FROM THE SEED

Add Kimchee. Eat. Repeat.

2011-11-25T09:19:00.000-08:00

After Giant Sous Chef and I hit Kogi BBQ in L.A., my quest for Asian fusion began. The Korean galbi beef tacos with Kogi's aioli sauce rocked, but the kimchee quesadilla was... too intense-- Even for Spicy! Kimchee, root vegetables like daikon and Napa cabbage pickled and fermented with acid, spices and sugar, overwhelmed the classic melty jack cheese quesadilla. So what would Spicy do? How 'bout carnitas!? Everything's better with carnitas!! The vinegary kimchee cuts straight through the meaty, rich slow-braised pork and brings bright flavor.

In the Mission District, San fran's taqueria mecca, La Taqueria deals in dangerously addictive carnitas. But, my weeknight craving became inspired the moment I added Granny Choe's napa cabbage kimchee to their carnitas quesadilla. Who doesn't love pork 'n pickled stuff?

Two-step Asian fusion... Buy Carnitas Quesadilla. Add Kimchee.
(Eat. Repeat.)

P.S. Spicy loves Asian fusion because she's Pinay and Filipino food is all about fusion like Malay and Spanish influences, Chinese cooking technique, hot dogs, spaghetti and American cheese.

Cozy cooking with Spicy. Brunch with claws.

2011-09-09T13:11:00.000-07:00

We can still get inspired by something we know, a dish that is so familiar that, laying in bed with your eyes closed, you can hear it cooking. Spanish onions and a little garlic frying in a big wok, the knock, knock, knocking wooden spatula, crab and shrimp madly kissing heat, then whispering steam. The smells surround you, you rub your eyes, walk blearily down the hall to the kitchen and savory, spicy, sticky seafood and rice slow sizzling in brown butter is your beacon.

This is Triple Asian Fusion: Dungeness Salt and Pepper Crab Goan Shrimp Curry Fried Rice concocted from the spoils of last night's dinner--takeout whole crab and spicy shrimp curry-- transformed into a morning after wok-n-rice fête. There are ~~two~~ four secrets here:

- Make your own cilantro basmati rice. Cook it my way with caramelized shallots, add cilantro, deglaze with chicken stock and reduce a tiny bit. Then fold into fresh, steamed rice.

- Know your leftovers. PPQ Dungeness Island's Crab does not disappoint! I picked the crabs absolutely clean and scraped every bit of garlicky rub (that smothers each order of crab) into the wok.

- You can make organic Indian food at home--with packets! Arora Creations has the cutest story about cooking with "secret dust" as a U of M undergrad. I'd accidentally overcooked the shrimp, and I needed a way to salvage all that briny spicy goodness. Solution? Chop small and stir fry...

- Add just enough spice with the perfectly vinegary Crystal Lousiana Hot Sauce to rice while it cooks. Put the Rooster Sriracha down, people!

Your fusion is complete. Fried Rice is the ideal template--take Chinese, add Filipino, Vietnamese and South Asian tradition--and mix it up.

Don't forget to invite Spicy!

Spicy at Play: Gimme some of that Onolicious!

2011-08-28T12:30:00.000-07:00

My kind of R&R: Plate lunch Chili Pepper Chicken at The Village Bakery in Hanalei, Kauai, Hi. Wish you were here...

Spicy Break.

2011-08-10T10:37:00.000-07:00

después de una comida muy sabrosa, estamos tomando una siesta.
hasta pronto!

NostalgiaFood: Linguine White Clam Sauce!

2011-04-01T10:21:00.000-07:00

I was a latchkey kid in the 1980’s and like a lot of other latchkey kids I rooted around the kitchen after school while my parents were stuck in traffic commuting from their jobs in the Big city. Call it Reagan-era self-reliance, but if I didn’t fend for myself I was surely going to starve.

Lucky me, our kitchen was always stocked up, and growing up in the NY metro melting pot, the canned food aisle in the grocery store was no exception. Caribbean island staples like Goya beans and cream of coconut were stocked alongside American classics like baked beans and Hormel Chili. In my Italian-American neighborhood, my one particular nirvana in a can was: Progresso Linguine White Clam Sauce (with Garlic and Herbs).

Two decades and 3000 miles later, while searching for Drano I stumbled upon rows of these delicious blue cans in my local Safeway. Should I pretend that I didn’t furtively and nostalgically place a can in my basket, take it home and cook it up? Did Progresso's white clam sauce stand the test of time? Once I cranked off the metal lid, the oily, greenish liquid within had a vague garlic aroma that intensified as I gently heated it on the stove. I poured it over angel hair pasta as I would have in junior high school. The dish was surprisingly flavorful if not slightly metallic. All I was missing was that powdery sour cheese sprinkled from the green can, probably a good thing. Reader, I ate every single bite.

Canned linguine white clam sauce is what I call nostalgia food, a food experience that evokes a lush emotional memory even if in all reality, it is far from gastronomically ideal. (Like a breakfast of Spam cubes and fried rice. Or, Lyle's Golden Syrup on white bread toast. These are real breakfast's that Giant Sous Chef and I had as kids. The former disturbingly fatty and salty. The latter, oddly bland and the shiny syrup always ready to drip from the knife and stain your navy school sweater.)

The only antidote for a nostalgia food craving is making your own. You alone know exactly how the dish should taste and how the flavors meld in your mind, in your heart and on your tongue...

Tender chopped clams, Littlenecks if you can find them, in a bright, fragrant seafood jus flecked with garlic and parsley. Unctuous sauce clinging to warm linguine strands with just the right saltiness and bite. Steaming clam shells nestled among the pasta mounds. I topped each plate with buttery toasted breadcrumbs and parsley. Paired with a crisp Sauvignon Blanc it's the perfect pasta for a long winter weekend or a lazy summer night. Don't forget to invite Spice-E...

TOP 3 Linguine White Clam Sauce Experiences:

- Lenny's Clam Bar in Howard Beach, NY. With a guy who feared garlic on first dates. I ordered the white clam sauce and a big side of garlic bread. "I don't care if you don't want to kiss me later," I said. I twined my fork into a mound of pasta. The garlic slivers were visible. "I'm eating this."

- The day before Thanksgiving, Detroit. 1990. We got in on an evening train and Susie's Grandma Ginny made us a late supper. I watched her pour a small jar of clam juice into the broth. She served us wine, and, later, let me smoke in her kitchen while we talked like girlfriends. I was at college in the Midwest, a great place to learn about classic American flavors from classic American women.

- In January 2008, we christened a cherry red round French oven, a wedding present and an heirloom piece in the making, with a big-lovin' batch of linguine white clam sauce, I shaved skinny curls of parmigiano reggiano over the top.

Christmas Only Comes Once a Year...

2011-01-13T23:16:00.001-08:00

... SO I HAD A SALAD BAR

(click on any picture to enlarge)

...but there were other things, too
like rosemary sea salt focaccia...that takes forever to make!

and, maine lobster (which takes no time at all in a big stock pot).

we also had spanish potatoes with smoked paprika or...
...patatas con pimentón ahumado.

but, christmas eve lunch really was all about...

the salad bar

with the fixins...

like pomegranate seeds and valencia orange supremes...
and a bit of goat cheese.

and the microgreens were all dressed up in a meyer lemon vinaigrette.*

Brava! Brava! To the Chef...who was off the next day.

so GIANT SOUS CHEF cooked breakfast...

a dungeness crab scramble with rosemary toast points.

and, a little later spice-E stepped in to make a lobster salad...
... with delicate slices of jamon serrano on the side.

all packed up for the drive down the coast...
...and lunch on the beach in Goleta!

~FIN~

*Meyer Lemon Vinaigrette (i do it 3:1)
- juice of real meyer lemon
- champagne vinegar, to taste
- finely diced shallot
- wild honey, light colored or lavender
- canola oil and-or fine evoo
- fine black pepper, fresh ground
- lemon thyme salt, if you have it

Scenes from a Noodle (Soup) Shoot.

2010-12-29T11:33:00.001-08:00

SEEN and HEARD, 12.29.10:
Fromtheseed.com writer-producer Evelyn R. Manangan sets the scene at the Stirring it Up! shoot while waiting for tram parking at the LA's Getty Center...

(click on any photo to enlarge)

The Canon DSLR captures a steamy angle on Hapa Ramen's Richie Nakano.

Prized pork belly waits in the wings at the Ferry Plaza.

Making of the broth: Hapa Ramen.

BIG PORK NECK=BIG FLAVOR.

HR's Mise en place provides mise on scene for our director and DP, Evelyn and Ted.

More scenes. The HR crew servin' it hot at the Ferry Plaza Tuesday market.

Nakano using his noodle.

Sous Chef Victor stirrin' it up!

Sonia's gets to the heart of the matter at Hapa...

...farm fresh ingredients...

...ALL DAY.

Scene by scene with laughs.

THE BIG DADDY.

Cue chopsticks! Cue soup spoon!

Quivering pork belly deliciousness.

Last shot: Went for an artsy wind-down at the end. Editor-designer Ted and writer-producer Evelyn brainstorm the final flourish using 1080p wide shot, soft vertical wipe & caricature text.

Watch Hapa Ramen in action in the full episode of Stirring it Up! at SONIAHUNT.COM

(All stills courtesy of Soniahunt.com and Noie Productions)

Potato Roll Starter. Thanksgiving 2010.

2010-11-25T02:04:00.001-08:00

Hopefully, by tomorrow at dinner we'll all be feasting on the potato rolls that shall yield from this yeasty, bubbly bread starter that I lovingly crafted from a recipe posted by Donald Link. Yes, despite diet fads and talk of "evil carbs" and the legions of haters who have sworn of bread products of all kinds, I cannot give it up. Especially on Thanksgiving, I'm always looking for the warm rolls.... slathered in that other hated food product--butter! C'mon! What is life without warm, buttered rolls! Stay tuned for the final product.

Home cook. And, proud. Happy Thanksgiggling...

Spice-E

Spicy Video Extra: From the Archives - Chicken Breast Dumplings--Not a Hoax!

2010-11-19T11:08:00.001-08:00

When the first cold rains come through the Bay Area, I spend a day making dumplings. The kitchen table transforms into an assembly line centered around an enormous stainless-steel bowl of dumpling filling-- traditionally, a ground pork, shrimp, gingery-oniony mixture. Beside the bowl I set up the filling station: wonton skins piled on a cutting board and draped with damp paper towels to keep them from drying out, a wet hand-towel for cleaning the raw meat off things, teaspoons (one for scooping in, one for scooping out!), egg-white... I stack a few Billie Holiday albums in the player, crack the window for air and to listen to the rain, and then get to work...

Filling with just the right amount and effectively crimping (the seam will not open when steamed, boiled, fried or attacked by small, vicious beasts) dumplings by hand takes practice. Especially if you want a fancy scalloped crimp like you see in dim-sum houses. Something seemingly simple enough for children, can be a baffling and annoying practice even if you choose to follow the "How to fill wonton wrappers" directions on the back of many packets of skins. These "How-to" drawings, also explained (uselessly, to me, at least) in Chinese are the biggest step-by-step line drawing hoax known to the human race... unless you want your dumplings to resemble a burrito.

Improving dumpling skills, winter after winter, requires practice. However, the volume of the task is all but a glaring excuse to fix-up a dumpling-filling-fete!

I've been to at least one "all-day dumpling-fest," in New York in my very early twenties: Half-sheet-pans filling up with dumplings, bottles of wine being consumed rapidly, cigarette smoke lingering in from the fire escape, bursts of laughter over failed crimp-n-twist techniques... And, a jar of Nutella being passed around (for eating not filling!). Three girls of Asian persuasion (2 Korean, 1 Filipino) including myself, managed the evening's effort never questioning how the growing mound of pale-yellow dumplings would be consumed.

If you're Asian, you make enough to feed your family-- blood and extended-- even if they're thousands of miles away. If they are far away, you freeze.

One year, I made chicken breast dumplings. A friend had left me a Kitchen Aid sausage attachment, and I was eager to grind my own meat. Chicken breast extruded right into a big stainless bowl with the rest of my dumpling filling mix of green onions, garlic, S&P and drizzles of toasted sesame oil. (A bit healthier than the traditional pork; much more substantial than veggie versions.)

Once again, armed with teaspoons and little bowls of egg white, we filled and crimped, filled and crimped... The silky wonton skins stuffed with slippery raw meat, the skins-edge dotted with egg white and sealed, with a simple pattern, from the tines of a dessert fork.

When the last dumpling was filled, it was nearly midnight. Exhausted, I tossed the dumplings in freezer bags lined with parchment paper. Ready when we are... for soup, pan fry, ravioli or a gently steamed snack.

*Make and freeze your dumplings in November, December and January, then have them available through the rains and just in time for Chinese New Year!

While delicious and simple on their own, chicken breast dumplings don't have as much natural salt as pork or the subtle brine of shrimp, so be sure to put out every Asian condiment on hand: Spicy sriracha sauce, hot chili oil, ponzu, toasted sesame/shoyu/lime/sesame seeds and more!

OUR FOOD-CENTRIC WEBSERIES IS UP... CHECK OUT THE TASTY VIDEO!

The Mother of California Chinese Cuisine Cecilia Chiang schools us in Wrapping Wonton's on a Winter's Day... topped with a Sichuan sauce.
http://soniahunt.com/episodes/ep5-memories-of-beijing-wontons/#main

New York EAT of Mind.

