Wednesday, December 24, 2008
I just got back from Fish King, the popular fish market in Glendale. I was a little concerned when I pulled the number 24 and looked up to see they were serving customer number 150. Just 75 more customers to go.
But the ultra-efficient employees called my number in less than 40 minutes and it took less than ten minutes for them to crack my two fresh dungennes crabs and two Alaskan king crab legs.
While I waited, I got to chat up other customers to find out what they were buying and what they planned to make. I'm nosy that way.
- One lady was purchasing fresh crab for crab cakes. She first made these as an appetizer for a fund raising dinner for PAWS-LA, and her 24 guests raved about them. The recipe is from the Williams and Sonoma recipe site. I love crab cakes (or crab anything) but have never made them at home. This goes on my list of what's cookin' in 2009.
- The same lady purchased a pound of herring because she's Norwegian. I got so excited. I almost told her that my cat is also Norwegian, but managed to restrain myself. I think I'll skip the herring in 2009.
- Another couple, who I had met at a party last Saturday, was purchasing several quarts of the ready-made lobster bisque. They were also purchasing fresh lobster to add to the soup and planned on adding a touch of sherry. Now that's my kind of recipe - easy, rich and boozy.
- A well heeled couple was purchasing several lobster tails ($59.95 a pound) for their Christmas Eve dinner. They also planned to serve fresh cioppinno. I wish I could finagle an invitation to that party.
Wishing everyone a wonderful holiday filled with all of your favorite family, friends and food!
722 N Glendale Ave
Glendale, CA 91206
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sometimes baking and decorating Christmas cutout cookies can be a bit overwhelming - the mixing, the chilling, the rolling, the cutting, the baking, the glazing, the icing, the sprinkling, the cleaning . . . the collapsing.
But this time I rolled with the dough, provided the tools and sat back and watched a little magic happen.
Little Sis created this masterful Christmas tree with a simple technique: Glaze the cookie in a concoction of powdered sugar and water and then add the fine strokes with food coloring and a paint brush. She sprinkled on a little sugar glitter for pizazz.
Granny's Sugar Cookies
(From a 32-year-old Tupperware recipe I found in my box.)
1/2 cup butter
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 cups flour, sifted
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
- Cream together butter and sugar.
- Blend in egg.
- Sift together salt, baking powder and flour. Add to mixture.
- Blend vanilla into mixture.
- Chill dough approximately one hour.
- Roll dough to desired thickness (about 1/8") and cut out shapes.
- Bake on lightly greased cookie sheet (or cookie sheet with parchment paper) in 375 degree preheated oven for 8 to 10 minutes.
2 cups confectioners' sugar
4 tablespoons water
Combine ingredients until lumps disappear. Spoon on cookies or dip cookie directly into the glaze.
(Will post this later.)
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Let me count the reasons why I shouldn't make this dish.
- I love butternut squash, but hate working with it. Am I the only wimp who feels like peeling a butternut squash is as much work as whittling an oak branch? And slicing the dense veggie is as taxing as chopping wood.
- The ingredients - machengo or gruyère cheese and heavy cream - make it a bit expensive for this frugal cook.
- Those same ingredients - oodles of cheese and heavy cream - make it a bit high fat for this health-conscious cook.
- It is irresistibly delicious. The sweetness of the sweet potatoes. The nuttiness of the butternut squash. The richness of the cream and cheeses. The savory goodness of the thyme. Who could ask for anything more?
Do you have a dish that you hate to make but love to eat?
Monday, December 15, 2008
I experimented with other traditional Christmas morning breakfasts, but hubby preferred his yogurt and cereal and Cynthia only cared about opening presents. Sigh. When Cynthia was little, we created and decorated houses from graham crackers, icing and candy, but never graduated to a more sophisticated gingerbread house. I experiment with new cookies every year, but haven't developed a traditional favorite.
Where did I go wrong? Just when I was about to throw in the food flag, Cynthia came to me and asked, "Mom, when are you going to make the caramel popcorn?"
Yes! We do have a tradition - the caramel popcorn that she and her friends devour by the bowlful. The caramel corn that I mix with nuts and give as gifts. Feeling like less of a failure, I found I had the three main ingredients - butter, sugar and light corn syrup - on hand and ran out to purchase the mixed nuts.
2 quarts popped corn (I use microwave popcorn)
1 to 2 cups nuts (salted, roasted mixed nuts, any kind you like)
1 1/3 cups sugar
1 cup butter (2 sticks)
1 t. vanilla
1/2 cup light corn syrup
- Combine sugar, butter and corn syrup in large pot. Bring to boil over medium heat, stirring constantly.
- Continue boiling until light brown color (like the color of peanut butter), about 10 minutes.
