Marla in the Kitchen

Lake Tahoe

2012-05-20T20:26:43Z

Water sports don't jump to mind when visiting Sacramento. Despite being one hundred miles from an ocean beach, the city is surrounded by water: an "inverted river delta" whose tributaries include the Sacramento, the San Joaquin, the American, and the Mokelumne, and the Calaveras rivers. The Sacramento Valley is also an easy drive to Lake Tahoe, the largest alpine lake in North America and home to Squaw Valley and the 1960 Winter Olympics. The city's close proximity to Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Las Vegas draws celebrities and rich folk who summer or winter in exclusive communities.

Bob and I were drawn to Lake Tahoe strictly as an opportunity to get out of the city and into the cool air. After driving east on Hwy 80, in a quick half hour we were climbing in the Sierra Nevadas and eventually reached Echo Summit at 7,300 feet.

When we first drove through Lake Tahoe in the 80s, the South Lake area was quiet and rural--not so much this time. Log cabin Jack-in-the Boxes, Kentucky Fried Chickens and Holiday Inns have replaced the funky motels and drive-ins that used to line the streets. Another element added since the 80s is the multitude of wedding chapels, wedding consultants, photographers, and catering companies. Take your choice: get married on the water, on snow skis, or on a mountaintop, in a hot air balloon, in a boat, or in a casino. Go splashy at the Blue Waters Resort, sporty at Squaw Valley's Pump Jack Inn, rustic at the Valhalla, or over the top at the Four Seasons. Bob and I did not get married again but we did find a little leftover rust and a spot for lunch near the lake's beach.

Aside from Puget Sound, Lake Tahoe is one of the few places I can think of where the mountains touch the water.

Apparently, I have given up all hope of ever appearing stylish. These hats remind me of those decorative banners that are attached to houses: any house/person looks better if you take off that banner/hat.

We had a mediocre lunch (felafel and a gyro), a bad espresso, packed up and headed back to Sacramento to face the week.

Chez Panisse: Halibut tartar a la Nicoise

2012-05-12T00:06:55Z

Both Alice Waters and I were born in the early 40s and started our careers as food icons in the early 70s. She opened Chez Panisse in Berkeley, I started working at the Burton Elementary School kitchen on Vashon. She found sources for locally-grown fingerling potatoes, I baked Tater Tots for the lunch bunch. She came to her obsession with food by way of the Berkeley Free Speech movement and a semester abroad in France, I got my first food-related job (if you don't count that summer as an A&W carhop) based on my experience as a housewife in Sioux City. She lunched at City Restaurant as a VIP friend of Milliken/Feniger, I plated her food in the kitchen.

Here we are forty years later: she is the "mother of the Slow Food Movement", I am currently developing Packet Cuisine that shines the spotlight on salt and pepper, vinegar, mustard, and ketchup. (You can eat in your hotel room, avoiding Jack in the Box, Chilies, and Applebee's, if you've a mind to.)

Anyways, after years of trying, Bob and I finally ate at Chez Panisse. It was everything we hoped it would be. I imagined a bucolic rural location, with some grandeur, surrounded by herb gardens and roses, so was surprised to find it in an urban North Berkeley neighborhood (across the street from an obviously popular pizza place with a long line snaking down the block), inconspicuously squeezed between a bakery and an acupressure clinic.

The flowers are, of course, grown in the neighborhood.

We ate at the downstairs restaurant, with a prixe fix menu that featured halibut tartar and squab.

We both thought, "Phooey, squab--why tonight?"

We loved every bite: savory salmon rillettes, moan-inducing halibut tartare, risotto the very essence of spring, and delicious squab--who knew? The service was warm and friendly, photo-taking was encouraged, with ingredient/recipe information graciously given when requested.

"Squab Girl"

Famous Acme Bakery bread.

Ours are the ones on the bottom right. And we know exactly where they were raised.

The dining room "art."

In spite of, or maybe because of, her reputation as the world 's culinary conscience, Alice Waters is verbally pummeled in food blogs and is often labeled, "Head of the Food Police." When Leslie Stahl did a bit on 60 Minutes about Ms. Water, she said, "Say frozen and Alice Waters shudders." Alice aggressively pursues her mission to get locally grown, organic food on everyone's plate regardless of cost. Her Slow Food Movement posted an on-line challenge for its members to come up with dinners for a week that cost $5 per person per day. Now I don't know much about the earning power of that particular constituency, but I'll bet there are many five-member families who don't have $175 a week to spend on seven meals.

But restaurant food has never been about serving the disadvantaged. Ms. Waters was the first high-end restaurateur to bring quality ingredients to the table for customers who weren't necessarily rich and glamorous. Founders of movements that change the way we live seldom think in the trenches. From her vantage point she can ignore the realities of ordinary life to accommodate her ideas. Without the limitation of a minimum wage paycheck, she can believe that organic, locally grown strawberries or Paine Farm squab are the most practical way to spend your money.

And yes, I have considered the notion that spending a week of Bob's per diem on one night's dinner is excessive. But what can I say, We enjoyed every minute.

However, the combination of our recent delight with the locally-grown, quality ingredients served at Chez Panisse and my new minimalist Packet Cuisine makes me re-consider the need for a pantry full of items from Korea, Japan, India, Greece, the Middle East and that luscious, ripe mango from Mexico.

Anyways, here is our rendition of the halibut tartare we had that night. I find the descriptive, "a la Nicoise", a bit misleading. I expect Nicoise-style food to feature anchovies, black olives, tomatoes, capers, etc., but this preparation includes none of those. Instead, the halibut dominates, supported gently by creme fraiche and Meyer lemon. This dish typifies the soul of the food served at Chez Panisse: excellent quality ingredients, prepared with minimal intrusion.

Chez Panisse halibut tartare, per serving

2 oz. very fresh halibut

1/2 Meyer lemon--for zest, juice and rind

1/4 cup creme fraiche

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

salt and fresh ground pepper to taste

4 leaves of Belgian endive or butter lettuce

Chopped parsley or chervil

Gently dice the halibut into small bite sized pieces, then place into a glass mixing bowl. Sprinkle lightly with salt.

Zest about 1/4 tsp. of the Meyer lemon and add it to the bowl along with 2 Tbsp. of the lemon juice.

Combine creme fraiche and olive oil. Add mixture to the fish and turn gently with a spoon until well mixed, marinate for ten minutes.

Mince a small piece of lemon rind for garnish.

Spoon the halibut onto lettuce leaves. Season with freshly grated pepper and salt. Garnish with parsley and minced rind. Best paired with a crisp Riesling.

Delta Drive: Strawberry shortcake

2012-05-07T21:34:30Z

It's time again for the annual strawberry post. In previous posts, we've baked a pie with Shuksan berries from Vashon, topped a shortcake with Oregon's Bentons, and made jam with Picha Farm's Totems. This year Bob and I are in the Sacramento Valley for berry season. Sunday we drove South looking for the Delta, the levees, the ferries, and the birds. We found all those, plus roadside berries still warm from the field.

Strawberry negotiations

In 1848, the California Delta was languid and sleepy when the discovery of gold northeast of Sacramento brought in thousands of so-called "argonauts" (the name given during the California gold rush to pioneer adventurers sailing around the Horn to California in their quest for gold), railroad lines, and riverboats. By 1871, most of California's swamplands were in private hands. Chinese laborers built hundreds of miles of levees which held back the rivers and created peat-rich soil and abundant harvests. Eventually, steam-powered dredges replaced horse-drawn labor and by 1944, more than 130 years of levee building transformed a large tidal marsh into a maze of interconnected waterways, improved channels and leveed islands.

From Sacramento's Delta History: "The Delta covers 738,000 acres interlaced with hundreds of miles of waterways. Much of the land is below sea level and relies on more than 1,000 miles of levees for protection against flooding. Its land and waterways support communities, agriculture, and recreation, and provide essential habitat for fish and wildlife. Today, it is still an important habitat for migratory waterfowl and more than a hundred species of fish. It is also farmland, a popular recreation area, and a source of drinking water for two-thirds of California's population."

California never fails to amaze.