2010-11-13T07:24:00.000-08:00

Scenes from a real conversation between two East Coasters:

On Nov 12, 2010, at 1:41 PM, Spicy wrote:

hey, can you bring me rainbow cookies?!!! please, please, please. Just a small box will do. there's got to be a deli or bakeshop near your mom and even your brother that will have them.. any place that does italian cookies.

it doesn't have to be la delice; it doesn't have to be veniero. some of the best ones i've had were at 2nd ave deli (the new one) and they ordered them in from somewhere. as long as they look fresh and not dry and they have the right colors: yellow, pink and green and not those weird ones that are like orange and blue as well or only orange pink and blue.

xooox i will be your friend forever :)

--- On Fri, 11/12/10, Yumi wrote:
From: Yumi
Subject: Re: Thanksgiving Order_RAINBOW COOKIES?
To: Spicy
Date: Friday, November 12, 2010, 2:40 PM

you are hilarious.and i will also have bagels made fresh that morning in my suitcase, so i will be sure to bring some extra for you - any kind you want in particluar?? i usually get some everythings and some plains...

On Nov 12, 2010, at 5:08 PM, Spicy wrote:

everything, please. but if my bagels are competing for space with my rainbow cookies, pls go for the cookies! also, any fresh rainbow cookies from some random italian/jewish/ny deli are better than no rainbow cookies in the bay area. grazie!! yahoo!! mangia!!

---On Friday, November 12, 2010 5:20 PM Yumi wrote:

you WILL get your cookies!! they were the topic of conversation (where to get them near my mom's house so they are fresh) during dinner tonight.

i came with an extra suitcase, and the one i packed was half empty, just for these kinds of important items, have no fear!!! =)

(i remember your fruitless search for the rainbow cookies in SF - i promise i will not forget them!!!)

i can almost hear you celebrating across the country.......

---On Nov 12, 2010, at 5:32 PM, Yumi wrote:
ps - had a pastrami on rye the other day that was sooooooooooooooooo good i almost slid off my chair. (well, ok, under the booth)

Saturday, November 13, 2010 6:57 AM, Spicy wrote:

Cue Meg Ryan orgasm please

~ SPICY

sent via touch

Behind the Scenes with Stirrin' It Up!: The Elusive Custard Tart. And, a Spicy Premiere.

2010-10-17T10:50:00.001-07:00

What makes a hot restaurant even hotter? First, it needs a 'house special,' that must-eat item that can turn rooted vegetarians into pop-up carnivores. And second, it needs at least one dish that's destined to be "eighty-sixed." Meaning: You order this limited supply item with mouth-watering anticipation and then, then...the kitchen just ran out of it. Buh-bye. All gone. 86.

Yank Sing is just that hot, with just that kind of cachet and it's been givin' it up to hungry San Francisco for over 50 years. Yank Sing's also gets top marks from elite food authorities with a 2009 James Beard Foundation Award, and in 2010 a spot in the haute cuisine food lover's bible, the Michelin Guide.

Yank Sing's house specialty is Shanghai Kurobuta Pork Dumplings aka (Joe's Shanghai NYC patrons) soup dumplings aka (deem sum purists) xiao long bao. The restaurant dedicates several serving carts to this one, single dumpling. Fresh from the steamer they're a delicate package; a tiny ginger-scented, pork meatball bathing in it's own velvety broth.

Yank Sing's not just dumplings, you can round out your meal with all your "dim sum" favorites, including dessert which is where elusiveness comes in, that soon-to-be 86'd item. In other words, you need to get yours right when you walk in. I'd been to the restaurant 3 times before I wised up because this isn't just any Egg Custard Tart. It's an über-flakey crust encasing sweet, eggy custard ready to melt blissfully inside you.

Of course, Spicy's got her own must-eat-top pick. That thing I've been calling ahead for each time I head to Yank Sing. That plate of euphoria I can only find there, so I've started dining at their less busy (shhhh!) location at 49 Stevenson, streamlining any obstacles between me and my extra special deem sum...the Seaweed Tofu. If you are ever at Yank Sing, you must try this: it's about 2 ounces of tofu, stuffed with dried shrimp, wrapped in nori, expertly battered and fried, then topped with scallions and bright red chilis! .... okay, I know this may not sound yum to the 'tofu-haters' or those who fear fried stuff, but there's one thing Spicy can guarantee you in life, The more you Taste...the more you will Love. (Words to live by.)

Or, you can play it safe and eat steamed shrimp dumplings (aka shrimp shumai) until you bust open. Still absolutely delicious. At Yank Sing shrimp shumai is traditionally spelled "siu mye" on the menu ensuring that feeling like you're really in some loud, steamy, terrifically bustling deem sum hall off a main square in China.

So, what was Spicy doing at Yank Sing? When I first went to their Rincon Center location last winter, I was "stirrin' it up" as the executive producer of a food web series shot in the San Francisco Bay Area. A short-format show that visits chefs, restaurants, food stalls, halls, carts, trucks, kitchens and anywhere you can sense food adventure in the air. And, guess what?

THE SHOW IS LAUNCHING TODAY! Check out our pilot episode shot on location at Yank Sing restaurant inside San Francisco's Rincon Center.

TO WATCH EPISODE ONE "DEEM SUM FOR DUMMIES" - CLICK HERE!

(or, cut and paste this link into your browser : http://soniahunt.com/episodes/)

See you at Yank Sing! ~ Spice-E

Did you know that Spicy spent two weeks in the Beautiful South?

2010-09-28T15:01:00.000-07:00

We're working on all the delicious stories... from sweet tea to fried pickles! Y'all come back...

2010-09-02T09:52:00.000-07:00

Yet another trip to hometown NYC. And, a down home Southern sojourn coming soon!

You CAN go to Napa, Part I.

2010-05-15T22:02:00.000-07:00

Before we get to that dreamy, luscious Chocolate Cream Pie... Let me set the scene for you.

It's nearly 10pm, and you're floating in 92 degree waters in an Olympic-sized pool. Not only are you drifting without a care, but the peace-inducing warmth is further enhanced by the fact that this is no ordinary pool... It's filled with steaming, geyser-fed mineral water and sits under a vast, inky sky glittering with California stars. There's no one else around, and you feel utterly safe on a cushioned floatie. But, before you close your eyes catch a glimpse of the surrounding exoticisms: Flintston-esque palm trees and a surreal steam cloud rising with a soundless hissssss... You are now relaxed. Indian Springs Resort's website says it best:

Situated on 16 beautiful acres planted with olive and palm trees, roses and lavender, the property is blessed with four thermal geysers that produce an extraordinary supply of rich mineral water. Another prized asset is the vast, natural deposit of pure volcanic ash on our acreage. These unique elements have long inspired a tradition of healing and renewal...

Oh, yeah, baby. And, it doesn't stop there... because if you live in San Francisco (or if you don't) and you've said, "I'm never going back to Napa because [fill in your lambast against tourists, high-prices, pop-yuppie-hype and general poo-poo-ing HERE]" then, listen up...

You can go to Napa. You can. Would Spicy steer your wrong? I'm a frugal yet indulgent homegrown foodie who has seen the ugly side of a stressful job and more than a few bad meals--which means I know what it means to an honest working stiff who values their time and especially their money yet craves nourishment for the soul, psyche and oh, hello, my stomach. You just want to relax, dammit. And, eat well. And, now you can... in the Napa Valley.

Let me preface this by saying a few things. Calistoga (in the Napa Valley) and its surrounding playground is a vacation for people who either (a) like to drink wine, (b) like to eat or (c) aren't shy about lolling around naked as a jaybird while getting massaged or slathered in mud by a (trained but) total stranger. There aren't a ton of amusements for ambulatory kids. And, yes, to do Napa right it's going to cost you, but probably not nearly as much as you thought. If you have the budget for it, the memories will outlast the missing cash. Let yourself feel good...

Calistoga reaches the Napa County line making it slightly less touristy and developed. The main drag aka Lincoln Avenue is only a few blocks long but it has a bike store and rental, a supermarket, liquor store and a whole bunch of restaurants and bars. But, as far as I'm concerned, the reason to go to Calistoga is to find peace... at Indian Springs Resort.

Despite its brambly sounding moniker, "the Lodge" at Indian Springs is a kid-free haven for guests: Each room has a comfy queen bed, soft sheets, armchair, flatscreen tv, airy modern bathrooms, fancy complimentary toiletries (L'Occitane!) and either an enclosed patio or balcony with a meadow view. Further up the property, past the lifesized chess and checker boards, bocce and shuffleboard courts, are standalone cottages: beautiful studio and multi-room dwellings perfect for families.

And, then, there's the spa services: Mineral mud bath guaranteed to sweat out the toxins. And, THE pool. Did I already mention it's Olympic-sized? With retro-striped cabana curtains, poolside steam room and roaring fireplace, rattan couches, the New York Times (daily!) and all that healing and renewal feels inspired by older, calmer times.

And, then there's the food. Of course, Spicy's been working on her Napa Valley/Wine Country/NorthernCal Eats list for years. But, this last trip to the Valley was a refreshing turn for this spoiled Bay Area palette. A few notes:

Let's start with the "potted" pig at the Farmstead Restaurant at Longmeadow Ranch in St. Helena. Fortunately or not, on this rare occasion, I was so caught up in eating, tasting, texture, chewing and loving every bit that I failed to photograph every course we had ate every meal... So just another farm-to-table restaurant? Well... dammit, it's good. Chef Sheamus Feeley put the pig on the table with a wonderfully fatty and salty pork rillette, served with crunchy, slightly sweet crostini and homemade wine-mustard.
I've never smothered lard on toasted bread with such gusto. Napa's ZD Carneros Chardonnay went with our pig. "I like it when people eat it all," our waitress remarked while clearing our piggy first course. Farmstead's menu is seasonal, but thank God pig doesn't go out of season... lard-ee!

Our lunch mains were fresher-tasting versions of what's featured on many a quality brunch menu in San Francisco. I had short rib hash with farm eggs and root vegetables while Giant Sous Chef had Black Cod with Meyer lemon butter, roasted beets 'n greens. Local, local, local=Fresh, fresh, fresh. It's that simple. Next trip, I'm definitely down for the meatballs 'n marmalade and chicken 'n dumplings. Yet...

Sublime degustation peaked at dessert. For a pig lover, what could top "potted" pig on toast? How about a graham cracker crust HOMEMADE WITH LARD AND LOVE? Farmstead's not dealing in white tub Wal-Mart superstore lard that's a suitable substitute for Crisco. This is artisanal lard, people, likely extracted from a single pig named "Eve." But, wherever it came from it is pure flavor and pure fat and it quite possible makes the the best pie crust ever. Our server could not "divulge" the secret to their slightly salty not-too-sweet rich graham crust, but she flinched when GSC guessed lard. And, what's inside this amazing crust? Two inches of dark chocolate pudding and two inches of whipped cream blizzard-ed with chocolate shavings. Giant Sous Chef had the Meyer lemon version of this pie, but why wouldn't you get chocolate? I was so moved by Farmstead's chocolate cream pie, I could only muster a few blurry photos of it--proof of my food-love-haze.

Overpriced dining is usually on the list of Napa complaints. Only second to the snobby locals and even snobbier mega-wineheads shirking box-blush-wine slamming tourists. We'll get into how to avoid all that in a bit, but first... What about Yountville, Thomas Keller, Chiarello and all that hoodity-ha? Certainly, it's a scene... Yountville's Washington street's a who's who of wine country dining and $36+ plate. Yah, pre-TEN-tious.

But, yes, dammit, I went to Ad Hoc. I logged on in a semi-hypnotized state for not one but two reservations with the pithy slogan, If I was never going to eat at French Laundry I was going to eat somewhere Thomas Keller has shed his grace. And, that somewhere was Ad Hoc. And, while it wasn't entirely regrettable, I'm gonna be honest people it was a bit underwhelming...

The (unfortunate) Cons: Salty microgreens salad, ho-hum steak 'n eggs, a skimpy portion of potatoes, blah silver dollar pancakes, only decent coffee drinks and--why is there dessert at brunch?--rum baba. $34 a head is pretty fair, but, but... I wanted to start my meal with Bouchon-esque pastries and some of that yummy white sangria that they were already out of at 1pm... I just wanted it to live up to the hype.
By the time the rum baba arrived the atmosphere was fraught with expectation... Yet, the point is Ad Hoc is homestyle and homemade with the freshest ingredients. And, it's executed with textbook flawlessness... So? Beyond basic techniques, it's all about the ingredients at Ad Hoc--freshly harvested raspberries, garden peas and hand-gathered hen eggs. Wines gushing with NorCal terroir.

It's about simplicity. These are fresh ingredients that you or I can obtain. And, just like Ad Hoc's chef's we can treat fine ingredients with respect and emerge with a similar plate. Got überfresh product? Don't burn it or slice it all weird or use gross, cheap oil to cook it. Maintain the integrity of the your food... and the taste.

My advice: Skip Ad Hoc's brunch and buy Thomas Keller's wonderful cookbook Ad Hoc at Home. With whimsical pictures and text as a guide, Keller teaches can teach you how to turn food into your ally. Remember the French Chef in Rataouille who said, "Anyone can cook?" Can you guess which successful Northern California chef was the consultant on that film? Taking care when shopping for ingredients and following techniques from books like Ad Hoc, you can cook fresh and put out beautiful plates. (At least for brunch. Brunch is easy. Try it!)

By the way, we did clean our plates at Ad Hoc. Of course we did. Don't get me wrong that place is well above and beyond Le Peep grills and Cracker Barrel's offerings, but it's not cheap and certainly over-hyped which is really media's fault anyway by being so demanding on chef's these days--damned Food Network backlash.

And, by the way, if you bring a cookbook to Ad Hoc for Keller to sign, you won't get it signed. The man is essentially Zeus of the food world and as our server informed us he doesn't sign books during service... which makes me wonder if he cooks during service. Because I can't believe anything Keller ever had his hand on would have bored me the way our meal did. And, yes, I understand that someone at Keller's level isn't cooking on the line at Sunday brunch, but really, I wanted this meal to blow my socks off... and it didn't.

