slightly-more-eclectic LA Hotties, exhibit B

I'm the juicy one, second to right. I can't wait to eat there for real, they open their doors to all tomorrow. Bon Appétit fellow Angelenos!
Comme Ça
8479 Melrose Ave.
323.782.1104

Rest in Peet's

2007-09-05T11:45:00.000-07:00

When I was 22, I moved across the country to San Francisco.
I'd just finished college and had no idea what to do; without structure I was totally lost. I wanted to be like my other clueless friends: go to Europe or Asia in Tevas, (that's not me, my feet are adorable!) carry everything on my back and stay in youth hostels for $11 a night, stand in front of the great art I'd only seen in pictures and let it guide me. I also wanted to eat pierogis in Poland, risotto in Italy, paella in Spain, and muffins in merry old England.
Alas, dear reader, I was broke. Books, winter coats, graduation robes and late night pizza left me with a great degree and many happy memories, but no coin for fancy travelin'. What was I to do?
And then the voice came to me, Go west, young woman. And I said, Seriously? And it said, Why not? You've never been to San Francisco, and hippies are nice. Move and have your adventure that way.
Even at the tender age of 22, I'd learned that when the still, small voice spoke I had to follow. So I packed my clothes, shoes and computer and took a train across the country. It didn't seem right to wake up in Philadelphia and go to sleep in San Francisco to begin my new life; I wanted to feel the expanse, the vastness of space between where I started out and where I hoped to land. I needed to experience the distance.
I had a sublet lined up in Berkeley, one room in an apartment for two. My first morning there the kind woman in the other bedroom drew me a map of the hills so I could find my way into town. I walked down the hill, past exploding rosebushes and gigantic Birds of Paradise that peeked over fences, and panicked.
Each time I take a brave step into the unknown there is a scared and angry voice in my head that talks nonstop if I let it. It's the source of my procrastination, why I eat too many chips late at night, and the impetus behind my obsessive need to pick at my legs. That morning the voice was shrieking and I was powerless to stop its rant, You don't have a job! You don't know anybody here! Everyone you're related to lives within 20 minutes of where they went to high school, what the hell are you doing??? Who do you think you are?
It was a beautiful morning with clear sunlight and bees buzzing around leafy old trees, and I was terrified.
But then I smelled it. A half block before I found it, the most magnificent scent meandered up my nose and into my crazy twitching brain. It was dark and deep with whispers of chocolate and a high note of blackberries. I looked down: my legs were moving and I was still present, but the air was otherworldly. I moved a bit quicker and finally saw the source: a modest picture-book-perfect California bungalow, cheery and unassuming, with a sign that mispelled "Pete's." Silly Californians. To my delight the door was open, and inside I bought a small cup of inky black promise from a real aging hippie (who was friendly, just as I suspected). There was chilled half-and-half on the counter.
I stepped back outside for my first sip. As the (now) caramel-colored elixer glided over my tongue and slipped down my throat, the shouting in my head cut off. Silence. In that moment I knew I'd made the right choice, that the Universe would take care of me. The panic subsided; I clearly belonged in a land that made coffee like this. Exhale.

I found out today that Alfred H. Peet, the founder of Peet's Coffee & Tea, passed away at the end of August. He was 87. Paul McCartney was singing "Blackbird" on the radio when I got the news and my eyes filled up with gratitude for the guy who, with one exquisite cup of coffee, validated my bold and scary step. Thank you, sir. I'm sure you're smiling down at us from that big cafe in the sky.

A Smokin' Summer Breakfast

2007-08-31T11:54:00.000-07:00

L.A. is mid-heat wave right now, yuck, though it's not as bad as last summer when we had the blackouts. Small favors, sigh. Since I became my own boss and now have the best commute in L.A. (I shamble from my bedroom to living room. Yay, no traffic!) I try to use the saved time to make breakfast everyday. I read years ago that people who eat breakfast end up consuming less calories over the course of the day... probably because they're not starving by lunchtime, so are less inclined to eat a magically delicious Double-Double (proof #427 that God loves us):

When I get hungry my brain shuts off completely, well, except to pick fights with those nearby, and all I want is fat and grease. Mmmm. There's a place in my world for the joys of fat and grease, but I like to choose them for the right reasons (they're delicious! I'm on a road trip! PMS!) versus the wrong reasons (Must-not-faint-gimme-fat-gimme-fat-you-bastard!).
In the summer I find it harder to eat, the heat shuts off my stomach, but this tasty treat is always appealing:

A crusty slice of rye, toasted medium, a pleasant schmear of cream cheese, and wild-caught Alaskan smoked salmon. Wild-caught costs a little more, but it tastes better and is apparently less likely to kill you than farmed salmon. Yikes! Sometimes I top it with my fancy Italian salt-packed capers, but today I was too lazy to rinse them off and picked the Pretty Parsley Option instead.
Best part? The brief time my toaster toasts doesn't make my apt. any hotter, which is good because it's 96° in L.A. right now. Ack! What I wouldn't give to be a kid again, with nothing to do but swim and read all day. What else can you do in this heat? I mean, apart from eating popsicles... but we're not up to lunch yet :)

The Best EZ Cheese Recipe Ever

2007-08-27T17:03:00.001-07:00

Dear reader, please enjoy. And be sure to follow the instructions closely... have your crackers ready!
My lovely friend Brendan just purchased a Blendtec blender, I'll give a full review as soon as he's foolish enough to leave me alone with it!

A Spot of Tea? or June: TTM, Part II

2007-08-23T14:32:00.000-07:00

Dear reader, at long last, please enjoy this photo essay of the lovely English Tea I catered for the bridal shower my talented friend Debora threw! Her daughter was about to wed and move to London-town, so they wanted a traditional tea in the English style. Debora is of Mexican descent, and many of la familia and guests had never experienced the joys of tea sandwiches. Ay dios mio! So I made elegant cucumber and very pretty smoked salmon treats, using the only rye bread worth eating in L.A. (how I long for the fanatastic Jewish baking of my youth):
I also created super-girly strawberry and coconut tea sandwiches cut in the shape of flowers, naturally.
Mmm, and worth a mention was the fantastic fruit salad of Honeydew, Mango and Raspberries with Lime and Ginger. I've noticed when trying out the foods of another culture that though novelty is exciting, we all do better when there are also a few familiar elements. I found this recipe (thanks Cook's Illustrated) and thought, perfect! Mango and lime will be comfortable ingredients. And look at how beautifully it turned out! That is some sexy summer fruit.
I try not to overextend myself, so I hired my exceptionally gifted baker-friend LeeAnn to make chocolate-cherry and pear-ginger scones, as well as raspberry-marzipan and lemon-poppy muffins. Sweet Lord. (Those are my delicate cucumber sandwiches in the background. The secret is to mix in the tiniest bit of blue cheese, it makes them mysteriously interesting.) I find great eating (and catering) is often in the details: for this event I served only decadent Irish butter for smearing on the scones and muffins. Though these touches directly subtract from the bottom line (American butter is so much cheaper!), it's this attention to delicious, best-quality ingredients that differentiate good from f***ing fantastic. Why put in all that effort to turn out merely "acceptable" food? When people take a bite and I see their eyes pop out of their head because they didn't know it could taste so amazing, then I am successful.