Twenty minutes after leaving the hotel on our way to the Delta, we were in the county--complete with windmills, old barns, waving acres of grass, cuddles of sheep, contented cows and beautiful old farmhouses.

Both of these energy sources are operational.

Garmin did her best to lead us astray, but we were firm and stood our ground--next stop Bird's Landing. Should have listened to her. Although Bird's Landing sounded Delta-like, it was dusty and isolated with no water, no birds, and no levees. We recalculated and drove along River Road, followed the signs to the Ryer's Island ferry, and pulled up just as it was leaving the dock. (Ferry luck never changes.)

Ryer's Island ferry

No worries there...just a quick turnaround and we're back on track, driving along the Steamboat Slough, headed to Isleton, home to Isleton Joe's and the Crawdad Festival.

We followed the road along Grand Island, through Freeport, Walnut Grove, and Snug Harbor, and over the Paintersville Bridge, passing rows of houseboats, riverfront homes, and commercial boat docks.

Paintersville Bridge

There won't be any Nancy Silverton strawberry shortcake for us until we get home, but here's the recipe from her book "Desserts."

Strawberry Shortcake
Makes 8 servings

Biscuits:
2 ¾ cups flour
2 tablespoons + 1 teaspoon sugar
1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
7 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, diced
1 cup heavy cream + 1 tablespoon for brushing the dough

Filling:
3-4 cups strawberries, sliced/diced mixed with 2 teaspoons sugar
1 cup heavy cream, crème fraiche or sour cream whipped with 1-2 tablespoons sugar

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Adjust oven rack in the middle of oven. Line baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.

Sift flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt into a bowl of a standing mixer or food processor. Add butter and mix on low speed, using the paddle attachment, for 5-10 minutes, until the mixture is the consistency of a fine meal, and pale yellow in color. Pour in the cream and mix until the mixture just comes together in one mass.

Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead gently 3-4 times until it forms a smooth ball. Divide the dough into 8 equal parts and shape them to small rounds.

Refrigerate for at least one hour before baking. Brush the biscuits tops lightly with heavy cream and sprinkle with sugar. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until they are golden brown.

Family meal: Sopa de guajillo

2012-04-15T19:22:22Z

Employee benefits for corporations and small businesses often include a pension or a 401 K contribution, health insurance, an occasional company car or phone, and even company-funded programs that encourage healthy life styles. Restaurants, on the other hand, offer Family Meal: sometimes outstanding, sometimes inedible, but always with an eye on food cost.

Family meal shows up late afternoon in large stainless bowls, with utensils being an afterthought. The chef sets the tone for family meal—he/she decides who makes the meal, who eats the meal, where the meal is eaten, when the meal starts, and when the meal is over. Line cooks or prep cooks prepare family meal, with the burden usually resting on the cook of least status. In some kitchens, cooks throw something together--using unpopular specials, leftovers from the walk-in, ingredients past their prime--and serve the result with attitude. And in some kitchens, the staff takes great pride in the meal and sees it as a chance to display personal cooking chops. Again, it depends on the chef.

As many restaurant workers come from Mexico or South America, tacos, tamales, pupusas, house-made chicarones, empanadas, and chilaquiles show up on the table. A Tumblr blog, "This family meals sucks", posts pictures and descriptions of the good, the bad, and the ugly. I've seen the spectrum in family meals from the dreadful to the divine. Pasta figures prominently in both. In the dreadful, zucchini and tomato guts (the seedy part that is cored out), Parmesan rinds, fried potatoes, broccoli quiche--stir it all up, plop in some day-old ragu and call it good. Grind every scrap of meat/fish/poultry you can dredge up, bread from yesterday, eggs leftover from the breakfast scramble, a healthy dose of ketchup and viola, a tasty meat loaf. Mystery meat is a regular ingredient, in fact sometimes family meal doesn't resemble anything previously known. However, using food taken from returning plates is frowned upon.

Then there is the divine. Tom Douglas' family meals ranked right up there. He was under the strange notion that workers need a break and mandated a stop around 3:30 for a group meal. Waiters, bussers, managers, line cooks, vendors, lingering regulars, the postman all sat down in the dining room for thirty minutes. If Tom had been out and about, there might be barbequed pork from Lucky Noodle, pizza from the Market, zipping hot wings from Red Hook, pot stickers, steamed buns, or if the stars were just right--burgers and fries from Dick's.

Trump's in LA was renowned for its stellar family meal. So much so that it was once added to the menu as a daily special--bad idea. Once the golden group from Hollywood had access, it was no longer acceptable to just cook for the herd. Not only did the entree have to be tasty, it had to be quirky, original, authentic, interesting and creative--the chef's job. That didn't last long.

At the original Stratton's in Westwood, Raul (the #1 prep/butcher/pastry/salad man) or Pam (the ever-so quick but measured Thai night chef) prepared family meal. The line cooks ate whatever they wanted to make for themselves, the managers ordered off the menu (under Dennis's eagle eye), and Raul or Pam feed the rest of the staff. Under the kitchen passthrough you could find Thai noodles, chicken wings stuffed with sticky rice, tom yum soup, carnitas burritos, a heavenly, eggy, custardy quiche of the day, or Raul's mother's sopa de guajillo. The following recipe is based only on a vague memory, but I think the essence is there.

Sopa de Guajillo

1 (2-3 lb) whole chicken, a chicken cut into pieces, or the chicken removed from one roasted or poached whole chicken
1 medium onion, diced
2 cloves garlic
Water to cover

1 cup water
3 guajillo chiles, deveined and deseeded (these chiles are not so hot)
2-3 arbol chiles, deveined and deseeded (be careful, these are very hot)

2 roma tomatoes, peeled and diced
3 tomatillos, husks peeled off and chopped
1/2 cup diced onion
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1½ tsp salt (or to taste)
1/2 cup chicken stock

1 carrot, peeled and diced
1 zucchini, diced
1 cup green beans, cut in 1/2" pieces
2 cups chicken stock

lime wedges
queso fresco, crumbled
chopped cilantro

Place whole chicken or chicken pieces, onions, and garlic in a large pot or Dutch oven. Cover with water or chicken stock and bring to a boil, turn down to a slow simmer and cook until chicken is done--30 to 45 minutes. Remove chicken from pot, cool, and take chicken from bones. Strain stock.

In a small sauce pan, bring water to a boil and drop in chiles. Remove from heat and let sit to soften. When softened, drain off cooking liquid from chiles and add chiles along with tomatillos, tomatoes, onion, garlic, cumin seed and salt to blender with 1/2 cup chicken stock and blend well. Set aside.

In Dutch oven, add 1 Tbs. oil and heat to medium high. Pour in blended salsa and fry briefly. Add chicken stock. Reduce to medium heat and add vegetables. Simmer for 15-20 minutes.

Add cooked chicken pieces, simmer for 10 minutes. Add more chicken broth if necessary. Taste for seasoning and garnish with chopped cilantro, squeezed lime wedges, Mexican crema or sour cream and queso fresco. Serve with warm tortillas and a side of beans. Yield: 6-8 portions.

I'm my own grandmaw: German-style green beans

2012-04-07T19:51:14Z

When did the obsession with a youthful body image begin? “Back in the day” aging began
at thirty and sped along unimpeded until death. No one ran—unless someone was chasing them, mothers had grey hair with the exception of a few black-haired, beauty shop holdouts, and adults slid unpressured into their golden years. Hard work, the lack of snacks (other
than Fritos), small blurry black & white TVs with three channels, and the absence of good
bread made it easier to keep the pounds off.

As a teenager in the 50s, I remember standing in front of a full-length mirror, moaning about thick thighs, chubby arms, and round face. As I grew older, attention to my daily food intake, forbidding the consumption of candy bars, and long hours in a restaurant kitchen, tempered
my soft side. For most of those years, Bob and I lived away from our families and didn't own a camera so I seldom saw pictures of my physical self. Then, Bob lunged into buy mode and we became digital camera users. I could not believe what I saw in the crisp, unflinching review mode of the camera’s eye. I was no longer a thirty-something brunette with a good neck
and a less than zaftig body.