- Remove from heat. Stir in vanilla. Mix in popcorn and nuts. (It's easiest to do this in the same container that you use to prepare the caramel.)
- Spread on cookie sheet. Let cool slightly and break into pieces. Store in air-tight container.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Alas, I can't recommend any Japanese restaurants in Pasadena. Most, like the ever-popular but mediocre Kabuki, seem more Japanesque than Japanese. For the real thing, I like to head to the South Bay. This area has a large Japanese American population in Torrance and Gardena and a thriving Japanese national segment because several major Japanese corporations (Toyota, Honda, Epson) have American headquarters in Torrance.
My japanese American friend Carol introduced me to Sanuki No Sato in Gardena about 15 years ago. We went to the show/sale of a Japanese American silver jeweler twice a year in Torrance, but the show was just a thinly veiled excuse to head to Sanuki for a steaming bowl of chubby udon noodles.
Carol always drove to the corner restaurant in a Gardena mini mall. It wasn't until years later that I realized that most of the signage was in Japanese. You have to look hard to find the small, unobtrusive sign in English.
A trio of oversized "Sanuki No Sato" signs are in Japanese, but only one small, easy-to-miss sign is in English.
Yesterday I justified the long drive for lunch at Sanuki because I needed to purchase osembe (Japanese rice crackers) at the Mitsuwa Market in Torrance for my dad's Christmas package. They have the best, daddy-pleasing selection and, believe it or not, you still can't find a decent rice cracker in Ravenswood, West Virginia.
Giant Japanese paper lanterns, Christmas lights and . . . Spider Man decorate the restaurant.
Mitsuwa is a 45-minute drive from Altadena, but Sanuki is just another five minutes down the street. I ordered the Nabeyaki, a rustic iron pot filled with perfect udon noodles and topped with shrimp tempura, soft poached egg, chicken, fish cake, shiitake mushrooms, seaweed, and sansai vegetables (such as bamboo shoots).
I think my Japanese cooking class has taught me to appreciate this restaurant and this dish more than ever. The soup base was a rich dashi stock with a touch of soy sauce. And as soon as I bit into the vegetables, I recognized that they had been cooked in dashi, then soy sauce and sugar, like the onishime vegetables we prepared in class. After one bite, you're likely to yell out, "Oh, mama," or at least "umami," the rich, elusive "fifth taste" that's found in many Japanese foods.
With a glass of ice cold Sapporo draft beer, this lunch was the perfect antidote to holiday fatigue.
Vegetables, shrimp tempura, fish cakes and egg top the steaming pot of udon.
Jonathan Gold has consistently included Sanuki No Sato on his annual list of "Essential LA Restaurants." And Hideo Nomo, the popular pitcher for the Dodgers, was/is a regular when he's in town. But I don't think it shows that you're trendy or hip if you eat at Sanuki No Sato. It just shows good taste for traditional Japanese food. And once you've had it, you may never want to go back to Kabuki again.
Sanuki No Sato
18206 S. Western Ave.
Gardena, CA 90248
Sunday, December 7, 2008
If you're looking for a winter salad that's both bold and beautiful, simple and satisfying, look no further.
We developed this salad when I was the chair of the salad section of the Huntington Garden's herb cookbook, a Celebration of Herbs. (Believe it or not, arugula, the green used in this salad, is considered an herb.) Even though this recipe didn't make it into the book, it's become my "signature salad" - the one I'm most often asked to bring to potlucks. "Can you bring that salad you do? The one with the candied pecans?" friends often ask.
What makes this a "winter delight salad"? Pears are hard and bland when out of season, but a delight in winter, when the fruit is ripe and sweet. The pairing of sweet and sour, crunchy and soft, peppery and pungent make this winter salad even more delightful.
Winter Delight Salad
1 bag baby arugula greens
2 tart apples, such as Granny Smith, thinly sliced
2 pears, thinly sliced
1/4 C. candied walnuts or pecans
1/2 C. gorgonzola cheese, crumbled
1/3 C. balsamic vinegar
1/2 C. virgin olive oil
1 t. lemon juice
1 minced shallot
1 clove garlic, crushed
salt and pepper to taste
Blend together all ingredients.
I've experimented with at least a half dozen recipes for candied pecans (with or without butter, with or without egg whites, brown or white sugar, on the stove top or in the oven, with a variety of liquids) and I think this one is the easiest and best.
1 1/2 cups toasted pecans
1/2 cup liquid (I like to use brandy)
1 cup brown sugar
- Toast pecans in a dry, non-stick fry pan, being careful not to burn.
- Add brandy and sugar and stir.
- Keep stirring until liquid evaporates and turns into a glaze on the pecans.