However... California's Wine Country is not all about the food is it? No. Absolument pas...

(bottles age in caves at Schramsberg in Calistoga)

Let Spicy take you to... Schramsberg, home of J. Davies wine estate, $40 wine caves tour. The lucky few'll get the dry-witted Kari as their guide. Spicy's pre-party spot? The one and only, bachelorette-hotspot Domain Chandon...

Spicy and Giant Sous Chef sway sophistiqué in sparkling wine edification.

Meet us in... NAPA, Part II! With Tasty 'Cue!!

Spice-E

Larousse likes it spicy... DO YOU?

2010-05-09T19:54:00.000-07:00

"Knowledge has inspired experimentation. Individually or carefully blended spices are now used to complement ingredients and dishes that are far removed from traditional cuisines...Many dishes marry the spices of one culture with the produce and methods of another...Complementary flavours are allowed to run parallel in a dish, providing excitement as they alternately surprise the palate [!]"
- excerpted from Larousse's Gastronomique, under the entry for "Spice"

The SpicyBrowngirl is proud to present Stirring it Up! with Sonia Hunt

Sizzle 'n Spice & Everything Nice at WWW.SONIAHUNT.COM A Foodlicious lifestyle show trailer...(looking for distribution!) WATCH IT NOW and Subscribe for future episodes at the site.

(click on the spice-colored links above to watch the show preview)

A Spicy Sabbatical...

2010-01-31T01:32:00.000-08:00

(one of winter's most sought-after pleasures... tucking into a hot bowl of PHO)

After laying in bed, riding the subway, yoga posing and (insert pensive thought-inducing action here) all the while quietly composing the latest fromtheseed blog post, I've decided that I need to set a few things down right now. Spicy is proud to report that she's the producer on a new (soon to be launching) food and lifestyles web series. And, she's also-hello!-pursuing wild, academic dreams, a little modified and definitely "deferred," but, now, seemingly attainable. (Lächeln :)

I take my short leave not without a little food news from your favorite spicy home cook...Me!

WHAT I'M EATING (and Drinking) RIGHT NOW: 2007 Coppola Zinfandel from the Napa Valley. Popcorn, Indiana Gourmet Smoked Cheddar Kettle Corn. As for the kettle corn, I always have a bag in my house, and I've succumbed to the brand spanking new Noe Valley Whole Foods that stocks this addictive popcorn treat. The neighborhood--despite feigning protest against WF for its questionable biz ethics--is in a constant rejoice, unable to veer away from the line of cars aimed at less than 20 spots in the parking lot. If you're in the market for things like whole, ready to eat, piping hot Provence-style free range roasted chicken or preservative free, brown rice syrup, square marshmallows at $6 a box--this is your spot (two of Spicy's guilty WF pleasures).

WHAT I'VE BEEN EATING LATELY: Asian Takeout. I've discovered Turtle Tower Pho! San Francisco's "Little Saigon" is jumping with pho joints and my friends say that Turtle Tower is the best, and I don't have time to be dubious especially after an impromptu sit-down for stir-fried beef pho bo with wide, flat rice noodles. The beef was cooked well, noodles just a little caramelized from a trip through the hot wok and a rich yet subtle broth flecked with steaming fat bubbles. Add sliced carrot, celery, jalapeno and cilantro greens to my helping on a cheap plastic soup spoon and a squirt of sriracha and I'm gone...

WHAT I ATE LAST NIGHT: Back when I was just a skinny-minny and visiting San Fran for the first time, a Thai women told me that Thai House on Market St in the Castro was the best Thai place in town. "Their Larb Ga is better than my dad's," she whispered. "It's all about the toasted rice powder." When I moved to SF in '97 I became a follower. Thai House was my go-to Thai place for 5 years until I moved to SOMA and discovered Manora Thai. When I moved back to the 'hood to Dolores street in 2003, I returned to Thai House and a wonderful, hip renovation. Long gone were the days where my roommates and I were the only women in the dining room in a mostly male and openly gay neighbourhood. But, then, Thai House owners handed the Market street restaurant over to some friends and it just wasn't the same... Until... they opened Thai House Express in the Castro! (With its grandparent location in where else? SF's Little Saigon, of course!)

I drove out of my way to get takeout from there last night, and it was good. The refreshingly potent heat from the Sum Tum Thai (shredded green papaya with shrimp, tomato, green beans and lemon dressing with peanuts) paired with my Kao Pad Goong Ga-ree (yellow curry fried rice with shrimp and egg) was well worth the drive. And, there were surprises, too. Giant Sous Chef ordered #40 the tried and true Ka Moo (thanks for the rec Yelpers!) which turned out to be a falling off the bone pork leg stew flavored with onions and tangy pickled vegetables. Com. Fort. FOOD.

WHAT I WILL EAT TOMORROW: Leftovers. Indian food semi-homemade (semi-ho'd) from tofu, frozen vegetables and Sukhi's Indian paste packets. (Yes, it has gotten to this point, my friends.) Takeout from Toast on Church. But, I will also linger a little while over my Sunday Times devouring Obama's latest exploits, Randy Cohen's Ethicist and whatever the journos are calling "revolution" that day. Then, with the Arts, Travel and Week In Review tucked beneath a plate, I will bust out the cheeses and dig in. Three cheeses spread to be precise. Ever since the summer BBQ that GSC and I hosted, the girls have been after me for the cheese spread recipe... And, I have to tip my hat to Anne O'Driscoll formerly of Cafe Cuvee in San Francisco where I hosted, waited and Garde Manger'd (ooooooolalaaallaaaaa!) and apparently pocketed a few party tricks for my very own foodie arsenal. Wha? Whaa? Give it up for...

Chef Anne's 3-Cheese Spread (courtesy of Anne O'Driscoll)
- locally produced goat cheese
- organic full-fat cream cheese (do NOT use neutchafel or fat-free cream cheese, PLEASE!)
- aged parmiggiano reggiano
- kosher salt
- fresh ground black pepper
- a touch of olive oil to help the mix blend
Let the cheeses soften to room temperature. Add spices and hard cheeses and oil and blend the ingredients gently with a spatula. Great on baguette, crostini, crackers, toasts and stirred into sauces or soups. Chef Anne likes a 3 Cheese Spread Focaccia sandwich with black olive tapenade. And, Spicy, yes SPICY, likes to make sweet Semifreddi's baguette crostini, smooth on a layer of three cheese spread, then a little bit of tapenade and then top with a sliver of roasted red pepper.

Spice-E-licious. Oh, let me have some fun...! Even homecooks need holidays to tickle the taste buds... Meet me in on the long queue at Armandino Batali's Salumeria in Seattle and parsing whole pig parts in Portland, Oregon. Or, maybe, sipping cafe in Vancouver? Or, dining on un plato de casado beneath Costa Rica's jungle canopies? Wherever we are, Be there. And, be ready to eat!

In the meantime, Eat Well. Take good care. And, we'll dine soon into the night with passion and joy... FROM THE SEED.

Eat This 2010! (2009's Holiday in Food)

2010-01-02T22:19:00.000-08:00

Spicy's Home Cooking Foollage (food collage!)
click on the collage, full size version will open in the next tab

From Left to Right, from Top:

1st row: Wee Kalin Applejoy gets sushi from Melissa and Doug, Big Valley Bison burgers with Bi-rite cider vinegar slaw, Apple-Cherry Crumb pie from Nora's Pattisserie in Colma, Spicy's Citrus-craisin-poppyseed muffins, Christmas Eve Mac-n-Cheese (w low-carb cauliflower), a boneless dry-aged ribeye, Xmas Day Maple Oatmeal Pecan Scones.

2nd row: Maine Lobster Pose 1, SF Special: Sun Fat Dungeness Crab & Risotto w. Crispy root veg, Lobster's last hurrah, Price holiday table with lobster and pinot, lobster legs CU, Maine Lobster Pose 2, 2010's First NACHO Night!

3rd row: Maine Lobster Pose 2, Roasted roots for breakfast, Nora's Apple Cheery Pie-take 2, La Crema Pinot Noir and East Kilbride's Glen Cairn crystal, Maine Lobster Pose 1, Buffalo Burger with Slaw and French Fried Onions on a rich, Challah roll, What's a Spicy New York girl (in San Fran) without her ("new york style") morning bagel?

4th row: New Year Nachos-take 2- Warning: Contains highly addictive mix of seasoned ground bison and Monterey Jack achiote white pepper cheese sauce, Spicy's homemade take on Bakesale Betty's Fried Chicken Sandwich with Panko and Bi-rite Slaw, Giant Sous Chef's Noche Buena filet mignon, Butcher-tying and at-home dry-aging, Spicy makes ARANCINI, Real live Cast iron Caramelization, Maine Lobster mac-n-cheese ala SpicyBrowngirl Cooks!

Happy Delicious 2010!
(Check back for Spicy's Chinese New Year in San Francisco...)

Spicy wants to hear from you! If you're a homecook or a Spicygirl or have a mind filled with food-related thoughts, please let us know.

Thomas Keller's Buttermilk Fried Chicken. Sort of.

2009-11-23T02:07:00.000-08:00

Okay. Newsflash. Fried chicken is bullshit. Every time I make it... the innocuous pie plates of seasoned flour, the quaint bowl of buttermilk, the pile of harmless chicken parts and pieces... an hour later I am cursing myself as perspiration drips down my face into a vat of boiling hot oil. Why? Because, OH, I'm sorry, let me correct myself, Making fried chicken is bullshit. And, the people who say it's not have never made it. Or, they are the kind of people who have all the time in the world or have a deep fryer. Here's some advice: pan roast your skin-on chicken parts. Sear the skin, flip and stick in a 400 degree oven until cooked through and skin is crisp. Season with salt and pepper. End of story. Just as good. No, even better than that. If you love yourself, do not get involved in buttermilk or dredging, hot boiling 300+ degree oil or seasoned anything except directly on chicken or possibly in a brine.

Trust me on this one, please. And, don't get seduced by those people who tell you the best way to fry chicken is in a cast iron skillet (you know who you are Alton Brown). It's just as messy as a deep fryer, a thick bottomed dutch oven or a $300 Le Creuset cast iron enameled pot which is what I used tonight. To no avail. There was nothing special about that fried chicken except I undercooked the first piece like I always do because how can you really tell that the chicken is cooked all the way through when there is a thick-ass crust covering all that uncooked meat? You cut into it. That's how. And, then, you have that piece of chicken that will get cooked but now since you've knifed into it, it can't be plated for your presentation perfect photo-op dinner plate.

And, you have to take of pic of dinner, especially if you've gone through the hell of frying chicken. OH, and of course, it tasted good. Like family reunion summer picnic with a down home crunch type good. Don't forget, this Spicy browngirl CAN cook--even if it's the dreaded fried chicken. Having Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc at Home cookbook by my side helps. With straight-up recipes and manageable lists of ingredients, there's lots of food love for the home cook in those pages.

By the way, here's a great place to BUY kickin' fried chicken (and waffles):

The Little Skillet, San Francisco

And, here's a great place to get whole-roasted and rotisserie chicken:

Good Frikin' Chicken, San Francisco

peace and grits and fryin' legs,

Spice-E

Big Valley Buffalo is Back!

2009-11-07T23:13:00.000-08:00

In case you hadn't already heard... Prather Ranch has revived its buffalo trade ("bison" to you rancher types). Almost a year ago, they were having distribution problems and their tasty, grass-fed buffalo trade was stopped. That meant no more buffalo burger breakfasts after my Saturday morning runs along Embarcadero.

However, after today's run (in a shiny, new pair of Asics, I might add), I was thrilled to see buffalo burger on the menu at Prather Ranch's outdoor grill pit at the Ferry Plaza market. The price has gone up--the economy of scale for pristine, grass-fed game meat being what it is--about two bucks a pound more from the last time they had it. And, they're no longer doing a flat rate for 5 lbs of meat. But, Big Valley Buffalo is so worth it. Take it from this foodie...

See you at Prather,

Spicy
SPICE-E

"Food, food, food. Food, food, food."

2009-09-23T10:14:00.000-07:00

Hello, Friends!

I'm currently working on a post about Giant Sous Chef, but things have been extremely busy around here... I'm working on a food web series, taking a couple classes and waging a silent war against comma and participle abuse. SO, it's been hectic. Chaotic even.

A Taste: Giant Sous Chef calls himself the Big Dog--you know those friendly, dopey dogs that stick their bums in your face while you're watching television. But, mostly, Big Dog's (just like GSC) want your food. You can see it in their big, round eyes and hear it in their sly panting. You may think dogs crave your constant companionship, but don't be fooled. They're 'sessing out your food and your potential to give them food (or drop it near them). Big Dogs have one thing to say to you and anyone in their immediate vicinity, "Food, food, food. Food, food, food."

- Big dogs nuzzle your legs if you smell like bacon. No, they do not love you.
- Big dogs pad into a roomful of diners and size-up the defenseless by staring at them.
- Big Dogs appear the moment they hear a potato chip bag unfurling or cereal hit a bowl.
- Big Dogs are not afraid to drool. They think this will convince you to feed them faster.
- For Big Dogs, FOOD=LOVE.

The same rules apply for Giant Sous Chef. But, he also does lots of human things like cook, clean Spicy's kitchen and fund crazy food adventures. And, of course, Giant Sous Chef Eats...

Want to learn more about him? Check back soon for update.

peace and corn grits,

SpicyB

Robbie Burns, eat your sheep's heart out!

2009-08-10T01:39:00.000-07:00

Slàinte! (Eating Scotland.)