To put a name on it—I suffer from reverse anorexia syndrome. As long as I stay away from dressing room mirrors and don’t allow Bob to snap away unhindered, my self image stays in the positive zone. In my mind, I am a much younger, much thinner, forty year old woman
with a full head of thick, brown hair.

Both of my grandmothers were wiry, spry (Why is that word reserved only for older people?), reserved women with a low tolerance for misbehavior. Lottie, my mother’s mother, had a
quick wit, an unusual knack for numbers and could knit the scarf off a dog. She lived with us
for three months a year, had her own bedroom, and would entertain us when it pleased her. I don’t recall much cookie baking, story telling, or recreational rocking.

Emma, my dad’s mother, was prune-faced and severe. She didn’t care for my mother—said she “put on airs”, smoked cigarettes, and read magazines. Harsh words in those days. Needless to say, we didn’t spend long idyllic stretches of time at her house.

When I was a girl, as the traditionally ignored middle child, I knew just what kind of Grandma I wanted—my own Auntie Em—a soft bodied, grey-haired sixty year old with a warm smile and slightly disheveled white hair, dressed in a flowered house dress, holding a plate of warm cookies. Now take away the housedress and the constant supply of cookies and who do you have?—me. I have become my own grandmaw.

Both Bob and I remember our Grandmas making green beans with bacon fat and vinegar. There’s just something about bacon fat….

German-style green beans

1 pound fresh green beans
4 to 6 slices bacon
1 onion, chopped
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/4 cup cider vinegar
salt and pepper to taste

Cook fresh beans in a little salted water until tender. Drain beans; reserve about 3/4 cup of the cooking liquid. Cut up bacon and sauté with onion until bacon is cooked and onion has lightly browned.

Add bean liquid and cook until liquid has reduced to 1/4 cup. Add next 4 ingredients and the cooked beans. Heat through and season with salt and pepper to taste. Serves 4.

Madeleine moments: Chilaquiles, Roasted red tomato salsa

2012-04-07T15:57:51Z

Anthony Bourdain often plays "What would you eat for your last meal" with guests on his Travel Channel shows. Like Marcel Proust's madeleines, often the food chosen is emotionally paired with a nostalgic remembrance, an exquisite location, or a welcome release from some sensory deprivation. Looking over my own favorite food moments, in each one, someone else prepared the food, the location of each was everyday ordinary, the ingredients were simple, and the offering was given and received almost like a reward.

One night long ago after a long, wet, January bus commute from Seattle to Vashon, I dripped in the house to a table promisingly set with a bowl and a spoon. After a hot shower I sat down to tender lamb stew with perfectly cooked carrot batons, green beans, a slight hint of orange and the suggestion of rosemary. We've tried many times to replicate Bob's recipe, but the soul is never quite there.

One day in the late 70s after a particularly trying late night/early morning marathon at the newly opened La Petite Maison, owner-chef Rick O'Reilly called a staff meeting. We rolled our collective eyes and assembled in the "break room"--an outdoor porch behind the restaurant by the dumpster. Chris and Scott, the waiters, brought out silver trays, linen napkins, and tulip-shaped flutes. We all sat on the cement steps in the diluted February sun, as Rick shucked dozens of thumbnail-sized Olympia oysters and Terry opened bottles of champagne. We slurped those tiny, brinies and sipped glasses of sparkling wine until the oysters were gone, the bottles were empty, and the sun disappeared behind a cloud. Only then did we gather our knives and head back into the kitchen.

One Sunday afternoon in the 80s on Melrose Avenue in LA, Mary Sue Milliken and I neared the end of a long line of brunch tickets. The Border Grill had been open for a few weeks and we'd been working non-stop for a month. "Mar, looks like we're nearly done. Go sit in the patio and I'll send out some breakfast." The "patio" at the original Border Grill was a scarred, wobbly picnic table in the alley behind the restaurant, next to the grease drum and the illegal prep area. Soon Jaime, the busser, brought out a basket of warm corn tortillas, a red bowl of chilaquiles, two fried eggs, refried beans, and a cold Mexican beer. I couldn't remember the last time I'd sat down to eat. The golden LA light warmed my back; I heard the familiar sounds of our back-alley neighbor revving his car; I smelled the aroma of the grill, the sugar caramelizing on the hot top, and a bitter, chocolatey whiff of espressos. The moment was perfect and I can't remember, before or since, food tasting any better.

Here is a Feniger/Milliken recipe from their book, Mexican Cooking For Dummies. I'm not sure that chilaquiles with chicken is better than chilaquiles without chicken, but that's just me.

Chicken Chilaquiles

Yield: 6 to 8 servings

2 whole chicken breasts, split
Salt and pepper to taste
2 cups chicken stock
3 cups Red Roasted Tomato Salsa (see recipe)
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
1 medium yellow onion, sliced paper-thin
12 large tomatillos, husked, cored, and thinly sliced
1/2 cup vegetable oil
12 day-old 6-inch corn tortillas, 18 if individual casseroles are being made
Butter for greasing casserole
1 cup (4 ounces) grated Mexican manchego cheese
1 cup (4 ounces) grated panela cheese
1/2 cup (2 ounces) grated añejo cheese

Season the chicken all over with salt and pepper. Bring the chicken stock to a boil in a large saucepan. Place the breasts in the stock, reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook until the meat is tender, about 15 minutes. Set aside to cool in the stock. When cool, remove and discard the skin and bones and shred the meat into bite-sized pieces. Strain and reserve the stock for another use.

In a large mixing bowl, combine the salsa, cream, salt, pepper, onion, tomatillos, and shredded chicken pieces.

Heat the vegetable oil in a medium skillet over medium-low heat. Cook the tortillas just about 5 seconds per side to soften, and then transfer to a large colander to drain.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter a 4-quart casserole or 6 to 8 individual casseroles (at our restaurants, we use small soup bowls).

Combine the manchego, panela, and añejo cheeses in a mixing bowl.

To assemble the chilaquiles, spread a thin layer of the cheese mixture over the bottom of the baking dish. Push the solids in the bowl of chicken and salsa to the side so that the liquids form in a pool on one side. Dip all the softened tortillas in the pool to moisten. Layer one third of the moist tortillas over the cheese and top with half of the chicken mixture with its sauce. Sprinkle half of the remaining cheese over the chicken. Repeat the layers, ending with a layer of tortillas on top. Cover tightly with aluminum foil.

Bake for 30 minutes or until the edges are slightly brown. Let sit for 10 minutes before slicing or unmolding from individual casseroles.

Red Roasted Tomato Salsa

Yield: 1 quart

1 pound Roma tomatoes, cored
6 garlic cloves, peeled
2 serrano chiles, stemmed and seeded
1 medium onion, cut into 1/2-inch slices
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup tomato juice
1 teaspoon salt
Pepper to taste

Preheat the broiler.

Place the tomatoes, garlic, chiles, and onion on a foil-lined baking tray. Drizzle with the olive oil. Broil 6 to 8 inches from the flame for about 12 minutes, turning frequently with tongs, until evenly charred.

Transfer the vegetables and any accumulated juices to the blender or food processor. Add the tomato juice, salt, and pepper. Puree, in batches if necessary, until smooth.

Pour into a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cook, uncovered, for about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Cool to room temperature for table salsa, or use warm as an ingredient in rice or chilaquiles.

Rubio's Redo: Baja-style fish tacos, fresh tomato salsa

2012-03-25T19:47:40Z

Back in the 60s, my sister Nikki drove from San Diego to Iowa for Christmas and every year she'd bring ingredients for taco night. There was no Mexican food to be found at the Sioux City Piggly Wiggly: no taco shells, no refried beans (that's how we rolled then), no salsa, and no avocados. The Pig did have hamburger. Today at any corner grocery store you can buy canned chipotles in adobado sauce, fresh cactus leaves, ancho chiles, masa, tomatillo salsa, queso fresco, and a multitude of choices from the tortilla aisle.

