What a Cook Wants, 19

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, 10

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, 8

(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 :)

The No. 1 Rule of Cooking

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?

Coffee Crisis!

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" :)

I'd like to teach the world to eat...

I spent a *delightful* Saturday morning with my friends Nina and Grace, pals from the magazine, eating dim sum until our bellies were about to burst.
Ben Franklin (Patron Saint of Philadelphia) said, "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." He was almost right. I'd argue dim sum is much better proof: it lasts longer on the palate, and I don't think anyone ever started a fight after dim sum. You're too sleepy. Plus it's freakin' delicious.
A quick primer for the uninitiated: dim sum is a traditional Chinese brunch usually eaten with several generations of family around a big table. Or if you're me, a motley crew of hearty foodies. It's the original tapas, the OG small plate. Many brusque, often pushy ladies wheel shiny metal carts to each table and lift the lids off little steamers to reveal every imaginable delight. You point to what you want and she plunks it on the table, then stamps your check (all the stamps are tallied when you're done to determine the bill). Then the cart zooms off with a zeal that makes NY taxi drivers seem like drugged turtles.
These ethereal morsels have every sort of wrapper and filling. If there were a poster dumpling for dim sum, it would be siu mai (pronounced shoo-my), which has a thin wonton wrapper filled with a mixture of ground pork and shrimp, and is open on top. There are also crispy fried delicacies, steamed buns, crunchy Chinese broccoli (like a non-bitter broccoli rabe), little pork spareribs... I'd estimate there are easily 50 or 60 different options floating around in different carts at any one moment. Each dish contains 2-4 items and everybody shares. It's easy to try something new; if you're only committing to half a little football-shaped rice puff stuffed with beef (an excellent choice, yum), why not be brave?
There are sometimes language barriers in this process. One cart has many choices; I only know the (Cantonese) Chinese name for a few of my favorites, and the ladies driving the carts speak very fast when describing each dish. They're tough cookies with little time for round eyes who don't speak Chinese.
This Saturday was different. I'd brought a little book with me, aptly titled Dim Sum: A Pocket Guide by Kit Shan Li. It's ideal: each page has a yummy photo of a dish, and underneath are the Chinese characters, a phonetic pronounciation, the English name and the ingredients. A picture book for hungry grown-ups.
Now Nina, Grace and I are consummate dim sum eaters. Heck, even Graciela's frijole-in-the-oven had been before. (A blessed child already.) But Nina started flipping through the book as our chopsticks slowed down, and a curious thing happened. One of the ladies with carts actually stopped. She pointed to the photo of the sticky rice wrapped in banana leaf and the characters written underneath it, and gave a smile. I, because I am fearless or foolish (depends on the day) made an attempt at the pronounciation. She glanced at me a little wide eyed and said it back. I grinned.
She motioned some other ladies over, and soon we had several carts parked at our table. The ladies waited while Nina turned the pages, occasionally pointing at the photos while murmuring to each other. They looked pleased, and I continued here and there with my best attempts at saying the names (I've been listening carefully for many years, it wasn't too bad). The first lady smiled and corrected me a couple times, and we all glanced at each other and laughed a little. Then the carts zipped away and we set the book down to finish eating. Grace, Nina and I went back to talking about writing and babies and my colorful love life.
It was a quick exchange, but I believe this is part of how we make the world a peaceful place, a little nudge of the scale towards the 'stop killing each other' end. In that moment we were all just people delighted by the same book, who giggled at my attempts to get the words right and the wise lady's corrections. We paused to look each other in the eye.
This is why I love food. We all eat, but when you're willing to do something as intimate as take another person's history and culture into your own body, it's also a political act. It's better than "tolerance" because it's literal acceptance. My parents have these neighbors who say rotten racist things about Mexicans; I can't picture them at an Oaxacan restaurant eating nuanced, earthy mole, even though it's so delicious it (also) proves God loves us. But I like to think if someone dragged them there, if they took a bite, maybe in their hearts they'd suspect they'd been horribly wrong.
I have this fantasy of opening a kosher, halal falafel stand in the Gaza Strip. I know fried chickpea patties alone can't fix things, but I want to keep nudging that scale towards the peaceful, loving end. Besides, we have to eat every day. How cool is it to use a basic need to connect with the rest of humanity? We can all sit down at that table.