A Lazy Ladies Luncheon

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?

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

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

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

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)

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

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.)