Open Mouth, Insert Fork

Grapefruit Guilt

2011-06-08T11:48:00.000-07:00

Guilt seems to be an overriding theme in my life. Blogging guilt crept in after not posting for more than seven months. Gardening guilt overtook me when I missed all of the windows for planting spring and summer vegetables. And grapefruit guilt attacked when I contemplated the wasted citrus in my back yard.

Last year, I didn't have to deal with grapefruit guilt. I simply posted a message on our local RIPE produce exchange group and citrus pickers would magically arrive to harvest the fruit. But after an area fruit fly quarantine put the kibosh on fruit sharing, untouched yellow orbs fell to the ground or languished on the branches.

To the rescue came two small appliances - my De Longhi citrus juicer (lightweight, easy to store and use and just $15) and my Cuisinart ice cream maker (purchased online for less than $50).

Straight grapefruit juice has too much pucker-power, but grapefruit ade, with the addition of water and simple syrup, is as refreshing as the stuff kids hawk at summer-time stands.

Grapefruit Ade

2 cups grapefruit juice (about five grapefruits)
1/4 cup simple syrup (1/4 sugar and 1/4 cup water, heated until clear)
1 cup water

Let the simple syrup cool, stir the three ingredients together and start looking for a front-porch swing.

I found this recipe for Grapefruit Mint Sorbet on the blog for Produce in the Park, a volunteer-sponsored food and produce-sharing group in Monrovia. I love it when I have all the simple ingredients - grapefruits, mint, sugar and vodka - on hand for a delicious and refreshing dessert.

Grapefruit Mint Sorbet

2 cups grapefruit juice (and some pulp if you’d like)
2 cups water
1.5-2 cups of sugar (according to taste and sweetness of your fruit, but start on the low end)
2-4 sprigs of mint
1-2 shots of vodka or tequila

In a small pot, combine the juice, water, 1.5 cups of sugar and mint. Bring to a boil and then simmer on low for 10 minutes. Let steep for an additional 10-20 minutes, remove the mint, pour in the alcohol, then chill (the juice, that is).

At this point, you can either place the juice in an ice cream maker for about 25 minutes, or put it in the freezer. If you opt for the freezer, just make sure to scrape/mix it every 30 minutes while it’s freezing to incorporate some air.

The fresh-from-the-maker sorbet gets weeply quickly, but an hour in the freezer produces a firmer version (see above photo).

These grapefruit recipes have cleansed my guilt as effectively as a sorbet cleanses the palate between courses. Now if only I could find a recipe to dissolve the other guilt in my life.

Cheese Flops

2010-10-09T09:05:00.000-07:00

When I first bit into a gougères, a savory French cheese puff, at Tartine in SF, I wondered, "Where have you been all my life?" The treats are crisp on the outside, puffy on the inside and infused with fresh thyme and gruyere.

I was delighted to learn later that Fraiche in Culver City baked their own gougères and even served their hamburgers on the puffy buns.

But, alas, I discovered during my September visit that Fraiche no longer bakes or serves the bread.

"Where can I buy fresh gougères?" I asked the Food Librarian, who had just posted about the perfect puffs she made at home.

"In your own kitchen," she wrote back.

I was about to pop open a bottle of champagne I'd been saving and decided that gougères would be the perfect accompaniment.

I turned to the master source, the Tartine cookbook that I had purchased during a recent visit to the venerable bakery. I'd no longer have to journey to SF to sink my choppers into a gougères.

But this beautiful cookbook was not a fit for baking-challenged moi. The ingredients and directions were listed on two different pages and I had to keep flipping back and forth. The directions were written in long, narrative paragraphs, not bullet points. And the directions left some confusion. (It said to stir in the flour. Should I turn off the flame first or keep it on high?) They didn't say, so I guessed wrong and turned off the flame.

Perhaps that's why my puffs were a flop, as flat as giant buttons. But that didn't stop friends and family from asking, "Are there more?" I baked up tray after tray of the flops, and they greedily ate them.

Just imagine how gaga they'll go over a gougères done right. (Next time I'll follow Tartine-loving Jen's instructions on Oishii Eats.)

(PS It may be a while before I can bake up another batch of gougères. I broke a hip, had pin surgery and will be hobbling about on a walker for a few weeks.)

Foolproof Fried Rice

2010-08-20T16:01:00.000-07:00

When you forage through your 'fridge in hopes of finding enough ingredients to assemble a meal, what do you find?

In our household, eggs are a given. And I can always count on those "baby" carrots that we buy but seldom eat. Some kind of leftover meat - ham, Canadian bacon or leftover chicken - is usually lurking. I can unearth wilted green onions and half of a forgotten red pepper. And I'm never without peas in the freezer and garlic in the pantry.

I have the fixings for one of my favorite go-to meals - fried rice. It's easy, delicious, nutritious and a great way to use up the bits and pieces in your fridge.

The trick is to have cold, leftover rice on hand. You can bring home the uneaten rice from an Asian restaurant. Or you can make extra rice and chill. Both are good options, but aren't always available when the urge for fried rice strikes.

So I'll share with you a little secret to ensure that you always have all the fixings for fried rice on hand: brown rice from the freezer section at Trader Joe's.

No need to defrost. Just dump a bag of the frozen grains into your sizzling wok or fry pan. And, believe it or not, the results are superior to the leftover Japanese short-grained brown rice that I sometimes use. The TJ's frozen rice produces beautiful, separate grains, and that's the secret to a great, mush-free meal.

The young adults in my household thumb their noses at plain brown rice, but when it's fried with meat, veggies and egg, they gobble it down. Even my one-year-old grandson can't get enough. And, best of all, we never get bored because the variations are endless.

See my previous post on Thai fried rice.

Check out Shiok's tips on great fried rice.

Go to Wandering Chopsticks for several fried rice recipes, including this one with Chinese sausage, frozen vegetables and egg. I credit her for teaching me to make fried rice.

We loved this Thai pineapple fried rice from Closet Cooking. It's special enough to serve to company.

Some fried rice recipes call for cooking the egg separately and adding it in later. Another technique (my favorite) is to saute the meat and veggies, push them to the side and cook the egg in the well in the center.

More Than One Way to Brew a Cup of Coffee: Roaster Family Coffee

2010-08-04T12:33:00.000-07:00

I had hoped to meet my morning caffeine quota with jasmine tea from Lunasia (my current favorite non-cart dim sum restaurant). But when I learned the wait for tea and dim sum was 45 minutes, I dragged my un-caffeinated self across the street for a quick cup of java at Roaster Family Coffee.

I expected the barista to serve a cup from a pot or urn. Instead, she measured and ground fresh beans. Just for me. What came next was even more surprising. I was familiar with percolating, pressing and dripping methods for brewing coffee. Roaster Family Coffee uses a siphon brewing method. Invented in 1840, the brewing contraption looks like something from an antebellum mad scientist's lab.

Clockwise from top left: 1) Grind beans. 2) Place beans in vessel over pot of water. 3) Water vapor forces hot (but not boiling) water from the pot into the vessel. 4) See how the vessel is filling up? Alchemy or physics?

1) A quick stir 2) Physics in action again: When heat is turned off, coffee returns to pot. 3) Fresh siphon-brewed coffee 4) Elegant service in a china cup for just $1.80.

The brewing method might be so two centuries ago, but the heating method - a halogen burning system - is 21st century.

The decor is a lot like the brewing system - a mix of the old and new.

How was the coffee? Strong and rich without a trace of acidity or bitterness. Come for the show, but stay for the coffee.

Roaster Family Coffee
521 W Main St.
Alhambra, CA 91801
626. 282.8879

713 W Duarte Rd.
Suite F
Arcadia, CA 91007

626.447.2538

For more information about syphon-brewed coffee, visit the Coffee Geek or the New York Times.

Coffee

The Pursuit of Happiness: Ice Cream for Breakfast

2010-07-04T13:13:00.000-07:00

Our new tradition: Ice cream for breakfast on the Fourth of July

One of my high school/Facebook friends recently shared her family's Independence Day tradition: eating ice cream for breakfast. She wrote, "It's a coal camp thing," one that's endured for five generations in her family.

I searched the Web for references to ice cream for breakfast on the Fourth of July and came up empty handed, but that didn't hold me back. When I announced my intention to start a new tradition, I received enthusiastic endorsement from the young adults in the family.

We would declare our independence and pursue our happiness by starting off the day with a bowl of vanilla. Of course, to show our colors, we added bananas, strawberries and blackberries to the bowl.

When it came right down to it, I didn't have the constitution to eat early morning ice cream. Instead, I started out with an egg in a toast cup and a cup of Joe. (Cut a hole in a slice of bread, fill the hole with an egg and fry in butter. Make sure to fry the round piece of bread in butter too, and then dip it into the soft egg yolk.)

Image from Wikipedia. Eggs in a toast cup, also known as eggs in a basket

After my savory dish, I still wasn't ready to indulge in a frozen dessert, but I ate the sliced strawberries, bananas and blackberries. Everyone else, including the grandson, shoveled down their ice cream and wished that every day was the Fourth of July.

Happy Independence Day!

Reminiscing and Reproducing Thai Crab Fried Rice

2010-06-30T09:52:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, when I worked at a small marketing communications firm in Old Pasadena, I became a regular at a local Thai restaurant. A colleague and I never grew tired of sharing the lunch special four times a week at our desks. The owner Sue, aware of our frugal ways, would always slip in an extra order of brown rice.

When I worked late, I would often slide solo into my favorite seat by the window, listen to the sounds of the water wall and order Thai crab fried rice and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Sue would always top off my glass with whatever was left in the bottle.

Alas, Sue eventually sold the restaurant to a clueless entrepreneur who replaced the wall of water with a giant flat screen TV. Not a good sign. When he changed the menu, the crab fried rice was one of the the first casualties.

I've ordered crab fried rice in other Thai restaurants, but it never measures up. Maybe it was Sue's nurturing or the soothing sounds of the water or that extra touch of white wine that made that dish so special.

I was about to give up until I found this recipe on Wives with Knives. I made it for lunch today, and it was nearly as good as the version that Sue's mom used to cook up for me at Nana.

Thai Crab Fried Rice

3 to 4 cups rice, cooked the day before and refrigerated overnight (I used Japanese brown rice because it's more nutritious than white, but I think basmati rice makes the best fried rice.)
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup raw carrot, grated (I used frozen, but I like the idea of fresh.)
1/2 cup peas, fresh or frozen
1/4 cup green onion, sliced in 1/4 inch slices
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
2 tablespoons fish sauce
3 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoon lime juice
1 teaspoon sugar
2 eggs, lightly beaten
4 ounces or more Dungeness crabmeat (I used lump crab meat from Whole Foods.)
salt to taste (I found that, with the salty soy and fish sauce, salt wasn't necessary.)
1/2 teaspoon pepper
cilantro (Original recipe called for parsley, but I prefer cilantro with Thai food.)

Mix together the fish sauce, soy sauce, lime juice and sugar in a small bowl. Set aside.

Add 1/4 cup vegetable oil to a large wok or fry pan and heat until it just begins to smoke. Add peas, carrots, green onions and ginger and cook for about one minute, stirring so it doesn't burn. Add rice and lightly mix, then add liquid mixture and blend well. Fry for 4-5 minutes, watching that the rice doesn't burn.

Make a well in the middle of the rice and pour in the beaten eggs. Wait for about 30 seconds and then cover the eggs with rice. Leave for another 30 seconds and then continue to stir fry until the eggs are cooked and are mixed well with the rice.

Remove from heat and gently stir in the crab meat, garnish with chopped cilantro or parsley and serve with lime wedges.

The only thing that could have made it better is a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

Breakfast Theatre

2010-06-18T16:25:00.001-07:00

As I bite into my early morning burrito at Clockers' Corner, I can't decide which is more magnificent: the San Gabriel Mountains and palm trees shrouded in mist or the thoroughbreds running at full throttle.

The photogenic setting at Santa Anita Park has been featured in films from the Marx Brothers' A Day at the Races in 1937 to Seabiscuit in 2003. But, unlike a typical day at the races, the morning mood is serene. The only sounds are the steady clip clop of walking horses, the staccato clapping of running hooves or an occasional snort as jockeys and trainers work out their horses.

It's the perfect backdrop for my morning meal, where everything from bagels and breakfast burritos to pancakes and omelets is available at Clockers' Corner, the casual counter restaurant at Santa Anita.

As for that breakfast burrito? I'll be honest. It's easy to find a better one just about anywhere in town, but you won't find a better place to eat it. (Next time, I'll play it safe with a toasted bagel with cream cheese.)

Clockers' Corner
285 W. Huntington Dr.
Arcadia, CA
626.574.7223
www.santaanita.com
Hours: 7:00 to 10:00 am
Parking is free before 10:00 am. Enter Gate 8 from Baldwin Ave.

Modest prices, magnificent views.

Comfort Food: Macaroni and Beef with Tomato Sauce (Or How to Deal with a Dead Dog)

2010-06-10T15:03:00.000-07:00

A bowl (or two or three) of comfort

It's a funny thing about comfort foods. Nobody says, "I think I'll make a big green salad because I need to calm myself." Or, "I'm steaming some broccoli because I'm totally bummed." I suppose that's what's wrong with us Americans. We've been programmed to turn to foods from our childhood, usually heavily laced with fat, carbs and sugars, when we're seeking comfort.

Today, Betty, my beloved dog of 13 years, died unexpectedly. So, needless to say, I'm bummed, and I need some quick and easy comfort. I abandoned the idea of a spinach salad with goat cheese, dried cranberries and toasted almonds. That's a delicious lunch, but it's not the kind of dish that wraps its arms around you and says, "I know it hurts, but it's going to be alright." For that, I needed macaroni and beef.

Macaroni and Beef with Tomato Sauce

1 1/2 pounds ground chuck
8 ounces macaroni, uncooked
1/2 cup onion, minced
1/2 cup green pepper, chopped (didn't have this today)
1 15 oz. can tomato sauce
1 cup water
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1/2 teaspoon sugar

Brown beef, onion and pepper in a large skillet over medium heat. Add tomato sauce, water and remaining ingredients. Cover and simmer over low heat for 15 to 20 minutes. It's as simple and easy as Hamburger Helper, but without all of those naughty processed ingredients.

This makes 8 servings, unless your dog has just died, and then it feeds three ravenous grievers.

Macaroni and beef won't bring Betty back, but at least it will get me through the afternoon. That and a quart of mint chocolate chip ice cream in my freezer.

(And if Betty was still here, I'd have let her clean out that bowl.)

'Tis the Season for Berries

2010-06-01T14:24:00.000-07:00

When I was growing up in West Virginia, strawberries were a rare treat. Once a year, an itinerant strawberry salesman came to our front door hawking boxes of the bright red berries. My mom purchased two boxes and whipped up our annual indulgence of strawberry shortcake. We savored every morsel because we knew it would be 365 days before a strawberry would pass our lips again.

Now that I live in Southern California, strawberries appear to be everywhere - the grocery store, the farmers market, a temporary strawberry stand and the back of a vendor's truck. And, when they're in season, I can't get enough of them.

I've eaten them whole and dipped them in chocolate. I've dunked them in creme fraiche and crushed them into strawberry lemonade.

I love to eat them sliced and macerated with sugar, tossed with blackberries, a splash of cassis liquer and a zest of orange. Don't they look stunning in a blue bowl?

Life is just a bowl of berries.

I throw those same berries into a cocktail glass and make a breakfast parfait with Greek yogurt. I have a large collection of stemmed glasses and don't believe in waiting until happy hour to use them. The glasses were gifts from a group of friends who figured that the stemware would raise my spirits when I was trying to pump out stem cells for a stem cell transplant nearly three years ago. (Get it? Stemware, stem cells?) Every time I eat or drink from one of the glasses, I think of my good friends and my good fortune.

Cheers!

But, of course, my favorite thing is still that strawberry shortcake. This recipe from the LA Times calls for orange zest in the dough and a splash of orange juice with the strawberries. I also added a little zest and a wee bit of cassis liquer to the whipped cream. I think it's my favorite shortcake recipe ever. It's even better than the Bisquick mix and cream from a squirt can of my childhood.

See the flecks of orange zest in the shortcake?

And the best part? I won't have to wait an entire year to eat this again.

Mary's - Sierra Madre's Hidden Gem

2010-05-12T14:23:00.000-07:00

You know you’re in for an experience when the first question you’re asked before entering Mary’s Market and Café is, “Do you wanna paint a rock?”

I look down and find a bright, hand-painted collection of river rocks that pay homage to Mary, the namesake of the market and café in Sierra Madre.

“I don’t have time today,” I explain, in an attitude not in keeping with the laid-back vibe of Mary’s, The tiny restaurant and store is tucked into the foothills of Sierra Madre, off the beaten path of the two main drags in town, Baldwin Avenue and Sierra Madre Boulevard.