The New York Times tale, 36 Hours in Glasgow, recently reminded me that Giant Sous Chef had toured me 'round his homeland and I still haven't blogged bout it. Glasgow, on top of having the most genuine, friendly locals east of Lake Michigan, has several tasty finds. The Ubiquitous Chip, off a cobblestone lane in the West End serves a warm, huggy cockaleekie soup. The chicken and leek soup with barley, cleverly named by a people that truly relished their gift for gab, was perfect for the city's rainy, clammy climate. (barley freaks like chef sleeping draco will love it)

I don't agree with the Times' assessment that Ubiquitous Chip's "something of a Scottish Chez Panisse." Having eaten at both, UC cannot touch the level of technique and organic integrity maintained at CP. And, Watters would never serve leaden sauces like the greenish, grainy one that came with my salmon. Fortunately or not, UC was certainly the best dining experience I had in Glasgow. The organic Orkney salmon was tender with good, clean flavor. If you find yourself on that side of the Atlantic, you MUST indulge in the local seafood. Geoduck, anyone?

During this British food excursion, I discovered my love (cue the pipers, please) for Haggis. Anywhere, anytime, I am down. I especially love the spices. And, that you can make it veggie. UC's vegetarian haggis, served with mashed turnip and carrot, was reminiscent of Jamaican jerk sans heat and a dash of American Thanksgiving. Add nubbly, boiled Scottish oats and earthy lentils or nuts (for veggie version). Or, iron-rich organ meats (with a nod to conscious, whole animal eating) for haggis carnivorous. N.B.: The haggis on the Glasgow Grosvenor Hilton's brunch buffet was also tops.

...the Bad and the Ugly.
I would be lying if I didn't say I had a few straight-up whack food encounters in Scotland. First off, definitely question anything and everything sold as edible at the Glasgow airport. Edible does not always mean consumable. What if I told you I witnessed a man order "bruschetta" and in return he received pre-sliced baguette (pre-frozen, too?!) topped with rubbery shards of "melted" cheddar cheese? How about a full-on declaration: DO NOT ORDER A SALAD IN THE GLASGOW METRO AREA! Unless you want your baby lettuces tossed with greasy, flavorless pesto. Or, a platter of whitish romaine crowned with a full half of browned avocado? Yes, people, BROWN SALAD. Is an inverse culinary logic at work in Scotland that transforms sheep's blood oatmeal to an incredibly appealing and tasty dish?!!? Play it safe, stick with sausage-y and/or fried things and heavy, buttered carbs.

But, nearly all of the gustatory missteps are made-up when you stop for petrol. Enter left, drive up, park right--Marks and Spencer's Simply Food...Britain's culinary BINGO! The British equivalent of the WAWA Grill. 7 Eleven gone to culinary heaven. Someone at M&S corporate thought, Mmm... if you're going to get petrol why not get more than a pack of crisps and the odd litre of milk? Why not raw breakfast meat? Why not fresh prawn sandwiches? At a BP station between Blantyre and East Kilbride, they had three types of take-away haggis, four shelves dedicated to meat sausages...a line of fancy, fresh sandwiches ready-packed and handy, racks of wine and boxed & ribboned chocolates. It was like a Madison Avenue micro-grocery!

Post-Script: At the Chippy in Stirling. Here's the deep fried haggis Giant Sous Chef smothered in brown sauce. We ate this with battered cod, deep-fried black pudding, smoked sausage and malt vinegar doused chips sitting inside his mate's Mercedes while watching and listening to that soft Scottish rain pelt the windshield like poetry.

Junk Food, Tony and B-more...

2009-07-28T09:41:00.000-07:00

I got a TIVO!

I'm not 100% on how to use it, but it's here, and Giant Sous Chef has set-up a season pass for some of my favorites-- No Reservations, Everyday Italian, 30 Rock... However, Comcast's programming guide is more than a little screwed up, and listed the wrong episode titles in the wrong hours for No Reservations. Luckily, it still managed to record NR "Rust Belt" in which my beloved Tony breaks bread with two actors from my favorite-of-all-time crime series, The Wire.

Tony is as obsessed with The Wire as the rest of us stating that the series and John Watters are the two things that brought him to the Charm City. He endures rain, clouds, long lines, blight and more blight. Tony is also accompanied by the infamous Samir (made infamous in the Romania episode). Their stops in Baltimore specifically are not slow-food-inspired and probably not organic, but untensil's-not-required meals of "pit beef" sandwiches, "lake trout" and grapefruit-sized crabcakes play soulfood's sweet, low songs as good as any other.

(As a fellow NY'er who's never been to B-more, I'm not completely ignorant of the place. An old friend--San Francisco's very own Chef C Double, in fact-- has apprised me of crab cakes and Lexington Market fried chicken and the many opportunities for bleak urbanscape photography.)

To get into the spirit of low-budget lifestyles in the Rustbelt, I had Giant Sous Chef pick up a bag of Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream chips for me... YES, Spicy eats junk food. Not always, not often, but it does call to crave. In the spirit of the recession, I'm gonna start thinking of the broken days of yore--college years, pre-organic, decidedly vegetarian AND growing up in the Reagan 80's--to reflect upon what would make my list of... Junk Food Delights!

More to come...

Peace out,

SpicyB

Kicking off the Season with Tony and El Lomito...

2009-07-14T09:33:00.000-07:00

The fluffy, golden bun looked especially good on my TV last night, as I watched Tony Bourdain devour EL LOMITO:

"A monstrous sandwich of pork, avocado and mayonnaise"

As you know, Spicy advises balance in all things sandwich even if, in this case it means a hefty portion of pork must be heaped with nearly a whole avocado and a generous ladling of soupy-looking mayo. And, of course, there's the bread. Pay special attention to the bread. It's not just a vehicle, nor a canvas for sandwich ingredients. It is an ingredient. At Fuente Alemana, where Bourdain confronted this local delight, they bake their own buns--a 6-inch round.

The El Lomito's marinated, slow-cooked pork is shaved, submerged and served steeping from its own jus, looked tasty and delightful. Like the "Three Little Pigs" in No Reservations Chicago episode -- another porcine-based creation featured at right angles to Bourdain's gullet -- I'll give this one a try at home and let you know how it goes...

It's a 'Sandwich Recession,' afterall!

Buen Provecho!

Bourdain is back!

2009-07-13T10:17:00.000-07:00

Yes, I am free advertising for the Travel Channel, but my favorite food host and virtual travel companion, Tony Bourdain, is back for a fresh season of No Reservations. Tonight, he's doing his thing in Chile. I'll be following each new episode this season, providing worthwhile highlights. And, if I'm moved to comment, I most certainly will. (Just like last season: See posts 1/6/09 and 2/4/09)

With so much television programming out there, you might as well watch the good stuff.

(mouth watering at the thought of street food and adventure!)

Spice-E

Osteria le Panzanelle. (Tuscan food. Period.)

2009-06-27T10:24:00.000-07:00

(1.0 Lasagne in Lucarelli)

Ciao, bella! No, you don't have to remind me that I'm utterly delinquent in my post-Tuscany blog responsibilities. Since we got back, I'd even found a way to cook lavish meals as procrastination technique. (Quickly checks camera files.) There was:

Lamb Pockets Nite - mini lamb meatballs with fresh tzatziki served in a warm, soft pita. Tzatziki triggers my Astoria days when me and the crew used to go to Sagapo for happy hour. Around nightfall, owners brought baguette and bowls of tzatziki to 'quiet the drunks'.

Then there was:

Panini Night - When I could no longer stand my primal urge for panini, I dragged out the Cuisinart Griddler (wedding gift), bought a slab of Acme onion bread, some good cheese and grilled a mess of vegetables. Needless to say, 'panini night' extended into panini week!

followed by...

Grilled Shrimp & my turkey chili where I flirted with the memory of Tuscany's wonderfully ubiquitous cannellini beans and used them in the chili (instead of black beans). And, why not bake up some sour cream blueberry muffins while I'm at it? You know, before blueberry season is completely over. It'll be quick, just like...

Dad's Real Green Fish Curry, which is what I do with the packets of fresh-caught pompano that my parents (a) send back with my brother when he visits them or (b) bring in deep frozen blocks--shrink-wrapped and layered in butcher paper--in their luggage when they visit. Home cook's secret: I use fool-proof 'Thai Kitchen Green Curry' sauce paste from a jar, high quality coconut milk and a mess of green veggies like blue lake beans, zucchini and spinach and herbs-aromatics--cilantro, green onion. Thus, it's REAL GREEN Fish Curry.

When I made the decision Friday afternoon that I had to post something--even if it was just photos from that dreamy Osteria in Lucarelli--without captions, images speaking for themselves would be enough... I decided, "Hey, why don't I roast a whole 4 pound chicken?" Near midnight, when Giant Sous Chef and I were stuffing our faces with plates of Citrus Roasted Chicken with herbed lemon garlic orange jus, the Lucarelli photos were the last thing on my mind.
(above left, Giant Sous Chef meets a fluffy friend!)

But, come this morning... FINALLY I motivate. Here they are... Tuscan food. Period.

(2.0 Eggplant involtini with ethereal ricotta, my antipasti course.)

(3.0 Primi Piatti with antipasti 2: Spaghetti with sausage, tomato and mushroom and feathery ricotta and leek gnocchi.) These courses were a revelation! I just don't think you know what al dente means until you taste it in Italy. The spaghetti was chewy, but still melt in your mouth tender, and when it's proper al dente with just enough pasta water to silken the sauce, the flavors cling to each strand without messing with the balance of the dish. The 'Gnocchi Gnudi' - filled with leeks and cheese--pillow perfect. I could have died here. Seriously.

(4.0 Canellini Beans.) The pay day for my 20 year obsession--first encountered in a can of Progresso's Macaroni and Bean, aka Pasta e Fagioli--with the italian white bean. Looks simple, and it is. But, beneath Italy's night sky... something altogether different.

(5.0 A glass of 1999 Brunello di Montalcino Col d'Orcia.) Of course we had a full bottle of wine. When our server did the wine presentation, she popped the cork, put it just beneath her nose and inhaled, swooning. "Perfecto," she said. In my world, Northern California's wine valley region is spectacular, but Tuscany-- in all their sangiovese grape glory--is the true Wine Country. Sorry, France!

(1.5 Le Panzanelle's Nettle Lasagna. Encore!) For the Italian 'primi piatti' usually a pasta course, they just plop it down on a plate. It's not straddled with sides or shown up by a slab of grilled meat. It's its own thing. Better to focus on and devour, I say. A masterpiece.

(6.0 Tuscany's mother dish: Cinghiale, wild boar stew.) Meaty, hearty comforting poor people cuisine. It's like Italian Adobo! All forks in!

(7.0 Torta di Mondorle e Cioccolata!)

Osteria Le Panzanelle, the source for all this hubbub, has Spicy and Giant Sous Chef's highest rec. The service was welcoming. The food and wine... simply decadent. (All for a humble peasant's sum!) Vai, vai, vai!

LA FINE.

Filipina via New Yorker returns...*

2009-05-17T13:32:00.000-07:00

...from Europa!

Check back soon for part I of Spicy and GSC's food adventures in the UK and on the Continent.

Suet frites in Paris... Veggie haggis in Glasgow's West End... Wild Boar in Lucarelli...

...coming soon.

xo,

Spicy

p.s. where you been this spring? or where you headed this summer? food adventures? leave a comment, and let spicy know!

*Le Menu: Bagels and Lox (I toast and butter my bagels prior to dressing them-- I know this is not traditional!). Deep fried Lumpia Shanghai (mmm... filled with ground pork, onions, carrot, spices) with onion, patis, soy and calamansi dipping sauce. A bed of lettuce soaks up the hot oil and belies a healthy start to the day. (Don't send me lipitor pamphlets just yet, this was a special treat. I actually have low cholesterol!)

Broke Foodies: West Coast Style.

2009-04-23T15:46:00.000-07:00

Let's face it, with this bona fide recession fixed firmly in place there's lots of broke foodies out there. So, what do we eat now, you ask?

Check out Spicy's Recession Favorites for Broke Foodies. (great tastes for little cash) Spicy's always looking to save a buck and keep it gourmet, and here's a few ideas to get you started (and saving!). And, one more thing... no need to be shy at the table--good conversation can fill you up, too!

Weeknight Burger: West Coast Style
*(Cost of this tasty meal for two? About $15.)

Eating a big, juicy burger always make me feel like a kid. Back East, I was raised on a hot, juicy homemade burger that Chef Dad concocted in response to the Big Mac TV ads in the 70's. Instead of carting us all to the fast-food mecca, Chef Dad made his own burger--just they way we liked them. Special sauce, too? Of course.

(Chef Dad had broken down 'special sauce' as mayo and ketchup a little pickle juice and crisp white onion)

While other kids got Ovaltine and Nilla Wafers as an afterschool snack, Chef Dad would fry up an 80-20 patty, shred lettuce, slice a beefsteak tomato, whisk up some special sauce and hold the squeaky pickles that I hated. Then, faster than my big brother could belt out the Big Mac jingle, I'd have fatty pink burger juice running down my arm. (Oh, to be young and chubby!)

Decades later, my afterschool burger's all grown up. And, Chef Dad wouldn't be disappointed. The West Coast Lamburger meets all the specs for a handheld feast. And, this grub is local.

There's been a lot of hullabaloo lately--at least in the Bay Area--about the lack of 80-20 beef. Where I shop for the best in local and organic--Whole Foods, Bi-Rite and the city's various farmers markets--I can find the best antibiotic-hormone-free meat on the market, but I can barely find a beef mix above 15% fat. Where's the fat? Leaner beef means risking a dry burger which is... unacceptable to me. If I'm going all out to have 'Burger Night,' I'm gonna to get my fat's worth!