So lastly here is yours truly, tired but pleased, shortly before the guests arrived. The flowers were arranged by Boriana, who I bet could trounce Martha in a Floral Goddess Smackdown any day. I cannot over-emphasize the importance of a beautiful table; it makes the food more appealing and guests prettier when beside it. (And please note, dear reader, how my outfit matches both the decor and the food. Oh that's no accident, I think of everything. Thanks, obsessive tendencies!)
I served a fabulous smoky black tea from Edinburgh (oops! ran out of English) in mismatched teacups. Guests got to choose their own, and many had been in Debora's family for generations~ a lovely touch. What a pleasure to help celebrate love and families coming together.

Growing up I often felt I didn't have a culture, that mine was standard American WASP; it didn't feel like anything special, or different. Like being surrounded by trees and not recognizing you're in a forest, sometimes I can't see my life clearly until I'm outside of it. I didn't appreciate the excellent Englishness of all the showers I got dragged to as a kid until I put this one on myself. I saw people say, "Cucumber sandwiches?" with wrinkled noses, or "What are those triangles?" as they pointed to the scones. Then their faces would break into bright smiles and I'd hear, "Ooooohhhhh" as they nibbled; I thought yes, this is the food of my people. Thank you, stuffy ancestors, for all the deliciousness you handed down to me. Cheerio!

June: The Tastiest Month I

2007-07-18T14:43:00.000-07:00

Oh dear reader, I am touched we are still together! This is a level of love and devotion (and probably grumbling tummyness) I cannot imagine, you are the *best* dear reader ever. Thanks for sticking around, I missed you guys!

So then where did I go? Basically, I worked almost every day in June and very nearly killed myself in the process. Some fantastic food came out of my manic over-achievement, but I'm still exhausted. How exhausted? Here's an actual photo of me taken July 1st:

But today I took a long nap, shaved (that fur was out of control!), and am ready to share June: The Tastiest Month, which shall come in 3 installments. We can pretend it's a Dickens' novel, except I won't make you cry with boredom nor will I demand a useless 'compare and contrast' report at the end.

Part I will largely be told by others: it's hard to say nice things about myself, and luckily I don't have to! Mid-June I had the good fortune to teach a cooking class for the birthday party of Len Wein, a super-cool and jolly guy who, among other things, created the Swamp Thing and New X-Men comic book series. I had such a good time reading Swamp Thing as a kid... it is remarkable how the Universe operates, isn't it? What a gift to be able to offer some fun back to him. Christine Valada, a devoted foodie and Len's lovely wife, hired me as a surprise for his party. Their kitchen is mid-remodel, so she wisely chose the class, "You Can Grill That?"
Yes dear reader, you *can* grill a salad! We were outside the whole time and grilled appetizers, a main course, salad and dessert. And pizza, check it out:

Christine and Len wrote flattering things I am incapable of saying, please check out their blogs for a full report. Len offers a thorough review of the menu and I think felt and perfectly expressed my whole purpose in pursuing this delicious path: food has magical power to bring people together (and at times heal them too). He totally picked up on that, yay! I feel successful. Christine took great photos and detailed the course of event beautifully! Check 'em out, and stay tuned for Part II: an English tea!

Whew! I'm back.

Maybe Those Anti-Carb Freaks Have A Point

2007-05-24T14:12:00.002-07:00

The No. 1 Rule of Cooking

2007-05-23T12:09:00.000-07:00

Last night I taught my first cooking class for Sur La Table at The Grove! Dear reader, I was so nervous. I got a call a few days ago asking if I could sub for a teacher who suddenly canceled. I've learned when the Universe drops a gift in my lap the correct response is, Thank you! But my impulse is to doubt myself and believe I'm not enough. I've taught plenty of cooking classes for birthday parties or groups of friends and they've always been a hit, but Sur La Table is an official entity. A corporation I seem helpless against giving lots of my money to: they have such fun toys! Now they're going to pay me? I will represent them? Whoa. I wasn't sure I was worthy.
Check it out, the menu was ambitious: Crab and Avocado Tostadas; Roast Pork Loin with Mole (a streamlined version, the original takes 3 days, sweet Lord); Chicken Enchiladas with Green Olives, Three Chile Rice (though the recipe included only 2 kinds of chiles, very mysterious); Spinach, Orange and Jicama Salad with a Toasted Cumin Vinaigrette; a Tres Leches Cake; and homemade Jamaica Tea that we turned into margaritas.
Fortunately it was a hands-on class, not all demonstration, but still I was plagued by those "You're not qualified, you gringa imposter" evil whispering voices in my head. So I did what I've learned to do in these situations: I prayed to the Goddess of my kitchen to help me be of service by teaching folks to be happy in their kitchens. Then I completely over-prepared because I can't help myself.
Last summer I taught an excellent "Mexican Cooking for Gringos" cooking class for a birthday party, so I dug up my notes from that shindig. Then I did lots more research on the cuisine de Mexico, all its amazing indigenous ingredients (tomatoes started there, not in Italy), and finally went through the recipes with my crazy-obsessive attention to detail.

And you know what? It was fantastic! I lectured for a half hour on this nuanced cuisine and its ingredients, then took everybody through the recipes so they'd be prepared for the work ahead. The students loved it: they paid attention, asked questions, and were intrepid cooks as they boldly attempted new techniques and tried different flavors. I cracked jokes, sung the praises of the Aztec God who gave us chocolate, and taught them the Tory Davis No. 1 Rule of Cooking.

Do you know the rule, dear reader? Ok, pay attention because this is important:
You can always order pizza.

Take a minute, reflect on this. It's good, right? Basically, we don't have to be afraid to try something new in the kitchen because the worst that can happen is we'll completely ruin it. And then you order pizza. Pizza will arrive at your house in under an hour and everybody likes it. No big deal. I feel there's a larger lesson in there somewhere, but hey, I just talk food.

So join me dear readers, if you're so inclined and live around LA, for the next class I'm teaching. June 25th, back at Sur La Table, we'll have some fun doing Easy Mexican Cooking. As my business card says, Today is all we have. Why not eat well?

In Defense of Cheap Ice Cream

2007-05-16T10:39:00.000-07:00

.
In this glorious gelato rennaissance, pinkberry madness, and age of super-premiun ice cream, I will take a decidedly low-brow stance in defense of cheap frozen treats. *gasp* I know, I know, what kind of food snob goes to bat for neon green, metallic-tasting mint peppered with waxy chocolate shards that taste how they look: brown? I'll tell you: the very best of food snobs. Or maybe I'm just a foodie, no need to add the snob?