Drive less than five minutes away from that downtown intersection, up a couple of narrow, curving roads, and you’ll find Mary’s, in the center of a quaint mountainside residential area. Mary’s looks as though it’s always been there. In fact, the institution has served the foothills community since 1922.

Walk in and you’ll find old-fashioned bar stools at the front counter or by the front window over looking the tree-lined street. Or choose one of the three comfy booths or one of the tiny outdoor tables.

The oil-splattered menu, glued on to the back of a brown lunch bag, is as simple and unpretentious as the setting. On my first visit, I chose Mary’s equivalent of an egg McMuffin for $3.50. On my last visit, I went with yogurt, served in a vintage brown transfer-ware bowl, with fresh granola and three kinds of fresh fruit (strawberries, blueberries and bananas) for $3.50. I’ve paid nearly $10 for a similar bowl at high-end cafes. Other options include a breakfast burrito, bagel with cream cheese or oatmeal.

Wherever you choose to sit, take some time to lounge outdoors for a few minutes before moving on. Breathe the fresh mountain air. Close your eyes and listen to the sound of chirping birds and water streaming down the storm drain. Watch the sycamore tree leaves blowing in the breeze.

And, before you head back to the hustle-bustle world, don’t forget to take time to paint a rock.

Mary’s Market and Café

561 Woodland Dr,

Sierra Madre, CA 91024

626.335.4534

No need to rush after that second cup of coffee - free parking for 48 hours.

Special thanks to Altadena Hiker, who introduced the Restless Chef and me to Mary's.

Ramping It Up

2010-04-30T14:09:00.000-07:00

Am I crazy?

After all, would a sane person fly more than 2,500 miles for a small town event that lasts four hours? Would a sane person then drive six hours from Columbus to Southern West Virginia just so that she could make it to the last hour of the event? Would a person playing with a full deck take a chance that she'd miss the event entirely if she took a wrong turn down a country road? Would a gal with both oars in the water travel for 18 hours just to eat ramps at the Feast of the Ransom in Richwood, West Virginia?

Maybe not crazy so much as obsessed with wild ramps, a cross between a leek and garlic that grows rampant in woodsy areas from South Carolina to Canada.

Of course, when you consider the scenery in West Virginia, the insanity case becomes a little weaker.

The last hour of the drive was alongside a tree-lined stream.

The ostentatious gateway below is not typical of the ramshackle homes that line the country roads. I thought at first this was horse property, but the stone facade is strictly for show. In fact, you'll see more church steeples than stables in this part of the country.

It was easy to tell when I'd entered ramp country, but I had no time to stop. I had a festival to attend.

As luck would have it, I arrived in time for the crowning of the Ramp Princess. I love the crossed ankle pose of the girl on the right. I think she learned that in Ramp Charm School.

I followed this pony-tailed couple to the ramp feed.

The line for the ramps was so long that I felt like I was waiting for a Korean taco at the Kogi BBQ Truck in LA. While I waited, I chatted with folks about their favorite ways to prepare ramps. West Virginians like to par boil them and then saute them in bacon fat with eggs or potatoes. When I was growing up, my mom sauteed them with scrambled eggs. We rolled the stinky concoction in flat bread that we bought from our Syrian neighbors.

The man on the left had time to grow his beard.

I fell in love with the sassy tea, the perfect ramps pairing. I'm looking for a local source for sassafras root so that I can brew my own sassy tea at home.

While waiting in line, I passed many Richwood volunteers wearing Feast of the Ransom aprons and ramp brooches. And I couldn't resist stealing a raw ramp or two from the plates scattered throughout the tables.

At last it was time for the ramp feed. The ramps were boiled and then sauteed. I wish that the cooks had also added ramps to the beans and cornbread.

In true West Virginia fashion, the ramps are cooked to within an inch of their life.

I like 'em raw.

After I returned to Los Angeles, I had a hankering for ramps. I satisfied that craving with a trip to Pizzeria Mozza, where I ordered the ramp pizza.

I brought home three slices of pizza, but when I went to retrieve my left overs, I found that the pizza was gone. The only things in the box were the sauteed greens and bulbs of the ramps. And that suited me just fine.

Now, how crazy is that?

The Power of Two: Pacific Dining Car and Langer's

2010-03-16T18:43:00.000-07:00

Two LA Landmarks: Pacific Dining Car and Langer's

Remember the 80s? We didn't walk; we power walked. We didn't eat breakfast or lunch. We had a power breakfast or a power lunch. And a suit wasn't a suit. That's right. It was a power suit. The whole thing made me want to power puke.

When a friend invited me for breakfast at the venerable Pacific Dining Car in downtown LA, my first thought was, "What should I wear?"

I considered wearing a power suit (or at least a power jacket) while we ate our power breakfasts, but settled on a look that was more casual Friday than uptight Tuesday. After all, I figured the ultimate power comes from having a flexible schedule that allows you to take off the morning for a downtown breakfast outing. (Don't ya' love stickin' it to the man.)

Sure enough, all of the other diners were dressed in suits and ties and gazed at spreadsheets and pie charts between sips of coffee from a china cup. To fit in, dining companion and I studied Jonathan Gold's list of 99 Things to Eat Before You Die while we developed a strategy for our next take over of a restaurant.

I hadn't set foot in the Pacific Dining Car since the 80s, when I worked downtown as a briefcase-lugging corporate drone. I was happy to see that it hasn't changed a bit. Some icons become stodgy over time, but not the Pacific Dining Car. It still looks and feels fresh and elegant, refined and special with its rich colors, linen table cloths and fine china and silver.

Butter rosettes and a fresh rose at every table

I ordered the breakfast hash, which is made from the left over steaks from the night before. Unlike most hashes, which tend to be at least 50% potato, this one was 85% steak and 15% potato, all swimming in a rich, savory gravy. The steak came cubed, not shredded, and was so tender that I barely needed to chew. It came topped with a poached egg with two biscuits on the side. Power breakfast indeed.

Dining companion went for the Cajun style eggs benedict, featuring sauteed mushrooms and a crab cake instead of Canadian bacon.

After our two-hour breakfast, we realized that it was time for lunch. So we did what any food-loving duo would do: we traveled a few blocks away to Langer's to try one of their legendary pastrami sandwiches.

When the sandwiches arrived, the first thing I noticed was the warm, untoasted bread. Then when I bit into the sandwich, I immediately noticed the crisp, chewy crust. I was enraptured. Apparently, this is what rye bread is all about. Why doesn't everyone do it this way?

We packed up our sandwiches to go, and I vowed that I wasn't ever going to eat again. That is until I returned home and that rye bread started calling my name.

Of course, I did what any good girl from the 80s does. I powered down the pastrami sandwich and then I took a power nap.

The Evolution of the Hot Dog

2010-03-07T13:11:00.000-08:00

Be prepared for a 15-20 minute wait in line and a 15-20 minute wait for "fast" food at The Slaw Dogs.

You may assume that you can get a realistic glimpse into my eating habits by reading this blog. You would be wrong. Or half wrong. Or maybe half right.

Take the last nine scrumptious days. I've slurped Japanese udon and soba at Sanuki No Sato; indulged in a friend's home-made cassoulet, ala The Art of French Cooking; sampled more than a half dozen "red wines under $10" at the same friend's home; toasted to good health with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot; shared paella, charcutterie, Spanish potatoes and a bottle of Spanish wine with friends at Three Drunken Goats; met friends for dinner at Malbec, where my medium rare steak arrived well done (but the staff did an excellent job of correcting the overcook); had a tasteless burger at The Counter in Pasadena; sipped a Manhattan at the decades-old bar at Musso and Frank; tried the jellied consomme (like gelatin with a bouillon cube), beef tongue, mixed salad and Welsh Rarebit at Musso's; and couldn't get enough of the fusilli with fresh tomatoes (hangers on from the garden), shallots, garlic, olive oil, splash of balsamic and sea salt I made for dinner on Saturday night.

And, even though this rundown sounds like a foodie's fantasy, it's far from my typical week of dining and drinking. And it omits a lot of indulgences, like the half sleeve of Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookies that I gobbled down in the car on the way back from the Scout's home. Or the Cherry Garcia ice cream that I had to have after a friend blogged about the joys of the cherry and chocolate confection.

All but one of these meals was blog-worthy, but I'm not tempted to write about a single one of these dining adventures.

And why not? Because I want to talk about hot dogs.

The Slaw Dogs kicks the classic hot dog up a notch.

Specifically, the dogs with attitude at Pasadena's newest specialty restaurant, The Slaw Dogs on North Lake Avenue. The hotdoggery has been open since February, and already lines are snaking out the door, an unusual sight in the City of Roses (especially north of the 210).

Today, I chatted with two women who had driven all the way from Camarillo and Torrance to sample the dogs. While other eateries are tumbling faster than dominoes, what is there about The Slaw Dogs that's packing in the crowds from all over Southern California?

It's an All-American classic. I know the saying is, "As American as Apple Pie," but we could just as easily substitute "hot dog" for "apple pie." Can you think of a hot dog without visions of family barbecues, fourth of July cookouts, greasy diners and baseball games. It's nostalgia wrapped in a bun.

It's a Regional Favorite: Seems like every state puts a different twist on the classic. There's the Chicago-style hotdog. The Coney Island dominates the Northeast. And, of course, the restaurant's namesake, the slaw dog, is a West Virginia classic. The bloggers at West Virginia Hot Dog point out that nobody in West Virginia orders a "slaw dog" because it's a given that your hot dog will come with slaw. (Well, it's a given if you live in one of the southern counties in the state. West Virginians take "regional food" to a whole new level.)

The Slaw Dog gives you the chance to order your dog just the way you like it, whether you're from Brooklyn, New York, or Charleston, West Virginia.

It Was Ready for a Makeover: Like the humble grilled cheese sandwich, macaroni and cheese and hamburger, the hot dog was ready to benefit from all the best ingredients, including a selection of 11 links offered at The Slaw Dogs.

It's Fun to Have Choices: In addition to the choice in links, The Slaw Dogs offers 25 "standard toppings" and 22 "custom toppings."

It Lends Itself to Fusion: The Slaw Dogs offers a Thai Slaw Dog with chicken sausage, spicy peanut-cocunut satay dressing, cilantro-carrot slaw, crushed peanuts and siracha aioli. The Green Monster, which appears to be one of the most popular dogs offered, is topped with roasted green chilli (that runs the length of the dog), chipotle mayo, grilled onion, pepperjack, and spicy garlic salsa.

For my first visit, I went with "The Original" with chilli, cheese, mustard, onions and cole slaw (but I asked them to hold the cheese). It came served with a knife and fork, but that's almost as much fun as slicing up your pizza before you eat it. Unfortunately, my grilled hot dog bun became unhinged after two bites, but that didn't stop me from using my hands to polish off the classic.

Left: "The Original" slaw dog Right: The Green Monster, a crowd favorite

How did it compare with the slaw dogs I've devoured in my home state? Unlike the fine shredded cabbage in West Virginia, the slaw is coarse shredded at The Slaw Dogs. And the WV buns are soft and steamy, not dry from the grill. On the other hand, the chilli and the grilled hot dog were superior at The Slaw Dogs.

Country roads, take me home to the place I belong, Pasadena. But, next time, can ya' steam the bun?

The Slaw Dogs 720 N. Lake Ave., #8
Pasadena, CA 91104
626.808.9777
www.theslawdogs.com
Hours: Sunday - Wednesday, 11:00 am - 9:00 pm
Thursday - Saturday, 11:00 am - 10:00 pm

Food for Thought

2010-03-02T10:51:00.000-08:00

If you live in the San Gabriel Valley, you may want to check out these upcoming events.

March 6: Learn about Access to Impact: Using Open Government to Create Change at the Neighborhood Church (301 N. Orange Grove Blvd., Pasadena) from 8:30 am to noon. Sponsored by the League of Women Voters. Refreshments and free parking. To RSVP for this free event, contact lwvpasocialpolicy@gmail.com or 626.798.0965.

March 13 and 14: It's Sukiyaki Saturday and Sunday at the Pasadena Buddhist Church (1993 Glen Ave., Pasadena). Dine in (4:00 to 7:30 pm) or take out (4:00 to 6:00 pm) a flavorful beef sukiyaki dinner for just $10. The sukiyaki sauce simmers for days, creating a deep, rich sauce that's nearly impossible to duplicate at home. To reserve meal tickets for this fund raiser, call 626.398.9987.

March 17: The YWCA's Woman of Excellence program features Judge Kim Wardlaw, the first Latina woman ever to be appointed to the Federal Court of Appeals. She'll be at the Donald R. Wright Auditorium of the Pasadena Central Library, 285 E. Walnut Ave., Pasadena, from 9:30 to 11:00. Tickets are $25 in advance or $35 at the door. Refreshments included. All proceeds go to support programs at the YWCA. Purchase tickets online at www.ywca.org/kimwardlaw or call Ashley at 626.296.8433.

March 20: Do you write or read a blog in the San Gabriel Valley? Join us for the second annual Bloggers' Picnic in Farnsworth Park (corner of Lake Ave. and Mount Curve in Altadena) from noon to 3:00 pm. Bring a potluck dish to share at this free, fun event.

Whenever: Help save the Adams Park Station General Store at Chantry Flats. Read Cafe Pasadena's post about how to give to the non-profit associated with the historic general store.

Hope to see you!

A Taste of the Orient (aka my WTF food moment)

2010-03-01T15:12:00.000-08:00

I know. I know. Food guru Michael Pollan would not approve of eating ramen with a little packet of dried seasoning listing no fewer than 14 ingredients (including MSG).

Just the same, legions of college students have escaped starvation and financial ruin by subsisting on the eight for a buck packages of Maruchan or Nissin Top Ramen noodles. My own finicky daughter started school with a hot meal in her belly, thanks to the Cup Noodles that she slurped every morning in the car for an entire year. (That, no doubt, qualifies me for the parenting hall of shame.)

But me? The one with the discriminating taste buds? The one with the refined palate? No, I wouldn't stoop to slurping the ramen of starving students or the grab-it-and-go breakfast bunch. Thanks to the influence of my Japanese American neighbor, Carol, I suck down Myojo Chukazanmai ramen. At $1.49 a package, Myojo is the gourmet version of instant ramen.

Last Saturday, I pondered the flavor choices on a pilgrimage to Mitsuwa Market in Torrance. I dropped a few packages of soy sauce and soy bean paste flavored ramen packages into my cart. And then came the WTF moment: Oriental flavor ramen.

Why would a Japanese company with a Japanese audience market a vague "Oriental" flavor?

To avoid confusion with the milder "Occidental" flavor? To evoke memories of a favorite Oriental rug? To appeal to foodies looking for a touch of the exotic?

According to this review by NoodleSon, it's the sesame oil and traces of Chinese cabbage that contribute that taste of the Orient.

Whatever you call it, instant ramen can be a bowl of comfort on a cold, wet day. But I'll bet that Michael Pollan still wouldn't call it food.

A Lazy Ladies Luncheon

2010-02-20T10:30:00.000-08:00

I have a friend who truly exemplifies the word "gracious." When I recently threw a small birthday luncheon for her, she gushed repeatedly, "I can't believe all of the effort you made."

Of course, she's the type who would be appreciative if I ordered Domino's pizza and mixed up a pitcher of instant tea.

"I didn't go to that much effort," I protested, and I wasn't being modest. Here's proof that you can host a lazy luncheon and still make your guests feel pampered.

Lazy Appetizer: The pesto torta, which we enjoyed al fresco with a couple bottles of bubbly, is pretty enough to look like you labored, but easy enough to assemble in less than five minutes. If you're feeling too lazy to slice your own baguette, have the bakery department at Von's Market do it for you.

Lazy Table Setting: Use what you have. In my case, that meant backyard citrus for the center pieces and personalized grapefruit as the place setting. The gold napkins, purchased from Motif in Pasadena, pulled the look together.

Not a Lazy Salad: This Winter Delight Salad is not exactly lazy, but the combination of slightly bitter arugula, sweet sliced pears, sour Granny Smith apples, sweet and salty candied pecans and pungent blue cheese is worth the effort.

Lazier Option: Save time slicing fruit and candying pecans. Toss the greens with dried cranberries, slivered almonds and feta cheese. Still beautiful and delicious at a fraction of the effort. But, no matter how lazy you're feeling, please don't use a bottled dressing. Take two minutes and shake up your own balsamic vinaigrette - olive oil, balsamic vinegar, a pinch of salt and a squeeze of lemon.

Lazy Entree: It doesn't get easier or more delicious than this. I called Euro Pane and ordered their vegetarian quiche with a potato crust. They even sliced the pie for me and threw in a half dozen crusty currant rolls.

Lazier Option: Ask one of your guests to pick up the quiche for you.

Lazy Dessert: Add some bling to your table with shimmering oranges and pomegranate seeds. Make it special with a splash of Galliano liquor.