- Dump pecans in a single layer on a sheet of aluminum foil or parchment paper.
Use candied pecans as a snack, in salads, as a vegetable topping (especially good with sweet potatoes, squash or pumpkin) or as a topping on desserts, such as ice cream or baked pears.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
With gas prices low and my spirits high, I decided to take a day trip to Ojai for lunch with a friend.
She suggested that we make a reservation on the garden patio at Suzanne's Cuisine. As soon as I walked onto the back patio, I felt like I was a world, not two hours, away from Los Angeles. We were seated next to a lovely garden with a burbling fountain and hovering hummingbird. It was like being invited for lunch at a friend's house - a friend who loves to garden and cook and has an eye for details.
The bread was crusty and warm and the presentation of the butter with a flat parsley leaf delightful. There was just one problem. My salad Nicoise (unlike the one I prepared a few days later for the trespassers picnic) was a disappointment. The rare Ahi tuna and the dressing were bland and there were just a few small potatoes hidden under the abundance of greens. No green beans, no eggs, no capers, no flavor. I even did the unthinkable and sprinkled salt on my tuna.
Ordinarily, I like to blather on about these things, but, for once, I silenced my inner food critic and instead focused on the good bread, the garden, the hummingbird and the sparkling two and a half hour conversation with my friend.
And, yes, I'd go back to Suzanne's in a heartbeat. As a matter of fact, looking at these pictures makes me long to hop in the car and drive there NOW. The other food on the menu, including the chicken chilli and vegetarian sandwich my friend ordered, looked delicious. I just won't order another salad Nicoise.
502 W Ojai Ave
Ojai, CA 93023
Casa Barranca: A stunning Greene & Greene Craftsman house, plus a winery and yoga studio, with views of the entire valley. Owner Bill Moses makes fine Viognier and Syrah and a delicate, Burgundian-style Pinot Noir, all fermented with wild yeasts (he believes in minimal intervention). The winery is not open to the public, but tastings (from $4) are scheduled Wed–Sun at Firehouse Pottery & Gallery, 109 S. Montgomery St.; www.casabarranca.com; 805/646-9453. (From Sunset Magazine, 4-07)
(Susan's two cents: Architecture, yoga wine and views all in the same spot? Sign me up.)
Ojai Valley Inn & Spa Loll in Moroccan splendor as you choose your treatment, perhaps the grapefruit body scrub. INFO: Open to day guests Mon–Fri; treatments from $50, plus $20 nonguest fee; 905 Country Club Rd.; 800/422-6524. (From Sunset Magazine, 1-08)
(Susan's two cents: This is the super-pricy resorted that recently underwent a $90 million renovation. I think $70 is a fairly reasonable price to get my foot in the door of the sauna.)
The venerable Oaks at Ojai destination spa (from $180, including classes and meals; minimum two-night stay required; 805/646-5573) offers a long roster of classes and fitness activities as well as treatments and theme packages, and serves three low-fat spa meals and snacks a day. Men are welcome but rare; the clientele for its 46 guest rooms is mostly women. (From Sunset Magazine, 1-08)
(Susan's two cents: This is one of the best deals in Southern California. My friend Karen went with her rare-breed husband and had a memorable weekend.)
RTK Studios: A craftsman bungalow is the home of this tile workshop that specilizes in reproduciton tiles of Spanish, Craftsman and art deco designs. The studio is open by appointment only. The website says, "As artisans steeped in the tile making traditions of a bygone era, we bring the old-world craft of the legendary Malibu and Catalina tileworks back to life." Their work can be found at many of the Spanish-Mission architectural gems around town, including the colonnade leading into Libby Park. (Condensed from
Australian Plants Nursery: Altadena Hiker recommends this nursery that specializes in "ornamental trees and shrubs for Mediterranean gardens."
My friend Debbi recommends The Ranch House, another beautiful restaurant surrounded by herbs and flowers.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
If you're wrapped in an afghan and shivering in the cold or watching snow flurries or cursing the thought of your next budget-breaking gas bill, then you may not be able to imagine a late-November picnic with temperatures in the 70's.
It's been so unseasonably warm here in Southern California, that I had to change both the site and menu for our al fresco autumn meal. We abandoned the "top of the world" location with no shade and settled on a tree-lined site in the lowlands. And I gave up on the idea of a hearty beef stew in favor of heat-friendly salad Nicoise.
There seem to be as many opinions about the components of a proper salad Nicoise as there are opinions about getting us out of this financial crisis. Should the tuna be packed in oil or water? White or dark meat? What about the restaurant trend of serving rare ahi tuna? Should tomatoes be included? What about anchovies or capers? Are greens included in a proper salad Nicoise? This is one controversial salad.