Dear reader, fellow eater, how can we know light if we never stumble through the dark? How can we feel soaring joy if we don't wail over bitter loss? I would argue it is impossible to taste the ecstasy of the most delicate, sensuous black currant-tarragon gelato (created by an emissary of the Goddess herself, more on that later) if we have not first contemplated the cool creaminess and bracing minty edge of a thin paper cup full of .99¢ Rite Aid hot pink peppermint ice cream.

So thank you, cheap pink peppermint sugar rush. Without you, I would not feel the vast expanse of joy that rises when I'm blessed by heaven's coolest confections.

The Ice Chest Cometh

2007-05-02T18:37:00.000-07:00

I have a confession, dear reader: my freezer froze shut, and it made my life unmanagable! Oh sure, I was in denial for a while (who needs ice cubes? it's not summer), but then last week my friend LeeAnn called in a crisis: the compressor in her fridge had blown, could she borrow some fridge and freezer space until tomorrow? Alas, I had only fridge space to share, there was no getting into the icebox. How humiliating.
Though shame is usually an obstacle to growth, in this situation I found it very motivating. Yesterday I attacked that sucker, finally!, and though it took forever and ever and ever (good thing this is a slow week, jeez), I'm delighted to report I enjoyed some very cold ice cubes in my drink last night. I also discovered a gorgeous dorado filet my friend Brendan brought back from a fishing expedition. There are rewards to cleaning up.
Here is the freezer at its worst:

Thank goodness I still have my hairdryer from 1989.

The first time I defrosted this ridiculous appliance, I noticed instructions on the inside of the freezer door, "Never Use Sharp-Pointed Instruments To Remove Frost." Wait, you mean like a knife? I bet that would work really well...

Hey look! I own corn!

Wow, it was mostly frost and ice in there. Looks kind of foreboding (don't worry, this doesn't end with anyone's pinky emerging from the ice, though it would be more exciting. If only I were a Soprano.)

Only in L.A. do many apt.s not come with a fridge. I think it's due to the general food phobia (Oh my god, will that make me fat?), and the competitive nature of housing here. When I moved in, my landlords informed me that the fridge came with the place, but when it died I would have to replace it. sigh. I'm trying to make it last a little longer. We'll see. I think it's older than my dad.
Anyway, I read that putting in a pot of boiling water speeds the process...

When did I buy popsicles?

And if 1 pot works well, I bet 2 would be twice as nice.

Ohh! That speeds things up! Can you see the steam? Cool.

Who has unexpressed rage?

So many chunks of frost

Ewww, this is all the dirty melted ice water

And finally, here is the finished space! Look, there's lots of food!

I celebrated by buying a frozen pizza to store in there, but that didn't work out so well because I ate it.

Smokin' Peeps, Smokin' Peeps

2007-04-19T16:29:00.000-07:00

Thanks to my neighbor LJ, I discovered this highly scientific site with experiments done by some Emory students who clearly need more homework. (Dude, she said *high*)
I laughed out loud.
Smokin' Peeps. Ha!

Coffee Crisis!

2007-04-17T22:55:00.000-07:00

Sweet Lord, I believe my espresso machine has died! Whatever shall I do, dear reader, where ever shall I go? Two days ago it heated up when I flicked the switch, but when I turned the knob to 'caffè'
nothing happened!

And yesterday morning, I flicked the switch: nothing. It didn't even heat up. Eeeeek! I don't know what to do. How can I enjoy my coffee love each morning?
I was forced to make do with this little cutie

imported from Italy, I've had it for years. I even took it camping once; over the fire it took forever (and I was hung over, ouch), but on a gas stove it quickly turns out a lovely, airy espresso. But what if that one breaks?

Hmm, I'd probably be forced to use my Froggy French Press,
which actually makes a tasty pot of coffee. The flavor is very clean and the pressing part is fun every time (simple pleasures, friends).

Of course I could probably get by with my little black coffee pot:
or my big white pot:

(You notice both of those are in far away cabinets? We see which method of coffee preparation brews the worst cup!)

Though in the end, I suppose I could simply open up my new espresso machine!

It's not as good a machine as my beloved Krups, but (true story) it was a gift from Barbara Fairchild, editor in chief of Bon Appétit. I think she wanted it out of her car's trunk, and I was the one standing closest.
I just hope I can figure out a way to have my latté tomorrow morning!
sigh I believe this is what we'd call a "quality problem" :)

Happy Spring!

2007-04-11T22:45:00.000-07:00

I celebrated Easter (named after the Anglo-Saxon Goddess of Dawn, Eastre) by having my friend Ruth over for brunch. Because in my heart is a magical 7-year-old girl, we also dyed Easter eggs. Here are mine:

I enjoy making art that serves no purpose. The last month and a half I've been in achieve-mode, not a state I recommend. It's exhausting. Sunday was truly a day of rest, what a treat to eat homemade waffles with sliced strawberries, drink lavendar tea, zone out with pretty colors and hang with one of my peeps... heck, I even ate some Peeps. But not Ruth.

And I like eggs, they're an innately hopeful food. Eggs symbolize the promise of new life, purity and innocence, and an elegant dinner in about three minutes (omelet, anyone?). I can get into that holiday.

Food Just Tastes Better in SoCal

2007-04-03T14:40:00.000-07:00

Look at the latest wonders from my Cooking Club's Greek Feast:

(That's my roasted cauliflower hummus in the middle there, lord it was lovely.)
What I'd like to point out to my readers elsewhere in the country is that this photo was taken outside. In March. Do you see the gentle sunshine? The comfy lawn chairs? Every time I miss living with seasons, the ebb and flow of nature that reminds me time is moving, I remember if I were almost anywhere else I'd be shivering and forced to wear a hat (which I hate, too many winter hats forced on me as a child).
Eating food in the sunshine makes it taste better, and in LA we can do it most days of the year. Not that I'm trying to convince you to move to LA... but look at the flatbread Nina made (from scratch! bakers amaze me) that we grilled:

Tell me this isn't the good life here~ I don't know how I got so lucky. Join me, friends. It's a big table.

I Think Fried Rice Is Rather Nice

2007-03-15T14:30:00.000-07:00

I am in a transitional time, dear reader. My day job ended three weeks ago, and I am trying to gracefully move into the life of a freelancer. Currently this means a lot of time at home, which has been a bit lonely. However, there is an upside: lunch!
Suddenly I have a full kitchen and stocked fridge at my disposal every day! No more throwing odd bits of cheese, fruit and pretzels into a bag as I tear out the door to commute, or paying too much for a limp sandwich made by a grumpy teenager. Finally, I am master of my (lunch) domain!
Here is today's deliciousness:

It was so good, and super-easy. Fried rice is a dish designed to use up leftovers, which I'm generating more of in my at-home lifestyle. Please vary this recipe to your heart's desire, I know I do! The only required parts are the rice, eggs and soy sauce, everything else is optional. Take what you like and leave the rest, my friends.