In the early 90s, I had my first fish taco with the Fostermiglias at the original Rubio's on San Diego's Mission Bay Drive--a funky walk-up stand with tables set under a large, attached palapa. It was love at first bite. Since then we've eaten fish tacos at Rubio's all over the Southwest with mixed results. There was one dreadful episode in Pasadena and a couple one star events but over-all, Rubio's deserves its "best fast food" awards. Per their website, Rubio's restaurants are company-owned with "currently, no franchise opportunities available."

There is a Rubio's within walking distance of our current hotel in Sacramento, so my first foray outside included an original fish taco for lunch. It was as good as that first time: crispy beer-battered fish, and shredded cabbage, served with a slightly spicy white sauce and an extensive "salsa bar."

Fish tacos are not impossible to serve for a crowdish sized group. Get your mis en place lined up and stand there over a hot pan of oil until there is no longer a line--just like at Rubio's.

Palapa at original Rubio's

Baja-style fish tacos

Sauce:

1/4 cup sour cream, Mexican crema, or plain yogurt

1/4 cup mayonnaise

Juice from one or two limes

Couple dashes hot sauce (Tabasco, Tapatio, Frank's, or ketchup for those of the wimpy nature)

Salt

Beer Batter:

3/4 cup flour

1 tsp. garlic powder

1/2 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. (or to taste) black pepper

3/4 cup beer

Combine the flour with the garlic powder, salt, and black pepper. Stir together until smooth.

In a large bowl, mix the flour mixture with the beer and let it sit for at least an hour. Whisk the batter before dipping the fish to make the batter lighter and crispier. Batter will have the consistency of thickish pancake batter.

Heat the vegetable oil to 375 degrees.

Dip the fish into the batter, let the excess drip off, then slide it into the hot oil. Cook until golden brown, 3-6 minutes. Remove from oil and drain on a paper towel. Sprinkle with sea salt.

Fill a warm corn tortilla with a piece of fish, shredded cabbage, spicy sauce, fresh tomato salsa, and a squirt of lime.

Pico de gallo (fresh tomato salsa)

2 medium tomato, diced

1/2 red onion, finely chopped

1/2 fresh jalapeno pepper, seeded and chopped

1/2 bunch chopped cilantro

Juice of two limes or lemons

Salt

In a medium bowl, combine tomato, onion, jalapeno (to taste,) and cilantro. Add lime juice and salt. Taste for balance.

Marcella Hazan's famous Buttered onion tomato sauce

2012-03-15T19:07:24Z

Once again, I'm behind the curve. I read on-line newspapers, am awake during the news, and watch Tosh.0, but I always find out about the flash mob after they've gone. I just subscribed to Ruth Reichl's newest venture (well new to me, but again, I'm never the first to know), Gilt News, an on-line luxury food newsletter. In one edition, she raved about Marcella Hazan's Buttered Onion Tomato Sauce and described it as the "most blogged about pasta sauce recipe." I'd never heard of it--heard of Marcella Hazan though, I'm quick to say. She was a workish/cookish/writerish friend of Feniger/Milliken in the 80s and occasionally lunched at City Restaurant.

Restaurant servers are celebrity hounds--they love a good star story. They would scurry into the kitchen, eyes aglow, hair on fire, when a famous person sat in their section. To the kitchen staff, it meant nothing but trouble. Stars expect to be treated differently--they want special food, special treatment, and special attention. They were usually good tippers, which goaded the wait staff to obtain even more extreme pleasures from the already harassed line cooks. Could you poach her chicken instead of sauteing it, could you trim his toast, heat his sandwich, cut his steak into baby-size bites, make a serving for her dog??? The orderly stampede of a normal lunch service slowed to a crawl as the pampering commenced.

Anyways, Marcella Hazan was not like that and never asked for special treatment. Feniger/Milliken, however, wouldn't hear of it and would stop everything on the spot to create a special lunch for her. When she was finished, Marcella (I think I can call her by her first name after all that work) would come back and thank each line cook.

So here's that famous buttery tomato sauce recipe. It is indeed a gem--easy as can be, so tasty, and well under a 30 minute meal. But then, you all probably have been making it for years.

Buttered Onion Tomato Sauce

5 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, peeled, cut in half along the equator
1 28 ounce can San Marzano tomatoes with juice or 3 ½ cups peeled, chopped Romas
1 pound dried pasta
Salt, to taste

In a medium saucepan, melt the butter over medium low heat and add the onion halves, cut-side down. Let onion simmer in butter for 5 minutes.

Crush canned tomatoes by hand in a mixing bowl or drain and chop. Scatter the crushed or chopped tomatoes around the onion, and pour in the tomato juice.

Turn the heat up, bringing the liquid up to simmer, then turn it down so that it cooks slowly, uncovered, with gentle bubbles. Season lightly with salt and simmer 45 minutes, stirring occasionally.

As the sauce cooks, the butter will emulsify in, turning the red into more of a deep pink. After 45 minutes, the sauce should have reduced by about half, the butter will be visible on top. The flavor will round out and deepen; and it should be sweet, tart, and buttery.

Remove onion and reserve for another time. If you prefer a smoother sauce, you can either process it in a blender or blend in place, using a wand blender.

Cook 1 pound pasta in salted water until done to your preference, drain, but don’t rinse.

Toss the cooked pasta in the sauce and feel free to garnish with shredded basil, parmesan, black pepper, etc.

Ft. Lauderdale, the "Venice of America"

2012-03-03T17:56:38Z

Brochures advertising water tours of Ft. Lauderdale's inland canals take up most of the space in the "What to do" rack in the Harbor Beach Marriott lobby. One can travel by water taxi, kayak, "Duck" boat, gondola, wakeboard, glassbottom boat, paddle boat, sail boat, jet ski, pontoon boat, waterski, riverboat, or cruise boat. I opted for a cruise boat, not the most adventuresome but as the afternoon turned out cold and rainy, I chose wisely.

Once again I spent the first day waiting for the "Sun Trolley" at the wrong spot--merely a practice run for getting to the Las Olas Riverfront for my cruise the next day. Billed as a "hop on hop off" mode of transport, I hopped on the Sun Trolley by the hotel but later I watched on the curb as two trolleys whizzed by before one slowed down enough for me to hop back on.

The elusive Sun Trolley

My cruise-day hop off spot was the Las Olas Riverfront that appears to be in economic decline. My footsteps echoed in the open spaces between empty buildings as I looked for my cruise's departure point. The waterway was busy--Theodore Tugboat, commercial tugs, and paddle-wheeled riverboats were tied up along the dock--but the buildings along the riverfront were vacant, with "For lease" signs in every window.

Las Olas Riverfront fountain surrounded by empty buildings

Theodore Too, a large-scale imitation tugboat based on the fictional tugboat from the television show, Theodore Tugboat.

Even the mighty can use a tow in.

We cruisers lined up, shuffled on board, and chose seats on the open deck. We motored by million-dollar summer homes owned by the billionaires, luxurious yachts as big as Navy ships, and ten-story tall oceanic cruise ships. Before long, all those on the open deck were shivering and damp from the light rain but we cowboyed on for the majority of the trip. Hot dogs, beer and wine, and cocktails were available below deck--what we needed were blankets and hot cocoa.

Wayne Huizenga's (owner of Waste Mgmt. Inc, Blockbuster, a football team, a baseball team, hotels, auto dealerships, etc.) summer home. According to our narrator the Captain, as the building of the house progressed, wings were added willy-nilly eventually leaving no place suitable for the tykes and their trikes. No prob, Mr. Huizenga just bought the $3 million-dollar house next door, leveled it, turfed it, and voila, plenty of play space.

Ft. Lauderdale's 150 miles of navigable intercostal waterways support a huge boating industry. Each year the Ft. Lauderdale International Boat Show attracts thousands of boats and boaters to the area and brings in about a half billion (that's with a b) dollars of revenue.
The private and corporate yachts tied up to the docks along the cruise route are truly jaw-droppers.

We're home again, back to our own view of ships, sailboats, and barges. My suction-cup window thermometer reads 44 degrees at 1:00 pm, so summer feels like it's years away. But for now, we turn up the heat, turn on the TV, and get ready for March Madness.

I recently created a PDF file for each year's worth of blog posts, including recipes and pictures. So if you're interested in downloading them, here are the files. I'm in uncharted waters here, so if it doesn't work, let me know.