Lazier Option: While you're at Euro Pane, pick up some of Sumie's famous lemon bars.

So, go ahead and take the kudos for a lovely luncheon. Only you and I know how easy (and lazy) it really was.

Will Brent's Deli be Around Forever?

2010-02-03T16:20:00.000-08:00

I first sank my teeth into one of Brent's Deli's Reuben sandwiches about ten years ago.

I loved it, but I never went back. After all, Brent's is on the other side of the universe in Northridge. (I think I regard the San Fernando Valley in the same way that many Westsiders view the San Gabriel Valley: a long way to drive for a non-destination.)

And I figured that crowded and popular delis like Brent's would be around forever. In spite of my Reuben infatuation, I was in no hurry to return.

But that was before my "restaurants might kick the bucket before we do" epiphany. So when my deli-loving friend suggested Brent's as a "half-way" location for a lunch meeting, I bit.

I circled around the mini-mall parking lot five times before snagging a space. At 11:30 am, Brent's was already crowded.

The bustling deli was filled with families: elderly mothers breaking rye bread with middle-aged sons; grandmothers, mothers and toddlers sharing a table and chocolate cake; doting dads spoon feeding cabbage soup to adoring daughters. Brent's, like a treasured family brisket recipe, is passed from generation to generation.

And as I once again sunk my teeth into the Black Pastrami Reuben Sandwich, I could see why. The thick layers of succulent pastrami, melted Swiss cheese, sauerkraut and Russian dressing between grilled rye live up to the menu's promise: the sandwich melts in your mouth.

I don't think I'll wait another ten years to return.

Brent's Delicatessan and Restaurant
19565 Parthenia St.
Northridge CA 91324
818.886.5679
Open daily 6am to 9pm

When Restaurants Kick the Bucket

2010-01-30T09:38:00.000-08:00

Photo from http://oldschoolla.com

Do you have a bucket list? A roster of things that you want to accomplish before you kick the bucket?

If you're like me, food plays a big part on the ol' bucket list.

There's just one problem with including restaurants on your list of things to do before you die: the restaurant might kick the bucket before you do.

Just this week, two Los Angeles resaurant icons bit the dust. I've been to one, Goody's in San Gabriel, perhaps hundreds of times over the last 20 years. I always talked about but never made it to the second, Papadakis Taverna, the Greek restaurant in San Pedro.

For years, Goody's was the location for my weekend Breakfast Club with a good friend. The waitresses weren't exactly mean, but they had no patience for special requests. (Half caf, half decaf coffee? Go to Starbuck's, Sweetie.) Well, maybe they were a little mean, but that was part of the charm. My friend Carol and I assumed that we would be eating pancakes and eggs at Goody's forever, or at least until we were as old as the other shriveled little old ladies who frequented the place. But, alas, Goody's served their last cup of bitter coffee last week.

There's talk of a new location in El Monte, but it won't be the same without the familiar Googie architecture and crusty waitresses.

Papadakis, the Greek restaurant that was as well known for its raucous dancing and breaking plates as its food, will serve its last meal and shatter its last plate on Sunday, February 1. Friends and I always talked about dancing and eating at Papadakis, but we never made it.

Now I'm feeling a sense of urgency. What's on my food bucket list? This spring I plan to attend the annual Ramp Festival in Richwood, West Virginia, a daylong celebration of the pungent wild onion that is now a staple at high-end restaurants.

How about you? Remember, we won't live forever and neither will even the most iconic restaurants.

(For a list of 100 foods to try before you die, check out this just-published, SF-centric list from 7x7 SF. Scroll down for a look at Roadside Diner's pulled pork sandwich. I don't think I can live without this sandwich.)

Citrus Saturday

2010-01-23T15:12:00.000-08:00

I was 21 when I made the decision to move from South Carolina to Southern California.

Granted, it was a teaching contract that lured me out to the Golden State (and a snotty promise to my parents that I would move as far away from home as possible when I finished college). But I have to admit that I had been seduced by watching one too many episodes of The Beverly Hillbillies: swimming pools, movie stars. Throw in the beach and Disneyland, and I was hooked.

More than two decades later, I'm now a little jaded at the sight of movie stars. Mickey and Minnie Mouse no longer do it for me. But there's one thing that reminds me that I'm living the golden life in the Golden State: citrus.

And if citrus was gold, I'd be a wealthy lady. Our backyard trees are heavy with oranges, grapefruits, Meyer lemons and pomellos.

I still can't get over the thrill of going to the back yard to pluck oranges for a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

It took 12 oranges to make about 24 ounces of juice.

Our grapefruit are a little sour, so I topped one with brown sugar and threw it under the broiler for 10 minutes.

Get 'em while they're hot! Just let it cool before digging in.

Nothing goes to waste. I use part of the peel to make orange zest and the remainder will go to our neighborhood goats.

I'm making a Harvey Wallbanger cake with the rest of the fresh OJ and the orange zest. Of course, that means that I'll get to sip a Wallbanger cocktail while the bundt is in the oven (and before and after).

Cheers to the good life in Southern California!

Old Fashioned Italian Soup

2010-01-22T11:50:00.000-08:00

Last winter was so unseasonably warm and dry that I resorted to simmering stews while the air conditioning hummed. It just wasn't right.

But not so this year. It's cold, wet and windy. Pouring rain is interspersed with pounding hail. It's the perfect time for a bowl of soothing, steaming soup.

Last Sunday I attended the Soups, Stews and Comfort Foods Class at Old Town Cooking School in Pasadena. This recipe for Old Fashioned Italian Soup alone was worth the price of admission. It's easy, economical, comforting and delicious - all the things a good pot of soup should be.

Old Fashioned Italian Soup

- 1 lb. sweet Italian sausage
- 2 cups chopped celery
- 1 cup chopped onions
- 2 lb. zucchini, cubed
- 2 28-oz cans diced tomatoes
- 2 tsp. salt
- 1 tsp. dried oregano
- 2 tsp. fresh basil
- 1 tsp. Italian seasoning
- 1 tsp. sugar
- 1 tsp. minced garlic
- 1 green pepper, chopped

1. Cut the sausage into bite-sized pieces and saute in a frying pan until brown.

2. Add the celery andonions and saute until tender

3. In a large pot, place the sausages, celery and onions.

4. Add the zucchini, tomatoes and seasonings.

5. Cook, covered, for 20 minutes

6. Add the green pepper and cook uncovered for 10 more minutes.

7. Serve with fresh-grated parmesan cheese.

Let it rain!

A Roll in the Cabbage (Old Fashioned Cabbage Rolls)

2010-01-06T08:56:00.000-08:00

How many helpings can you handle?

From childhood to early adulthood, my body was more angles than curves, and more plains than hills. But looks deceived. At age twelve, I had the appetite of a longshoreman and could eat anyone under the table.

My West Virginia cousins still like to tell the story of the cabbage rolls. When Aunt Kathleen served up a giant pot, I couldn't get enough. Seconds? Thirds? Ha! Legend has it that I returned to the pot ten times before I rolled over and said "Enough!"

Kathleen has passed on, but her daughter-in-law Frances has carried on the tradition. When I reunited with the Allens three years ago, they asked what I'd like for dinner. Of course, I requested cabbage rolls.

They didn't disappoint, and, this time, I asked for the recipe.

The simplicity, especially the "can of tomato juice" for the sauce, surprised me. I don't dare tinker with the recipe for the cabbage rolls, but, since then, I've been doctoring up the sauce, using crushed tomatoes instead of tomato juice, and adding depth with sauteed onions and garlic, honey and a squeeze of a Meyer lemon.

Kathleen's Famous Cabbage Rolls (with Susan's adaptations)
(Makes 10 to 12 Rolls)

1 lbs. Ground Beef
1/2 lb. Sausage (Mild)
Salt and Pepper to Taste
2 Slices of Bread Crumbs
1 Cup Instant Rice
1 Egg
1/2 t. Cumin
1/2 t Turmeric

Sauce:
1 Small Onion, Finely Chopped
2 Cloves Garlic, Chopped
2 Cloves Garlic, Chopped
2 T. Canola Oil
2 Cans Crushed Tomatoes
1 Meyer Lemon
Salt and Pepper to Taste
2 T. honey

For Cabbage Rolls:

Mix together ingredients and shape in to fist size meatballs. Roll up in cabbage leaves that have been parboiled until tender.

For Sauce:

Saute onions and garlic in oil until softened. Add two cans crushed tomatoes, honey and lemon juice. Bring to a boil and simmer while preparing cabbage rolls.

To Assemble:

Put cabbage rolls in a large pot (I use an enamel cast iron pot), cover with sauce and simmer for 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

When I ate this dish with the Allen clan, they served it with garden-fresh corn on the cob, fresh-baked rolls and gallons of sweet tea.

(My apologies for the long blogging absence and the jumble of font sizes. Blogspot is not cooperating.)

Hot Toddy Time

2009-12-06T16:01:00.001-08:00

I've often joked about being a "Hapa Hillbilly" - a half-Japanese, half-Scottish gal from the hills of West Virginia. (Well, in truth, it's more the Ohio River Valley than the hills, but saying that you're from the valley in West Virginia is as romantic as admitting that you’re from The Valley in Southern California.)

I've paid homage to my kimono-clad side with posts about my cooking class at the Japanese Buddhist Church and memories of my Tokyo-born mother. The hillbilly emerges when I talk about my love for beans and greens from Cracker Barrel; my quest for the perfect cole slaw-slathered, West Virginia-style hot dog; pitchers of iced sweet tea; pots of cabbage rolls and adventures in all-you-can-eat dining with Daddy.

But the Scottish roots? Not so much. Unlike my kilt-wearing, bagpipe playing brother, I haven't embraced the customs or foods of my father's side of the family.

So when a friend, who lived in Scotland for two years, offered to make a hot toddy for me, I immediately accepted. At last I'd found a Scottish tradition that I could wrap my cold hands around.

I think both the Irish and the Scots like to take credit for inventing the hot toddy. I for one would wager it was a fiendishly frugal Scotsman who found a way to stretch a shot of whiskey into eight ounces of comfort.

When I googled "hot toddy," I expected to find hundreds of variations, but the combinations are simple and limited.

To make a hot toddy, pick your poison from the list below (I've placed an asterisk by my choice):

Something hard: Whiskey OR bourbon* OR brandy
Something sweet: Sugar OR honey*
Something hot: Hot water* OR favorite tea
Something sour: Lemon juice (from 1/4 lemon) and lemon slice* OR orange juice and orange slice

Pour a shot or two of bourbon into one of those clear glass mugs or use a regular mug if you don't own one. Add sweetener, lemon juice, hot water and lemon slice.

If you're feeling daring, stud that lemon slice with cloves.

Drink this: When you're curled up by a fire with a good book or a good friend; when you feel the first signs of a cold, flu or cough; when you need a little help falling asleep; or when you want to get in touch with your inner Highlander.

(And for two more hot, delicious drinks, visit the Restless Chef.)

Cutting Up on Thanksgiving

2009-11-28T09:28:00.004-08:00

The Land of "Ahhs": Cut it up right, and your carved turkey will be as beautiful as the whole bird.

Forget about that Norman Rockwell painting with the patriarch waiting to do his manly duty at the Thanksgiving table. As LA Times Food Editor Russ Parsons says, some things are best done in private. And carving a turkey is one of them.

This Thanksgiving, my brother, who flew out from Buckeye country with his Bonnie bride, worked alone and in private as he cut up the bird. Lucky for me, he had just watched a Food Network segment that recommended removing the two whole breasts and then carving them against the grain. (Alas, table-side carvers can only carve with the grain.) The technique produces uniform-sized slices, a more tender bite, equal sharing of that crispy skin and a presentation that would make Rockwell proud.

This tutorial video from the LA Times shows Russ Parsons carving the bird in the same style that my brother learned from the Food Network. (The video is embedded at the end of this post. Sorry I wasn't able to insert it here.)

Now I just need to figure out a way to lure him out to LA for an al fresco Thanksgiving every year. I think the key may be that "al fresco" part.

Al Fresco Feast: With temps in the low 80s, we opted for outdoor casual instead of Limoges formal.

The Trespassing Snobs

2009-11-23T20:10:00.001-08:00

The San Marino Security van was parked in front of our trespassing site.

We may think that we live in an egalitarian society, but let me dispel that myth.

We are all snobs in some way. Some of us are food snobs; others wine snobs and some among us are literary snobs. But the worst, most sanctimonious snob is the middle class Everyman who looks down on the tasteless members of the upper class. In Southern California, land of the conspicuous consumer, it's easy to find rich people to look down upon.

And that's why the terrace of a San Marino mansion on sale for $10 million was the perfect site for a trespasser's picnic. For one beautiful fall afternoon, eight members of the middle class felt vastly superior to the ruling class.

We took pot shots at the plaster statues, dismembered doric columns, Astroturf in the front lawn and the indoor-outdoor carpet leading to the grand entrance.

And then we sipped our sparkling wine with a pesto torta and a pimento cheese loaf (it's low brow food, but it gets a blesssing from the December Bon Appetit Magazine). We drank fine red wines in vintage glasses as we ate our green salad and hearty beef stew.

This recipe for the pesto torta is from a 1991 issue of Sunset Magazine:

Pesto Cheese Torta

1 cup ricotta cheese

4 ounces cream cheese

Pesto filling (recipe follows or purchase a cup of your favorite ready-made pesto)

Fresh basil sprigs

Thin baguette slices

Crisp raw vegetables

With mixer, beat ricotta and neufchatel until well blended. Smoothly line a clean, unused, tall 2-cup flower pot with two layers of moistened, wrung-dry cheesecloth (or 1 layer moistened muslin); cloth should drape over rim.

With a spoon, press 1/4 of cheese evenly into pot. Press 1/3 of the pesto onto cheese; repeat, finishing with layer of cheese. (I like to also add a layer of sun dried tomatoes.) Fold edges of cloth smoothly over cheese. Cover airtight and chill at least 2 hours or up to a day. Fold back cloth and invert torta onto small plate. Gently lift off cheesecloth.

If making ahead, cover airtight and chill up to a day. Garnish with basil sprigs. Spread on bread and vegetables. Makes about 2 cups, 7 or 8 servings.

Pesto filling. In a blender or food processor, whirl 2 1/2 cups lightly packed fresh basil leaves, 1 cup (about 5 oz.) freshly grated parmesan cheese, 1 tablespoon olive oil, and enough water (1 or 2 tablespoons) to make a smooth paste. Stir in 1/4 cup pine nuts and season with salt to taste.

Sure, you can buy a similar torta from Trader Joe's, but if you make this easy home-made version, you will feel vastly superior.

A Treat of a Retreat and Another Arroyo Food Co-Op Social

2009-11-12T19:55:00.000-08:00

Ordinarily, when you're on a board and the president schedules a "board retreat," it's a good idea to make appropriate excuses. "Oh, I"m so sorry, but that's the day that I'm taking the cat to the vet." "Oh, no. I'm having a root canal that day." And, believe me, in most cases the root canal would be the less painful option.

If you're lucky, no board member has committed murder-suicide by the end of the "retreat." Even members of the most harmonious groups can turn into eye-rolling adolescents after being cooped up for eight-hours straight.

But that wasn't the case last Saturday when I spent eight hours with the steering committee of the Arroyo Food Co-op Store. Our retreat location, in a private cabin in the Angeles National Forest, was idyllic, the food was delicious and the company, even after that eight-hour stretch, was smart, insightful and fun.

We were even able to discuss the merit and meaning of words such as "gourmet," "real food," "local" and "organic" without breaking into a food fight.

Would you like to have an inside glimpse into the creativity and passion of this group? Would you like to become more involved on a task or planning basis?

Then join me at the first Pasadena social gathering on Saturday, November 14. You'll get to meet the organizers, find out how the Arroyo Food Co-op Store is progressing and learn ways to get involved.

When: Saturday November 14, 7:30 p.m.
Where: Yoga House, 11 W. State St., Pasadena
Admission is free.

And, since I'm in charge of food (and since this is a food blog), I'll share the menu for our "light refreshments":

- Homemade tri-color torta of pesto, sun dried tomatoes and marscarpone cheese with baguette slices

- Roasted baby potatoes

- Roasted Jerusalem artichokes

- Cold or hot apple cider (with a little something to spike it)

Come for the food, stay for the company and, before the end of the evening, sign up to become one of the first 500 members of the Arroyo Food Co-op.

Sweet Childhood Memories

2009-10-26T08:51:00.000-07:00

I was recently reminiscing about my favorite childhood meal: a Swanson's chicken pot pie washed down with a bottle of RC Cola with a Hostess cupcake for dessert. (Mind you, I had this dream dinner once and only once and, to this day, I'm suspicious of why my mom served it to me and me alone.)

When Thomas Wolfe wrote, "You can't go home again," I think he was talking about childhood food memories. Frozen pot pies are now inedible and Hostess cupcakes haven't been worth the calories ever since they stopped using lard. RC Cola in a glass bottle is still a treat, if you can find it.