Fried Rice Is Rather Nice
inspired by Helene Siegel's Chinese Cooking for Beginners
Serves 4 (this recipe is easily halved)

3 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil, divided
1/2 pound shrimp, shelled, deveined (leftover is fine, just skip the first step... not something I usually recommend :)
2 eggs beaten with 1 tsp. sesame oil and 1/2 tsp. salt
3/4 cup diced bell pepper
1/2 white onion, diced
3 scallions, sliced
3 cups leftover cold rice (white or brown)
1/2 pound BBQ pork, or ham, leftover tofu, seitan (seriously, it's good in this) or chicken, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 tbs. soy sauce (or a little more to taste)
1 tsp. garlic-chili sauce (find in Chinatown or the 'Asian' section of your supermarket)
dash white pepper

Heat 1 tbs. oil in wok (or large skillet) over high heat. Add shrimp; stir-fry until just pink, about 2 minutes. Transfer to platter, leaving oil in wok.
Add egg mixture; scramble until set but still soft (except you Dad, just dry 'em out). Transfer to platter; using spoon, break into bite-sized pieces.
Add remaining oil to wok, then bell pepper and onion; stir-fry until browned, about 4 minutes. Add scallions and stir-fry 20 seconds, then add rice. Break up rice to spread grains evenly while stir-frying. Add BBQ pork, reserved shrimp and egg, soy sauce, garlic-chili sauce and pepper. Stir-fry to combine and heat through, about 2 minutes. Serve!

Lunch at Chez Tory is great, though we're still looking for that dishwasher...

Gringa Tacos

2007-03-05T11:18:00.000-08:00

I take being a gringa in LA very seriously. How seriously, you ask? Check it out, this has primo-wallspace in my teeny kitchen:

One of the great benefits of living in San Francisco and Los Angeles has been my proximity to recent immigrant communities, an intriguing experience notably lacking in my pasty suburban upbringing. In SF I lived in the mid-Sunset, which was about 85% Chinese (Cantonese). It was awesome: the groceries were packed with fresh cheap produce and treats (most of it I'd never seen before and gradually learned to cook with), and the restaurants in my 'hood had the funk, that deep earthy Umami-ness frequently missing in spots that cater to the round eye crowd. There was also terrific Vietnamese food (thus began my love affair with pho), and perhaps best of all I learned that harrassing women on the street is not part of Chinese culture. I could walk anywhere and not be on high alert, it was awesome. Would that all men were so respectful.
In LA it doesn't matter so much where you live as where you drive. I've spent a lot of time eating real, delicious Mexican food with friends who are native Spanish-speakers and know where the good stuff is, which has inspired me to research and recreate the dishes at home. Here is today's lunch, the last of some excellent pork tacos I made. You know they're gringa-style because the cheese on top is feta, not queso fresca. Still, que rico! I'm sad they're all gone.
Hmmm, if I ever end up back in the 'burbs (Lord please no), I'd probably throw the best dinner parties in town.

Gung Hay Fat Choy!

2007-02-20T20:47:00.000-08:00

Saturday night my dear friend Vanessa hosted another excellent lunar new year eve celebration with her (local, chosen) family. I was delighted to chow down at that table, especially for Year of the Pig! Once again I hustled to Chinatown in the morning to fight with sharp-elbowed Chinese grannies for the juciest Peking duck, hearty BBQ pork, delicate soy sauce chicken (head and feet intact of course) and lean roasted pork with such crackling skin it put chicharrónes to shame.

Really, that crispy skin is what potato chips wish they were.

These lovely veggies make an appearance each year. They're shaped like a big bulb of garlic, and the texture is a cross between a parsnip and slightly undercooked potato. The little suckers are boiled until fork-tender and taste like a more green, vegetal potato with a teeny hint of sweetness. I like that no one knows what they're called, not even Vanessa.

The meal ends with delicate almond cookies, which our hostess made from scratch this year. She says this is the traditional way to serve them... but I don't know.
Gung Hay Fat Choy is "Happy New Year!" in Cantonese (I think). Best wishes to you in this Year of the Pig; I plan to celebrate by eating as much bacon, ham, and pork stew as I can!

No Love, But Soup

2007-02-14T22:23:00.000-08:00

"Of soup and love, the first is best." -Spanish proverb

So it is Valentine's Day, and I have no Valentine. sigh However, I did have some excellent soup, so perhaps there's still hope. This weekend my Cooking Club met for grand French cuisine; I let go of my hostility towards the Frog who stood me up last fall and made a rustic soup I'd never eaten before, Aïgo Bouïdo. It's a roasted garlic soup thickened with toasted breadcrumbs and almonds that I ground into a paste before whisking into the chicken broth and white wine. Then I whisked in the pureed garlic and caramelized onion-shallot mixture. Yuuuum.
At first it seemed thin and I had a total meltdown (I try to bring my A-game to Cooking Club and also have impossible high standards for myself). At Susan and Wylie's place I reduced it a bit and also calmed down. In the end the flavor was great, though in retrospect I wish I'd done a better job of pureeing the toasted breadcrumbs/almond thickener. The soup was a little gritty, but otherwise tasty. I'd make it again.
I had it for lunch today, a beautiful bowl of soup.

Oh l'amour.

Ingredients for Dinner

2007-02-05T22:43:00.000-08:00

Ask anyone who lives by herself, it's hard to motivate to cook on a weeknight. Heck, it was a challenge when I lived with a partner, but now? Forgeddaboudit. Many nights my dinner ends up being a series of ingredients because I can't quite turn on the stove. Half a red pepper, a slice of olive bread, some turkey pastrami, swiss cheese and grapefruit juice could've been an interesting grilled panini (with a glass of juice). But as I wander around, talk on the phone, pay bills and read, the magical synthesis of ingredients and technique gets lost when the separate parts zip down the hatch.

And dear reader, given that we are only as sick as our secrets, I thought I'd share my trashiest 'Ingredients for Dinner' ever. This evening a series of depressing events conspired to make me completely unable to cook. This is what I dared to call dinner. Look: It was a tragic combination of leftover Super Bowl junk food and a roasted chicken from CostCo.

Well, I feel better getting that out in the open. Now you know my terrible secret... I hope you'll still talk to me in the morning.

The Best Soufflés Ever

2007-02-01T11:39:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I said it. And if you try these soufflés, you will fully agree. This recipe was originally developed by Sarah Tenaglia, one of the geniuses in the Test Kitchen at Bon Appétit I had the great good fortune to work with and learn from. I've lightly modified this recipe for my own purposes, but if it works for you it's all because of Sarah's great wit and skill. I served these as the sexy finale for a very fancy dinner party I catered and everybody went berzerk. They thought I was a goddess.

And let me add, I'm not much of a baker. I'd only made soufflés once before with brownie-like results. This recipe is so foolproof even I was wildly successful; I like these better than most restaurant versions. If you were afraid to give soufflés a whirl, today is your day. And do it now, while you can still get your hands on blood oranges.