Marla in the kitchen 2011
Marlas in the kitchen 2010
Marlas in the kitchen 2009
Marlas in the kitchen 2008

GulfStream Park, Ft. Lauderdale: Cuban-style garlic chicken

2012-02-28T19:44:20Z

Puffy coats, hoodies pulled up, lines at the hot coffee kiosk--where are we? Still in Ft. Lauderdale, baby! It's freezin' here in Florida, what's up with that? I was invited along to the races so Sweetie and I layered up and headed to GulfStream Park, a horseshoe's throw from our hotel.

Open since 1939, GulfStream Park features graded stake races and hosted three runnings of the Breeder's Cup. The track changed hands several times during the last 25 years and in 1999, MI Developments, Inc., North American's largest thoroughbred racing company, took over operation. MI also owns Santa Anita, Golden Gate Fields, Portland Meadows, Pimlico, and Laurel Park.

A 2004, a $130 million renovation installed slot machines, poker tables, a full-fledged casino, and the "Village at GulfStream" a high-end mall where bettors could loose even more money at Crate & Barrel, Williams Sonoma, and fashion stores I've never heard of. Grandstand seating was lost to indoor simulcast areas where bets can be placed at ten tracks instead of just the one. This move prompted howls of outrage from racegoers and commentators who felt that the new "racino" destroyed GulfStream's elegant architecture and authentic racetrack atmosphere. Tracks all over the country are loosing market share and can no longer count on thousands to pass through the turnstiles. Traditional large crowds come only on big race days and the much sought after young demographic seems reluctant to spent money at the track.

When I go to the track, I wander around with my camera and look for food stands. GulfStream included a real winner--a Cuban kiosk serving cortadito--tiny cups of strong, sweet, coffee--and arepas, stuffed corn pancakes, similar to Salvadorean pupusas. Compared to Westcoast tracks, GulfStream railbirds are more focused, more aggressive, and less likely to chat. Also not quite so many beautiful blondes with spikey shoes and sunglasses.

Do not stand in his line of sight.

Is the guy in sunglasses the bodyguard?

The line separating the "racino" and the mall is blurred.

The paddock area at GulfStream

Un arepas con cortadito.

Cuban-style garlic chicken

One 4 lb. chicken, cut into parts
½ cup orange juice
¼ cup lime juice
1 Tbs. rice wine vinegar
12 garlic cloves, peeled and minced
2 Tbs. salt
1 tsp. ground black pepper
1 tsp. oregano
1 tsp. ground cumin

Place chicken pieces in large container. Combine citrus juices, vinegar, garlic and spices. Pour mixture over chicken. Cover with plastic wrap and marinate for at least 1 hour or preferably, 4 hours.

Remove chicken 1 hour before cooking. Preheat oven to 450°. Lay chicken pieces in roasting pan in one layer. Pour marinade evenly over top. Roast in the oven for 45 minutes. Stir chicken and shake pan during the last 10 minutes to avoid scorching. Serve with rice and black beans.

Where the boys are: Coconut shrimp with Thai chili sauce and cilantro mint chutney

2012-02-25T19:06:25Z

Puffy clouds, soft white sand, blue water, balmy breezes, but wait!! The sun is rising over the horizon, what's up with that? Oh yes folks we're on the right coast, sitting on Nebraska looking toward Canada, in sunny Florida--Fort Lauderdale to be exact. All those miles and hours spent flying to Duluth, Fargo, and Sacramento last year paid off in the form of two frequent flyer award trips to Ft. Lauderdale for Sweetie and me.

View from our room

When I was a teenager in Iowa, Spring Break in Ft. Lauderdale was the ultimate dream sequence. In the landlocked Midwest, sandy beaches and crashing waves were found only in the movies and going on spring break in Florida did not happen. Here in Florida, we put on swim suits, floppy hats, shorts, flip flops, and head straight for the water. We even saw two surfer dudes trying to get up on short, wimpy waves that broke almost directly onto the beach.

For fun and games, Bob chose GulfStream Park and the horses, I chose the Sun Trolley and the Museum of Art/Ft. Lauderdale. Once inside, I looked around for the usual "No Photography" signs but didn't see any. Seeing Banksy's "London Phone Booth" right off the entry way, made my heart leap and I took a flashless picture. No sooner had the dust settled, when I was severly admonished not to take pictures. Whoops!

Seen on the Sun Trolley this is my favorite of all misspelled signs.

Banksy's, "London Phone Booth"

Browbeaten but not broken, I snapped legal pictures of Edouard Duval-Carrié's, "Indigo Room or is Memory Water Soluble?", that incorporates voodoo personages with Haitian political upheaval, the museum's arty ceiling, a splashy exterior wall, and a compelling piece of graffiti I saw on the way into the building.

Downtown Ft. Lauderdale street sculpture

Joseph Scott's Urban Oasis that "seeks to beautify vacant properties"

Bob and I met up for dinner and walked down the beach to Coconuts. What else to have but their fab Coconut Shrimp. Here's a vague approximation.

Coconut Shrimp

10-12 large fresh or thawed frozen shrimp
1 cup Panko
1/2 cup shredded unsweetened coconut
1 tablespoon grated lime peel
1 tsp. salt
1/4 to 1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper
2 eggs, whisked
1-2 cups high-temperature oil for deep-frying

Remove shells from shrimp, but leave tails on. Set aside.

Mix Panko, coconut, lime peel, salt, and cayenne pepper. Place in large bowl.

Place whisked eggs in separate bowl. Add shrimp to eggs, a few at a time. Shake excess eggs from shrimp. Add shrimp to Panko/coconut mixture and toss to coat. Reserve coated shrimp on plate or sheetpan, refrigerate for at least 30 minutes or up to 4 hours.

Pour enough peanut oil into large skillet to reach depth of 1/4 inch; heat over medium-high heat. Working in batches, add shrimp to skillet and cook until golden and just opaque in center, about 2 minutes per side. Transfer to paper towels to drain. Serve with Thai Chili Sauce or Cilantro Mint Chutney.

Thai Chili Sauce

•1/2 cup rice vinegar
•1/2 cup + 2 Tbsp. white sugar
•1/4 cup water
•3 Tbsp. fish sauce
•3 cloves minced garlic
•1/2 to 1 Tbsp. dried crushed chili
•1+1/2 Tbsp. cornstarch dissolved in 3-4 Tbsp. cool water

Place all ingredients - except the cornstarch-water mixture -in pot and bring to a boil.

Reduce heat to medium and reduce by half.

Reduce heat to low and add the cornstarch-water mixture. Stir to incorporate and continue stirring occasionally until the sauce thickens (about 2 minutes).

Cilantro Mint Chutney

Cilantro-Mint Chutney
• 2 bunches cilantro—finely chopped
• 1 bunch fresh mint—finely chopped
• 1-2 tsp. minced fresh garlic
• 1 Tbs. fresh minced ginger
• 1-2 fine diced Serrano, with seeds and pith
• ½ tsp. salt
• Juice of a small lemon
• 2 tsp. salad oil
Mix ingredients in a bowl. Turn out onto a cutting board and chop until a paste is formed. Taste and adjust for your favorite salty/spicy/tart balance. You may wish to add more lemon juice, more salt, or a tiny dash of sugar. The mixture will become juicier after a few hours. This chutney will keep refrigerated at top quality for l-2 days. After that, it becomes much less intense.

Calcutta: Idlis and sambar

2012-02-10T15:58:54Z

I can’t seem to get off soup: must be the weather—gray, drippy, and cold. Soup—does a body good. Anyways, here another. This time we travel to the south of India with a recipe for sambar from J., a former 501 resident. J. grew up in Calcutta in a middle-class family with two working parents and five siblings. As the oldest son, he was marked for college and enrolled in Stanford as a math major. He loved living in California, couldn’t get enough of the beaches, the girls, and the movies.

After graduation, he took a job at a Seattle software company. When the company opened an office in Tacoma, he moved and rented one of the units in our condominium. He made plenty of money (most of which he sent home), had an American girlfriend whose parents were born in India, and looked forward to an American life complete with wife, children, and real estate.