Enter, ground lamb...where fat and flavor rendezvous:

Burger night. Giant Sous Chef finds several excuses to pass through the kitchen just as the lamb patties sizzle away in our new All-Clad grill pan. A meaty cloud fills the kitchen. Though I haven't made lamburgers since Superbowl 2002, seven years later Giant Sous Chef and I still refer to them in our cocktail chatter (as if that first succulent bite was only yesterday)... Unlike my show-stopping Superbowl XXXVI lamburger stuffed with a heady Stilton and served on Ciabatta with a side of smothered buffalo wings, I wanted to make this a conscious burger. I wanted not a fast-food burger but "slow" (like Carlo Petrini slow) and sustainable one. I gathered ingredients from purveyors as 'close to the table' as possible. I chatted with the butcher, baker and cheesemonger until my burger vision became clear.

Prather Ranch Ground Lamb. Oregon's finest. With succulent fat, premium texture and the finest flesh of grass-fed livestock, my ground lamb mix only needed a little bit of Dijon mustard, oregano, salt and pepper to make a fine patty. Taking advice from grill masters like New York's Bobby Flay and Napa's Michael Chiarello, I handled the meat as little--a few turns with the fingers and quick, gentle molding and shaping--as possible to keep it from cooking up tough.

The West Coast lamb needed a special cheese. I had tasted some Point Reyes Farmstead Reserve Bleu at Bi-Rite Grocery a few days before, but I thought it would play too strong. Their 'Original Bleu'--with that salty Pacific breeze in every bite--would suffice. I also sauteed a bunch of Watsonville baby spinach and shallot in Stonehouse Estate Blend olive oil (from the Fall 2008 press).

Then, there was the bread. You gotta think about the bread. No excuses. Yet, my usual choice for burger bread--challah rolls or focaccia, too eggy or too olive oily--clashed with the lamb and tangy bleu cheese. Armored with a hefty, golden crust impervious to the hot juices that would bust through the finished burger, and with just enough fragrant, herbaceous rosemary compliment the lamb, Acme's Herb Slab was the natural choice.

I had also frenched some garnet sweet potatoes for oven fries. I toasted squares of herb slab and hit them with a little Irish Butter before smoothing on the bleu. I made four 1/4 lb. burgers. Cooked to about medium they were obscenely juicy... *(Cost of this tasty meal for two? About $15.)

Hanging Tender Dinner. Aka 'the butchers cut' or in France, the beloved 'onglet.' The hanger steak is an odd-shaped cut made up of two muscles that--you guessed it--hang off the kidney below the tenderloin. I get mine from Prather Ranch and Golden Gate Meat Company. If you go to GGM, they can do a free rub that further enhances the flavor (cook it fast and leave it juicy) of this affordable and increasingly trendy cut.

For sides, I took my recipe for duck fried rice, subtracted the bacon and duck confit and sub'd in Wildwood firm tofu. Marinating in organic shoyu and sprinkling garam masala onto the the tofu and the final dish while still in a hot wok, elevates this beyond drab fried rice takeout. Blue Lake Beans in the Bay are classic. All they need are simple blanching and a few hot tosses in the wok with a little shallot or garlic, S&P. With these protein-rich sides, you won't need much steak per person to make it a hearty, balanced meal. (Total cost for two: 3.00+4.75+12.00=$19.75)

Panini Prandial. Isn't it boring when people tell you breakfast is the most important meal of the day? At minimum, we remember to buy yogurt and fruit-sweetened toaster pastries on the grocery run. But, when you have just a little more time, why not go to the butcher for maple pecan sausage links? Dust off your panini grill (the busy foodie's best friend!). Then, use leftover cheese (in my fridge, Spring Hill's Jersey Monterey Jack-- "Jersey Cows" not New Jersey!), vitamin-rich greens to saute and stuff inside and whatever else you want to panini. (Scrambled Petaluma farm-fresh eggs, optional.)

PANINI INSTRUCTIONS: Stuff fresh ingredients betwixt bread. Grill sandwich and smoosh.
($ one panini costs about $3 to make)

All that and a bag o' shrimp...

On my second tour of SF, I shacked up with Giant Sous Chef in a tiny studio in the SOMA district. But, there was lots of good in that place... Along with the genuine clawfoot tub, there was a separate kitchen (stove was safe distance from futon). AND, Trader Joe's was (still is) across the street. For the savviest, broke foodies, TJ's is one of the best spots in many cities to save on food.

Even though my palate's outgrown TJ's 'two-buck-chuck' (aka Charles Shaw wine) and moved onto their twelve dollar imported Barolo, I still grab a bargain bag o' frozen shrimp when I'm there. Usually the uncooked, peeled, tail-on U30 count does me. But, I saved a bit this Easter by getting the smaller-bodied, tail-off version...

Po' Food. You know how much Spicy loves NOLA. So, this Easter Sunday in honor of flavors of that favorite place (and the journalist Chris Rowe), I attempted to recreate Domilise's roast beef and spicy shrimp po' boy. Exactly as it sounds, a soft roll decked out with shaggy slices of slow-roasted beef, shrimped encased in a seasoned, fried breading and stove-hot debris gravy. It's best to make your own roast-- you'll end up with all the makings for 'debris' (the crispy, sometimes chunky, somewhat burnt bits from roast that scatter into drippings when carved). In NOLA cuisine, debris is retained for gravy. Debris is important. It's the single touch that makes this po' boy rich...

Country Club Shrimp Salad at Home. Do you love couscous like I do? A box of couscous costs about two dollars and contains approximately 10 servings. How can you go wrong? You can have it hot, cold, savory, sweet. It's especially tasty in my arugula shrimp salad with poppy seed dressing. The couscous' unique texture, peppery greens and tangy emulsion unite with chilled shrimp tossed with a squeeze of meyer lemon, salt and pepper.
Simple, cost effective and oh, so good! (cost of one salad 6/5.99 + 6/2.99 + 6/2.50)

What's your recession food fix? Wanna recipe? Tell Spicy in comments!

(you may not hear from spice-E & giant sous chef for a little bit as we're taking the credit cards to europe... we'll try to post from the road, but no promises with nothing but an ipod touch (with NO camera function) to guide my way... IPOD TOUCH--get a camera!)

The Sandwich Recession.

2009-04-09T12:53:00.000-07:00

...Easter Sunday, Burgers, Little Skillet and a Westie.

I've decided to make roast beef and fried shrimp po' boys for Easter Dinner.** And, chocolate risotto pudding. And, I'm saving that bottle of McWilliams Shiraz (vino cheapo). For the family brunch buffet, I'm thinking pastel de tres leches with fruit topping. The strawberries were too green at Rainbow co-op (and I honestly think we're pushing the season here), so I might go with mangoes instead or see how the Cali strawberries look elsewhere.

NOLA is my religion, so I woke up thinking about those roast beef and fried shrimp po' boys! It's the trendy thing right now—sandwiches in general are, since we're all so broke and whatnot. Tom Colicchio even has a book about sandwich making, and is heading our way (to the Bay) for his book tour. Apparently his 'Wichcraft franchises have lines out the door. I haven't been to the one in SF quite yet. I'll get there...

On Tuesday night I did find a decent buffalo burger at Pearl's Deluxe Burger in Russian Hill (is it RH or TL or TN? I'm not straight on that part of the city). Just off the corner of Post at Jones, a clean little hole in the wall serving all the greasy stuff. But, what made it my destination? In the last year, Prather Ranch, my fine meat dealer (and the peeps who introduced me to "beef-falo") lost their buffalo supplier. And, it's taking time to find another bison outfit. Sad, but true.

(they still have plenty of delicious meat, especially that Oregon Lamb)

SO, I had to cheat on them with Pearl's Deluxe... which wasn't so bad. I had the 1/2 lb. buffalo burger with cheddar and bacon (and crinkle cut sweet potato fries and some of my friends frings (fries-n-O-rings!). It was fatty and drippy and sooo-hole-in-the-wall-good. Bacon jutted! Cheese oozed! The three of us didn't even look at each other again until we were finished eating and swabbing meat juice from our faces.

My only criticism: Pearl's, get some new buns! The soft sesame seeded white roll fell apart while I was eating my ginormous, juicy burger. It obviously wasn't thick enough and had little flavor. I know the meat's the star, but I give extra points if a joint thinks about the bread.

A foodie-FRIED fact: One of my favorite SF chefs returns from a sojourn back East, and he's starting up the Little Skillet out of 330 Ritch Street (remember that spot? a few memorable evenings there). Among other snacks, they'll have CHICKEN-N-WAFFLES, PEOPLE!! (double plus good). So, please drop in 'n give ol' C-Double a shout. Let him know Spicy sent you—maybe, he'll crack a smile.

In a final note, this weekend I hope to post the long-awaited West Coast Burger photos. Spicy's own lick-your-lips creation. Plus, a revelation about the Acme Herb Slab! Check back soon for the 'Westie' burger.* It's damn good. And, you should know about it.

**(Po' boy update: In my attempt to keep it real and have sandwiches for Easter dinner, I ventured to Trader Joe's for the ingredients. "Natural" roast beef? Check. Fully-cooked, tail-off, medium shrimp—great for breading and frying? Check. Beef gravy? Uh-oh. TJ's did have their famous "turkey gravy in a box" though... So, ok, I bought it. I have a jar of Superior Touch Beef "Better than Bouillon" in my fridge, and it won't be the first time I've doctored things behind closed kitchen doors...Spicy's sneaky like that.)

~Spicy

*(no fluffy white scotty dogs were harmed in the writing of this this posting)

I waited at Cafe Cuvee back in the day...

2009-03-14T00:00:00.000-07:00

“A Beautiful Thing to Behold”

When “not having a plan” gave way to financial crisis I went around the corner and put in my service resume at Café Cuvee on Market Street. It was a bare-bones place that served smoky, Italian roast coffee, a brunch that burbled with Francophile flair and for dinner something called New California Cuisine. Having once landed at a private university armed with modest life experiences with my civil servant parents and a career in typically under-funded public school systems, restaurant work had become a learned necessity. But aside from all the reasons I would tell the chef/owner in my interview about wanting the job, applying to Café Cuvee was a better option than phoning my parents to borrow money. Eight months had passed since I left New York, and the last thing I wanted to do in San Francisco was fail.

Two days later, I returned home and had a message that the restaurant wanted to hire me immediately. It would be brunch and dinner on Saturdays and brunch on Sunday. Three shifts. At my interview, Chef Anne was impressed by my abhorrence for the “quick turnover”—when diners are shuttled like cattle from foyer to table to exit inside seventy-five minutes to maximize the number of “covers” (patrons) the “floor” (dining room) can accommodate during “service” (hours of operation). Concurrently, after giving the menu a once-over: roasted organic vegetables en papillote, grilled Delmonico steak, aromatic pilaf, appetizers involving puff pastry and desserts rife with sabayon– every dish a la minute– I was equally impressed with Café Cuvee. Chef Anne was not messing around. Before the Slow Food Movement that reminds us to spiritualize food and practice meditative cooking and dining mainstreamed into American food phenomena, Anne wedged a large saute pan into the hyper-clockwork of modern life, presented us with small plates of roast peaches, goat cheese and port and said, “Sit down. Take a breath.”

Saturday dinner service with Anne at the burners and a doe-eyed waiter named Joe on the floor was simple enough. As hostess, I led a steady flow of patrons to sanded-down pine tables, recited a short list of “Specials”, filled water, served wine and removed empty plates. Joe’s professionalism (he was a ten-year fine-dining veteran) inspired a rapport, and while working the front of the house we commanded a ballet-like fluidity. With a Rachmaninoff compact disc catalogue in the stereo, working dinner could almost be relaxing especially when most nights started with Anne seating me in the dining room with a bowl of wild mushroom bisque and a glass of Poully Fuisse—at a front table, window-facing—to attract customers.

Hosting Saturday and Sunday brunch was an entirely different dimension. I worked with Rogelio, a Salvadorian cook who wore rubber-soled white loafers—all the better to zip between the hot station (range, grill and oven) and the prep station (Cuisinart, chopping blocks and pantry). The lone waiter on the floor (acquiescing to the whims of up to sixty covers with a full-house) was Erin, a lean auburn-haired girl from Upstate NY who had trained her dancer’s body to serve piping cups of espresso, oozing omelet’s and tiny bowls of house-made apple-berry jam en pointe. Despite Rogelio’s gravity defying speed and Erin’s unfailing grace, they entirely ignored my hostessing system. Wound up on bottomless double espressos, Rogelio couldn’t help chatting with waiting patrons, projecting boyishness from the open kitchen, then misdirecting them to reserved tables. Erin, only one of her sins, stacked dirty dishes and glassware without prejudice. They upended my work flow into jagged, unpredictable turns. Suddenly, I had to come up with a non-confrontational dialogue to remove hungry diners from reserved tables then confess they would have another 20 to 40 minutes wait. Or, I found myself with my hands deep in overflowing bus trays reconfiguring thick dinner plates such that their weight would not crush Anne’s rapidly diminishing supply of stemware. But, as it is in any restaurant that opens its doors with love and only hires people with rhythm and sense, it only took a couple crazy shifts to snap out the kinks. People came. People were fed. We all got along.

Take it from me who poured two-hundred cups of Grafeo Dark Roast per brunch and cut a hundred or so squares of hand-turned focaccia at night, Café Cuvee was hard, satisfying work. At the end of the day shift, when Rogelio slid our staff meal of coddled eggs with fresh cream and new potato homefries flecked with garlic across the hotline and poured Brut and pulpy orange juice for our Mimosa refresher, my satisfaction tripled. When I was handed the days’ tip-out in cash, my focus and attention to the nuances—measures of Dutch cocoa and sugar for hot chocolate, precise profiles on our compendium of Mexican hot sauces—were directly appreciated. Walking out of the restaurant in the late afternoon sun still gleaming off the Twin Peaks hills, the job encapsulated everything that was good about San Francisco: People, food and the ability to give of yourself. If I could have kept it up it could have been a Beautiful thing.