Remember: if you're worried they won't puff, use slightly smaller ramekins. The batter's got to go somewhere, and in a smaller dish there's only up!

Blood Orange and Dark Chocolate Soufflés
serves 6

1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons grated blood orange peel
10 ounces bittersweet (not unsweetened) chocolate, chopped
5 large eggs, separated, room temperature
1/8 teaspoon salt (measure it out, this is baking)
1/2 cup semisweet chocolate chips

1 cup chilled whipping cream
1 1/2 tablespoons blood orange juice (from the one you zested earlier)

Preheat oven to 400˚F. Place six 3/4-cup soufflé dishes on baking sheet. Mash sugar and blood orange peel in small bowl. Stir chopped chocolate in medium bowl set over saucepan of simmering water until melted. Remove from over water; whisk in egg yolks, 3 tablespoons blood orange sugar and salt (mixture will become thick). Beat egg whites in large bowl to soft peaks; add 3 tablespoons blood orange sugar and beat until stiff but not dry. Whisk 1/3 of whites into chocolate mixture to lighten; fold in remaining whites in 2 additions. Don't over-fold (something I tend to do). Fold in chocolate chips. Spoon mixture equally into dishes. Bake until softly set and puffed, about 14 minutes.
Meanwhile, whip cream, 4 tablespoons blood orange sugar and juice to firm peaks in medium bowl.
Top warm soufflés with cream, then sprinkle with blood orange sugar. Serve to lusty applause.

The textures are amazing: the supple, warm near-cakiness of the soufflés with the softness of the (barely pink) whipped cream and roughness of the damp blood-orange sugar-- it's some of the best foodsex around.
I need to get out more.

The Cough Drop Wars

2007-01-30T14:38:00.000-08:00

Why didn't I have this quality item a week ago?
I have been very sick lately: crazy fevers, sore throat and a nose run amok. Ugh! Food has been the last thing on my mind, dear reader, and as a result I have neglected you. I am sorry.
Today I am on the mend and ready to chat again. But what to say? I haven't eaten anything cool, there've been no aha! observations mid-meals. I barely want coffee anymore (these are dark days).

Ahhh, but I have eaten about 4,000 cough drops! Then this is what I have to offer, especially for those beseiged by flu and cold. I've sucked down 3 different kinds of lozenges, which all claim to soothe sore throats and help you cough less. I wasn't coughing, but damn my throat hurt. So here are the results of my unscientific (but very committed) research.

The clear loser of the bunch is definitely the Rite Aid Honey Lemon Cough Drops. These tasted the most like scary chemicals... which ones I don't know, but ick. Each contained 8 mg of menthol which did numb my throat, but even in my miserable sick state I noted flavors much like rubber gloves.
The Ricola Echinacea Honey-Lemon Herb Throat Drops were by far the tastiest: the honey flavor was the cleanest and the lemon wasn't medicinal. They weren't syrupy in the mouth; at times the lozenges were a bit viscous like honey, but mostly hard candyish. They have a more round, herby quality and a lot less menthol, only 2.7 mg. They didn't numb my throat very well, but they were delicious and full of echinacea (which I believe is a magical healer... hey, I don't claim to be a scientist).
Lastly, I ate vast quantities of Halls Ice Blue Mentho-lyptus Drops. They contain a whopping 10 mg of menthol and pretty much freeze your windpipe, which feels odd but at least the pain is gone. When I inhaled quickly through my nose, my throat felt like I'd stepped into the snows of Poughkeepsie, NY, in the dead of winter. The flavor is weirdly medicinal also, though vaguely minty and significantly less gross than the Rite Aid drops. They turn your tongue blue, which is cool in a third grade kind of way.

So to summarize: the Ricola were tastiest, the Halls Ice Blue were most effective, and in general I'd recommend staying healthy this winter if you can. None of them taste that good.

The Lusty Orange

2007-01-12T16:42:00.000-08:00

I must sing the praises of the Blood Orange. If you've never tried one: stand up, get your keys, go outside and don't return to this post until you've got one in your hot little hand. Seriously. I'll wait... hmmm, gotta call Linda back, do laundry this weekend, buy sexy black shoes with a lower heel I can wear with jeans-- oh, you're back! Good, let's get to it then.

Blood oranges are the lustiest fruit, their sharp citrus scent even smells adult. Don't waste them on the kids, or people who don't care about food. (Why are you hanging out with them anyway? You know they've got no soul.)
Originally from Sicily, these oranges dance on the tongue. The exterior looks like someone rolled it in red clay dust, and inside. Oh Goddess, inside each fruit is a complete and decadent sunset. I encourage you to peel the thin film that covers each segment; there is breathtaking variety in the colors within. And it varies with each orange, sometimes you see light pink that fades into a russet red-brown, or a deep fleshy purple with bright hits of orange, or even the color of claret wine.
And the taste. Blood oranges don't give themselves to you immediately, they tease and tickle on the tongue. They start with a nuanced tartness, not grapefruit harsh tart, but a hint of pucker that starts in the back of the mouth. The surprise and delight comes at the end when the high sweetness swoops in and magically balances it out, a twist that exhilarates.
How often do you find ecstasy in fruit? Their season ends soon, revel while you can.

Si se puede, or MexiCAN!

2007-01-09T11:06:00.000-08:00

On Sunday night the Cooking Club convened again, this time for a Mexican fiesta. Que bueno! Que rico! Que sabor (flavor)!
One of the wonderful lessons I've learned as an Angeleno is that Mexican cuisine is not comprised of boring, heavy bean and cheese "chimichangas" (not a real word, by the way). My exposure to la cocina Mexicano growing up was limited to the horrendous chain restaurant Chi-Chi's, which is about as authentic as the Olive Garden's "Italian" cooking, ugh. While eating the boring salty food my dad always insisted on wearing the kids menu on his head (designed to fold into a paper sombrero), oh the horror. I wanted to crawl under the table with my stale chips... bad food and public shame? I'm out.
When I moved to California I thought I didn't like Mexican food; turns out I'd never really tried it. Ten years, no embarrassing Dad-hats, and many gentle tamales made by abuelitas (grandmas), multicolored moles prepared by folks from Oaxaca, and $1 tacos in the middle of the night: today I'm a full-on convert. My dear friend Ray's gift with the puerco has been an inspiration too, gusta mucho!
So Sunday morning I prepared my excellent puerco verde stew. I seared, then slowly braised 3 pounds of pork shoulder in my awesome slow-cooker with a sauce of pureed tomatillos, onion, garlic, chiles, some white wine (not a legit component of this dish, but I think it makes it better), and my deliciously authentic sauce thickener: I toast a couple corn tortillas over a gas burner, rip them up and then whiz them with a half cup of chicken stock to make a corn slurry of sorts. Sprinkled in some Mexican oregano, cumin, and ground fennel and let it stew for 6 hours. Then I removed the pork, shredded it with forks, let the whole thing reduce a bit and served it as tacos with corn tortillas, crumbled queso fresca and snipped scallions, yum! Many folks asked to take leftovers home, always the best compliment.
On the menu also were delectable sopes (a cousin to Venezuela's arepas) see example to the right, buttery cheese tamales, machaca (eggs, shredded beef, onions and peppers, a real champion's breakfast), homemade red rice and beans, and two kinds of enchiladas. Wow. Nina, our resident Baking Goddess, made a Mexican-style chocolate bundt cake- the last slice will rock my afternoon, if I can wait that long!
Susan, ever the elegant hostess, made me a lovely margharita which I enjoyed for both of us as she is great with child, uhh, nino :)
Ahh, Mexico, mi amigo, mi plato grande... gracias! Muchas, muchas gracias! Que delicioso, mi amor.