In an effort to please almost everyone, I included both a water-packed albacore tuna and an oil-drenched Italian variety, both already on my pantry shelf. I added tomatoes for color, even though they are close to tasteless this time of year. And I left out the greens due to forgetfulness (I left them behind in the refrigerator), not for a desire to be authentic.
This recipe is adapted from the one posted by Tea and Cookies, who modified the recipe from the Silver Palate cookbook.
Salad Nicoise (Pronounced "nee-SWAHZ")
8 small red potatoes, cooked in salted water until tender but not mushy
2 lbs green beans, trimmed, blanched in boiling water until bright green but still crispy
4 small ripe tomatoes, chopped
1 small purple onion, thinly sliced
1/2 cup Nicoise olives
pinch of salt
1 tsp pepper
3/4 cup dressing (recipes follows)
6 hard boiled eggs, quartered
12 oz oil packed tuna
2 oz anchovy fillets
Assemble all ingredients, except eggs, tuna and anchovies, in a large bowl or on a serving platter. Toss With dressing. Arrange eggs, tuna and anchovies on plate or platter and drizzle with dressing.
1 tbs dijon mustard
1/4 cup red wine vinegar (or champagne vinegar)
1/2 cup virgin olive oil
1 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
1/4 cup finely chopped flat leaf Italian parsley
1 small shallot, minced
(I've experimented with lots of different dressings for salad Nicoise, and this was the best complement by far.)
Put the mustard, vinegar, oil, sugar, salt and pepper into a small jar and shake. Mix in the parsley and shallot.
Enjoy this classic dish in a serene, pastoral setting, preferably without the humming of leaf blowers and the din of trash trucks.
Fresh berries with cassis liquer and orange zest
Red and white wine
Sunday, November 23, 2008
These were a gift from a family in Arcadia. The grandmother prepared them for me to show her gratitude for the persimmons they picked from our yard. I'm grateful for the time, talent and . . . . . gratitude that went into creating them.
Every time I looked at them I was reminded of the circle of gratitude.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Gold proves that, yes, Virginia, there is life beyond Melrose Ave and the Westside. He features three Eagle Rock and 10 San Gabriel Valley restaurants and even recommends spots in Bell and Norwalk, two cities known more for graffitti than gastronomy. I've included excerpts from Gold, along with my own humble opinions about these "essential" places near our neck of the woods.
(Baa Baa: I will follow.
Waa Waa: I may stray from the recommendation.)
1823 South San Gabriel Blvd.
What he says: It may serve Guadalupe Valley Syrah instaed of margaritas, and chiles en nogada instead of nacho plates, but Babita is a relaxed corner Mexican place with great food, an Eastside joint whose service is burnished to a white-tablecloth sheen.
What I say: My friend MM, who's been frequenting Babita for years, introduced me a couple years ago, and I felt like I'd joined a secret club. Who knew that this little joint with tacky decor on the wrong side of the tracks in San Gabriel was pumping out sophisticated Mexican food. Chef/owner Roberto is charming and, if you play your cards right, you may get an invitation to one of his private wine pairing dinners.
749 Altadena Drive
What he says: The gelateria, the love child of Rome ex-pat Bulgarini and his Altadena-born wife Elizabeth Foldi, is a singular perfect blossom in a world of international sweets conglomerates and by-the-book mixes: fragrant Sicilian pistachio gelato, vivid blood orange sorbetto, subtle cinnamon cream and dark, smoky chocolate gelati flavored with orange peel, with fresh hazelnuts or with rum. And Leo probably pulls the best espresso shot in the San Gabriel Valley when he’s in the mood, a thick, syrupy thimbleful made with an antique Italian machine. If you don’t believe me, ask him yourself.
What I say: Lucky me! Bulgarini is less than one mile from my house. If I've been very, very good, I'll treat myself to a walk after dinner and one of my favorites: orange chocolate gelato, blood orange sorbetto or lemon vanilla gelato. I'd like to order the Gold-recommended shot of espresso, but I rarely see Leo in the shop.
1650 Colorado Blvd.
What he says: Casa Bianca, the fiefdom of the Martorana family since 1955, serves the best neighborhood-pizzeria pizza in L.A. The sausage is homemade, but the mushrooms on the pizza are canned, old-school style, if that sort of thing bothers you.
What I say: This is my favorite pizza in LA, and I love to order it cut into funky little squares. There's just one problem: getting the box of pizza pie home intact. Oh, me of little self discipline. The only way to return home with a whole pizza is to transport it in the hatch of my Prius. It's also fun to avoid temptation by eating in at a table with a red checked cloth and a carafe of cheap red wine. Just be prepared to wait for at least half an hour for one of those checkered tables or a booth.