In my bi-monthly phone-call to my mother on the East Coast, an act stemming from some primal need to hear her voice, my new-found San Francisco/food service euphoria withered.

“Do you have job yet?” she asked under the blare of Friday night prime-time television.
“Well, yes, I’m working,” I said feeling caution rise in my throat.

Although she was already a semi-retired RN, I pictured her head to toe in starched nurses whites—a gold Saint Christopher’s medallion catching the light.

“How much are you making now?” she asked.
“Well, I’m paid hourly. But, the tips are pretty good–“
“What do you mean tips?” she blared. “Are you working in a restaurant?”

The word “tips” to my mother seemed to conjure the basest characters—renegade airport cabbies who touch your luggage without consent. I looked down at the discernible iced-tea and ketchup stains on my shoes.

“The chef at brunch is named Rogelio– just like Dad– isn’t that neat?”
“I don’t know why you quit your job. You had a good job. But, instead, you want to work in a restaurant.”

The “job” conversation was that brick wall that we loved to run our heads into. The “good job” she referred to was the Television Food Network where I had been a field producer—“assistant producer” by official title and pay, but certainly not by actual work—a place wrought with food snobs and drunken line cooks who couldn’t move fast enough to hack it in real New York restaurants.

“You had an apartment, a car, a good job,” she rehashed. “What else do you want?”

Tears welled in my eyes and streamed down my face. I reached for the half-finished bottle of Chilean red while my mother relegated restaurant work to the uneducated and non-english speaking then drove her point home.

“Honey, I don’t know why you wasted your time and money at an expensive university if you’re going to be a waitress? What is your degree for? What was the point?”

If the “job” conversation brought on mild to hysterical tears, which it usually did when I first came to San Francisco, I would curl up in front of my roommate’s 30-inch TV flicking through cable channels. What was the point? Moving to San Francisco and avoiding any job that involved television, Katie Couric wanna-be’s and production of commercialized media for as long as possible felt right—at twenty-four (at thirty, thirty-one, two). But, it was amazing how six grand in a savings account had slipped through my fingers. Money eventually came up short, but at that point in my life—1996, ’97, part of ’98—romanticism was bottomless. It was like the decision to walk away from my close immigrant family life on the East Coast to head to the unknown Midwest for college. As I considered what life after high school would hold for me, I observed my hardworking aunties and cousins dutifully opting for the least expensive (and nearby) City and State colleges, living with their parents in the family basement until they married and taking board certification tests or nighttime computer classes until they could bolster their surnames with officious acronyms—C.P.A, D.D.S., Ph.D. Since childhood, I was apt to laying in the grass and watching cloud patterns or for hours staring at ocean waves; my family tree’s well-tread career routes eluded me. I always seemed to be asking, What’s out there? What can I do? In the spring of my junior year in high school, an English teacher who had studied at Oxford and seemed to resemble their bearded, wizened Dons updated in chino pants and running shoes recommended a university outside of Chicago. When I was accepted, I packed my romantic notions and left home for the first time.

Thirty to forty-five minutes into my TV-induced vegetable state, the phone rang.

“Why did you tell mom you were working in a restaurant?” my sister said.

I envisioned her in one of those putty-coloured suits you buy off the rack, perhaps at a thirty-percent discount, at a department store. She would be hunched-over some kind of spreadsheet fingers poised above the keys of her laptop as if beginning a masterpiece.

“Well, I am working at a restaurant,” I said.

She tapped quickly at her keys; it sounded like the skitter of rodents.

“How much are you making there per week?”

I gave her a sum and she punched away at the keys again. What are your monthly expenses? she asked. Entertainment budget? Are you spending too much on clothes?

“I just sold some CD’s back to the record store,” I said. If I had sold clothes at a second-hand shop she calculated the buy-back rate as a percentage.

Despite a complete void of accredited University degrees or even a CPA certificate, my sister could crunch numbers with the best of them; she was a marketing director at a large East Coast mortgage bank.

“I thought you wanted to go to Europe?” she asked rhetorically. “You’re not going there on this salary. You can afford to take the bus to San Diego and visit Auntie Layda. Maybe.”

I poured coffee, tastes of wine, recited specials, cleaned the psychotic espresso machine and laughed at Chef Anne’s jokes. To supplement, I took low-paying temporary day-jobs when I could get them. San Francisco was not and is not a haven for job-seeking television producers.
“You look so happy when you’re behind the line,” I said to Anne while she plated lavender honey infused chicken thighs, organic Blue Lake beans and Yukon Gold potatoes mashed with tender nuggets of Rocambole garlic.

She finished the plate with a sprinkle of chopped fresh chives. A Mandarin family grew the chives and all of Café Cuvee’s herbs on a rooftop garden in Chinatown.

“When you love what you do,” she said. “It’s easy to be happy.”

When I was down, the restaurant was there. I sought Anne’s white, pillowy hugs and turned myself over to her umami of roasted root vegetables and citrus skins and the soft hands that put it all together brilliantly night after night. Why hadn’t it been like that with mother? Affection. Back home I had developed a hardness. Maybe, New Yorkers are born with the armor of apathy, of knowing everything and needing nothing. But, each night as I walked North on Church Street and turned right on Market and saw Café Cuvee’s black and white banner pulled taut against a square of twilight, I was walking toward the kind of acceptance we so rarely know.

Doe-eyed Joe polished soupspoons and stocked bottles of Sancerre sometimes reminiscing about his father’s Mission High glory days with Carlos Santana. Slabs of focaccia were pulled—dimpled and hot—from the oven and laid on racks in view of neighbourhood passers-by. After a couple of years, when I graduated from hostess/brunch waitress to garde manger, I worked in the narrow scullery at my own workstation on salad assembly and dessert plating. Rows of knives were neatly sized on a thick magnet mounted against the wall and stainless ladles, spoons and tongs swung overhead keeping me company. I roasted hazelnuts and skinned them between striped towels—the chopped, toasty pieces forming the crust on a ball of Laurel Chenel goat cheese. I spooned Anne’s ethereal chocolate mousse with my steadiest hand onto sugar coated phyllo triangles—layering and building addictive dessert “Towers”—and finished with warmed Belgian chocolate sauce poured from the lip of a battered sauté pan.

At the end of the night, a single glass of Cote du Rhone soothed me before we dove into Anne’s staff dinners—one evenings’ pinnacle: grilled Petaluma chicken supremes with Moroccan charmoula and wild rice pilaf. The tangy charmoula, created in part from the Bay Areas rich gifts of Meyer Lemon trees and wild cilantro leaf, captured such an earthy brightness that all of us were suddenly re-energized. After begging Anne for small take-home containers of the sauce to share with our loved ones, I and the rest of the staff proceeded to a pub crawl up Market street—shrill with Charmoula energy. Not wanting him to feel left out, before we left I snuck my second glass of Cote du Rhone into a tall porcelain mug for Victor, the nineteen year-old dishwasher who would pull mats and hose down the floors after we left. It might be hokey to say ‘Those were the days…,” but how do you honour the moments when you and everything fell into place in the most unlikely circumstances? How could I hold onto a separate peace made real in the weathered corners of Cave Cuvee when my “real” family had decided that working as “unskilled labour” in a restaurant is wrong? If in life I am looking for my own path and I do not believe in being ruled by the fragile pride of my elders, are the Beautiful things discovered along the way enough to sustain me? Simply by remembering them?

I poured coffee, tastes of wine, recited specials, cleaned the psychotically temperamental espresso machine, laughed at Chef Anne’s jokes, and booked slightly higher-paying production crew work when I could get it. I noticed how the sun struck Twin Peaks and shimmered all along Market Street once the fog rolled out at so many ten a.m’s. I discovered a jazz singer named Ledisi at the Café DuNord who sang a cover of “In a Sentimental Mood” in such a way that made me weep. I cooked Thai chicken curry with chilies and baked roasted hazelnut-banana cakes from scratch to the astonishment of friends.

Once, while compressed in my 3’x5’x8.5’ cubicle at Food Network, I read that eighty-percent of the our produce is grown in Northern California, from San Joaquin Valley to Sacramento Valley. A light went on in my belly. Did I need another reason? I respected food—it is of the earth and I am of the earth—I loved being around food. On Wednesday and Saturday afternoons at Café Cuvee before we began prepping for dinner service, Anne would arrive pink-cheeked from the Farmer’s Market. We unloaded her cart like children receiving long-awaited gifts: A box of hardy Fuji apples, overflowing bags of wild roquette, spring onions, leeks, vibrant French carrots, cinched and bulbous heirloom tomatoes nearly purple with sweetness.

version: 12 December 2004

Garam Masala Explored.

2009-03-01T21:47:00.001-08:00

For this past San Valentin menu, I stumbled upon a recipe for fried rice with duck confit that involved garam masala. The last time the spice had intrigued me was circa 1997: Michael Lomonaco's recipe for fancy oatmeal that combined old-fashion rolled oats with mango yogurt and...you guessed it, a "pinch" of garam masala. I was fairly impressed with a desperately underrated spice. But, after moving to Northern California I rarely encountered it.

(Though one other memory stands out circa 1998 at "Big Sherms" chef pad in Lower Haight, SF where spices lined the windowsill in neat rows of baby food jars. We took one down and opened it. "Garam masala," C-double said. Yet, with one single breath, I already knew.)

Fast-forward to 2009...
In the never-ending pursuit of transforming boneless, skinless chicken breast into a dish that will truly blow your mind, an old high school chum offered this marinade:

"try marinating chicken (or ur fav meat) in garam masala, juices of limes and lemon, melted butter, and salt. marinate overnight and grill."

It tastes as good as it sounds—salty, sweet, savoury, buttery and tart hugging the senses! I marinated two chicken breast halves and one boneless skinless thigh (for more levels of fat flavor) for about 4 hours before grilling. Pragya said she's also employed oranges for the marinade, but this time I only used Meyer lemon and lime. I was concerned about the butter as I'm so used to marinating with olive or sesame oil, but it worked out well and brought a distinct richness to the final dish. I served the chicken with a side of micro-greens tossed with cucumber-ranch dressing and got a little naughty with indulgent slices of Acme's Rustic Italian loaf toasted with Straus Creamery salted butter and laced with olio tartufo bianco (extra virgin olive oil infused with white truffle).

Food glee at its finest. Truly.

Buon Gusto, Pragya!

Where's the Ube?

2009-02-19T11:17:00.000-08:00

My good Catholic-self should have seen the false idolatry. My Bourdain fawning had to come to an abrupt pause at some point. So, why not when he's covering my cultural homeland (and possibly yours)—the Philippines.

It wasn't utter disappointment but... Where's the ube? The ubiquitous purple yam used in jams, fillings, cakes and ice cream among other specialties was conspicuously missing in Tony's reportage. It was like a Jeepney without horns. And, speaking of Jeepney's, the show's pacing was like a Jeepney stripped by bandits sitting in a deserted mega-mall, living to rust.

(Am I exaggerating? Perhaps, a bit... But, this show, simply and sadly, was not their best. I even caught a sputtered micro-reference to the Iceland episode from season 1. Was it textbook Tony? Using sarcasm to mask fear?)

Let's start off with the camera work. There are over 7000 islands in the Philippines yet there isn't one aerial showing bodies of water and lush landmass. Ultra-green rice terraces captured from the jumper seat on a bi-plane? No. Handheld shots POV'd off the back of a ferry? No. Tony moving among the massive throngs, wedged between giggling schoolchildren on a crowded jeepney? Nope, nope. nope. Where was the director on this thing? Did they have a director? To make matters worse, this was the first episode to follow last week's Food Porn special—So, where was the Filipino food porn? Where were the close-ups of hacking up that crispy, crimson-skinned lechon with machetes? The nat sounds of primal food forage. And, the cutaways of steam rising from the swines cooked haunches barely veiling the sweat-drenched gaze of accomplished cooks? If Cebuano lechon is truly the best open-pit roasted whole pig in the islands and this episode's pinnacle where's all that luscious eye candy? With exception of the pig's skin, not one camera did the lechon justice. Hello?

Like I said, It wasn't utter disappointment... Poetry and choice bits were scattered throughout: The montage of Manila's battle scarred buildings and pensive populace, the deep yet ambiguous American influences and scenes in the dried fish market were spot on. The dinner at home with artist Claude Tayag was an nice peek into the life of one of the many artists attempting to stay Pampangan tradition in a traditionally Americanized land. Even Tony's rabid observations of poor Agosto were appreciated... Genuine sympathy for the cherubic fan who lured NR to finally tackle PI were noted with an ethnographic tone minus any hurtful edge. Busy and informative at best, emotionally reaching and idling at worst, this episode also lacked an essential element: The bittersweet national historian, or, the ravenous ex-patriot foodie planted in the show to spar with Tony or encourage him partake the latest cultural experiment or ancient food ritual. It cried out for someone or something to add zing. Oh, what I would have paid to see Tony dancing the tinikling!

While they respectfully avoided the Fear Factor-esque exploitation of binging on tuba wine and balut, the show simply wasn't cohesive. Tony himself seemed to apologize in voice-overs, confessing the pressure he felt from Filipino fans. And, then there's the actual possibility that something went terribly wrong... production-wise. After checking the NR site's Philippines episode summary , I noticed the list does not jive with what made it on screen.