The Most Important Meal of the Year

2007-01-01T16:40:00.000-08:00

Every year I feel a bit superstitious about Jan. 1, that it's important to set a good tone for the coming year. This can be challenging when one perhaps stumbled into bed at 3am the night before, after what we'll call "too much fun." Fortunately my friends Tanya and Erik were less self-abusive last night, so held a lovely New Year's brunch. I helped with the meat preparation; this photo reminds me of my mom and grandmother at the stove when I was small, all that's missing is a cigarette dangling from my lips.
I hope everyone's new year started with good company and delicious food. Our eggnog French toast was delightful.

Lasagna Lies

2006-12-30T23:55:00.000-08:00

In the course of making the spinach lasagna for my holiday guests, I reflected on the concept of "no-boil" lasagna noodles. (Wow, that made it sound like I was peacefully cooking, everything on time and organized instead of dropping things on the floor, burning my hands and praying that everybody would show up an hour late... I suppose the truth is somewhere in between.)
Anyway, I'd like to offer you, dear reader, a challenge, your own Holy Grail if you will: find me the lasagna noodles that DO have to be boiled first. I posit that in fact, there is no such thing. They are all no-boil! Many years ago in a frantic moment before a Valentine's Day Comfort Food Party, I threw my uncooked, very ruffly lasagna noodles into the baking dish and prayed it would not be a crunchy dinner. You know what? It was better than usual.
Back when I boiled the noodles first, the lasagna usually had a swimming pool of tomato water, ick. Who wants soupy lasagna? Dried noodles are ruffled sponges that essentially suck up sauce as the dish bakes. Plus, which would be tastier: noodles boiled in water or those "boiled" in tomato sauce? Come on.
My artistic interpretation (love the new camera!):

Lastly, "no-boil" noodles cost more. It's entirely possible the myth that only special pasta could go in unboiled was dreamt up by a desperate ad exec for the Barilla company who had to figure out a way to charge more money without actually changing the product.
So let me know if you find a noodle that disproves this theory... I'm willing to eat a lot of pasta to prove my point. Really, for science. Seriously. Damn, now I'm hungry.

I Even Carved The Roast Beast!

2006-12-28T12:13:00.000-08:00

Belated Merry Christmas, dear reader! I had a marvelous holiday, I hope you did too. December is traditionally a dark month for me, but after the Winter Solstice my heart lightened up. whew Which allowed me to prepare one of my favorite meals yet, and I had the good fortune to share it with ten dear, lovely friends! Good food, people I love: there is nothing more I need. But enough with mushy feelings, on to the food!

I made a fantastic roast, ay Dios mio. The secret of roasting big hunks of meat is simple: start with the highest quality ingredients you can find (you do get what you pay for with meat), then don't mess with it too much. I went to my favorite butcher, Marconda's in the farmers market at 3rd & Fairfax... though to be fair, I haven't tried many other butchers in L.A.
Side note: butchers are a flirtatious lot, my goodness. I think it's handling huge chunks of raw meat all day, they can't help but be ribald. And to be honest, I kinda love it. Gloriously marbled meat *and* men who call me beautiful? I'll be a repeat customer.

I salted and peppered my 5 lb. joy, then seared it in a huge dutch oven with olive oil before sprinkling it with my excellent English roasting salt (big fat crystals that pop in your mouth). I slid it into a 250°F oven for an hourish, then raised the heat to 500°F and roasted it for another half hour until it reached an internal temperature of 140°F. I was worried it would be too well-done (it went ten degrees higher than I wanted), but in fact it was perfect. This is what half of it it looked like:

And hey, this photo is compliments of my parents who gave me the shiny digital camera I was hoping for! Thanks Mom and Dad. Prepare yourself dear reader, many more photos on the way!

I sliced up the roast beast, warmed baguettes, made horseradish sauce and assembled the most delicious sandwiches that I topped with peppery arugula. Wowza! Two non-red meat-eaters (they have other fine qualities) even partook. Hah hah~ I love leading peaceful eaters astray. I made a heavenly spinach lasagna (imported Italian tomatoes make it sing) for those able to resist the roast beast, and tossed some green beans in an almond-pink peppercorn vinaigrette. Lovely.
Brendan foolishly showed up first, which means he got pressed into service. He looks evil in this photo, but the green beans turned out great.

Now I'm enjoying my other favorite holiday tradition: inviting friends over for delicious leftovers while I have the luxury of time off.
Does it get any better? Probably not.

She Wore Red Velvet?

2006-12-13T23:15:00.000-08:00

I will never understand Red Velvet Cake. Maybe you have to be from the South to get it, or maybe you just have to like cake more than I do. I was out with my friend Alessandra tonight at Fred 62, a hipster enclave on the edge of Silverbake. We worked together at the magazine; though I have an excellent palate, she has a highly developed sweet tooth and isn't afraid to use it. I had to ask her if the cake was quality, all it did was annoy me. She said it was a good one; I defer to her wisdom.
For those of you who haven't encountered it before, this is a Southern treat the Devil could call his own. I was 23 the first time I witnessed its electric cherry-bomb interior, and was terrified my Yankee eyes might burn out of my head. It scared the bejeezus out of me. Nothing should be that color-- there's a reason they recalled those red M&M's in the 70's. Sweet Lord.
And all it tastes like is sugar. It is tooth-achingly sweet, without much else going on. Tonight's version was very moist, but I swear I could taste the chemical edge of that red dye. Yikes!
Also, it turned my lips red. As I blotted the napkin, I left bright juicy lip marks. If I pay $11 for a tube of gloss to do that, it's ok. But in my cake? Somehow that ain't natural.
Though I did like the cream cheese frosting. To be fair.

Back on the Caf

2006-12-04T10:18:00.000-08:00

One of the terrible side effects of FOUR DAYS of food poisoning is that even the most faithful among us, the most devout of devotees, cast aside our daily worship practices.
I'm sure some of you are thinking, "That's terrible, there's no excuse for ignoring your God, Tory."
While other, more gentle folk might be thinking, "The Goddess understands, the important thing is to get back to your practice once you're feeling better."
To which I reply, What on earth are you people talking about? I'm writing about coffee here. This ain't no religion blog.
Jeez.
Ahh, my true source of power and wisdom: the lusty bean. I don't know how long it's been since I didn't have a cup of joe in the morning. I had to drink green tea for several days while my body was in protest; it got the job done, but wasn't the same. The smell of coffee is so welcoming and enveloping, it says, come here friend, you are loved and everything is ok.
I like knowing that regardless of what is happening in my life or in the world I can still be greeted by a cup of coffee and feel good. People die, jobs end, a romance goes sour-- through it all I can fire up my espresso machine and find solace in the earthy brown elixir.