He hadn’t, however, counted on being consistently homesick. He missed his mother, he missed Calcutta, he missed hot weather, and most of all, he missed being part of an extended family community. “I could walk out of my bedroom and be part of the family—part of my sister’s family, part of my uncle’s family, part of my parent’s family.

Jay and I visited often, talking about Indian food, his mother’s recipes, Calcutta, and his nieces. He went home every six months to visit and to renew his visa, but it wasn’t enough. One day he stopped by, with a long face and a sad story. The Cliff Note version: girlfriend could not imagine ever living in India, was lukewarm about even six months there, and instead looked ahead to an American life in an American city in an American house, with an American husband. Jay misssed his old life to much to give it up, so he moved back to Calcutta. Before he left, he gave me his mother's recipe for sambar and idlis (disc-shaped semolina pattys, similar to flat matzo balls.

2 Tbs. oil
1 tsp. black mustard seeds
1 cup regular uncooked cream of wheat
3 Tbs. ground coconut
¾ tsp. salt
1 to 2 chilies, minced
1 ½ cup plain yogurt

Heat 2 Tbs. oil in skillet over medium heat. When oil is hot, put in mustard seeds. When seeds pop, turn heat to medium-low and put in cream of wheat. Sauté for 2-3 minutes—do not brown. Remove skillet from fire. Add coconut, salt, and chilies. Mix and cool slightly. Add yogurt—you should have a thick batter.

Place idli molds over boiling water and steam for 20 minutes.

Sambar

Sambar powder

1 part coriander seeds
½ part cumin seeds
½ part mustard seeds
½ part fenugreek seeds
3 cloves
¼ part black peppercorns
1/8 part red chile flakes
½ roll whole cinnamon
¼ cup ground coconut

Roast above ingredients in skillet over medium heat until seeds release aroma. Let cool slightly, grind in spice grinder

Sambar

½ cup red lentils
2 cups stock or water
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 tablespoon oil
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup coconut milk
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced ginger
½ teaspoon red chili flakes
2 tablespoons sambar powder
½ onion, fine dice
1 zucchini, diced
2 carrots, diced
1/8 cabbage, diced
¼ head cauliflower, cut in small florets
½ can tomato sauce
1 cup chicken stock
1 tablespoon tamarind paste

Wash lentils and bring 2 cups stock/water to a boil. Add lentils, turmeric, oil, and salt. Turn heat down to simmer, and cook until lentils are soft 45-60 minutes. Add ½ cup coconut milk, cook 10 more minutes.

Sauté, garlic, ginger, chili flakes, sambar powder in 1 tablespoon oil and 1 teaspoon salt until garlic is transparent and soft. Add onions, carrots, cabbage, zucchini, and cauliflower. Add tomato sauce, cook 10 minutes. Add chicken stock and tamarind, simmer for 15 minutes.

Add cooked lentils, simmer 15 minutes.

Place small scoop cooked rice and several idlis in the bottom of a soup bowl. Ladle sambar over them. Serve with yogurt and chopped cilantro.

To get us into the mood, here are a few photos from India, taken by my friend Patty.

Soup glorious soup: tomato, Thai pork dumpling, crab gumbo, Swiss onion

2012-01-25T19:12:06Z

Soup was on the menu in every restaurant I've worked. In several, it was spelled soup du jour but it was still soup: clam chowder and lentil at Sound Food, albondigas at the Border Grill, Swiss onion and Thai pork dumpling at City Restaurant, crab gumbo at the Dahlia. I never cared much for cold soup--it seems a conflict of interest. Soup conjures up snowsuit kids stomping in from the cold for lunch or men in Levis sitting on the tailgate of a Chevy truck pouring hot soup from a Thermos.

Soup making skills secured my first kitchen job in Los Angeles. In August, 1982 Bob took a job with a small software company in Santa Monica and moved down from Vashon. I followed in September and, as our rent quadrupled, lost no time finding a job. We lived in Westwood near UCLA, an area packed with people who didn't cook but loved to eat.

I made the rounds in Westwood Village with resume in hand and late one rainy afternoon I hesitated for a long time at the elegant entrance of Stratton's--a brick Tudor building with a gated courtyard. I dripped into the lobby, asked to see the chef, and followed the maitre' d to the bar.

Courtyard outside Stratton's, now part of the Geffen Playhouse. Picture from Flikr--name of photographer not given.

Dennis (tall, dark, and handsome) sprawled on a stool, cigarette in mouth (Dennis smoked wherever he wanted) and drink in hand. He ignored my damp resume and asked, "What can you do?"

"I can cook, I can't bake, I always show up, and I don't do drugs."

"Sounds good, go make soup for tonight."

"What kind?"

"You tell me."

"Chicken vegetable ?"

"No."

"Lentil?"

"No."

"Tomato?"

"Yes. Follow Lenart, he'll give you some whites to wear."

My first lesson in big city restaurants: always make cream soups, they hold up better during service. Anyways, I made the soup, got the job, and started down that particular path.

Some months later, Dennis, Linda (the diminutive but spunky night chef), and I were recalling my trial by fire. Linda said, "You were lucky--he poured my first soup into the garbage."

Dennis said, "No you both were lucky. I once worked for a German chef who, if he didn't like your soup, would pour it out on the floor and leave the room."

There's always someone worse.

So here are a few soups. Thanks to Lara for requesting a tomato soup recipe--this is your basic restaurant version. Milliken/Feniger added the Pernod touch.

Tomato Soup

2 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, julienned or sliced
1 large fennel bulb (optional) you can also use ½-1 teaspoons fennel seeds
2 teaspoons salt
½ teaspoon white pepper
½ cup Pernod (optional)
2-3 ripe tomatoes, seeded & chopped or 1 can diced-in-juice tomatoes (best quality possible)
2 cups chicken stock
½ cup heavy cream
½ cup half & half
Dash of Tabasco

Trim fennel, discarding stem. Thinly slice stalks.

Melt butter over moderate heat in large stockpot or Dutch oven. Add onions and cook with salt and pepper until soft, about 10 minutes. Add fennel, reduce heat to low, cook additional ten minutes.

Add Pernod and reduce liquid by half. Add tomatoes and chicken stock. Reduce to simmer and cook, covered about 20 minutes.

Puree in a blender until smooth. Return to pot and add cream and half and half. Bring to a boil, simmer 5 minutes, remove from heat. Add Tabasco.

Fennel bulb and Pernod are optional. I usually don’t have either so almost always make the soup without. Good quality canned tomatoes are preferred, but I often use regular old grocery store Hunt's. The imported Italian ones are the best but cost plenty more—San Marzano or Muir Glen are both good brands.

Heavy cream and half and half make for a silky delicious soup, but you can substitute less caloric milk for part of the dairy or leave it out and use only stock. Thin to your preference.

Restaurants make many variations on this method for soup of the day, substituting any other vegetable: broccoli, mushroom, spinach, asparagus, potato/leek, squash, beet, carrot, etc.

City Restaurant ashtray, slipped into a pocket. Picture from the blog "100 Miles".

Thai Pork Dumpling Soup

Cilantro Pesto:
• 1 bunch chopped cilantro
• 1 tablespoon fresh minced ginger
• 1 tablespoon chopped garlic
• 2 teaspoons ground black pepper
• 2 tablespoons fish sauce
• 1 tablespoons palm or brown sugar
Puree ingredients in blender until smooth.

• ½ # shitake or woodear mushrooms, cleaned and julienne. If using dried, soak until soft, then remove woody stem and slice.

Pork Dumplings:
• 1 # ground pork
• 2 tablespoons fish sauce
• 1 tablespoon minced garlic
• 1 tablespoon cornstarch

Combine ingredients and form into 1 inch meatballs.

Soak rice noodles 15 minutes in warm water then drain. Either break noodles into manageable pieces before you soak, or after soaking, cut into pieces with scissors and reserve.

Brown meatballs, remove from pan.

Add shitake mushrooms to pan, sauté until soft and remove.

Add the drained, cut noodles to pan, brown, and remove.