No Reservations waited four seasons to produce a show on the Philippines. Andrew Zimmern's show beat them to the punch which is embarrassing enough. And, now that they've been, Tony admits they missed out on a lot. I spent a bewildered twenty minutes or so post-episode harassing my TV: What about American influence on cuisine and culture? (Hot dogs and spaghetti! American Cheese Ice Cream!) What about Spanish, Malay and Chinese influences? The dozen different native bananas and how to prepare them? And, if they ever do this again, I thought, they definitely need to pick better music tracks.

Despite this show, Bourdain still rocks. He's observant yet cool. He processes and intellectualizes but still aspires for wonderment. On camera in the Philippines, he knew sh*t was going sideways. And, let's face it, as a television professional, I know better than to simply blame the "pretty" face on screen. Producers, associate producers, researchers, fixers and DP's (yes, even they screw up), play a plentiful part in poor booking, footage misfires and creating messes that cannot be fixed in post-production. Several fellow foodies even noted one shakey fact that made it into the final cut...

Dear NR:

For the record, the 'adobo template' is not just soy sauce, black pepper and onions. There is one other crucial component...vinegar. Originally used to preserve meat for mountaineers and travelers, vinegar achieves the essence of adobo. The salty, sour and sometimes sweet national dish of an equally pungent yet inviting country and its people. But, don't let that put you off the Philippines.

Peace out,

Spicy

Bourdain says, "I'm a total egg slut."

2009-02-04T10:36:00.000-08:00

There are plenty of things on food shows that we want to make at home, but every once in a while you see something so straightforward that it can go from your eyes to your brain to hands and ingredients to table with just a little sheer creativity. Such is... the Three little pigs sandwich as seen at the Silver Palm restaurant in Chicago.

I just saw this culinary beast featured on the best food show ever... No Reservations.

As you all know, Spicy is a Bourdain disciple like no other. Even though his commentary may be delusion-arily over the top at times (c'mon, was that "mother in law" tamale-dog that good?) or induced after blindly engorging salve for a mean hangover, I'm willing to trust him on this sandwich. Big? Yes. Good enough to each off a t.v. screen? You betcha! What I'm wondering is: What spices are involved in the making of the Three Little Pigs? What kind of breading on the cutlet? Smoked ham? Should I smoke it myself? Condiments?

Enter, gastro-imagination.

As described in the segment, the Three Little Pigs ("3 li'l pigs"?) is one mama fried pork cutlet, smoked ham, strips of bacon, fried eggs (two, I think, topping alternate layers of pork) and melted gruyere on a white, seedless roll. This concoction will be any pork lover's last sandwich on earth. An enormous mound of crispy, smokey, tender and faintly charred and fatty pork parts, touched with hot yolk and topped with nutty cheesy gruyere goo fresh from beneath a flaming salamander. Inspired by good onscreen t.v. etiquette or simply old age and good sense, placed before him Bourdain cut the sammy in half and marveled at its dripping cross-section. "I'm a total egg slut," he remarked at the addition of not one but multiple fried eggs to the layered wonder.

At the Silver Palm, they even have the audacity to serve the Three Little Pigs with french fries.

Here's my proposal: We all do-it-yourself this mama sammy in our own kitchens and report back...

Tell Spicy how your friends and family reacted. And, how many meals you skipped before you could eat again. Tell me where you got your pork. And, whether you braved the smoker. And, of course, my condimentia requires a full detail of the condiments engaged in this sexy act of sandwich making. (Is aioli too rich? Will mustard compromise? Fruit spread?) Trial and error is earnestly encouraged. Send pictures!

*Now that we have a little pet pork project, my friend Juls has also alerted the locals about BaconCamp...proceeds going (lovingly, with terrible irony) to the AHA. I really hope there's wild boar bacon. And, the potluck approach sounds very interesting. I can't wait until March rolls in like a lion and we're all sample-stuffing ourselves indoors without a care...satisfying deeply rooted bacon cravings and popping lipitor.

OK... Ready, set, pork... mobile pic uploads encouraged. I know some of you are standing in professional kitchens as I type, so get going!

Six more weeks of winter according to my blue-eyed groundhog.

- Spicy!

random thoughts on the NR chicago episode:

Bourdain: This is what people mean when they say fish that tastes like the ocean...

"...exactly," Ripert says.

Ripert on smoked oyster jus, "I can have like a dozen like that."

Why is Eric Ripert so cute? Like french cheffym broken english, dorky cute?

Why is Anthony Bourdain's writing so brilliant?

Taste of 2008.

2009-01-09T22:19:00.000-08:00

This pomelo-induced smile is dedicated to home cooks everywhere—especially Chef Dad.

“…home cooking is a link, a continuum from one generation to the next, a flow of knowledge and love that strengthens and nourishes everyone it touches.” Nancy Harmon Jenkins in Gourmet. (1/08)

(please click on any photo to engage BIG photo)

30. Guinness Milk Chocolate Ice Cream poured from the cold canister. The undisputed favorite in the summer of ice cream. It’s handmade by design from David Liebovitz’ The Perfect Scoop. A creamy revelation tamed by milk chocolate and the bitter tang (and fizz?) of Ireland’s beloved stout. (Aug 08)

29. Harvest Supper. (Sept 08) Hanger Steak was the runaway hit at the inaugural Harvest Supper. Do you remember when Anthony Bourdain stepped back behind the line at Les Halles? “Onglet, onglet!!” the expediter bellowed. Onglet is the French name for this sassy, flavorful cut—the hanging tender—also called butcher’s tenderloin, a cut they kept for themselves. Thanks to Chef Dad, I’m a cheap beef aficionado. I stockpile flank and skirt as well.

Our dinner's sweet finale? Straus Family Creamery Vanilla whole milk Froyo with seasonal peaches, waffle cookies and SEVEN spoons!

28. NY Cheese Flan. NY-sister gets “epicurious” in her quest for a formidable flan. Move over NY cheesecake! (Oct 08)27. My nephew discovers pepperocini peppers! It’s "like unlimited flavor."

26. Gotham Eats. (Oct 08)
NY Pastrami from the 2nd Ave Deli And, the answer to the “Gotham Eats” eyeball bender.

Rainbow Cookies. Only in NY? If you’re in Northern California and you know where to get delicious Venetians, Tre-Colore aka Rainbow cookies, please let Spicy know!

25. Ellsworth Farm Cider Doughnuts (10.08) Made in New England and superior to the popular Atkins. Moist apple bits, cinnamon sugar and a cakey-cakey mouthfeel. Heaven.

24. Stainless Steel Central. Form, function and one happy home cook. Giant Sous Chef hangs the pots-n-pans rack! S-hooks hook it all up!

23. Salmon is the new chicken breast, i.e. Getting-bored with a sea -food staple? Perk it up! Poach with wine, red onions, capers, lemons. Cut lemon aioli with poaching liquid for a quick sauce. And, serve with garganelli (“quills”) over leafy greens.

Then, a classic skillet-seared wild salmon with Tyler Florence’s chili seasoning and some sexy sides: blue lake beans and mashed sweet potatoes spiked with Vermont maple syrup.

22. Anchovies! If you’re still making Caesar dressing with anchovy salt or paste, please stop now and buy a jar of oil-cured (or salt-cured) anchovy fillets from Italy. You will be happier. I promise you. I grew up in an Italian-American neighborhood when anchovy pizza was out of fashion, and it still may be, but on a hand-tossed thin crust with a little sautéed escarole…
21. Food for a Rainy Night. Oven Roasted Chicken. The Essential Knife Skills class at Sur La Table taught me to cut root veggies as a foundation for roasting. No rack needed!

20. Help in the Kitchen! Spicy parked Giant Sous Chef at the dumpling filling station...With delicious results.

19. Giant Sous Chef’s Happy Blood Orange Valentine Game Hen paired with a big fat bottle of Trefethen’s Cabernet Franc. (2.14.08)

18. The Great Cocktail Experiment: Pepperocini Martini in honor of culinary beginnings in a very Italian-American ‘hood.

17. Gambas al Ajillo (y limon meyer). Inspired by Mrs. Barre and accompanied by prosciutto-wrapped zucchini spears.

16. Brie & Beef Sliders on Ciabatta. Melts in your mouth, not in your hand.

15. Spicy’s favorite lunch from Whole Foods. Brown Rice sushi and fresh organic fruit.

14. Filipina Girlfriends who like to Eat! Bridal shower + Crispy lechon=Happy Chicas! (8.08)

13. Lentils du Puy with roasted squash and white truffle oil. Another favorite from BI-RITE.

12. Grub for Homesick New Yorkers: Onion Bagel and REAL Straus Family Creamery Euro-style butter. Thank goodness for House of Bagels in SF. (10.08)

11. Linguine Alla Vongole to christen my 3 qt Le Creuset. Transported to a kitchen by the sea, fresh littlenecks steeping and popping in the covered pot. Searching for a mother recipe led me to the thrift-minded linguine con le vongole finte that replaces the clams with fingerling potatoes cooked until falling apart. (Jan 08)

10. Strawberry Mint Julep Inspired by a springtime trip to the South. A slightly spicy gentlewoman's drink. (5.08)

9. Rebuilding New Orleans: Acme Oyster House in the French Quarter. Manning jersies on the wall. And, the best char-grilled oysters in town.

Covert picture-taking at Cochon! The city’s ubiquitous Boudin Balls with house grainy mustard. One restaurant we can say without hesitation is worthy of splurge. Try Everything!

Potato rolls at Cochon. If these are the last thing I eat, I will be happy.

Food for the Spicy Soul: Evening jazz at The Spotted Cat, Frenchman St, NOLA (April 08)
8. Alemany Market frutas. A San Francisco locals favorite.
When Chef Dad visited in Winter ’07 he became mildly obsessed with the local pomelos. There's also a flea market for cookware freaks.

7. 18th Street Gourmet Ghetto throws a post-modern Barrio Fiesta. Roast heritage pork at the summer's block party.

6. The Other White Meat: What to do with a pork tenderloin? Two words: Bánh Mì.

5. Fast-food for Filipino Foodies.
Pampangan Sisig—Max’s Chicken-Style.
Lumpia Shanghai takes a dip. (12.31.08)

4. Cherry Pie (11.08) Memories of gloppy, gelatinous and offensive filling (McDonald's? Hostess?) erased with one forkful of Nora’s Bakery’s (nee Geneva’s in Daly City) buttery, creamy, juicy, cherry pie. Distributed at Drewe’s Bros, SF during the holidays. (So f*ing good.)

3. Cook’s Holiday. After our Christmas feast of pristine local steaks and Maine lobster, who the hell wants to cook? Spicy turns out the Lobstah Roll. (Wicked good.)

2. Pork Love! Incanto’s Pork Ragu made with their Boccalone salumi. Known in SF as the chef’s hangover cure. Just add fried egg.
1. Panettone French Toast. Aaah! Made with Pasticceria Fraccaro’s Panettone al Cioccolato. Creamy dark chocolate nibbles compliment vanilla-rich double-risen bread, sliced thick and transformed using CI's recipe for Challah French Toast (minus ½ t of vanilla and using melted salted European-style butter). Warning: Bear-Hug-inducing.

(aka Panettone Pain Perdu, an alliterist’s delight)

Do as I eat. Eat as I do...Thanks for reading!
Spice-E

(pls. click any pic to enlarge)

Tony Returns.

2009-01-06T10:07:00.000-08:00

For those who know Spicy, you know I'm a big Anthony Bourdain fan. I say this gleefully clutching two signed books, a signed chef coat (gifted to Chef Double in 2001) and memories of working with him when he was nothing but a blip on the Times best-seller list. Even lately his words of advice ring like carillon bells in my ears. "Cook. Write." He pronounced to me over a quick cigarette.

Last night, I christened a carbon steel seasoned-it-myself wok with some tofu-chard stir-fry and whipped up some buffalo tacos in Bourdain's honor. Then, I sat down to the season premiere of No Reservations, the show where Tony (he insisted I call him that!) travels the world seeking the soul of his very global palate. He went to Mexico to bond with Carlos, his Pueblan successor at Les Halles where Bourdain used to be the Executive Chef. Carlos was last seen in "Into the Fire" where he harshed on Tony's performance on the hot line. (Gotta love it! You know AB does.)

I loved this episode. Not only does it give props to Latin restaurant staff whose hard work and skill have their hand in more fine dining than you think in the U.S., but it hammers home the point that NR's fanatical about: It doesn't take white tablecloths, Micheline stars or impossible-to-make reservations for a meal to be worth traveling halfway around the globe. Tasting a variety of street vendor tacos (bull! blossoms! tongue!) were the thread of this episode to illustrate his point. Cameras easily document an absolute truth: Gritty, romantic shots of succulent exotic meats and veggies glistening and sizzling on a streetside flat grill, stuffed into handmade tortillas, into Tony and his compadres eager paws and straight into their rapidly filling bellies.

I know I'm not the only one who over the past ten years has witnessed her haute cuisine lifestyle go from caviar to crackers for the purposes of economic practicalities. So, when I asked myself, Why did they shoot in Mexico? I think NR producers are smart enough to kick-off the season with an inside look at a popularized and democratized travel destination. In other words, a majority of us can actually splurge and fly off in search of a taco bender. Not that they aren't scheduled to air a 'Venice, Italy' episode next week. But, they do hang in DC the following week (Gee, I wonder why?). Within this variety programming, NR has discovered a fine balance of gustatory swooning and marked social commentary.

For all of the above, the show producers deserve a big fat pat on the back. Anyone who works in television and loves food should be dying to work on this show. My one question for them: Does Tony write his own copy? For those of you who haven't read his books, he is talented in his own right. (He's not a celebrity chef cut-out well-oiled by a network agenda). The writing for Season 4's New Orleans episode was, in my mind, either James Beard Award or Emmy-worthy or both. Click here for an insightful essay (graphs 2, 3, 4) on Bourdain and co's work on a Beirut special.