Now I have friends in AA who've shared about their gnawing need to drink, how alcohol and drugs made them feel warm and whole when their world seemed empty and bleak, how it was the one friend, nay lover, who (at least for a while) didn't let them down. One of these kind folk recently observed that I seem to "need" coffee to function, that my attitude towards it sounded obsessive. He noted when I don't get coffee in the morning, I become, how do you say, hmmm, I believe the word he chose was hostile.
You know, I can stop any time... I don't need coffee to have a happy life... it's not interfering with my daily living... mmm, must go to Peet's... ah, hello coffee my old friend, my precious...

Not Well

2006-11-28T10:29:00.000-08:00

Hello, dear reader.

This is an apology note to you. My plan was to write up a big Thanksgiving review on Sunday night, detailing how awesome my soup was, and how Ray's brined turkey was succulent and moist. Instead, I had the most horrible food poisoning from some French cheese-- yes God, I hear you, abstain from all things French (cheese, men) for a while. I think I threw up 7 times in 8 hours. So the thought of food is still a little eeeccccccchk for me right now.

Maybe tomorrow I'll have something clever and delicious to say. For now, it's all Gatorade and crackers. I need a nap. sigh.

T-Day Countdown, II

2006-11-22T12:27:00.000-08:00

So the cranberry sauce didn't happen last night. I got caught up in the surprise final pass of the avocado cookbook and that was it. This is usually how my plans work out: I make them, they sound good and organized, and then the world intercedes and I get to readjust. I find holidays are all about living life on life's terms.
The new plan: tonight I will make the cranberry sauce and fabulous Wild Mushroom Soup, and tomorrow morning I'll celebrate my favorite part of Tory's Thanksgiving Ritual.
For the last 9 years I've been by myself when I rise on T-day, and before the cooking begins I give myself a space to reflect. I make a delicious cup of coffee (in recent years a latte, mmmm), and write out a list of everything I'm grateful for. People, sofas, works of art, songs, small animals-- some years the list is long, some years pointedly short, but always this leads me to a peaceful space on a hectic day.

But I'm ahead of myself. Tonight, Wild Mushroom Soup and cranberry sauce, soundtracked by my friend Scott's DJ-genius. Fingers crossed it comes out tasty!

Avotired

2006-11-22T01:05:00.000-08:00

I just e-mailed off my last set of corrections and changes for the avocado cookbook I've been editing. This project lasted much longer than I expected, although the Chileans I've been working for have been incredibly pleasant, flexible, and overall a delight. The book looks great, and I'm proud to have my name in it. I know more about Chilean Hass Avocados than I knew there was to know.
But I am so darn tired. It's 1 in the morning. I don't want to look at another avocado until 2007. I'm avozhausted.

T-Day Countdown

2006-11-21T14:28:00.000-08:00

Two days and counting, dear reader! Are you ready? Or preparing to be ready? I have my next few days all planned out, I love this time of year.
My Thanksgiving dinner should be great: I plan to spend it with some excellent friends, several of whom are part of my chosen L.A. family. I love these cats; the year my Uncle Tyler died and I had to catch a red-eye Thanksgiving night, they moved dinner earlier so I could still participate. They were also patient and kind when I freaked out at a friend who accidentally added my soup garnish (delicate fried apple peels) to the salad. You can't ask for a better family experience than that. We've celebrated assorted holidays together through divorces and break-ups, promotions and moves, deaths and new loves. Good times.
This year I will be contributing 3 items to the table
1) A Wild Mushroom Soup, which started out as a recipe by Michele Scicolone but has evolved enough that now I consider it my own. I was not planning on making soup, but Ray and David tag-teamed me in a flattery throw-down on Sunday. I was helpless to say no.
2) An Italian Broccoli and Cauliflower "Flan" with Spinach Bechamel Sauce (though it's really more of a gratin), and
3) Cranberry Sauce. There are 3 cranberry sauces on the docket... it's not a competition, but I predict mine will rock the house. It has a secret ingredient that makes the flavor pop. No, not MSG. Ok, I'll tell you, but you have to keep it between us (no one needs to know how basic these things are): just add a dash of salt. Every year I turn out a nuanced and interesting cranberry sauce that is embarrassingly simple. That's my favorite kind of cooking.

This afternoon David and I will make a pilgrimage to IKEA to purchase the remaining plates and wineglasses for our crowd of almost 20, and afterwards I will head to the grocery store to buy fresh mushrooms and cream, broccoli, cauliflower and spinach. I wisely purchased cranberries this weekend- Ray would have a fit if I showed up sans sauce! Last year I had to elbow past an elderly lady to snatch the last bag of cranberries, oh it was ugly. (Yes, I know there's a tart circle of hell reserved just for me. Mmmm, but my sauce was fantastic...)

Tonight I will make the cranberry sauce, tomorrow the soup, and the morning-of my house will smell of broccoli and butter. And you, dear reader? What are you making (or buying!) this year? Let's put it out there- you know me, I love the dish.

Stood-Up Scampi

2006-11-19T21:52:00.000-08:00

An astonishing thing happened today. I had a date (a cooking date, no less) with a handsome Frenchman and *he stood me up.* I kid you not. This has never happened before. I looked cute and had shaved my legs, for heaven's sake. I'm still sad and mad and thrown... but forgive me, dear reader. This is a food blog. I will not prattle on about feelings when there is cuisine to be discussed.
The plan was to go to the Hollywood Farmers Market, one of my favorite spots in L.A., then return to my place to cook. He was going to teach me how to pronounce the names of French recipes (hablo Espanol), and I would teach him how to make spinach risotto topped with an elegant shrimp scampi. Trés magnific, no? Cooking is sexy, French is sexy, and I have desperately wanted to know how to say bourguignonne for many years. Seriously.
I will spare you the depressing details, suffice to say I was a class act, he is fired and I should have listened more closely to my English grandfather's rabid denouncement of all things Frog as a child. Oh well. Maybe you were right, Grandad.
So as my icky day came to a close, I realized I still had a pound of thawed shrimp in my fridge waiting for some action. Raw shrimp (as with all creatures of the sea) should not sit in the fridge more than a day. The meat is too delicate. Far better to cook it the day you bought it and eat leftovers the next.
***A note on frozen shrimp: unless you have the good fortune to live in South Carolina or Louisiana, the shrimp you buy has been previously frozen. Most shrimp is flash-frozen on the boat or at the dock right after it's caught, then shipped halfway around the world. Even if it's "fresh" on ice at the fishmongers or grocery store, odds are good you're looking at thawed little suckers. I prefer to buy it raw and frozen, then thaw it myself under running cold water; that way I know exactly how long it's been sitting around (10 minutes, versus all day at the fish counter).
I couldn't bring myself to make the lovely risotto I'd planned, but instead walked to my corner grocery store and bought a lemon and some Italian parsley, and watched the sun set. Back at home I boiled some Italian spaghetti, then made my shrimp scampi. I sautéed garlic in some olive oil, then stirred in the thawed shrimp. When they were almost pink, I added some salt, lemon zest, the juice of half a lemon and some not-great Chardonnay (it was all I had). Stir stir stir. Let it reduce a little. Then I poured the pasta into the pan, along with the chopped parsley and a knob of fantastic Irish butter. Used tongs to mix it all up, and voila: Stood-Up Scampi fit for a queen. I put Michael Penn's newest CD on the stereo, lit a candle, and poured myself a glass of the suspect Chardonnay. I used the tongs to swirl the pasta into a pretty cone shape in the rimmed bowl (I learned that watching Lidia Bastianich, she's so cool), and invited the Goddess to join me for dinner.
And you know, it was delicious. The shrimp was tender, the pasta firm, and the bright lemon flavor was balanced by the mellow garlic. Fortunately the conversation was witty and engaging, the candlelight gave everything a soft glow, and the cook! Well, let's just say anyone would be lucky to share a meal with this lady.