But I've found one favorite that's stood the test of time: the Mallo Cup. Were Mallo Cups a part of your childhood? The milk chocolate with hints of coconut? The whipped creamy, marsh-malloey center? The promise of wealth in the form of play money?

During our recent trip to West Virginia and Ohio, I found these at Cracker Barrel. I ripped into the trademark red, yellow and brown wrapper and temporarily tossed the chocolate candies aside. I was going for the fake money and was relieved to see that it was still there. I scored two 5-cent cards and wondered how much more I'd need to redeem a prize.

"Must save 500 points"

The answer: 490 more points would score me a $1.00 rebate check (enough to purchase one more Mallo Cup package of two). Who in their right mind would purchase a hundred Mallo Cups for a $1.00 rebate? That has got to be the worst return on investment since Bernie Madoff's pyramid came tumbling down. The postage alone to mail the cardboard coins would approach a buck.

Man, was I wrong. According to the Boyer Company website (Grammar, punctuation and capitalization are the work of the Boyer Company):

Consumers continue to save Play Money for over 73 years. Over 5 % of all play money is redeemed nationwide!

The Largest Amount of Play Money redeemed by a single consumer was in 2006 a gentleman from Uniontown Ohio mailed in enough coin cards to receive a $353.00 Check! That's 176,659 points saved (That's a lot of candy!)

Today I spoke with Angel from the Boyer Company and learned the following (Grammar, punctuation, capitalization and statistical analysis are mine):

Mallo fans can also redeem their play money for actual prizes. The minimum number of coin cards needed is 2,500. (Now that's a lot of candy.)

The 1-cent and 1-dollar coin cards are no longer printed.

Photo courtesy of www.brassdragon.biz

Boyer prints the coin cards in a continuous roll with the following order repeating endlessly: 5, 10, 5, 25 and 50-cent piece.

That means that your chances of getting a 5-cent card are twice as great as drawing a 10, 25 or 50. (You have a 20% chance of 10, 25 or 50 and a 40% chance of drawing a 5.)

Your chances of drawing a 10, 25 or 50 card are equal. This surprised me because getting a 50-cent piece was once like winning the Golden Ticket.

Of course, I'm sure the folks at Boyer would say that everyone's a winner who bites into a gooey, delicious Mallo Cup. And I'd have to agree with that 100%. Just the same, I wouldn't mind getting that $1.00 check in the mail. I could buy a bag of Sour Patch Kids.

(What's your favorite childhood candy?)

Hometown Hospitality

2009-10-19T15:49:00.000-07:00

I love my home town of Ravenswood, West Virginia, but it's not exactly a destination city. (It's more like a departure city, a place you plan to leave.) And that's too bad because the small town (population 4,000) has a bed and breakfast that I'd be tempted to visit even if I didn't have family in that bend of the river.

Chestnut Acres B&B, located on chestnut-lined Chestnut Lane, is a turn-of-the-last century mansion that's been spit polished to perfection. The Inn also includes a comfortable two-bedroom, two-bath cottage that was built on the chestnut-wooded property more than a century later. All of this is just a stone's throw away from a family of wild deer and the meandering Ohio River.

The Ohio River and view from the living room

Hospitality and trust: hallmarks of a small-town business

When I called to make a reservation for the cottage, I was disappointed to learn that the owners would be out of town. No problem, they assured me. They would leave the door of the cottage unlocked and the refrigerator stocked with bacon and biscuits and sausages and eggs and juices and sodas and, well, you get the idea. The staff checked in on us every day and even delivered fresh-baked cookies one afternoon.

All of this for a rate of $85/night for two people and an additional $20/night for the third adult.

Chestnut Acres has all the virtures to turn it into a favorite West Virginia destination. Chances are, you may never want to depart.

Chestnut Acres Bed & Breakfast
One Chestnut Lane
Ravenswood, WV 26164
304. 273-9824

Arroyo Food Co-Op Market: More Hip than Hippie

2009-09-20T18:57:00.000-07:00

"Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants."

By now, most of us are familiar with these words of wisdom from Michael Pollan. Sounds simple doesn't it?

Too bad our quest to eat the right thing has become so complex and confusing. Is it green? Sustainable? Organic? Local? In season? Grass fed or corn fed? Free range or caged? Farmed or wild? (Sunset.com offers great tips on purchasing fresh, frozen and canned fish.) And how much of this really matters? It's enough to make any well meaning cook throw in the toque.

The good news is that I have no shortage of options for picking up produce. And the bad news is that I have so many choices: my own back yard, swapped produce from neighbors' back yards, two Pasadena farmers' markets, two buyers clubs (NELA and Our Little Market), CSA (Community Supported Agriculture), Whole Foods, Trader Joes, Super King, traditional super markets and a half dozen Armenian produce markets.

Factor price, convenience and flavor into my decision-making matrix, and I'm so overwhelmed that I'm ready to comfort myself with a bag of potato chips fried in saturated oil and a can of dip made with processed cheese.

That's why I'm supporting the development of the Arroyo Food Co-Op Market, a "homegrown community market" that will serve Altadena, Pasadena and the surrounding communities. The market will be committed to providing a simple alternative for fresh, healthy, local and sustainable food choices at competitive prices. What I really like about the proposed co-op market is the opportunity to strengthen an already vibrant community.

If you'd like to learn more, come out to one (or both) of these two upcoming events or visit the Arroyo Food Co-op Market's website. Now how simple is that?

Monthly Social

What: Find out about the history-making Arroyo Food Co-Op Market at one of Altadena's most historic estates. Light refreshments (including homemade Sangria) will be served.
When: Wednesday, October 7, 7:30 pm
Where: Zane Grey Estate, 396 E. Mariposa, Altadena
For more details, visit the website.

RSVP: Please email your name and number attending to reservations091007@altadenawantsacoop.com

Community Membership Launch Meeting
What: Unveiling of the business plan for the Arroyo Food Co-op, a brief presentation by representatives from Santa Monica's successful Co-Opportunity Market and the opportunity to become a charter member of the Arroyo Food Co-op. Continental breakfast will be served.
When: Saturday, October 10, 9:00 am
Where: Altadena Community Center, 730 E. Altadena Dr., Altadena

For more details, visit the website.
RSVP: Please email your name and number attending to reservations091010@altadenawantsacoop.com

If you have any questions, you can also email me at susancarrier at sbcglobal.net.

Getting Figgy With It

2009-09-15T21:09:00.000-07:00

Enough with the tomatoes already.

The backyard figs have suddenly burst from green to deep purple and are behaving like typical toddlers. They want my attention and they want it NOW. And if I ignore them? They act out by throwing themselves on the ground.

Up until this year, I simply cut the figs in half, squeezed on a little lime juice and ate them greedily over the sink. If I was a little more ambitious, I'd make a simple salad of arugula greens, figs and shards of machego cheese (bitter, sweet and pungent).

This year, I followed the lead of the Food Librarian and made a fig tart. And guess what? It couldn't be simpler. Roll out the puff pastry. Crimp the edges. Scatter brown sugar over the crust. Arrange sliced figs. Top with melted butter and a little more brown sugar. Bake in a preheated 400 degree oven for about 15 minutes, or until the crust is brown.

A cheap tart: $2.00 for a sheet of puff pastry (from an Arenian market) topped with free figs

How to get "picky eater" to eat a fig? Make a fig tart. "This tastes like it came from a bakery."

As I write this, a small pot of drunken fig jam is cooking on the stove. (I'm not canning, so I divided the recipe by 8.) I have been craving fig jam ever since I spread goat cheese and the nectar on top of a cracker, thanks to poet Linda Dove. At the moment, my experiment at small-scale jam making does not look very jam-like, but we shall see.

In the meantime, there's always the tart. (The fig tart, that is. Not the toddler tart)

Fig Jam Upadate: It worked! Now that I've fig-ured that out, I just need to pick up a log of chevre.

Tower of Tomato Power

2009-09-08T11:57:00.000-07:00

Anyone flying over Altadena could spot more than a hundred seven foot cylindrical towers, including five in our back yard. Aliens might wonder about the concentration of tall towers in our foothills community.

Altadenans may have a reputation for being independent and quirky, but the tall cages aren't an attempt at inter-planetary communication or an art installation, ala Christo.

They're the result of a group effort by our local produce-sharing group, COFE. Earlier in the spring, we constructed more than 100 cages from seven foot fencing, and now they're providing support for thousands of tomatoes.

After cutting the fencing, we didn't need any special equipment to connect the ends together into the shape of a tall cage. You can see in the photo below how a horizontal piece of wire was wrapped around a vertical length of wire. Some ingenious gentleman even figured out how to use a six-inch piece of pipe to bend the wire into place.

I purchased eight-foot stakes from OSH, wove them through the fencing and then pounded one-foot of the stake into the ground. Those cages aren't going anywhere.

I'm still enjoying the fruits of our collective labor. Today I made panzanella, a traditional Tuscan bread and tomato salad, for a lunch for one. It was a good way to use up the rock-hard chunk of baguette and the bounty of heirloom tomatoes.

You really don't need a recipe for this, but the basics are:
- Cubes of stale country bread
- Fresh chopped tomatoes
- Chopped basil
- Dressing of olive oil, red wine (or balsamic) vinegar, salt and pepper

Other delicious add ins:
- Chopped pepper
- Diced cucumber
- Sliced kalamata or nicoise olives

Toss and let the salad sit for at least 15 minutes to soften the bread and mesh the flavors.

A chunk of stale bread + garden tomatoes, pepper and basil = satisfying lunch

And for more ideas on what to do with those bushels of tomatoes, check out this article in the Food Section of the LA Times, Got Tomatoes? We've Got Recipes.

The Lazy Days of Summer: Simple and Simpler

2009-08-28T10:32:00.001-07:00

It's almost the end of summer time, and I honestly can't say that the living's been easy, but the cooking has been.

Take Tuesday night's dinner: lime and garlic chicken breasts, roasted potatoes and cucumber and tomato salad. My picky eaters gobble up potatoes, roasted with olive oil and sea salt, faster than French fries. The homegrown tomatoes and cucumbers were dressed with what Bonny from Hip Cooks calls the "Holy Trinity" - a splash of olive oil, a squeeze of lemon and a sprinkling of sea salt. Simple and easy.

Easier yet? Pick up a roasted chicken from Soumarelo in Pasadena. The chicken, along with a package of pita bread and a pint of rice pilaf, costs a whopping $7.99. Toss your own salad and dinner is served.

Summer time drinks tend to be on the sweet side: lemonade (made from backyard Meyer lemons), Sangria (backyard lemons and oranges) and sweet tea. What's the common denominator in these three beverages? Simple syrup.

I once paid $6.00 for a bottle of simple syrup, which is more embarrassing than the time I paid $20 for a pair of J. Crew flip flops that I could have purchased from my local Rite Aid for 99 cents. In case you didn't know, simple syrup is equal parts sugar and water, brought to a boil and simmered slowly until the sugar dissolves.

I usually make a cup of simple syrup at the same time that I make the beverage, but I recently got smart. I made up a quart of simple syrup and now store it in my refrigerator so that beverage making is simpler than ever. (Japanese coffee shops frequently offer a small bottle of simple syrup at the table for iced tea. Brilliant!)

While I was at it, I decided to start storing water in the same kind of bottle. Mozza Pizzeria uses a similar bottle for their free tap water, as does the Bodega Wine Bar at Paseo Pasadena. For some reason, the water tastes better when I pour it out of the glass flask.

I think I just posted a recipe for water. How simple is that?

Bottled water , straight from the tap into an elegant glass container
(picked up on sale at Cost Plus for 99 cents)

CRUNCH: In Pursuit of the Perfect Potato Chip

2009-08-14T10:02:00.000-07:00

A chip off the old block

It's not that I need an excuse to indulge in my favorite junk snack food, potato chips.

But when I heard Dirk Burhans, author of the scholarly CRUNCH! A History of the Great American Potato Chip, interviewed on NPR, I had license to crunch my way through six states. Burhans confirmed what I had always suspected: I wasn't just pigging out when I sought out regional chips. I was engaging in culinary anthropology.

"This is my scholarly pursuit," I said to myself as I grabbed a bag of Tom's in Tennessee. "Just doin' my homework," I muttered under my breath when I snagged a bag of Mister Bees (my home town's regional chip) in West Virginia.

"Say 'Mister Bee,' please." On second thought, don't bother.

But in spite of Burhans' recommendation of chips fried in partially hydrogenated vegetable oil (I forget his rationale), I was disappointed. They left a waxy aftertaste in my mouth.

I discovered the perfect potato chip while driving through eastern Ohio, considered the Mecca of the local chip. These didn't come in a bag. The straight-from-the-fryer potato chips, made to order, were as local and delicious as you can get.

Bagless chips from the Flying Dog Cafe in Nelsonville

In Southern California, Nick and Stef's in downtown LA once served a homemade potato chip during their happy hour, but they cut them off a couple years ago. Smitty's in Pasadena still serves a hot-0ff-the-fryer chip, free at the bar or $5 from the menu. The free chips make up for the double-digit Manhattan I like to order at the bar.

Inspired by the chips I crunched in Ohio, I decided to try my hand at chip making. I borrowed Altadena Hiker's mandolin and went to work slicing the spuds. I heated the vegetable oil to 375 degrees, fried the potatoes to a golden brown and sprinkled with sea salt.

Here's what I discovered. The perfect potato chip is imperfect. Some cooked dark brown, others light. Some paper thin, others thicker.

And as it turns out, I have a knack for imperfection.

On the Road Again: Where Has All the Road Food Gone?

2009-08-06T18:39:00.000-07:00

Ahh, the road trip. As a child, it meant long hours squeezed between battling brothers or, if, I was queen for the day, sandwiched between the 'rents. I had no control over the destination, the radio station or the stopping places. I endured it all for the possibility of a soft serve cone that could melt away the pain and boredom.

Fast forward a few decades, and I love road trippin'. I'm now the King of the Road - master of the destination, the radio (or CD player) and the stopping places. And you better believe that road food restaurants top the list for places to stop.

Two weeks ago, I did a fly-drive trip to six states: Georgia, Tennessee, North Carolina, South Carolina, Ohio and West Virginia. I was in heaven behind the wheel of my rental car while listening to the audio book The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. I stopped for Georgia peaches from roadside farm stands and drove under the influence of those intoxicatingly sweet fruits.

But, other than those peaches, I discovered that finding good road food is less likely than Daddy letting me pick the radio station. I passed scores of Wendy's, McDonald's and Hardy's. Dozens of Dairy Queens and at least half a dozen Sonics. But where was the regional road food?

Roadfood.com describes road food as "great regional meals along highways, in small towns and in city neighborhoods." Where were the rib joints and the diners with fresh peach pie or biscuits hot out of the oven? What happened to the little hole-in-the-wall joints where I could get a bowl of beans with a side of corn bread?

Two years ago, I discovered just such a place near my home town in West Virginia. Hoggs and Doggs served up West Virginia style hot dogs (with slaw), beans and corn bread, biscuits and gravy and sweet tea. I've returned a half dozen times since then, but this time Hoggs and Doggs had, apparently, gone to Hogg Heaven. They vanished without a hub cap trace.

But the goddess of road food looked kindly upon me as I drove from Columbus to West Virginia. When I reached the halfway mark in Nelsonville (population: 5,000), the Flying Dog came to my rescue. Local beer on tap and a West Virginia style hot dog came to $3.35. An order of hot-from-the-fryer potato chips was less than $2.00. With free WiFi, I was ready to move in.

The Flying Dog was determined to soar above the Sonic and Dairy Queen down the street. I couldn't wait to stop again on my way back to Columbus. But, alas, in spite of promises of a dollar dog on Tuesdays, Flying Dog had taken a belly flop. Its doors were closed.

What's your favorite, non-chain road food? When you hit the highway, where do you like to stop?

The First Gift of Summer

2009-07-19T19:15:00.000-07:00

I always lowered my voice an octave and held up an imaginary bell when I bellowed out my favorite line from the classic Christmas book, The Polar Express. "The first gift of Christmas."

Today, I plucked the first red Celebrity tomato from the garden. I held the shiny fruit in the sun and shouted out, "The first gift of summer" (without lowering my voice an octave). Isn't gardening dramatic?

And the best part? Just like Santa's bag, the vines should produce an endless supply of gifts - some red, some yellow and some green and striped like a zebra - all summer long.

The gift that keeps on giving, all summer long - vine ripe tomatoes. With a little salt and fresh chopped basil, what could be better?

(And with heat in the 90s here in Southern California, I may cool off by reading The Polar Express. I'll drink Sangria chilled with ice shaved from the Polar Ice Caps instead of hot chocolate "as thick as chocolate bars.")

Open Mouth, Insert Milk

2009-07-16T15:02:00.000-07:00

We have one more mouth to feed at the Open Mouth household, but it will be a while before we insert a fork.