627 West Duarte Road
What he says: An elegant Hangzhou-influenced restaurant headed by chef Henry Chang, whose restrained, earthy style became known to the local Chinese community at the old Juon Yuan in San Gabriel Square, Chang’s Garden is well known both for its version of dong po pork, a dish favored by Chinese poets, and for the cooking’s congeniality to wine.
What I say: Sounds good. Let's go. Baa. Baa.
1000 S. San Gabriel Blvd.
What he says: Chung King is still the best place in the San Gabriel Valley to taste Sichuan cooking: sizzling with four or five different kinds of chiles, vibrating with the flavors of extreme fermentation and smacked with the cooling, numbing sensation of Sichuan peppercorns, lies halfway between dentist’s-chair Novocain and the last time you could afford a lot of blow, food that leaves you exhausted, narcotized and happy, drenched in foul, garlic-laced sweat.
What I say: I tried it, but think we must have ordered the wrong dishes. I need to go back, especially since Wandering Chopsticks lists this as one of her favorites.
El Huarache Azteca
5225 York Blvd.
What he says: In Mexico City restaurants like El Huarache Azteca may be thick on the ground, but in Highland Park, there is nothing like it on a Saturday afternoon, a cramped storefront filled with families guzzling house-made horchata, tepache and watermelon drink out of huge foam cups, hovering over the few oilcloth-covered tables inside, gathering tacos and sopes by the dozen to bring home to their families, and coaxing burning-hot huitlacoche quesadillas — fried turnovers stuffed with musky, jet-black corn fungus — out of the stone-faced woman who mans the fry cart outside the entrance. What you have come for is, of course, the huarache, a flat, concave trough of fried masa mounded with beans, cultured cream and meat.
What I say: Doesn't this sound lovely? Let's go. Baa Baa.
700 S. Atlantic Blvd.
What he says: The roast squab has skin as delicately crunchy as any Beijing duck. The Shunde-style soup of seafood with minced ham and bits of bitter melon is as tautly balanced as the exhaust note of a Lamborghini. The balls of chopped shrimp steamed in nets of shredded turnip and garnished with their own roe —s the essence of the sea captured. And the morning dim sum breakfasts, ordered from menus instead of carts, are divine.
What I say: Have any of you tried Elite? Gold's review doesn't tantalize me, even though it made the essential list. Waa Waa
950 E. Colorado Blvd.
What he says: Sumi Chang’s bakery may be the center of civilized life in Pasadena: a place to buy excellent-to-superb scones and baguettes and pains au chocolat, of course, but also the heart of a certain sort of society, the Caltech professors, theology students and writers who worship at the twin altars of caffeine and conversation, a place where you are likely to bump into a zillion-dollar chef, a man who helped design the Mars rover, or the star of the play you saw last night at the Ahmanson. On a good day, Euro Pane’s magnificent croissants could be mistaken for France’s best in a police lineup, and, the natural-starter sourdough is superb. Toss in the homemade granola, the epochal bread pudding, the rustic fruit tarts and the gooiest egg-salad sandwich in town, and it’s no wonder that Europane’s regulars treat the bakery more as a permanent residence than as a café.
What I say: I mainly go for the tarragon chicken salad on rosemary currant bread or the rustic fruit tarts, but I have been known to "worship at the twin altars of caffeine and conversation."
815 W. Las Tunas Drive
What he says: Golden Deli, you may not need to be told, is one of the best Vietnamese noodle shops in Southern California, a well-worn citadel of banh hoi and pho in a busy San Gabriel mini-mall, a restaurant so popular that its customers wait up to an hour for a spot at one of the sticky, cramped tables. Golden Deli has the best cha gio, fried Vietnamese spring rolls, in the observable universe, and the owners know it. And after a bite or two, so will you.
What I say: When I was a 3-week guest at Hotel Hope, visions of spring rolls danced in my head. I couldn't wait to sink my teeth into those crunchy, chewy egg rolls, swathed in Romaine lettuce, filled with fresh herbs and dipped in fish sauce. I've tried other fried Vietnamese spring rolls, but none of them compare to the golden rolls at Golden Deli.
7011 S. Greenleaf Ave.
What he says: Golden Triangle may be the best place in California to taste Burmese food, a phantasmagoria of a cuisine that draws from the cooking of nearby India, China, Thailand and Laos — the country is in a pretty good neighborhood. The restaurant specializes in the garbanzo-flour-thickened catfish chowder called moh hin gha, the biryani-style rice dish called dun buk htaminh, and lap pad thoke, a salad made with pickled tea leaves that have the consistency of stewed collard greens and the caffeine kick of a double espresso, and also in a sour vegetable dish made with a special Burmese green that the owner grows in his backyard.