Add chicken stock to pan, bring to a boil, turn down to a simmer.

Add meat balls, cook 10 minutes. Add mushrooms and noodles, cook 10 minutes.

Reserving some pesto for garnish, stir remainder of pesto into stock/meatball/noodle/mushroom mixture. Serve with dollop of cilantro pesto and thinly sliced green onions.

This Swiss Onion Soup is a Susan Feniger recipe. I once made it to serve for lunch at City Restaurant and decided (on the sly) to deglaze the pan with wine after sauteing the onions. Susan walked along the line before service, tasting everything as she always did, tried the soup, looked at me and said, "Why did you deglaze the pan with wine? This is Swiss onion soup not French onion soup."

Busted--she has amazing tongue buds

Swiss Onion Soup

1/4 cup unsalted butter
2 medium onions, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon white pepper

4 slices day old white bread or 1/2 loaf French bread, crusts removed

5 cups milk
1/2 # Swiss or gruyere cheese, diced

Melt butter over moderate heat in a Dutch oven. Cook onions with salt and pepper until soft but not colored, 15 minutes.

Cut the bread into medium dice and add to the pot. Stir constantly for five minutes or until the bread absorbs the butter.

Add milk and bring to boil. Add cheese, stir, and reduce to simmer. Cook uncovered, stirring occasionally, for 1 hour.

P.S. I still like the soup better if you deglaze the pan with white wine after you saute the onions.

Dahlia Lounge

Crab Gumbo

• 2 diced carrots
• 2 celery stalks, diced
• 2 onions, diced
• 1 green pepper, diced
• 1 red pepper, diced
• 2 sliced leeks
• 1 potato, diced

• 2 T. garlic
• 2 t. thyme
• 1 t. oregano
• 1 t. basil
• 2 t. paprika
• 1 t. cayenne
• 1 t. dry mustard

• 1 can diced-in-juice tomatoes
• 4 cups chicken stock

Brown Roux:
½ c. oil
½ c. flour
Heat oil until smoking, add flour. Have ingredients and utensils lined up before you start. This is a dangerous process, and the chances of getting “lava” burns are extreme, so take care. When the oil is hot, add flour and start whisking. The goal of a dark brown roux will probably take 5-10 minutes to achieve. Roux can be made ahead.

Gumbo:
Sauté vegetables, herbs, and spices in oil. Add garlic—sauté.

Add tomatos and simmer for ten minutes. Add stock and bring to a boil, turn down to simmer.

Add brown roux, a spoon at a time until desired thickness is achieved. Let simmer for 45 minutes. Add cleaned crab before serving and garnish with red pepper rouille.

A marshmallow world: Turkey noodle soup and cornbread

2012-01-18T19:23:00Z

Last night, the snow-mongers breathlessly predicted 4-10 inches of snow today. They've been wrong before, but this time they delivered a winter wonderland as promised. Snow brings such quiet to the neighborhood, a quiet made even more silent by the lack of action on the sidewalks and the streets: the occasional reluctant dog walker, a ruddy-cheeked young couple out for an adventure, and Bob--never one to miss his morning walk.

Who knew that just down the block, Maria and Jim were building a day-glo igloo, ready for occupancy by morning's end. Most commuters have gratefully excepted the weather wizards advise to stay home and are hunkered down with a bowl of soup, a good book, a video game, a movie, or some other acceptable indoor recreation. It's not fit for man nor beast out there today.

It is, however, a perfect day to make soup and bake bread. As I'm not much of a baker, I'll stick with soup.

Turkey Noodle Soup

Put cooked turkey bones, neck, wing tips, and tail in a tall heavy-bottomed stock pot. Cover with cold water. Add large pieces of celery, one onion cut into quarters, two carrots, peeled and cut into large chunks, one or two bay leaves, a sprinkle of thyme, and a small handful of peppercorns. Bring to a boil, turn down immediately and simmer until bones are soft and easily separated--probably 2-3 hours.

Turn off, let cool for 15 minutes, then strain. Any turkey meat cooked that long is not be worth saving. Bring broth back to a simmer, salt to taste, skim to remove as much fat as possible, and let broth reduce at a medium simmer for 15 minutes.

Add fresh diced carrots, celery, onion and, if you're willing to spare some, leftover mashed potatoes, gravy, and dressing make stellar additions. Simmer for 15-20 minutes or until vegetables are done.

Add cooked noodles and diced or shredded turkey meat.

Cornbread

3 eggs
3 c. sour cream
1/3 c. oil
2 ¼ c. cornmeal
2 t. salt
2 T. sugar
1 t. baking powder
6 diced serranos
1 bunch sliced green onions
1 ½ c. shredded cheddar cheese

Mix eggs, sour cream and oil. Add cornmeal, salt, sugar, baking powder—mix only until combined. Fold in serranos, green onions and cheese.

Bake 20 minutes in 350° oven.

Oh yes, I'm missing those surfer dudes now.

Which is better, number 1?

Or number 2?

Number 1?

or number 2?

Number 1?

or number 2?

Number 1?

or number 2?

We do love a good season.

Out of the dark, into the light: Semi-Sicilian Menu

2012-01-16T21:24:34Z

"The winter solstice occurs exactly when the axial tilt of Earth's polar hemisphere is farthest away from the sun." For centuries, rituals, festivals, and holidays marked the resurgence of the winter Sun. Stonehenge is thought to provide a portal to view the sunset of the year's shortest day. In 46 BC, Julius Caesar established the Julian calendar and set December 25 as the day of the European winter solstice. Pagans, worldwide, once gathered to banish the cold and celebrate being halfway to the warmth of the longest day.

Not wanting to ignore centuries-old traditions, we have a little soiree the day before Martin Luther King Day to celebrate the return of the light. By the middle of January, the gradual lenthening of the day is a certainty. I don't turn the living room lamps on until 4:45 or so, the City of Tacoma's hideous orange day-glo street lights don't go on until 5:00, the sun rises spectacularly between 7:00 and 7:15 am, and grape hyacinths pop up, brashly ignoring the 30 degree nights.

We skipped last years' event so are really ready this year with a Semi Sicilian-based menu. Years ago I watched Mario Batali make arancini and planned everything around that memory. I found the recipe he used, added several dishes I'd made successfully before and eventually went with the menu below. I thought I was the first to know about arancini. Imagine my surprise when I saw them for sale both at Costco and Trader Joes. Once again, I'm the last to know.

BTW, I'm almost sure Costo's or TJ'swould be as good as mine and certainly easier. For heaven sakes, Batali's recipe starts with, "6 1/2 cups leftover risotto." Really?? Leftover risotto?

ANTIPASTO PLATE
ARANCINI WITH TOMATO SAUCE
BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP WITH SAGE CROUTONS
TUSCAN BREAD SALAD
SICILIAN CHICKEN CANZANESE
ORZO WITH SPINACH
MANGO PANNA COTTA

Winter solstice, courtesy of Flickr

My friend Jim's picture of a 2011 December sunset in Grayland, WA

Sunrise off Lake Superior, December 2010

December sunset in La Jolla CA, 2007

Here are the recipes I used for the sort of Sicilian menu. All are fairly easy and more than tasty. The mango panna cotta is a real keeper.

Roasted Pepper Salad:

2 red bell peppers

2 orange bell pepper

1/3 cup pitted kalamata olives, thinly sliced

1/4 cup olive oil

2 tablespoons drained capers

6 fresh basil leaves, chopped

2 garlic cloves, minced

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the broiler. Cover a heavy baking sheet with foil. Arrange the bell peppers on the baking sheet. Broil until the skins brown and blister, turning the peppers over occasionally, about 15 minutes. Enclose the peppers in a resealable plastic bag. Set aside until cooled to room temperature, about 20 minutes.

Peel, seed, and cut the peppers into 1/2-inch thick strips. Toss the pepper strips, olives, oil, capers, basil, garlic, salt, and pepper in a medium bowl to combine. Cover and refrigerate up to 2 days.