Stood-Up Scampi
serves 3-4, or 1 with great leftovers

1/2 pound good spaghetti
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 big cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 pound shrimp, thawed, rinsed, shelled except for tails
zest and juice of 1/2 lemon (add more if it makes you happy)
2/3 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup chopped fresh Italian parsley, plus some for sprinkling
2 tablespoons butter (the best you've got)

In large pot of salted water, boil spaghetti until tender but still firm to the bite. Drain.
Meanwhile, in large nonstick skillet sauté garlic in olive oil over medium-high heat until golden and fragrant, about 1 minute. Add shrimp, sprinkle with salt and sauté until nearly pink, about 3 minutes. Add lemon zest, juice, and wine; simmer until slightly reduced, about 2 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Pour in pasta, chopped fresh parsley, and butter. Using tongs, mix until butter is melted and pasta is incorporated into sauce. Serve warm in rimmed soup bowls, sprinkled with additional parsley.

Pepper Kapow!

2006-11-14T11:33:00.000-08:00

Pepper is not something I grew up thinking about, even though it was the co-starring spice in my mother's cooking (Salt & Pepper, that was it. No wonder The Man is so intent on invading spicier countries). Our pepper appeared in a little round canister, like our Parmesan cheese, and had about as much flavor. As a kid I eschewed it mostly for the color-- it looked like dirt sprinkled on my food, yuck.

Fast-forward a lifetime: I'm at the magazine and in charge of bringing in new products, testing them, and writing up the ones that make our mouths sing. My buddy Janet, a genius in the Test Kitchen, pushes a package of stuff from Nirmala's Kitchen into my hands. Their tagline, Bring Home the Exotic, seemed a little stank to me; I've yet to find a friend who likes to have their food (or self) called exotic.

But then I opened a tin of the whole Tazmanian Pepperberry, and all political thought stopped. The fragrance was from deep in a magical pine forest, spicy without being harsh, with a whisper of dried green bayleaf and a citrusy brightness. For tasting, the Test Kitchen simply cracked them and pressed them into a steak. The result was magnificent: the peppercorns were the color of black velvet and the kicky, floral flavor developed slowly in the mouth, like a good pinot noir.

I was thinking about good gifts for cooks for the coming holidays, and though the price is a bit gasp-worthy at $13 a tin, this one's a winner. Also as a gift for oneself...

Disclaimer: if you go to the Press portion of Nirmala's website, they quote a snippet of my review in Bon Appétit. I'm not a slacker! They're just so excellent I wanted to mention them again.

The Candy Connoisseur

2006-11-12T21:22:00.000-08:00

I never considered my friend Jeff a foodie. When we met in college, his diet was almost exclusively burgers and pizza, with pancakes in the morning. (Yet he magically retained his ripped physique.) On occasion I'd find him eating lasagna and spaghetti, and oh, the Twizzlers. Good Goddess did he eat a lot of Twizzlers. At the movies I'd order popcorn with enough "butter" to make me queasy- what is popcorn but a vehicle for butter and salt?- and Jeff would sit down next to me twenty minutes before the previews started with a lap full of Twizzlers, Sour Patch Kids, maybe some Spree or Bottle Caps, Nerds if he could find them, and polish off the lot halfway through the film. I don't recall any SnoCaps, with Jeff it was pretty much straight sugar.

Back then I was obsessed with trying every dish at the one tiny Vietnamese restaurant off campus, figuring out what that mysterious herb was in the salsa at the Dutch Cabin (answer: cilantro. I come from white folk), and perfecting my one-dish couscous suppers. Jeff was always in the mood for a burger... he had other fine qualities.

After school he moved to L.A., and when I had the good fortune to join him in Lalaland we picked up where we'd left off. Here his diet had expanded to include the occasional salad. No one can resist the Los Angeles "I'll Just Have a Salad" ethos; it's an unavoidable part of the culture even Jeff got sucked into. So far it hasn't killed him, and fortunately hasn't affected his well-defined abs. (How does he do that?)

About a year ago we were wandering through a candy store after a roller coaster at Six Flags. I was expounding on my working theory of Fast Food French Fry Superiority when a funny thing happened: Jeff started talking about Swedish Fish. Or rather, complaining. Apparently, most Swedish Fish are stale. They sit too long and get stiff and tough. I'd never thought about "candy freshness" before. I watched Jeff feel up every bag in the store; when he finally abandonded his search in disgust, it occured to me I may have underestimated my friend. I suggested perhaps Red Vines would suffice? and the look on his face reminded me of my own when people tell me they know a great "Philly Cheese-Steak" place. His eyes held the contempt I usually reserve for militant vegans and "compassionate conservatives."

A lengthy treatise followed: I was schooled on the horrors of Red Vines in all their West Coast-Twizzler-Imitator-Evils, how they're hard, not pliable and the flavor is weak and tastes of chemicals. It was like watching an inverse image of me in the mirror, his blue eyes ablaze, squawking about the finer points of candy texture. He was beautiful. He finally settled on some Skittles (regular, not the Tropical kind).

We had brunch yesterday. As Jeff ate his pancakes, he explained to me that the Nerds Cherry and Sour Apple flavor combination was terrible, the importance of buying the smaller packages of Laffy Taffy (the easier to switch between flavors), and we had a lovely seasonal chat about the best brand of candy corn. Apparently, one company makes it too grainy and soft, though Jeff is wary of tough candy corn as well. I made a mental note for next year to buy him a package of the uber-fancy, homemade candy corn sold at Boule, an elegant patisserie on La Cienega. I just hope it's good enough.