What I say: I don't think I've ever had Burmese food (never made it to the Rangoon Racuet Club in BH in the 80s), but this sounds intriguing. Let's go to Whittier. Baa Baa
La Casita Mexicana
4030 E. Gage Ave.
What he says: When you sit down at La Casita, the spiritual home of Mexican cooking in Los Angeles at the moment, you are brought a basket of warm chips drizzled with jet-black mole poblano, a chile-laced red pepian and a green pepian made from crushed pumpkin seeds: the dense, complexly sweet mother sauces that are at the heart of La Casita’s cooking. Chefs Jaime Martin del Campo and Ramiro Arvizu are everywhere if you follow Spanish-language media, demonstrating recipes on the Univision morning show, opening supermarkets, on billboards advertising Mexican avocados. They dominate the food pages of La Opinión, and no local discussion of mole poblano, nopalitos or chilaquiles is complete until they have had their say.
The two haunt communal farms, looking for huazontle, hoja santa and nopales as fresh and beautiful as they might be in the Jalisco villages they grew up in. But mostly there is the cooking: a half-dozen different kinds of chilaquiles at breakfast, a beautiful purple-corn pozole, delicious enfrijoladas, and an impeccable version of chiles en nogada, the most famous dish of haute Mexican cuisine.
What I say: Where the hell is Bell? I know that's what you're thinking. Believe me, if ever there was a reason to find out, this restaurant is it. Gold does not exaggerate. The setting and prices are modest, but the food like nothing you've ever tasted before in a Mexican restaurant.
1496 Colorado Blvd.
What he says: Every dish on the menu is probably somebody’s best recipe: The tart, creamy potato salad is credited to Aunt Carolyn; the ground-beef-intensive chile verde to chef Mackey’s grandpa; the caramelly-tasting banana pudding to Mama. But one thing is beyond argument: Mackey’s fried chicken, tender-crusted and juicy, golden and singing with the taste of clean oil, is about as good as it gets in Los Angeles restaurants.
What I say: One of my favorite places for lunch, happy hour or dinner. Charming setting in a converted craftsman home, friendly wait staff and, oh, mama, that wonderful fried chicken.
2005 Colorado Blvd.
What he says: "Slow fast food,” proclaims the sign outside: smoky Carolina-style pulled-pork sandwiches, chopped salad, and fast-food-style Angus-beef hamburgers with sweet house-made catsup. He roasts chickens on a creaky rotisserie and smokes his own pastrami. Would you be willing to pay a couple dollars extra to experience artisanal soda pop, purplish Fosselman’s-based ube milkshakes and other fast food with a chefly edge? Guerrero is betting that you are. With all of the above, of course, it is necessary to have an order of Belgian fries, fried twice to leave them light and hot, their fluffy potato essence encased in a stiff, perfectly golden capsule of crunch.
What I say: I found this place good but a far cry from essential. Should I give it one more try? Waa Waa
101 Noodle Express
1408 E. Valley Blvd.
What he says: A bleak mini-mall storefront next to a bowling alley, 101 Noodle Express isn’t undiscovered, exactly, although in all my visits I have never had a waitress say a word to me in English that didn’t happen to be “7-up” or “Coca-Cola.” Everybody orders a lovely if orthodox bowl of hot-sour soup, and a tan, wrinkly specialty called “De Zhou chicken.” But mostly, the café is home to the Shandong-style beef roll, a massive, bronzed construction that commands its platter like two El Tepeyac burritos laid side by side — brawny Chinese pancakes rolled around slivers of stewed beef and seasoned with a sprinkling of chopped scallion tops and fresh cilantro.
The inside of the beef roll is smeared with a sweet, house-made bean paste with an ethereal, almost transparent top note, a bean paste that bears the same relationship to ordinary hoisin sauce that a fine demi-glace might to a slug of canned brown gravy. It is a simple composition, and yet not — ordinary street food raised to a transcendent level.
What I say: This is my kind of food - "ordinary street food raised to a transcendent level." I gotta' go. Baa Baa
Pie 'N Burger
What he says: This is the best neighborhood hamburger joint in a neighborhood that includes Caltech, which means the guy next to you may be reading a physics proof over his chili size as if it were the morning paper. When compressed by the act of eating, a Pie ‘N Burger hamburger leaks thick, pink dressing, and the slice of American cheese, if you have ordered a cheeseburger, does not melt into the patty, but stands glossily aloof. And the exquisitely crunchy patty melt is careful without being insipid, oozy in just the right way, and sweetened by its judicious load of grilled onions When the fruit is in season, don’t miss a cut of the epochal fresh-strawberry pie.