Tuscan white bean spread

2 15 oz cans white beans, rinsed and drained

2 teaspoons coarse sea salt (Fleur de sel)- or to taste

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

2 tablespoons water

1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

roasted garlic

1 tablespoon flat leaf parsley

1 tablespoon fresh Rosemary

1 tablespoon fresh Thyme

Place all ingredients in the bowl of a food processor and blend until smooth. Serve with sliced French baguettes or grilled pita bread

ARANCINI
(Worked just fine to fry in the morning, keep at room temperature, and reheat in a 350 degree oven ten minutes before serving.)

6 cups pre-cooked rice (leftover risotto works well or even leftover plain rice from take-out)

2 eggs, plus 4 eggs separated

1 cup freshly grated Pecorino Romano or Parmesan, plus more for grating

Pinch of red chile flakes, plus more to taste

1 bunch mint coarsely chopped, leaves and stems and all, 2 tablespoons reserved for garnish

1 pound fresh mozzarella cheese, cut into small cubes

2 cups panko or breadcrumbs for coating

oil for frying

Salt, to taste

Place the cooked rice in a large mixing bowl. Add 2 whole eggs and 4 egg yolks. Then mix in pecorino, sea salt, chile flakes and mint. Set the egg whites aside.

After ingredients are thoroughly mixed, form into 2.5” to 3” diameter balls, filling center of balls with several pieces of cheese (or any other filling of your choosing).

In each of 3 shallow bowls, place flour, egg whites and breadcrumbs. Whisk the egg whites briefly to loosen them. Roll each ball in egg whites, then in breadcrumbs. Place balls on a tray, and refrigerate uncovered for one hour.

Heat 4 inches of olive oil in a deep fryer or a pot to 350 F. CAUTION – don't fill pot above two thirds full.

Carefully place 3 balls at a time into pot and fry until golden brown, about 3 to 4 minutes, stirring with a kitchen spoon to keep them moving.

Using a spider or a slotted spoon, drain cooked balls on paper towels. Serve hot or at room temperature. Finish with grated pecorino cheese, chile flakes and mint.

Chicken Canzanese

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 ounces prosciutto (1/4 inch thick), cut into 1/4-inch cubes (bacon is a less expensive alternative)

4 medium garlic cloves , sliced thin lengthwise

8 bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs (about 3 pounds)

Ground black pepper

2 teaspoons unbleached all-purpose flour

2 cups dry white wine

1 cup chicken broth

4 whole cloves

1(4-inch) sprig fresh rosemary , leaves removed and minced fine (about 1/2 teaspoon), stem reserved

12 whole fresh sage leaves

2 bay leaves

1/4-1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes

Juice from 1 lemon

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Adjust oven rack to lower-middle position and heat oven to 325 degrees. Heat 1 teaspoon oil in 12-inch heavy-bottomed oven-safe skillet over medium heat until shimmering. Add prosciutto and cook, stirring frequently, until just starting to brown, about 3 minutes. Add garlic slices and cook, stirring frequently, until garlic is golden brown, about 1½ minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer garlic and prosciutto to small bowl and set aside. Do not rinse pan.

Increase heat to medium-high; add remaining 2 teaspoons oil and heat until just smoking. Pat chicken dry with paper towels and season with ground black pepper. Add chicken, skin side down, and cook without moving until well browned, 5 to 8 minutes. Using tongs, turn chicken and brown on second side, about 5 minutes longer. Transfer chicken to large plate.

Remove all but 2 tablespoons fat from pan. Sprinkle flour over fat and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute. Slowly add wine and broth; bring to simmer, scraping bottom of pan with wooden spoon to loosen browned bits. Cook until liquid is slightly reduced, 3 minutes. Stir in cloves, rosemary stem, sage leaves, bay leaves, red pepper flakes, and reserved prosciutto and garlic. Nestle chicken into liquid, skin side up (skin should be above surface of liquid), and bake, uncovered, until meat offers no resistance when poked with fork but is not falling off bones, about 1 hour 15 minutes. (Check chicken after 15 minutes; broth should be barely bubbling. If bubbling vigorously, reduce oven temperature to 300 degrees.)

Using tongs, transfer chicken to serving platter and tent with foil. Remove and discard sage leaves, rosemary stem, cloves, and bay leaves. Place skillet over high heat and bring sauce to boil. Cook until sauce is reduced to 1¼ cups, 2 to 5 minutes. Off heat, stir in minced rosemary, lemon juice, and butter. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Pour sauce around chicken and serve.

Mango Panna Cotta:

1/4 cup whole milk

1 cup mango pulp

1 tablespoon unflavored powdered gelatin

3 cups heavy cream

1/2 cup sugar

Pinch of salt

Mango Sauce:

1/2 cup mango pulp

1/4 cup sugar

1 tablespoon lime juice

Panna Cotta:

Place the milk, gelatin and mango puree in a blender. Blend until smooth.
Pour milk mixture into a small pan and stir over medium heat, about 5 minutes.

Add the cream, sugar, and salt. Stir until the sugar dissolves, 5 to 7 minutes. Remove from the heat.

Pour into 6 glasses or ramekins so that they are about 1/2 full. Refrigerate until set, at least 4 hours. Spoon the mango sauce on top and serve.

Mango sauce:

Place all the ingredients in a small sauce pan and cook stirring often for about 10 minutes or until a syrup consistency.

Santa Cruz Nice

2012-01-07T20:09:31Z

Now, when someone mentions Santa Cruz, I too will get that soft, smiley look on my face. I felt at home here from the start. Santa Cruz has that Vashon Island feel: a slower pace, a distinct local culture, plenty of small funky houses, an active art scene, and coffee on every corner. The difference between the two is more a case of addition than subtraction. Santa Cruz has surfer dudes, bare legs/feet, sunny days, lots more restaurants, off-kilter residents who are inclined to rant, gesture, and mumble, and a bus system that takes them and you anywhere.

Last year we were in Minnesota expecting to feel and see that "Minnesota Nice"...didn't happen for me. But here in Santa Cruz, every expedition I took out the door provided another example of California courtesy.

One day on my way to the beach, a bicycle-riding, ranting, gesturing, tattered man rode by shouting at me. Following Bob's instructions to "never make eye contact", I just walked along and ignored him. Walking toward me, a tall, young man asked, "Is that man bothering you? Don't pay any attention to him, he has issues" and waited with me until the ranter was down the block.

Regardless of age, religion, gender, race, sexual persuasion, or political party, every time I entered a crosswalk, busy car traffic stopped, made eye contact, and gestured for me to walk on through, then smiled. Now before we get all warm and fuzzy about Santa Cruzarians: also without exception, anyone on a bicycle, skateboard, in-line skates, or scooter completely ignored me and whizzed perilously by, without warning. Apparently they aren't required to sign the pledge.

Anyways, I loved Pie Ranch, Sunny Cove, the Aloha Island Grill, Gayle's Bakery, East Cliff Drive, Capitola Village, Mr. Kebab, the Fairfield Inn housekeepers, the Museum of Art and History, the #55 bus, the New Leaf Organic Grocery, the Pleasure Point surfers, Half Moon Bay, fish tacos at Johnny's Harborside, and walking in the sunshine.

So we've returned to the Northwest--back to winter, rain, and home. We've been catching up with family, visiting with our neighbors, sorting through the mail, sleeping in our own bed, cooking meals, washing clothes without scrounging quarters, and looking out more than one window. Bob misses the hot tub, I miss ice cubes at the end of the hall, clean sheets three times a week, sunny weather, a bus that stops at the front door, a free newspaper, the sweet housekeeping staff, and having no responsibility.

We don't miss the hotel's erratic heating/cooling system, the lack of hot water in the morning, living in one room, eating out, Bob's 4:45 am wake-up call, using the bathroom for a kitchen, or the thump, thump of children running up and down the hall. I'd gladly live in Capitola but certainly don't want to move.

Homes along the Santa Cruz harbor

Santa Cruz Harbor

The Yacht Club on Woods Lagoon

The view from Johnny's Harborside restaurant

The following pictures are examples of Santa Cruz weird. Don't know who, why, or what's up with the heads. Cindy, from the Santa Cruz Art League, said the artist who makes them has been populating his roof and windows with different faces for years.

The "climbing wall" on the side of a bakery along the harbor