What a Cook Wants, 16

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, VI

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.

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?

I Think Fried Rice Is Rather Nice

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...

Gung Hay Fat Choy!

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!

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.