What I say: I've never understood Gold's obsession with Pie 'N Burger. I like the homy setting, the chatty waitresses, the thick milkshakes and the pies. But the burger patties are tasteless and credit-card thin, the French fries fat and wobbly and the prices inflated. He does make that patty melt sound good.
13019 E. Rosecrans Ave., Suite 105
What he says: While the expense-account crowd awaited each new overhyped East Coast import this year, the Thai-food cognoscenti paced anxiously outside a gentrifying Norwalk mini-mall instead, worrying as the structure rose to resemble a series of potential GameStops. But finally, after larb-less months of anticipation, the redone Renu Nakorn is modern and spacious, and filled with Breck girls from the local Bible college, as well as Thai folk happy to be reacquainted with the restaurant’s minced-shrimp larb and sour Isaan rice sausage.
If you ever went to the original Renu Nakorn (or to the fabulous Lotus of Siam in Las Vegas, which is run by family that owned the restaurant in the 1990s), you probably know the tripartite nature of the menu, the usual Thai specialties supplemented by the barbecue and spicy grilled-meat salads of the Isaan region, and an almost-hidden list of specialties from the Chiang Mai area, which may be the kitchen’s real strength: pounded roast-chile dips to scoop up with freshly fried pork rinds, sweet pork curries influenced by Burma and coconut-enhanced khao soi noodles. After dinner, you can wander next door to the last working dairy in Norwalk and pick up a load of free cow manure, or better, a quart of the excellent chocolate milk.
What I say: When I first came to Califoria in 1976, I taught at a private school in South Gate, but many of my students came from nearby Norwalk. Since then, I've had no reason to return to this somewhat desolate area of So. Cal. Until now. Who wants to go on a field trip for Thai food and chocolate mik from a working dairy? Baa Baa.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Ozoni, a traditional Japanese New Year's dish, is as simple and complex as a haiku.
One of the things I love about Japanese food is the presentation. After preparing this beautiful Ozoni soup at my Japanese cooking class last week, I wondered if I would ever go to the trouble of making it at home. If I did, I think I would be way too needy. I'd need to hear gushing about the delicacy of the broth, the beauty of the carrot flower, the symbolism of the hexagon shaped daikon, and that cute little knot hand tied in the pink fish cake. And, of course, the essential mochi (missing from the photo above) would have to be praised.
And if guests didn't voluntarily start gushing, I think I would gently point out these things to them. "Did you see that little knot in the fish cake? I tied that myself. And ya' know those carrots don't grow in flower shapes by themselves." So obnoxious.
This is a soup that should be admired and then savored slowly because the cook went to a lot of effort to make it so beautiful and to imbue it with symbolism.
Special cutters are used to make the flower shapes.
This is how the spinach looks before it is cut into 2" lengths for the soup.
6" length daikon (white radish)
1/2 bunch spinach
1 medium carrot
1 cake kamaboko (fish cake)
4 cups dashi (see previous post for recipe)
3/4 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. soy sauce
- Slice the chicken on the diagonal into thin pieces and sprinkle with salt. Blanch in lightly salted water until whitish . Drain.
- Pare lengths of radish into hexagonal shape and then cut into slices about 1/4" thick. Parboil in lightly salted water until alost tender, about 10 minutes. Drain. (Hexagons make up the tortoiseshell pattern. The tortoise is the symbol of longevity.)
- Steam the spinach. (I will have to add more details later about how to get it into the shape shown in the photo above.)
- Peel the carrot and cut into 1/4" rounds. Cut into flower shapes. Parboil in lightly salted water until almost tender, about 10 minutes.
- Slice the fish cake into 1/4" half rounds.
- Bring the dashi just to a boil in a pot. Turn down heat and keep at simmer. Then stir in salt and soy sauce and season to taste.
- Arrange spinach, single carrot slice, single daikon slice, chicken, mochi and fish cake in soup bowl. Ladle hot broth into bowl. Garnish with sprig of mizuna.
I may not recreate this at home, but I promise: if someone serves this to me, I will be the most appreciative, gushing guest in the dining room.
(This recipes was submitted to Blazing Hot Wok's monthly regional recipe roundup. The Japanese event is being hosted by Wandering Chopsticks.)
Monday, November 17, 2008
My mother was born and raised in Tokyo. My grandfather (who I never met) was the chef/owner of four Tokyo restaurants. How is it that I never learned to cook Japanese food?
The answer is simple. My father, stationed in Tokyo during the American Occupation of Japan, married my mother and whisked her from sophisticated city life to a simple life in Catfish Hollow, West Virginia. There she found Uncle Ben's Converted Rice, but no short grain rice; Ritz Crackers, but no rice crackers; dill weed, but no sea weed. The closest we came to any Asian food was Kikkoman's chow mein. (Come to think of it, the pre-packaged stuff was considered so precious that my mother horded it all to herself.)
