Three Isn't Always a charm - Crab Cakes

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

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

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"

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

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

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

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.