Daughter C. gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. He arrived a month early, but is healthy and strong and already developing a taste for the ultimate comfort food - mother's milk.

Please forgive the shortage of posts. Between the new baby and a trip to the East Coast (which I hoped to complete before baby's arrival), I'll be a bit tied up until the 28th.

I look forward to finding a bigger baby boy and a few dozen vine-ripe tomatoes when I return.

Trespassers Picnic, Part III

2009-07-03T22:16:00.000-07:00

The day of living dangerously: Trespassers enjoy an idyllic picnic.
(Photo courtesy of Petrea from Pasadena Daily Photo)

A few years ago, my friend Barbara attended a memorial service where family members served the mom's "signature dishes." We both panicked when we realized that we didn't have our own time-honored dishes to serve at our funerals. God forbid that I should die and someone should mutter, "Well, you know Susan was working on those crab cakes, but she never quite got 'em right."

I may not have a signature dish, but I do have bragging rights to a signature event - the trespassers' picnic, where crossing the line is half the fun. The picnics are held on private property and are loosely centered around a theme. The first featured traditional picnic foods, such as fried chicken, deviled eggs and chocolate layer cake. We gave a nod to France on the second picnic and served pommes frittes, salad Nicoise and French wine.

Last week we gathered at a favorite private vacant lot and shared Asian-inspired food.

We started with green mango with chilli salt, a popular Thai street food that, according to my friend who lived in Thailand for nearly a decade, is as common in movie theatres as buttered popcorn. I think I'll try sneaking this sweet, sour, salty and spicy dish in on my next visit to the Laemmle. (The very next day, a friend served me a snack of mangoes with cracked black pepper, and it was equally delicious.)

I tried out this recipe for Thai Beef Salad, developed by Clare at Rainy Days and Sundays. I could live for days on the dressing alone.

Cold soba noodle salad, Thai beef salad and Banh Mi - cool foods on a hot day

The Menu:

Appetizers

Japanese Rice Crackers
Green Mango with Chilli Salt
Strawberries

Main Dishes
Cold Soba Noodle Salad
Thai Beef Salad
Vegetarian and Pate Banh Mi from Lee's Sandwiches

Desserts
Red Bean and Sesame Buns from Din Tai Fung
Red Velvet Cupcakes (made by Chinese bakers)

Beverages
Iced Tea
Rose Wine

As Liz put it, our afternoon was filled with "questionable wine, manageable danger and good company." I couldn't have said it better myself.

Do you live in the Pasadena area? Do you have a flexible weekday schedule? Would you like to be invited to the next Trespassers' Picnic at the end of summer? Email me at susancarrier AT sbcglobal.net or leave a comment.

Driving for Empanadas: Chile vs. Argentina

2009-06-30T17:23:00.000-07:00

Long before the euphemism "hiking the Appalachian trail" was associated with a certain South American country, Argentina was known for Evita, tango and empanadas.

I drove to Tito's Market in El Monte last Friday to pick up a dozen empanadas for a potluck happy hour. At $1.39 each, the hearty beef pies are a tasty, inexpensive and lazy way to feed a group.

On Saturday, I was invited to another potluck dinner (is this a sign of the times?). Still more in the mood to drive than bake, I headed to my old haunt, Rincon Chileno in Hollywood, for a Chilean version of the meat pie. They sell for $2.25 each, but are about 50% larger that the ones at Tito's. (And if you purchase six, the seventh one is free.)

Chilean empanadas from Rincon Chileno, Argentine empanadas from Tito's

Then I headed back down to El Monte for a half dozen Argentinian empanadas so that I could compare the two.

For me it was no contest. I love Tito's, BUT I prefer the flaky golden crust of the Rincon Chileno pies. I also prefer the beef filling, which is fried with onions and surrounded by boiled egg and olives. Tito's omits the onions and the eggs and limits the olives to one per pie.

Chilean empanadas from Rincon Chileno, Argentine empanadas from Tito's

I thought that the Rincon Chileno empanadas would be scooped up while the Tito's pies went begging. But guess what? They were both scooped up (another sign of the times?), and many of the potluckers told me they preferred Tito's.

You'll have to be the judge.

Rincon Chileno
4354 Melrose Ave.
Los Angeles, CA
(323) 666-6075.

Tito's Market
9814 Garvey Ave.
El Monte CA
(626) 579-1893

Swap 'Til You Drop

2009-06-23T10:37:00.000-07:00

Do you think the squirrels will come back later to finish these half-eaten apricots?

It's that time of year again when my back lawn becomes littered with the carcasses of half-eaten apricots. The squirrels are experts at picking the freshest fruits, taking a few nibbles and then throwing the partially eaten apricots on the ground. (Except for the Oscar Madison squirrel, who lined up his fruits on a limb.)

Last year I joined a community crop sharing group, so I have lots of help in picking and eating the fruit. (If you'd like to read more about the group, see the story I wrote for the LA Times Home & Garden Section.) In a nutshell, we share and swap our surplus produce with other members in the group.

In an effort to distract the squirrels from the apricots, I put up a bird feeder. Unfortunately, the word has gotten out that the Carriers are hosting a back-yard smorgasbord.

I feel lucky to have a yard with plenty of fruit trees (apricot, pomello, lemon, orange, grapefruit, avocado, persimmon, fig) and enough room for a vegetable plot.

For those not fortunate enough to have their own piece of dirt, the good news is that LA County has more than 4,000 community garden plots. The bad news is that hundreds of wannabe gardeners are on the waiting lists.

One creative solution that's being explored in Southern California is yard swapping or share cropping, where landowners share their plot of land and part of the harvest in exchange for a little sweat equity. (You can read my LA Times story about modern day share cropping here.)

How green is my garden? The peas just sprouted and the green zebra tomatoes are almost ripe.

The fruits of someone else's labor: donut peaches and Swiss chard in exchange for apricots

Do you live in Los Angeles and want to explore a yard sharing arrangement? Check out www.growfriend.org.

If you aren't in LA, check out www.hyperlocavore.com, a national group that's facilitating yard sharing arrangements.

After all, in these recessionary times, swapping is better than shopping.

Pizzeria Mozza - Late to the Pizza Party

2009-06-12T10:22:00.001-07:00

Photo courtesy of men.style.com

It's not that I object to the word "foodie," but I don't like to call myself one.

And here's why. Real foodies have been worshipping at the twin altars of Mozza Osteria and Pizzeria Mozza (the Nancy Silverton, Mario Batali, Joseph Bastianich restaurants) since they opened in November 2006.

I, on the other hand, ate at Pizzeria Mozza for the first time on Tuesday.

Here are a few of my observations:

- I was surprised at the number of young children at both restaurants. The parents of a six-year-old boy told me that their son's birthday dinner request was Mozza Osteria. He's a huge Mario Batali fan. When the waiter asked him if he wanted penne pasta with butter, he responded, "No, I'd like the lamb chops, medium rare." Instead of the Chuck E. Cheese motto, "Where a kid can be a kid," the slogan could be, "Where a kid can be a snob."

- I tried the bone marrow appetizer, and I don't get it. But I don't get pork belly either. Maybe it's because I was forced to eat fat as a child; I got in "trouble" when I carefully cut the fat off my pork chops. My dad (the one who chastised me) would no doubt suck the fat right out of those marrow bones (as one man at our table did). But he'd scoff at the price.

- They had a ramps (wild leek) pizza! I just wrote about ramps, so I was delighted to sample this hillbilly delicacy on my pizza. Now this I get, even though the taste was milder and less pungent than the ramps of my childhood in West Virginia. The ramps pizza, only available until the end of June, is also topped with pancetta, English peas and panna for $18. I MUST return before the end of the month.

- My other new favorite thing is the pizza with fried egg and asparagus. I could eat this every day.

- You won't find any pizza crust graveyards - those embarrassing piles of uneaten, inedible, doughy crust edges. Mozza's rims of charred bubbles are crisp and chewy and entirely edible. If I saw an uneaten one on someone's plate, I might even mutter, "You gonna' eat that?"

- Our group of seven had reservations, but it would have been fairly easy for a group of four to grab seats at the bar after a 15-minute wait. And, by the way, if you're going with a group, six is a perfect number because that's how many slices per pizza. We were a little relieved that the seventh person in our group was a no-show.

- It only took 25 minutes to drive from Altadena to Melrose in rush-hour traffic. It's taken me longer to drive to Alhambra for a banh mi.

- A foodie photographer in our group took flash photos of all 11 dishes, and it was very annoying. That's why I don't have any photos with this post and why I seldom write about restaurants. Please rip the camera from my hands if I ever annoy you with picture taking. Or, being the sensitive type, your disapproving look would wilt me faster than wild ramps on a hot skillet.

- The place is small - so small that there's nowhere to stand while you're waiting for your table. Don't you hate that? No matter where you go, you're in someone's way.

- I've read Yelp complaints about poor service, but our wait staff couldn't have been nicer or more attentive.

Pizzeria Mozza
641 N. Highland Ave.
Los Angeles, CA
323-297-0101
www.mozza-la.com

Torn Between Two Blogs and a Treat from Celebrating with Julienne

2009-06-11T13:19:00.000-07:00

Graham Cracker Chewy Bars - A Julienne Favorite

I once lived in an apartment in Hollywood, next door to an amorous Chilean woman who had two lovers. One, apparently, knew about the other, and one thought he was the one and only. I know this because I frequently provided an escape route to "the other" through our adjoining balconies. (My neighbor thanked me by introducing me to Rincon Chileno, a Chilean restaurant on the seedy side of Melrose.)

I've never experienced this dilemma in life, but sometimes I feel that way with my two blogs. "Two blogs?" some may gasp. You may have thought Open Mouth, Insert Fork was the "one and only." Readers of my other blog, Cancer Banter, are well aware of my food blog. Heck, I even invite them to "sneak over the balcony" and visit Open Mouth, Insert Fork.

Up until now, there really wasn't any reason for me to tell you about Cancer Banter. But now I'm ready to share because I feel like I'm experiencing the ultimate convergence between the two blogs (a chance meeting in the hallway?).

Susan Campoy, owner of Julienne and author of Celebrating with Julienne, died of cancer in May, and I wrote a tribute to her at Cancer Banter. We shared more than a love of food; we also shared the same doctor at the same cancer center, City of Hope.

I have an appointment at the City of Hope this afternoon, and since I am feeling so good, I decided to make Julienne's Graham Cracker Chewy Bars to share with my doctor and staff.

Raising the bar

This recipe recently appeared in the LA Times Food Section's "Culinary SOS," where readers request their favorite recipes. The recipe, along with a brief story about its origin, also appears in the Celebrating with Julienne cookbook. (There's not a photo of the bars in the book, so it's nice to see the pic with the LA Times article.)

Graham Cracker Chewy Bars
Total time: 45 minutes, plus cooling time

Servings: 24 bars
Crust
3 cups graham cracker crumbs

3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) butter, at room temperature

1/4 cup sugar

2 tablespoons flour

1. Heat the oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl with an electric mixer, or in the bowl of a stand mixer, beat the graham cracker crumbs, butter, sugar and flour until moist and well-blended. Press the mixture firmly and evenly over the bottom of a 13-inch by 9-inch baking pan. Bake until the crust is golden brown, 10 to 15 minutes.
Topping and assembly
2 1/2 cups brown sugar

4 extra-large eggs

2/3 cup graham cracker crumbs

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 cup pecans, chopped

1 prepared crust

Powdered sugar, if desired

1. While the crust is baking, in a large bowl, whisk together the brown sugar and eggs to blend. Whisk in the graham cracker crumbs, vanilla, salt and baking powder until well-blended. Stir in the pecans.

2. Spread the mixture over the baked crust and return to the 350-degree oven until the filling is dark-golden on top and jiggles slightly when tapped, 20 to 25 minutes. Transfer the pan to a cooling rack and cool completely.

3. Sprinkle a light coating of sifted powdered sugar over the pan if desired, and cut into 24 bars. The bars can be made 1 day in advance. Wrap in plastic and keep at room temperature.

Each bar: 247 calories; 2 grams protein; 36 grams carbohydrates; 1 gram fiber;11 grams fat; 4 grams saturated fat; 50 mg. cholesterol; 184 mg. sodium.

The cookbook neglects to instruct bakers to dust the finished bars with powdered sugar, so I was glad that the LA Times article included this. The dusting of sugar definitely prettifies these bars.

Also, I like to use 1 1/2 cups of nuts instead of the specified 1 cup. I like to fine chop 3/4 cup in my mini food processer and course chop 3/4 cup by hand.

You may scoff at the 3 cups of graham crackers in the crust. And that's not counting the 2/3 cup in the filling. Sounds pretty pedestrian, doesn't it? But, oh my, it is not pedestrian. It's not even public transportation. It's a convertible zipping around a hairpin curve. The sweet, chewy, nutty goodness of these easy-to-make bars gives you that kind of high.

So, it's a nice little circle we've formed. Susan Campoy nurtured thousands in her lifetime. My doctor and his staff have nurtured thousands of patients in their careers. And now I get to do my little bitty part to nurture the nurturers with these rich and chewy treats, from a recipe by a nurturing woman.

The circle of sweets is complete.

Don't even think about it, Tiger.

(PLEASE forgive me for not responding to all of the wonderful comments and questions on the most recent post and other posts. Life has been busy, and I'm still feeling a bit overwhelmed - in a good way - by the increase of activity from blog of note.)

(PS I'm still in remission and just going for my monthly visit.)

Celebrating with Julienne

2009-06-06T09:08:00.000-07:00

Long before I started shouting out, "Tall half-caf, lowfat latte for here," at Starbuck's, I was ordering full-caf, full-fat cafe au laits at Julienne in San Marino.

A friend, who was once the restaurant manager for the popular eatery, introduced four other Gymboree moms and me to the joys of cafe au laits and Julienne nearly 20 years ago. It was like a modern day circling of the wagons when we six moms took over the cafe's patio with our six oversized strollers filled with our bouncing bistro babies.

Since then, Julienne has continued to be a special place to meet friends for breakfast or lunch or to purchase a package of their buttery, cheesy parmesan toasts for a party. (As a matter of fact, just last month I met two of those same Gymboree moms for breakfast.)

So when I found out that Julienne owner Susan Campoy was publishing a cookbook, Celebrating with Julienne, I knew that I had to have it.

I have a wide range of reasons for adding a cookbook to my collection. Sometimes I want a curl-up-by-the-fire read filled with luscious photos and food memories. Other times I'm focused on a a specific cuisine or a favorite chef. And then, more often than not, it's about trying to duplicate the restaurant experience.

Celebrating with Julienne hits all those buttons. Part of the joy of dining at Julienne is the attention to detail in the food and every aspect of the decor. I love how the book mirrors the warmth and surprising details of the restaurant. I immediately curled up with the book and savored every delicious page.

But, of course, looks aren't everything. I love how the recipes, many of my favorites, are easy to follow and organized just like Julienne with a Brasserie section (breakfast and lunch), Gourmet Market section (with favorite recipes from Julienne To Go) and Celebrations with ideas and recipes for a chocolate festival, family Easter, Hollywood Bowl picnic, an evening in Morocco, a harvest feast and a winter celebration.

I started off easy with something I've been eating for years: the Candied Applewood Bacon. You have to love a recipe with just two ingredients - bacon and brown sugar.

Julienne Candied Applewood bacon served for breakfast with left-over oven-roasted red potatotes and sauteed spinach.

I'm looking forward to cooking and baking and celebrating my way through Celebrating with Julienne.

(Celebrating with Julienne is available in the Pasadena area at Julienne, Vroman's, Joan's on Third, Marz, Nicole's Gourmet Foods, San Marino Stationers, Hollyhock, Savor the Flavor and Little Flower Candy Co. You can also order a copy here or on Amazon.com.)

The Door of Opportunity

2009-06-05T11:00:00.000-07:00

Is that opportunity knocking?
The mail box is for storing gloves and clippers.
The black chalkboard is for drawing or messages.

A couple weeks ago, I wrote about the blight that co-mingled with the beauty in our back yard. I was especially concerned about the neighbor's air conditioning unit that thrust itself into the little kitchen garden tucked into the corner of our property.

The proposed solution was to mount an old door as a combined screen, garden element and catch-all for garden tools and gloves. Your response was overwhelmingly positive. (Well, except for one commenter who advised me to "get a life." Anyone who knows me is aware that I actually have the opposite problem - too much life, not enough time, but you never hear anyone snarking, "Get rid of some life.")

Yesterday, the handy man mounted the door and I'm thrilled with the results.

I like to have my morning coffee on these child-sized Adirondack chairs. If you have hips like a snake, then perhaps you can join me.

The door doesn't just hide the offending unit. I've hidden garden tools and surplus hay and straw behind the door.

I love this little stool that I picked up last week at the Fullerton Arboretum's Gift Shop. No nails and less than $20. (Sorry. It was the last one.)

