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?

Gringa Tacos

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.

Si se puede, or MexiCAN!

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.