But thanks to Hitomi, the instructor at the monthly cooking class at the Pasadena Buddhist Church, I'm learning the ropes of Japanese cooking. Most of the students are second (nisei) and third (sansei) generation Japanese Americans, who had abandoned tradition for convenience. Hitomi is contemptuous of processed foods and lazy shortcuts, such as using instant dashi powder instead of homemade dashi stock. The instant version is the equivalent of chicken boullion cubes in place of homemade chicken stock. That's a no-no in any language.
This simple dashi stock is the base for dozens of traditional Japanese foods, from miso soup to yosenabe (fish stew) to Onishime vegetables.
(Recipe from Hitomi)
1 ½ oz. kelp (konbu), 20-inch length
2 qts. water
3 T. loose bonito flakes (2oz.)
- Moisten a clean cloth and wring well. Carefully but thoroughly wipe the surface of the kelp. Kelp should never be washed since flavor is lost in the process. - Place the cold water and kelp in a soup pot and leave about 30 minutes. Slowly bring to a boil over medium-low to medium heat. Regulate the heat so the water takes approximately 10 minutes to reach a boil.
- When fine bubbles begin to appear at the edges of the pot, remove the kelp from pot. (Do not allow the water to boil while kelp is in the pot.)
- Add ⅓-½ cup cold water. Add the bonito flakes.
- When the stock returns to a boil, remove it from the heat. When the bonito flakes sink to the bottom , strain to clarify. Do not wring the flakes.
1 3/4 lb. carrots
1 1/2 cups dashi
4 T. sugar
2 T. mirin
1 T. soy sauce
1 tsp. salt
- Peel the carrots and cut into 1/2 inch long rounds.
- Cook in dashi about 4 to 5 minutes.
- Stir in sugar, mirin, soy sauce and salt.
- Turn down heat, keep at a simmer until almost tender.
(This same recipe can be used for shiitake mushrooms.)
1 3/4 lb. gobo (burdock root)
3 cups dashi
5 T sugar
2 T mirin
/3 C soy sauce
- Scrape and julienne gobo. Keep in cold water to avoid discoloration.
- Parboil about 10 minutes.
- Place parboiled gobo into a pot with dashi, sugar, mirin and soy sauce into a pot.
- Bring to a boil ovr high heat.
- Cover with a drop lid (otoshi-buta) and simmer until reduced by approximately 30%.
1 lb. lotus root
2 cups dashi
1 1/2 T sugar
1 1/2 T mirin
2 1/2 T soy sauce
- Peel the renkon and cut into 1/3 inch pieces.
- Parboil renkon for about 3 minutes.
- Put renkon and dashi into a pot and cook about 5 minutes.
- Add sugar and mirin. Simmer 3-4 minuts and then add soy sauce.
Friday, November 14, 2008
A few weeks ago, I hosted a small wedding ceremony and reception at our home for my brother and his bride. My job, big brother said, was to "just show up," and, in theory, I could have done just that. After all, the wedding coordinator, my brother and his bride had taken care of the the caterer, cake, flowers, music, photographer and the dozens of other details that go into pulling off a wedding.
But I wasn't content to loan the house and garden and "just show up." I wanted to leave my little mark in some other way. A few days before the wedding it hit me. I would create a play station for the five children (and any playful adults) attending the wedding.
On the wedding day, I set up a separate children's table away from the more formal adult setting and threw on a vintage table cloth. My niece helped me make the playdough while I perused two local thrift stores for fun things for shaping or poking into the dough. I hit "play dirt" at our local Altadena shop - for $1.00 I got a bag with dozens of miniature forks, little parasols and clowns. I found a bag of of small plastic animals in my garage and pulled out mini muffin pans, a meat ball maker and plastic cookie cutters from the kitchen stash.
(This is the same recipe that I used when my daughter, now 19, was a tadpole.)
1 cup flour
1/2 cup salt
1 cup water
2 tablespoons oil
2 tablespoons cream of tartar
Mix flour, salt and oil, and slowly add the water. Cook over medium heat, stirring until dough becomes stiff. Turn out onto wax paper and let cool. Knead the playdough with your hands until of proper consistency. Add a few drops of food coloring. Store in an airtight container.
- It's cheaper to make than to buy.
- All of the ingredients are kitchen staples, so you don't have to run out to the store
- It's less crumbly than the commercial version.
- Children can be involved in the making.
- There's no need to get the right color playdough back into the right color can.
- You can create your own colors and even jazz it up with glitter. (Pink Princess Playdough, anyone?)
- No need to worry about children eating it - the salt will turn them off right away.