And, speaking of opportunities, the "Blog of Note" designation has created a flurry of activity, including many new followers and lovely and interesting comments and emails. Thanks so much for reading this blog. I am humbled because many of you have such fascinating blogs; I will attempt to visit more in the next couple weeks.

A Lazy Summer Cocktail (When One + One = WOW)

2009-05-31T07:43:00.000-07:00

Seconds after walking into a dinner party last Sunday night, a guest thrust a shot glass of sparkling grape juice into my hand.

"Try this," he urged.

The non-alcoholic drink tasted like something you might serve at a Sweet 16 party. It was sweet and bubbly with a slight sour finish to give it a kick of sophistication. Frankly, I wasn't impressed.

But it turns out this wasn't just any Martinelli's or Trader Joe's variety of carbonated juice. It was a high-end German sparkler by Sekthaus Raumland, available on sale at two bottles for $20 at Wing Hop Fung* in Monterey Park. $10 for a bottle of fizzy Welch's? I don't think so.

But then I witnessed a little alchemy. Pour the Sweet 16 stuff on the rocks, add equal parts vodka and suddenly you have a drink worthy of a cocktail party on the veranda or an end-of-day "I've been working in the garden" pick-me-up. Seriously refreshing. Seriously deliciious. Seriously intoxicating.

I guess all those generations of teenagers spiking punch bowls with vodka had it right all along.

(*an unlikely but highly recommended wine store set in an apothecary/tea store)

When Life Gives You Blight . . . Hire a Handy Man

2009-05-19T20:18:00.000-07:00

It's not hard to find beauty in my garden. You can find good bones (two massive redwood trees in one side yard, a redwood and magnolia on the other side, plenty of mature fruit trees in the back yard) and some interesting meat on those bones.

This year, I've spruced up one of the formerly unused side yards into a favorite retreat; interspersed heirloom tomato plants among the inedibles in the back yard; added two raised beds and created some showy arrangements in urns and pots. Things are shaping up nicely.

But, among the beauty, it's equally easy to find the blight. One of the chief offenders is tucked into a corner, right next to the grape arbor, the pea tee-pee and the raised beds. That's where our neighbor, whose art studio is right on our property line, decided to install an A/C unit.

I was furious when this unit suddenly encroached into our yard a couple years ago, but I didn't say a word. When it comes to complaining, I have two die-hard rules: Don't do it when you're angry, and always offer a solution or a resolution. I couldn't get over my anger and I didn't have a solution, short of demanding that the neighbor yank the A/C unit and install it on a wall that juts into her own yard. And, since she lives on a different street, I haven't seen her for more than three years.

But lately that infringing A/C has been getting my goat - partly because I'm spending more time in that neck of the garden and partly because I'm hosting a garden wedding reception for a friend in June.

I considered a trellis, but it will take a full year to be lush enough to disguise the offending unit, which is, ironically, a Carrier. I thought about surrounding the unit with reed fencing, but that just seemed tacky.

I've come up with an idea for a decorative and functional garden element that conceals the eyesore.

I'm going to mount a strategically placed door and spray coat the inner panels in chalkboard paint. I can leave messages for the gardener or corny, inspirational thoughts. ("Friends are the flowers in the garden of life." "Thoughtless neighbors are the thorns in life's garden.") I'll hang a succulent wreath and seek out a rustic mailbox for storing my gardening gloves, clippers and chalk. A couple of hooks may come in handy too.

I've also written a note to my back-door neighbor asking her to share part of the modest project cost. (Wish me luck.)

How's that for turning blight into beauty? (I'll post pictures when the project is done in a couple of weeks.)

Three Isn't Always a charm - Crab Cakes

2009-05-18T07:55:00.001-07:00

Crab cakes from Sunset.com do not make the cut.

This year I made just two New Year's resolutions: Drink more bubbly and create the ultimate crab cake.

It's nearly five months into 2009, and I'm happy to report that I'm making good on the first goal. The second, not so much.

I made the first batch of crab cakes for a New Year's Eve party. Adapted from a recipe on the Williams Sonoma site, they were good but not the ultimate.

I tried again with the recipe from the Turf Club at Santa Anita. Now these are, as far as I'm concerned, the ultimate crab cake, without a bread crumb in sight. They were also labor intensive and require several hours in advance preparation.

For my third attempt, I went to Sunset.com and tried this simple recipe. I liked the idea of binding the crab cakes with the same tarragon aioli sauce that tops the cakes. I thought the 1 3/4 cups of panko (Japanese bread crumbs) was excessive, so I reduced the amount to 1/2 cup, but the crab still didn't shine through.

The quest continues.

La Vida Loca - Crazy Mint

2009-05-09T10:56:00.000-07:00

Have you heard the definition of crazy (or insanity)? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?

Oh, I won't even begin to count the ways in which my life is "crazy" by definition, but I will divulge one: I am mint crazy.

I am crazy about mint, the perky, fragrant and versatile herb that gives a flavor boost to everything from cocktails and teas to salads and side dishes. Nothing wrong with that.

But I was also certifiably crazy in my approach to growing the vigorous herb. For years, friends (who bragged that their mint was "growing like crazy") shared cuttings and I planted them in a semi-shady spot in my garden, only to have them die. Each year, I would try again, make a minor alteration and . . . fail. Same thing. Same results. Same head scratching.

As Dr. Phil might ask, "How's that workin' for ya'?" Well, it wasn't working, thanks for asking.

This year I decided to get sane. A member of my seed and plant exchange group, CASAPE, brought five kinds of mint to share at a swap meet. I took all five home and planted them in an entirely different, sunnier part of the garden. And guess what? The mint is thriving and spreading and screaming out to me, "Why didn't you do this before, you crazy lady?"

For lunch yesterday, I made a simple salad of cucumbers, red onion, tomatoes, mint and feta cheese. Served with a piece of grilled chicken and brown rice, it was a lovely way to celebrate a sunny day and sanity.

Minty Cucumber Feta Salad

1 cucumbers, peeled and diced
1/2 red onion, finely chopped
1 or 2 tomatoes, diced
2 T extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lime or lemon juice
1 fresh garlic clove, minced
4 T. fresh mint, chopped
4 ounces feta cheese, crumbled
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Place all the ingredients in a bowl and toss well. Add salt and pepper to taste. Chill for two to three hours before serving.

This recipe is so easy, it's crazy. In a good way.

(Is there an area in your life, the kitchen or the garden where you're doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results? Do tell.)

Mentoring and Ramping It Up

2009-05-03T10:24:00.000-07:00

The enigmatic Miss Havisham has challenged me to explore the theme, “If I could have met with a mentor on a weekly basis when I was a teenager, I . . . "

I grew up in Clarksburg, West Virginia. I'm tempted to write, "I grew up poor," because that's what people from outside of the Mountain State expect. I suspect we were, but I never knew it at the time. My (once-well-to-do) mother from Tokyo could outdress and outclass anyone. She insisted on buying my clothes from Claurice's Boutique, not from Sears or the five-and-dime like all the other girls at Broadway Elementary. So, even though our family income may have been below the magical line, we didn't look or act the part.

My hard-working dad, like most of the dads in our neighborhood, lugged a metal lunch pail to work each day to a blue collar job at a glass factory. That is, when the factory wasn't shut down. Even in the 60s, the economy was dicy in WV, and it seems there were always layoffs and plant closures.

My world was small. Women were housewives or spinster teachers and dads worked at factories. I knew of just three exceptions. At the time, they seemed to be in a "privileged set," but looking back now I can see that they were scraping by. Jennifer Andy's dad owned Pete Andy's, a little corner grocer. Bobby Lindsay was the son of a fireman. And Allen Saoud's dad owned and drove a small candy truck that heralded, "Here comes Marcelle the Candy Man."

I didn't know much about what laid outside the 'burg, but school assemblies changed all that. I was impressionable and easily impressed, in awe of every one of the speakers who flung up windows to whole new worlds. Most students looked at assemblies as a ticket out of classwork, but not me. I can still vividly recall presentations I heard more than four decades ago.

If I could have chosen a mentor it would have been my favorite assembly speaker, Jim Comstock, publisher and editor of the West Virginia Hillbilly.

I was probably nine at the time, and he must have been in his fifties, but I was mesmerized by his wit, his energy and his passion for writing and publishing. His newspaper was published in Richwood, a small town in southern West Virginia known for its annual wild ramp festival. One year the mischievious Comstock decided to celebrate the pungent wild onion by infusing ramp juice into the ink of the newspaper. He stunk up post offices all over the state. The Post Master made him promise never to pull that stunt again.

Oh, how I loved that story! It demonstrated to me so many possibilities. Of being wildly creative and fearless. Of leaving your mark (and your scent). Of loving the outcome. These were all things that had not occurred to me before hearing Comstock. I felt intoxicated and would have loved nothing more than getting drunk on him every week.

I smile now every time I see humble ramps on the menu of fancy-schmancy restaurants. I wonder what my "mentor" would have to say about their new lofty status. I think about those West Virginia post offices that must have smelled like "wild onions and bear piss." Then I take a big, imaginary whiff, and I'm still intoxicated by the aroma. For me, ramps will always smell like the sweetest scent of all - possibility.

***

Kathy at Healthy. Happy. Life has an excellent post and photo essay about her wild ramp tasting.
Brooklyn Farmhouse uses the bulb part to make ramp aioli.

Kathy's fresh approach is a far cry from our family's springtime tradition. We ate our wild ramps scrambled with eggs and rolled in flat bread purchased from one of the several Lebanese families in our neighborhood. We were, apparently, early food fusion trendies.

The Breakfast Gal Gets Her Fix in SF, "The Breakfast City"

2009-04-30T15:04:00.001-07:00

Japanese breakfast: sweet, sour, salty and steamy in a bowl.

I wasn't born a breakfast gal. Up until a year ago, breakfast was something that I gulped, skipped or forced down. Grab it and go was my motto. Or, in more challenging times, grab it and just keep it down.

But then something happened and, like magic, I was transformed into a breakfast gal. I rise ravenous and my first thought of the day is, "How shall I break this fast?"

I just spent two days in San Francisco, heaven on earth for a gal who loves to celebrate the first meal of the day. As a matter of fact, I'm dubbing SF "The Breakfast City" because diners think nothing of waiting in line for an hour to break their fasts.

I didn't have to wait at all for my first SF breakfast, room service at the Kabuki Hotel in Japantown. The hotel staffer was rapping on my door at the appointed 7:30 am time with the designated meal, a traditional Japanese breakfast served in a bento box.

A feast for the eyes, a treat for the mouth. Soup, salad, seaweed and salmon - "The 4 Ss" of a Japanese breakfast. Oh, and pay no mind to the bottle of ketchup lurking in the background.

Savor the flavors: Crunchy fresh cucumbers, crisp sweet yellow radish, salty/sour plum

I spent Tuesday night at my friend Sisi's home, which is just a few steps away from Coit Tower.

On Wednesday morning, we walked down the hill into North Beach for breakfast at Mama's, a place so popular that 90 minute weekend waits are the norm.

Our Wednesday morning wait was less than 20 minutes.

I had the eggs Benedict with crispy fried bacon and roasted potatoes.

My friend had the French toast special. Don't forget to slather on the olliberry jam on the table. Tart and delicious!

Check out these top ten lists for best breakfast in SF:

http://www.10best.com/San_Francisco,CA/Restaurants/Breakfast/ http://sanfrancisco.about.com/od/toppicks/tp/sfbreakfast.htm

And, if you get there before I do, save me a seat.

The Altadena Breakfast Club: The Frugal Diner Discovers There's No Place Like Home

2009-04-27T21:46:00.000-07:00

Why is it that out-of-town guests like to venture to Beverly Hills?

Is it the celebrity spotting? The opportunity to see how the pampered people live? Or the lure of breakfast in a beautiful setting?

I discovered last weekend that I don't need to leave Altadena to experience all three.

My first celebrity siting was at the local Altadena Library. Everyman actor John C. Reilly was checking out baseball books for his sons. It seems like we're always waiting in lines together - buying batteries at the local Rite Aid, grabbing a caffeine fix at The Coffee Gallery or indulging in gelato at Bulgurini.

Later that day, I looked up and saw "Spencer Loves Heidi" written in the sky. It turns out that Spencer Pratt and Heidi Montag are the reality stars of MTV's The Hills. They exchanged vows at Westminster Presbyterian Church, a Gothic gem near Altadena's edge. I even caught a glimpse of the bride and groom as they ran into the limo, while cameras rolled and paparazzi snapped.

Saturday's LA Times Home & Garden Section featured 14 online photos of a magical garden. Turns out that garden, part of the Garden Conservancy's annual tour, is just three blocks away from me, so I took a stroll there on Sunday morning.

Of course, my own back yard looks humble by comparison, but that doesn't stop me from enjoying an al fresco breakfast.

My David Austin roses are in full bloom.

Just-squeezed orange juice served on a copper tray purchased that morning from another Altadena treasure, Hughes Estates 50% off sale.

What did I learn last week from my breakfast in Beverly Hills? That sauteed spinach makes a great morning meal side dish with ham and cheese eggs. West Coast Grrlie Blather bought one of the $1.99 "pillows" of spinach from Super King and shared with me.

Celebrities? Check.
Stately homes and gardens? Check.
Breakfast in a beautiful setting? Check.

It's all here in Altadena, along with a whole lot more.

The Beverly Hills Breakfast Club: A Frugal Diner Splurges on a Morning Meal

2009-04-23T10:34:00.000-07:00

You know times are tough when the recession hits the 90210, home of swimming pools, movie stars and prostitutes who look like pretty women.

The Visitor's Bureau decided to give the Beverly Hills economy a shot in the mouth by throwing a breakfast sale in April. 25 participating restaurants are offering discounts on breakfast specials until the end of this month.

Even though I discovered a long time ago that the city is two parts myth, two parts movie magic and one part silicone, I couldn't resist the idea of having breakfast in Beverly Hills. I emailed a west-side friend last Sunday, "Would you like to join me in the morning for a decadent breakfast in Beverly Hills?" She bit.

My idea was to create a fantasy micro-mini vacation by dining al fresco at a posh hotel. I figured I couldn't afford the suite, but I could get a feel for the lifestyle of the rich and pampered by springing for breakfast.

When I walked out to the dining patio at the five-star, five-diamond Raffles L'Ermitage Hotel, my friend was already waiting for me, nursing a $10 cup of coffee. I perused the menu, but didn't see the advertised $25 special listed. The waiters kept pointing out the $27 continental breakfast special of coffee, juice and pastries, but I didn't drive 90 minutes for an overpriced cup of Joe and a sweet roll.

When it was clear that noone knew what I was talking about, our amiable waiter offered to fetch the manager, who was equally clueless about the offer. He went back to his office, did a Google search and found the special online:

JAAN Restaurant at Raffles L’Ermitage Beverly Hills, Beverly Hills Burton Way Breakfast: Eggs Benedict, potatoes, steamed spinach and special smoothie of the day, coffee or tea. $25 per person (excludes tax and gratuity)

Apparently, the staff didn't get the memo.

We both ordered the Burton Way Breakfast, and I asked the waiter to make sure that my friend wasn't charged separately for her $10 coffee. While we were waiting, our smiling waiter offered to get us toast. My friend and I shot nervous glances at one another. Would we be billed $15 for sliced bread? We passed.

A few minutes later, the waiter again offered toast or a bagel and cream cheese. This time, we accepted and munched our sourdough toast with butter and jam while we waited for the special.

The breakfast was perfect - beautifully presented and full of flavor. And, with the exception of the hollandise sauce, it was a hearty, healthy morning meal with at least five cancer-fighting foods (blueberries, spinach, tomatoes, asparagus and green tea).

The manager had informed me earlier that picture taking is forbidden in the hotel (apparently for the protection of high-profile guests). But, since no other guests were in the dining room, I pulled out my camera and took a couple shots of our power breakfast.

A beautiful balance of colors and flavors. Not pictured: the blueberry smoothie

A pot of ginger green tea washed the breakfast down.

After breakfast, we asked the manager if we could see one of the rooms. He showed us a spacious 675 square-foot retreat, the smallest size the hotel offers. I've read that Julia Roberts likes to stay at the L'Ermitage when she's in town and tried to picture her lounging on the platform bed.

I know the Visitor's Bureau would have loved it if I dropped a few retail dollars in their city, but instead, I took advantage of two of the city's many free offerings. After breakfast, I headed for the "Oscar Library," the Academy's Margaret Herrick Library for two blissful hours of writing. I would have stayed longer, but I wanted to keep within the city's generous offering of two-hour free parking.

I rewarded my writing with a trip to the Museum of Television and Radio, where (on the advice of my improv teacher) I checked out rare footage of Jackie Gleason in his non-Honeymooner roles.

It will be a while before I drop $25 on breakfast again (almost $33 with tax and tip), but, for at least one morning I felt like a pretty, pampered woman. I also felt like a practical, frugal one taking advantage of the stimulating free offerings in the city. And, that, I suspect, is the real magic of Beverly Hills; it can cater to both.

(You can still become a member of the Beverly Hills Breakfast Club. The specials will continue until April 30.)

Pick Your Poison: Harvey Wallbanger Cake or Cocktail

2009-04-19T22:04:00.001-07:00

Galliano is the secret ingredient for a Harvey Wallbanger - both the cake and the cocktail.

Tonight I baked a Harvey Wallbanger cake as a belated birthday treat for a friend (OK, my (ex) husband, but it's complicated). It's his favorite cake, and it's one of my favorite cocktails, so it's become my tradition to BUI (bake under the influence) of the Harvey Wallbanger. I'm thinking of changing the name of this dessert to tipsy cake.

Harvey Wallbanger Cake
To intensify the orange flavor in the cake, I omitted the vodka in the original recipe and replaced it with Galliano and orange juice. I also added orange zest.

1 (18.25 ounce) package yellow cake mix
1 (3.5 ounce) package instant vanilla pudding mix
4 eggs
1/2 cup vegetable oil
5 fluid ounces Galliano liqueur
5 fluid ounces orange juice
zest of one orange

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour bundt pan. Arrange orange slices on top.
Combine cake mix and pudding mix in a large bowl. Blend in eggs, vegetable oil, 5 ounces Galliano, and 5 ounces orange juice. Mix batter until smooth and thick and pour into prepared pan.
Stir in orange zest.
Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes. Let cake cool in pan for 10 minutes then remove and place on cooling rack. Spoon glaze over cake while it is still warm.
To Make Glaze: Combine 1 ounce Galliano, 1 ounce vodka, and 1 ounce orange juice with the confectioner's sugar and blend until smooth. Spoon glaze over warm cake.

Harvey Wallbanger Cocktail
6 oz. orange juice
2 oz. Vodka
1/2 oz. Galliano Liquer (about a tablespoon)

Pour OJ and vodka over ice in a highball glass. Splash on Galliano. Garnish with a lemon slice.
Sip while the bundt is in the oven.

What's next? Inspired by The Restless Chef, I looked up recipes for "bourbon cake" and found 39 possibilities on cooks.com. No recipe necessary for sipping the bourbon.

Room for One More? Polkatots Cupcakes

2009-04-14T20:25:00.000-07:00

New kid-cake on the block - Polkatots on N. Lake in Pasadena

The way I figured it, Pasadena needed another specialty cupcake shop the way that Octomom needs another baby. We already have two locations of Dots (one on Arroyo Parkway and another in Old Pasadena) and Violet's in Old Pas. Nearby are Pearl in San Marino and My Sweet Cupcakes in South Pasadena.

Turns out there's room for one more cupcake contender. Polkatots', just six months new, has already managed to beat out 33 other cupcake competitors for two first-place prizes in the 2009 Nesquick Cupcake Challenge. Judges voted Pokatots' dulce de leche the best original cupcake and best overall cupcake in Southern California.

Fresh spring flowers brighten up the courtyard of Polkatots' mini mall setting.

I popped in to their North Lake shop to purchase two mini cupcakes (hey, big spender), but they all looked so delicious that I ended up taking home a dainty dozen.

Eenie, meenie minie, moe . . . Grab a cupcake, go, go, go.

I found most of the traditional cupcakes a little too sweet for my tooth (probably because of the extra sprinkling of sugar on top), but I went nuts over the pistachio cupcake. Alma, one of the owner/bakers, said that it was her favorite too.

My faves: pistachio and dulce de leche

Alma and her 20-year-old partner, Melany, also love creating cupcake cakes (CCC). Even though these are often maligned on cakewrecks.com, Alma and Melany turn those three Cs into creative, classy and convenient.

You'll pass Polkatots as you're driving north on Lake Ave. As a matter of fact, you'll drive past it when you're headed for Altadena. (Hint. Hint. Wink. Wink.)

Polkatots
720 N. Lake Ave.
Pasadena
626-798-3932
polkatotscupcakes.com.

Going Hog Wild Over Biscuits and Sausage Gravy

2009-04-11T15:59:00.000-07:00

Upscale, downscale: Strawberries drizzled with lemon curd and biscuits smothered in sausage gravy.

I love to have friends over. ("Entertain" sounds so pretentious.)

Sometimes I invite groups of friends who all know one another. Other times I try to mix up my friends. When I do this, human nature invariably kicks in, and people gravitate to people they already know. The party then seems more like a tossed salad than a well mixed drink.

This time, I put no thought whatsoever into the guest list; I let the guests invite themselves. A dozen friends answered my blog and Facebook calls for company to share biscuits and sausage gravy. I stood back and watched as this diverse group of friends blended better than Makers Mark in a Perfect Manhattan.

Why did we all feel so connected? Our common thread was a desire to pig out on biscuits and sausage gravy on a Saturday morning. We all speculated about the qualities of folks who love a heavy dose of carbs and fat in the morning: down-to-earth, hearty, warm, highly intelligent . . . modest.

I've baked plenty of biscuits in my lifetime, but this time I decided to try Margaret's flaky, buttery biscuits that she adapted from Julia Child's Baking with Julia. Margaret uses butter instead of shortening and buttermilk instead of milk. I like both substitutions.

The Julia & Margaret Biscuit

2 C flour
1 T baking powder
1 t salt
1/3 C butter
1C buttermilk

- Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
- Mix the dry ingredients.
- Add the butter and smush it into the dry ingredients with your fingers until the whole mess resembles cornmeal, although it’s fine to have a few bigger pieces of butter sticking out.
- Add the buttermilk and mix with a fork. It will be wet and messy.
- Turn onto a floured cloth and knead — and this is the secret — knead only ten times. You will want to keep kneading, but you must resist that urge.
- Roll out or pound out with the heel of your hand and cut into rounds.

Bake for 12 to 15 minutes at 425 degrees.
(My biscuits weren't as good as Margaret's. I wonder why?)

***

This was my first time making sausage gravy. I started out following the instructions for Frank's Famous Sausage Gravy, but immediately discovered a fatal flaw. The recipe called for one cup of flour and one cup of milk. I think Frank's recipe must be famous because it looks like wallpaper paste, not because it's flavorful.

I did some major revisions to come up with Susan's now famous sausage gravy.

Susan's Super Sausage Gravy
1 lb. ground sausage
1/2 c. flour
2 c. half and half and 1 c. milk (or any combination of cream or milk)
salt and pepper to taste hot pepper sauce to taste

- Brown and crumble the sausage in a large skillet.
- Coat the cooked sausage in 2/3 c. flour.
- Begin gradually adding the milk (or cream) and stirring until it reaches the consistency you like.
- Season to taste with salt, pepper and hot pepper sauce.
- Serve over biscuits.
- Walk around the Rose Bowl six times (or more to suit your taste). Or, if you prefer, fall asleep while watching reruns of Saved By the Bell.

I was a little nervous about how this was going to come out, but we devoured every one of the three batches of biscuits and the gravy. As a matter of fact, I asked a guest to pass the gravy, but none was left. So I did what every hearty, down-to-earth Southern gal does: I cleaned the sides of the bowl with the biscuit.

(I'm submitting this recipe to Blazing Hot Wok's Regional American Food Roundup for April.) This month's roundup is being hosted by Eating Club Vancouver.

Japanese Cooking Class at Pasadena Buddhist Church, April 14

2009-04-08T17:13:00.000-07:00

If you'd like to join me at my next Japanese cooking class, we'll be making buta dofu (pork and tofu), hijiki (seaweed) and carrot/cabbage tsukemono (pickled salad). I have to admit that the sound of these dishes does not cause instant salivation, but our teacher manages to make everything delicious or "oishii" as they say in Japan.

When: Tuesday, April 14, 7 pm
Where: Pasadena Buddhist Church, 1993 Glen Avenue, Pasadena
How Much: $15 includes a hands-on lesson with a professional instructor and three-course dinner. (It's "sucha diru" as they say in Japan.)
RSVP: Misako Morihiro, misamasumori@yahoo.com

If you're interested in attending, please be sure to email Misako.

Biscuits and Gravy, Anyone?

2009-04-04T19:46:00.000-07:00

Pork belly is in. Bacon is blazing hot. Bone marrow is tres chic. Even lard is no longer a four-letter word.

But biscuits and sausage gravy? I'm trying to convince Sumi at Europane that her customers (i.e. me) are craving this comfort breakfast, but she's not buyin' it. And that's too bad.

Until I can make it to Willit's, California, or anywhere in West Virginia, I've decided to make my own biscuits and gravy and submit the recipes and photographs to Blazing Hot Wok's Regional American Food Roundup for April.

There's just one problem: Will I be able to find anyone willing to share a batch of biscuits smothered in artery-hardening sausage gravy with me before April 15 (the deadline for submissions)?

Come on. It's just once a year. Anyone? Anyone?

Indian Lunch in Under 4 Minutes, $4 and 400 calories

2009-04-03T14:04:00.000-07:00

Some days, I make a beautiful salad for lunch.

Other days, I cook an easy, healthy meal like sauteed spinach and mushrooms with ground beef or Italian-style beans and greens.

My happiest days are when I can reach into the refrigerator and pull out cartons of leftover beef stew or takeout Thai curry. Heat and eat.

And then there are the days when I reach in and come up with. . . nothing. And, of course, those are the days that I want food and I want it NOW.

How do I bring on the fast and easy without resorting to my daughter's favorite lunch, ramen that's ready in three minutes? Or grabbing for the bag of chips with a side of salsa?

Peak into my pantry and you'll always find a stash of these ready-made Tasty Bite dishes that I learned about from Wandering Chopsticks.

Bombay Potatoes is one of 18 Indian vegetarian dishes available from Tasty Bite.

The nutrition label says that the packet includes two servings, but I find it perfect for lunch for one.

With a serving of heat-up Trader Joe's jasmine rice, here's how the time, cost and calories stack up:

(I don't know how to make nice, neat columns in blogger, so I'll have to itemize in little chunks.)

Indian Food, Tasty Bite Bombay Potatoes
Time: 2 minutes
Cost: *$2.19
Calories: 220

Rice, Trader Joe's Thai Jasmine
Time: 1.5 minutes
Cost: $.75 per serving
Calories: 180

Totals
Time: 3 1/2 minutes
Cost: $2.95
Calories: 400

*$2.19 at Fresh and Easy but $2.99 at Cost Plus

Take an extra 10 seconds and add a handful of chopped cilantro and a few mint leaves.

Mix it all together, enjoy and get back to work.

What do you do when you want "fast food"?

NEWS FLASH: I just returned home from Cost Plus for my monthly supply of cheap cava and discovered that Tasty Bite meals have been reduced from $2.99 to $2.00. I stocked up.

Blogger's Picnic Potluck No Crap Shoot

2009-03-31T13:36:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you take your chances at a pot luck. I've been to buffets that should have been called "pot no-luck" with a dozen bags of chips, two quarts of take-out cole slaw and a fruit platter from Costco. And I've been to spreads so grand you don't know where to start and where to end.

The Primavera in Altadena Potluck Picnic on Saturday was the latter.

No gathering is complete without these shoestring potatoes, er pommes frittes, which were mandolined and double dipped in the fryer by Karin, the Altadena Hiker.

Debbi of Altadena Daily Photo served an amazing beef enchilida dish that featured beef that braised overnight.

Vanda of Toadberry brought the beautiful berry dessert (left below). Desiree, The Restless Chef, baked her 5-ingredients brownies (one of five chocolate desserts on the table). (All photos were shamelessly borrowed from Dianne, aka Mlle. Gramophone.)

I didn't snap a picture of my California Salad, ala Marston's Restaurant in Pasadena. This simple salad meets all my criteria for a good salad: something crisp (mixed greens), something crunchy (toasted pecans and diced apples), something sweet (mandarin oranges and yellow raisins), something soft (avocados), something protein (grilled chicken), something borrowed and something blue.

California Salad

lettuce (I use mixed greens, but I sometimes prefer Boston Bibb lettuce)
yellow raisins
green apples, diced
pecans, toasted (Marston's uses candied pecans, but I think that makes the salad too sweet.)
mandarin oranges
chicken breast, grilled
avocado
green onion, finely sliced

Marston's San Pasqual Salad Dressing is available at Marston's Restaurant or at Motif, a gift shop on Washington Blvd. in Pasadena.

You could also dress the salad in this light dressing that I used for Salad Nicoise. Just add a pinch of sugar to the recipe.

There's a rumor circulating that sangria was served. I'm sure it must have been the virgin version, but, if you're interested in the real thing, go to an earlier Open Mouth, Insert Fork post for the recipe for Susan's Sassy Sangria.

The Last Marble Rye and Chicken Salad on Rosemary Currant Bread

2009-03-25T20:47:00.000-07:00

Do you ever feel like your life is a Seinfeld episode?

Last Saturday, while making my rounds from bakeries to food boutiques for the items I needed for the Tea for Ten, I stopped at Europane for lunch and a loaf of rosemary currant bread.

I waited in line and got a little nervous when I spotted a single loaf of the necessary bread on the shelf. And then the lady in front of me politely announced, "I'd like the loaf of rosemary currant bread." Panic set in. I HAD to have that loaf.

"Are there any more loaves in the back?" I asked, trying hard not to sound as though my tea depended on it. "I'm sorry," the clerk reported. "That was our last loaf."

I couldn't help it; I was incapable of hiding my disappointment. "But I need rosemary currant bread to make sandwiches for my Tea for Ten tomorrow," I moaned.

And do you know what the kind lady in front of me did? She handed the loaf of bread to me. (I guess if my life was really like a Seinfeld episode, I would have had to wrestle her to the ground.) She chose a loaf of walnut bread instead, and I only wish that I had forked over the $5.15 for it.

Tarragon Chicken Salad ala Europane

2 chicken breasts, poached in water, white wine and tarragon leaves
2 tbsp. mayonnaise
1 tsp. Dijon mustard
2 green onions, finely minced
2 celery stalks, finely minced
2-3 tbsp. fresh tarragon
salt to taste

Shred chicken and combine with remaining ingredients.
Spread on rosemary currant bread, if available.

(For another Seinfeldesque Challah story, go to the blog of the Two Writing Teachers.)

Itty Bitty Bites - Miniature Pecan Tassies

2009-03-24T17:33:00.001-07:00

Why do most women love tea parties? Well, there is the not-so-English pre- and post-tea champagne. And there's the chance to thrust out our pinkies while sipping from a fine china cup.

But I think the main reason that we gals love teas are the itty bitty bites: the miniature scones; the petite finger sandwiches; the delicate desserts. We love to squeal, "Oh, these are just so cute." And then, after one bite, we say, "These are so good, but so small; I need to have another."

We trick ourselves into thinking we really aren't eating that much.

These miniature pecan tassies, from a recipe passed down from my mother, meet all the criteria for a perfect tea dessert. They're rich, pretty and small enough that you won't feel guilty for indulging.

So, go ahead and have one. And then have another. After all, they're very small.

Miniature Pecan Tassies

Pastry:
3 oz. package of cream cheese
½ cup butter
1 cup flour, sifted

Let cream cheese and butter soften at room temperature. Blend cream cheese, butter and flour. Chill for at least one hour. Shape ito 24 1” balls. Place in ungreased 1 ¾” muffin cups. Press dough on bottom and sides of cups.

Pecan Filling
1 egg
¼ cup dark corn syrup
¾ cup brown sugar
1 ¼ T. butter, melted
1 cup fine chopped pecans (original recipe calls for ½ cup, but I like it nuttier.)
1 tsp. vanilla
dash of salt

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.
- Mix all ingredients (except nuts) together, making sure brown sugar dissolves.
- Stir in nuts.
- Spoon filling into pastry cups (about 2/3 full) and bake for 25 minutes.
- Cool before removing.

Melt-in-your-mouth Scones

2009-03-24T10:13:00.000-07:00

Eat these straight out of the oven, and they'll melt in your mouth.

I recently wrote about how bad apples and bad flan have a lot in common.

The same can be said about scones. Bad scones are as hard as a stone. (A stone scone?) Bad scones are so dry and tasteless that they can only be salvaged with copious amounts of creme fraiche and lemon curd.

But a good scone? It's filled with butter and melts in your mouth. It's rich and just the slightest bit sweet, and it's the perfect vehicle for creme fraiche or lemon curd.

Thanks to a friend who once worked for Julienne in San Marino, I have the recipe for the best scone ever. I'm sure this recipe will be in Susan Campoy's Julienne cookbook, which will be released on Mother's Day, May 10. The book and a promise to make me something from it would be the perfect MD gift.

Little scones all in a row, ready for the oven

Julienne's Scones
(Makes about 28 mini scones)

2 cups unsifted all-purpose flour
1 tbl. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tbl. sugar
12 tbl. (11/2 sticks) unsalted sweet butter, chilled and cut into small bits (I put the butter in the freezer because it is easier to cut into those small bits)
1 cup heavy cream
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/3 cups currants dusted with 1/2 tsp. flour (I used dried cranberries)
1 egg yolk mixed with 1 tbl. cold water for the egg wash
granulated sugar to dust the scones
whipped cream or creme fraiche
lemon curd, jam or butter

Preheat oven to 450 degrees
- Use the paddle attachment to mix the flour, baking powder, salt, sugar and butter to a mealy consistency.
- Add the cream & eggs; do not over beat.
- Fold in the currants.
- Turn the dough out on a floured surface and pat it down by hand until it is 3/4 inch thick.
- If you wish cut out the scones with the cookie cutter, occasionally dipping the cutter in flour or cut them and with lighly floured hands shape and place onto large cookie sheet. (I used a 1"+ biscuit cutter.)
- Brush with egg wash, Sprinkle with plenty of granulated sugar.
- Bake about 10 minutes or until golden brown.
- Serve with whipped cream, creme fraiche, lemon curd, butter or jam. Or just pop them into your mouth.

Bloggers Picnic

2009-03-23T20:06:00.000-07:00

Do you write a blog? Read a blog? Fantasize about starting a blog?

Join us on Saturday, March 28, for the first bloggers' picnic of 2009.

Bring a potluck dish to share and business cards for networking and
a chance to win a raffle prize from local Altadena businesses.

Tea for Ten

2009-03-22T18:49:00.000-07:00

Polish the silver. Pull out the china. Arrange the flowers. Bake, stir and brew. It's time for a tea for ten (a silent auction item that raised money for A3M - Asians for Miracle Marrow Matches).

Tea for Ten Menu

Pre-Tea Champagne on the Patio
Italian Torta with Pesto, Sundried Tomatoes and Mascarpone Cheese
Assorted Crackers
Cheese Twists

Tea
Cranberry Scones with Creme Fraiche and Lemon Curd
Cucumber and Cream Cheese Sandwiches
Tarragon Chicken Salad on Rosemary Currant Bread
Dill Egg Salad Triangles
Fresh Strawberries
(Courtesy of Tanaka Farms)
Hot and Iced Tea

Dessert
Miniature Pecan Tassies
Strawberries Dipped in Chocolate
(Courtesy of Tanaka Farms)
Tea Cookies

I think all the food was a hit, but the most-requested recipe was for the lemon curd. I can't believe I've lived in a home with a prolific Meyer lemon tree for 11 years and only yesterday bothered to make this sassy little dessert condiment. Smear it on the scones, swizzle it on the strawberries, spoon it into a miniature pastry shell or just lick it off your finger. It doesn't matter because this enhances everything it touches. I call it the ketchup of the dessert world.

I usually start my recipe hunt on Tastespotting, where I found 53 possibilities for lemon curd. I chose this one from Hey Good Lookin', Whatcha' Got Cookin because it appeared to be the simplest. For starters, it didn't require a kitchen sieve. I don't own a sieve, so this recipe seemed like a good match for me.

Lemon Curd
2 eggs
1 egg yolk
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup lemon juice
zest of one lemon
1 stick butter, cut into 9 pieces

- Combine eggs, yolk and sugar and whisk until smooth.
- Add juice and zest to egg mixture and whisk smooth.
- Stir frequently over very low heat until thickened, approximately 8 minutes, or until mixture coats the back of a spoon or spatula.
- Remove from heat and stir in butter, two pieces at a time. Let each butter pat melt before adding the next.
- Pour curd into a bowl and lay plastic wrap directly on the surface of the curd to keep a pudding "skin" from forming.

Refrigerate for up to 2 weeks, but be prepared to devour it in one sitting.

(I'll post more recipes later on in the week.)

Is love a thick, rich flan?

2009-03-18T10:08:00.000-07:00

"Or is love a big red apple, and you don’t know
whether to bite into it - and you knock on wood
and call off your luck numbers and hold your breath -
and you put your teeth into it and get a mouthful,
tasting all there is to it,
and whether it’s sweet and wild
or a dry mush you want to spit out,
it’s something else than you expected,
I’m asking, sir, is love a big red apple?"

from Little Word, Little White Bird by Carl Sandburg

The same question can be asked about many foods.

Is love a white peach? As dry and tasteless as a cereal box or lively and vivacious as a dancing toddler?

Or is love a flan? ". . . watery and spongy, and tasting a little like a sponge, too. . . . or thick and rich. . .?" (Paraphrased from Margaret of Finnegan Begin Again's post about flan)

Yes, Carl Sandburg could have just as easily waxed poetic about the uncertainty of love and flan.

He also could have, as Margaret did, continued on about the difficulty of finding a good flan (apparently, a good man and a good flan are both hard to find) and the complex task of making one at home (the flan, that is, not the man).

That's when I remembered the thickest, richest, yummiest flan I have ever tasted. I devoured it at a dinner party more than a year ago and asked the hostess for the recipe. I had completely forgotten about that decadent flan until now.

As it turns out, this easy flan is far from authentic. Flan fans may turn up their noses and hit the "x" button as soon as they see sweetened condensed milk and cream cheese among the ingredients.

But isn't that just like love? Sometimes it's not authentic or the "real thing," but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy every delicious bite.

Is Love a Flan? Flan

3/4 - 1 cup white sugar
1 14oz can of condensed milk
1 12oz can of evaporated milk
4 whole eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
4 oz. cream cheese

To make the "caramel," melt the sugar in a sauce pan over low to medium heat, stirring constantly until the sugar liquefies. Pour into flan pan (or cake pan). Turn the pan around so that some of the sugar coats the edges of the pan a little way up the sides. Set aside.

"What? Are ya' made of sugar? Are you gonna' melt?" YES!

Work quickly to swirl the melted sugar around the pan. It hardens quickly.

In a blender, combine the next five ingredients until they are thoroughly combined. Pour the flan into pan and cover with aluminum foil.

Set a larger pan with about an inch of water in the oven and put the flan pan inside that pan.

Bake at 350 degrees for one hour or until a knife inserted in the middle of the flan comes out clean.

Cool the flan and then refrigerate until ready to serve. To serve, loosen the edges of the flan with a rubber spatula (or knife) and invert onto a serving plate.

Notes:
- This was my first time "melting" sugar. At first, I felt like I'd poured a cup of sand into the pot and expected it to liquefy. But the sugar turned to amber liquid in a matter of minutes.
- I tried combining the flan ingredients in my mixer, but the cream cheese doesn't break down enough. Pull out that blender.
- I forgot to cover the pan with aluminum foil, and the top (which becomes the bottom) became a little hard.
- The directions say to bake for one hour, but it was nowhere near done after an hour. Other recipes say 1 1/2 hours, and this is more accurate.
- I was afraid that it would be hard to pry the flan out of the pan, but it slips right out.
- Be careful about centering the flan on the plate when you invert because once it's there, it won't budge.

Now go ahead and dance the "flandango."

I submitted this recipe to Regional Recipes, a food blogging event created by Darlene of Blazing Hot Wok, in which a different culture and cuisine is explored each month. Please read the Regional Recipe rules to see if you'd like to participate. Wandering Chopsticks is this month's host with a spotlight on Mexico. Next month: American food. (I may have to try making biscuits and gravy.)

Sushi Class Postponed, but Sukiyaki Simmering

2009-03-09T15:42:00.000-07:00

You'll have to wait another week to learn how to roll your own sushi. The culinary class at the Pasadena Buddhist Church has been postponed until Tuesday, March 17.

It turns out that the Buddhist church ladies will be heating up the kitchen on the 10th in preparation for their annual sukiyaki supper sale on March 14 and 15. Drop by the church for the tastiest (and cheapest) sukiyaki dinners in town.

Where: Pasadena Buddhist Church, 1993 Glen Ave., Pasadena
When: Saturday, March 14, and Sunday March 15
Time: Sit-down dinner served from 4:00 to 7:30 pm on both days.
Take-out dinners are available from 4:00 to 6:00 pm.
Price: $10

Roll your own: Sushi-making class at Pasadena Buddhist Church

2009-03-04T10:00:00.000-08:00

If you'd like to join me at my next Japanese cooking class, we'll be making traditional sushi, chirashi sushi (sushi in a bowl) and suimono (clear soup).

When: Tuesday, March 10, 7 pm
Where: Pasadena Buddhist Church, 1993 Glen Avenue, Pasadena
How Much: $15 includes a hands-on lesson with a professional instructor and three-course dinner.
RSVP: Misako Morihiro, misamasumori@yahoo.com

If you're interested in attending, please be sure to email Misako. This popular class is sure to fill up quickly.

Recipe 911 - Farfalle with Yellow Beets, Beet Greens & Pine Nuts

2009-03-03T12:32:00.000-08:00

Follow the recipe and get a dish that's beautiful but boring.

This farfalle with golden beets, beet greens and pine nuts from the February issue of Bon Appetit sounded promising. First of all, it's the first recipe that I've found that uses the entire beet, greens and all. And on my quest to use the power-packed 11 ingredients, I figured I'd get extra points for using those beet tops.

Bon Appetit's photo of its beetable pasta

The addition of slowly cooked onions; crunchy, toasted pine nuts; and fresh-grated parmesan cheese on farfalle cooked in the beet juice sounded like an unbeatable combination.

But the finished product was the most ho-hum, forget-the-Tylenol-PM-because-this-dish-is-putting-me-to-sleep concoction I've eaten in years. Where did I go wrong? Did I leave out an essential step? Did I forget a flavor-boosting ingredient? Did I rush the slow cooking of the onions? Did I skimp on the quality of the ingredients? Were my taste buds jaded from a recent bacon binge?

Could this dish with $6.00 worth of beets from Whole Foods Market be saved? (I since discovered that I could purchase the same golden beets at the PHS Farmer's Market for half the price.)

Too frugal to dump the dish down the disposal, I went back to work. When my daughter's girlfriend, who seems to be perpetually hungry, dropped in, she became my guinea pig. I reheated the pasta dish in a small saute pan and added a drop of good olive oil. Then I splashed in balsamic vinegar and ground in more fresh pepper. Hungry girlfriend devoured the dish and asked for more.

I prepared the same thing for myself, and guess what? It was good as in give-me-more, please. It would have been even better if I had a little goat cheese to crumble on top.

Farfalle with Golden Beets, Beet Greens and Pine Nuts
(Adapted from Bon Appetit)

This recipe uses the entire beet—greens included —for a colorful, nutritious dish. You can use red beets if golden beets are unavailable, but your pasta will be pink.

1/3 cup pine nuts

4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
2 large red onions, quartered lengthwise through root end, sliced crosswise (about 4 cups)
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 bunches 2-inch-diameter golden beets, peeled and chopped into 1/2" cubes
greens from beets, cut into 1-inch-wide strips
4 T. balsamic vinegar (or more to taste)
8 oz farfalle (bow-tie pasta
1/3 cup crumbled feta cheese

- Cook beets in large pot of boiling salted water until tender, about 30 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer beets to medium bowl.
- Return water to boil. Add pasta to beet cooking liquid and cook until tender but still firm to bite, stirring occasionally.
- While beets are cooking, heat heavy large skillet over medium heat. Add pine nuts and stir until lightly toasted, about 3 minutes. Transfer to small bowl.
- Add 2 tablespoons oil and onions to same skillet and sauté until beginning to soften and turn golden, about 10 minutes. Reduce heat to medium-low and continue to sauté until onions are tender and browned, about 30 minutes longer.
- Add garlic and stir 2 minutes. Scatter beet greens over onions.
- Drizzle remaining 2 tablespoons oil over; cover and cook until beet greens are tender, about 5 minutes.
- Splash with approximately 4 T. balsamic vinegar and cook until vinegar starts to caramelize.

- Stir onion-greens mixture and beets into pasta.
- Season with salt and coarsely ground black pepper.
- Divide pasta among shallow bowls.
- Sprinkle with pine nuts and crumbled feta cheese.

Go from ho-hum to yum yum.

Do you have a recipe rescue story to share?

For everything a season

2009-03-01T22:05:00.000-08:00

A room with a view

I've read about the blogger blues, those stretches when lack of time, inspiration and/or interest keep bloggers away from the keyboard.

After two years of steady posts on either Cancer Banter or Open Mouth, Insert Fork, I thought I was exempt from the blues. But then it struck: two blogless weeks and the admission that I felt the "blah" in blogger.

I haven't felt like blogging or cooking. I've been making reservations, not meals; taking out, not baking in. My few attempts behind the burner have not not been blog-worthy. I tried a promising recipe from Bon Appetit for golden beets and beet greens on farfalle. I even spent a whopping $6.00 on organic yellow beets from Whole Foods, but the dish, like my mood, was a bore. (If you try this and like it, please let me know.)

Beauty and the bore - good looks, little personality

To paraphrase Ecclesiastes, "For everything there is a season. A time to blog and a time to give it a rest. A time to cook and a time to put away cooking things." Or something like that.

I've noticed the same thing in my garden. The citrus trees are exploding. The avocado tree has donated a few fruits, and the apricot tree promises a bumper crop this season.

The fruits of no labor

The one blight was a haunted looking plum tree. In spite of its deathly demeanor, just last year it bore the sweetest, over-the-sink juiciest fruit. I couldn't bear the thought of pulling the plug.

Disney called. They want their haunted tree back.

I soon realized, though, that its season in the sun was over. Before making mulch of the tree, I found a local fruit grower who came to the house and cut scions (budding limbs) to graft into his own plum tree.

I recently received word that the graft was a success. My plum tree lives on in La Canada.

A time to die. A time to grow. And a time to start blogging again.

We interrupt "the 11" for a hearty beef stew

2009-02-12T09:30:00.001-08:00

Rain, rain, don't go away until I've finished my beef stew.

Don't get me wrong. I love to cook, but there's one thing I love even more: when someone else cooks for me.

I've never met a home-cooked meal I didn't like. Well . . . except for an unforgettably tragic beef stew.

A new friend once invited my husband and me to her apartment for dinner. I was excited when I found out she was making beef stew, one of my favorite cold-weather comfort foods.

She ladled steaming hot stew into bowls for her three guests. I'm sure my face fell when I peeked into my bowl. The beef was charred black, but the potatoes and carrots were raw. The liquid was a starchy, tasteless goop the color and texture of wallpaper paste.

We all tried to eat it. We really did. After five minutes of pushing around the undercooked/overcooked chunks in hopes that they would magically disappear, the cook dropped her spoon. "I'm sorry. I can't eat this."

At first, we protested, "No, really, it's fine. I like my veggies crunchy." And then her boyfriend spoke up. "Are you kidding? This isn't edible." He was right (even though he wasn't "Mr. Right.") Instead, we spent the evening munching on Saltine crackers and sipping the fine cabernet that boyfriend brought. You can never go wrong with cab and regret.

I think of that evening every time I make beef stew (or whenever I make a meal that's borderline inedible).

Who knows how things would have come out (on both the culinary and romantic fronts) if only Kathy had followed this recipe from Pam at For the Love of Cooking. (Do click and see Pam's version. Why does hers look so much richer than mine?)

Can't Fail Beef Stew
(Adapted from For the Love of Cooking)

1 lb beef, cut into small chunks
1 yellow onion, chopped into large chunks
4 medium-size Russet potatoes, diced
4-5 carrots, sliced
6 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 T. olive oil
1 14 oz. can diced tomatoes
1-2 tsp dried thyme (or 2 T. fresh)
1-2 tsp dried oregano
Salt and pepper to taste
2 bay leaves
6 cups beef stock (or any combination of at least 3 cups of beef stock and enough wine or dark beer to make 6 cups)

One of the things that I like about this recipe is that it has a large margin for alterations (and error). Like celery? Go ahead and add it. Prefer red potatoes? Go for 'em. Don't like garlic? Leave it out. Love peas? Throw them in at the last minute. Don't have fresh thyme? Use dried. Don't like your meat falling apart? Cook for four or five hours instead of seven or eight.

I used my enamel-cast iron pot and cooked the beef and broth mixture overnight, but you can also do this on a stove top or in the crock pot. Allow at least four hours for cooking the meat and an additional 1 1/2 hours for the vegetables. After all, a good beef stew can't be rushed.

- Preheat oven to 250 degrees.
- Heat olive oil and cook onion and stew meat for about 5 minutes.
- Add garlic and cook for another 30 seconds.
- Add can of tomatoes, seasonings and beef stock.
- Cover and cook in oven or stove top for at least four hours.
- Remove pot from oven place on stove top over medium heat.
- Add potatoes and carrots (and celery, if you like that in your stew) and cook for an additional 1 1/2 to 2 hours.
- If you like the broth thicker, add a slurry of corn starch and water.

Serve with a crusty bread and a bottle of red wine, preferably on a rainy day in front of the fire.

May I eat mine by the fire, please?