See you next week in Venice! And, stay tuned for Spicy's Best of 2008.
If you watch NR, read Bourdain or have a comment... Please leave one!

Stay tuned for Spicy's Best of 2008...

2009-01-01T13:46:00.000-08:00

Definitely on my list...Delicious Chocolate Panettone Pain Perdu.

Celery. Simplicity.

2008-12-04T00:23:00.000-08:00

..............Post-post-Thanksgiving. The turkey meat's made its final round as breakfast hash. The veggie barley and turkey stock soup's in the freezer. Even the last scrap of pie crust's vanished.

So, what to eat now?

Reared all over UK, Giant Sous Chef's first greatest American memories involve food. At a healthy six-foot-five, his first traditional Thanksgiving dinner--a nearly jaded 24 year-old--was a revelation. "A holiday," he said, "devoted to eating!"

When all is said and done and eaten, my palate begs for simplicity. Something substantial and flavorful. Something to make quickly, yet savor in piece. Something that will use up the whopping bundle of leftover celery jammed into my produce drawer. Mocking me with their giant wands.

But, then, a Gourmet mag recipe leapt off the page. One of the main ingredients? CELERY!!! Yay!
Now, (in three weeks) I can avoid cleaning out the produce drawer of poor celery's Dali-esque remains. Of course, this delicious stir fry recipe was in Gourmet's November issue... the one with the big fat Turkey (stuffed with about 3/4 of a cup of celery) on the cover.

I made it in a flash last night using an amazing flank cut of Estancia grass-fed beef. And, if you don't have Chinese rice wine or whole cumin seeds you can sub out Japanese ginjo sake and ground cumin.

See my messy mise-en-place? (pic, left) for...
Cumin Scented Stir Fry Beef with Celery
straight outta Gourmet Magazine, Nov 2008

6 ounce steak such as blade or flank (trim any fat and gristle)
2 1/2 teaspoon reduced-sodium soy sauce, divided
1/2 teaspoon cornstarch, divided
2 tablespoon Chinese rice wine or medium-dry Sherry
2 teaspoon vegetable oil, divided
1/2 teaspoon minced peeled ginger
1/2 teaspoon minced garlic
1/8 teaspoon cumin seeds
1/8 teaspoon hot red-pepper flakes
2 celery ribs, sliced diagonally 1/4 inch thick, leaves chopped and reserved separately

Equipment: a well-seasoned 12- to 14-inch flat-bottomed wok or a 12-inch heavy skillet.
METHOD and PREP: Halve steak lengthwise if large. Slice across the grain about 1/8 inch thick.

Toss beef with 1/2 teaspoon soy sauce, 1/4 teaspoon cornstarch, and a pinch of salt.

Stir together rice wine, remaining 2 teaspoon soy sauce, and remaining 1/4 teaspoon cornstarch.

Heat wok over high heat until smoking, then pour 1 teaspoon oil down side and swirl to coat. Add beef in 1 layer and cook, turning occasionally, until browned, less than 1 minute. Transfer to a bowl.

Add remaining teaspoon oil to wok, then add ginger, garlic, cumin, and red-pepper flakes and stir-fry 15 seconds. Add celery and stir-fry 1 minute, then add beef and juices and stir-fry 15 seconds. Stir rice-wine mixture, then pour into wok and stir-fry until sauce is bubbling, about 30 seconds. Remove from heat and stir in celery leaves. Serve with: steamed white rice

WHAT DO YOU DO WITH YOUR LEFTOVER CELERY? LEAVE A COMMENT FOR SPICY.

(Spicy serves her stir-fry with BROWN rice, of course!)

Gotham Eats.

2008-10-26T18:56:00.000-07:00

INDENTIFY THIS FOOD!
yes, (above) it's an eyeball bender (for foodists!)*

Nothing takes the edge off the hyper-sensory urban experience like phenomenal weather. ("Autumn in New York" is a jazz standard for a reason.) Autumn is New York City's premiere season—moody-hued foliage, pretty girls in boots and knee-length dresses. And, if you're lucky, a lingering Indian summer backdrop for... Gotham Eats.

Snubbing sidewalk cafes with $8 sides of lightly dressed micro-greens, I was in search of my New York comfort foods. The quest brings to mind a few things: Ethnic (cow heel soup, anyone?), Innovative and Dammit, why can't I button my jeans?

In a very quiet section of the city, 379 Grand Street to be exact, Dou ghnut Plant is making coffee breaks more adventurous. DP is possibly worth a cab ride from midtown at three in the afternoon, especially if you're curious about the Peanut Butter Glaze and Jelly-filled SQUARE doughnut (pic). Innovative! Their most popular one is the Tres Leches, but for purists real moist, rich milk flavor gets lost in translation. There's delectable creme piped into the powdered cake donut, and if you've never had real tres leches cake you would certainly be blown away by such a delight. But it's not true tres leches. (yes, there are two ways to spell doughnut! ...according to the OED.)

And, then...there was the knish—Ethnic!—I shared with my transplanted Californian pal Karey who although Jewish confessed she'd never had a knish. Huh-loow? OY! According to Wikipedia:

"Knishes can be purchased from street vendors in urban areas with a large Jewish population, sometimes at a hot dog stand."

Yes, you can buy a knish at many a NYC hot dog stand. They're located in a steam compartment right behind the large bottles of mustard that any honorable street vendor—Ya want muh-stud?— will pump into your knish. At the 2nd Avenue Deli where I got our plain knish (they're supersized), their spicy yellow mustard melded perfectly with the creamy innards of savory potato delicately packaged in a thin, chewy dough glistening with egg wash. Where did we dine on that 77 degree Fall day? The steps of the NY Public Library, of course!

With a bare bones budget, I had to stay focused on things that I've yet to source in Northern California... orbs of golden knish, a cuban sandwich crafted on a flat grill in working-class Queens and...gasp!...Rainbow Cookies. Call them "Tre-colore" cookies or "Venetians," the Italian classic's colorful cakey layers alternating with a thin layer of fruit jam (I like apricot!) and finished with a top-n-bottom chocolate coat has made it's way into Jewish delis, chain supermarkets and Grand Central Station coffee kiosks—all over the 5 boros—but apparently not Northern California. What gives? (I horded a box of Rainbow cookies for ten days across three states.)

Maybe, my trip back home wasn't standard bagel and lox, but it was delicious...and relatively cheap. (I guess I'll hit WD-50 another time!) When I wasn't subway surfing, I spent more on taxis than I did on dinner ...There was even a misty evening spent in Flushing tracking Joe's Shanghai's legendary xiao long bao, aka "soup dumplings" and red bean doughnuts! By the time I reached Connecticut I was having "trouble" with my jeans. (i.e., Get ready for my low-fat holiday cooking posts!)

For more on being Frugal in NYC check out the Times' Oct 12th Travel Section. Next time, I swear, I will go to Brooklyn. And, mangia Italian food. Join me on my next trip to... Om, nom, nom...

P.S. I didn't forget NY PIZZA! I'm a fan of NY's Two Boots, but in a pinch—just up the street or down some steps you can always find a hot slice!

(Late at night...the neon beckons. Salty, chewy, cheesy, greasy and cheap.)
Clockwise from top left: Gabby's in Hollis; neapolitan slice from Penn station's food court; late night sicilian slice.

*inspired by "games" magazine ca. 1980's - can you identify this "eyeball bender"?
post a comment with your answer. Above, pics 2 & 3, 4 & 8: Times Square at night & Union Square Green Market, Day, another Doughnut Plant rush, Jay Z at the 179th Street Deli, a real hole in the wall in Queens.

(storefront menu on hillside ave, nyc)

Stripey Bear's Appendage.

2008-10-09T12:12:00.000-07:00

stripey bear went back to school...but the other kids made fun of his appendage!
(it's a rose crescent fingerling potato)

Best Fingerlings:
Boil them in a big pot of salted water under fork tender. Then, spread them on a half pan sheet, sprinkle with sea salt and pepper and roast them in the oven. Have aggression? You can smash them first with a mallet.

For all you Muffaletta Freaks—

2008-10-04T18:57:00.000-07:00

At the Ferry Building my heart jumped a bit when I saw the big red sign for Boccalone—Chef Chris Cosentino's foray into the Salumeria arts. But, my heart actually started racing when I read the word "MUFFALETTA" under the words "HOT PANINO." (So much for my three mile run and healthy lunch!) The last muffalettas to enter my system had been in New Orleans this past April (served warm and cold), so I had high expectations. I get mad muffaletta cravings, too. I even lodged a grievance at Bi-Rite when they took their cold muffaletta off the deli menu.

For a hot, pressed version, Boccalone's done good. And, I'm kindof a freak about Italian meats. (having spent formative years in an Italian 'hood in Long Island). Boccalone's muffaletta meat was sliced pretty thin, almost shaved, and the three or four minutes under the hot press really brought out the flavour...and the tenderness. The mortadella (with bright green pistachios) was my favorite. Melt in your mouth. And, the Boccalone salame while not my favorite local salami cold was delectable warmed. Oiliness was a slight issue, but the bread wasn't soggy or unpleasant. Not sure what kind of cheese they put in there and another tablespoon of house-made (from house-cured) olive spread (or more piquant spread? what else is in the mix?) would 've given it that Deep South kick. Overall, Boccalone's warm, cured meat is the star. I will return...

I've written a "Ferry Plaza Frugal" list on Yelp.com, but at $8 a pop for a 6-7 inch sub (they don't use a round loaf—wtf?—Neither did Bi-rite or Cafe Amelie) this doesn't make the cut.

Perhaps, I should make another list... Ferry Plaza Treats... or FP Good Eats... or just plain Eat-here-even-if-high-food-costs-suck... Alas, we pay the price for our passions...

Should we make our own muffalettas? A generous slick of aged olive spread spiked with vinegary red peppers, melt in your mouth meats cut thin and piled tall and a few earthy slices of provolone inside a semi-soft, slightly sweet large round muffaletta loaf.

Do you have a muffaletta story? Tell me.

Eat well~

Spice-E

Eat. Drink. Vegas.

2008-09-18T23:45:00.000-07:00

Fall leaves at the Bellagio...bellissimo!

You don't have to hit it big to eat well in Vegas. With increased fare-friendly access to short-stay travelers, and a cozy desert climate on a city filled with hotel deals, Las Vegas has become an bullseye for the food-centric. Skip the obvious hotspots for now like Sensi, Michael Mina or the high-end Bellagio buffet. In fact, you can even eat on the (relative) cheap. Here are my Top 5 discoveries and ticked-off Vegas Must-Try's... all of them right on the Strip:

5. Nathan's in the Luxor Food Court: Newsflash! New Yorker's you can go home again—in Sin City. Chili dog, limp crinkle fries and an assortment of watered-down sodas in monster sizes. Since the bloated-latter-day-Elvis-look is expected for a weekend of high-rollin', make this your first stop. It's a great warm-up if you plan to drop bigger bucks on a more special meal!

4. Nothing puts the polish on post-modern Vegas like celebrity chefdom. Bobby Flay wins more of my respect at his Mesa Grill brunch. Spicy scrambled eggs seem cliché until you taste: Golden, velvet folds laced with butter and crisp jalepeños. Served with black pepper biscuits and a side of chewy, salty parmesan grits (blessed with big, bad Bobby Love, we spied him at a back table watching the game!). The superfly touch was the white peach margarita. WORD. Definitely try this at home. Try several.

3. Despite my own recent frozen treat-making frenzies, the multitude of gelaterias in the malls, food strips and hotels makes it impossible not to try at least one—even if it is $5 a cup. Lemon and watermelon sorbetti at Cafe Gelato in the Bellagio was a much needed late night snack after a solitary stroll up and down this uber-renowned strip!

2. When adult Disneyfication got me down, I transported myself at Mon Ami Gabi with rude waiters, rare steak, light, crispy frites and crusty warm baguette. This is the way to eat entrecote saignant, snails and sinful frisee and bacon salade.The refreshing 'Frangria' a French wine inspired was a nice girly-booze touch. I wish I'd room for the Apple Tarte Tatin and Bananas Foster Crepe. Or, went back in the a.m. for the waffles and...oui, oui... blueberry French toast!

1. Jean Philippe Patisserie ("the JPP"). Extravagant yet incredibly simple. I had to go twice. Pushing through the hordes checking-in for an off-peak week at Bellagio, the JPP is tucked in the Spa Tower just beyond the botanical garden (under renovation as of this writing). It's the patisserie for anyone who's ever obsessed over quality ingredients. Check out the rice crispy tree and lush chocolate fountain; sandwiches, salads and pastries vie for attention like works of modern art. The standouts for me were Banana toffee crunch gelato and King crab salad served with fresh mango, papaya and a lemon vinaigrette! They even sell their own peanut butter, honey and jams! With its opulent glass flora and the Clooney-Pitt connection, Bellagio is prime Vegas. And, now, there's another reason to go. Pictures don't even do it justice, the Jean Philippe Patisserie needs to be experienced. If I never go again, at least I've gone.

Old Vegas Lives. But, don't eat there.
(please click pic to enlarge)

Foodies Protest the end of Summer...

2008-08-30T16:11:00.000-07:00

... with Ice Cream!

When you're born in summer (like me!), ice cream and frozen treats are in your Top 5. In fact in my family, it's not a birthday cake unless it's ice cream cake. (Mine had a crab piped on it.) Sooo, recently…

I've become obsessed. And, reading David Lebovitz’ The Perfect Scoop isn't helping. Lebovitz is an enabler. And, my sister is the pusher…

It all started with the gift of ice cream machine. In July, an innocent little package arrived from my sister for my birthday. It sat in the box for over a month until I bought David’s book, and I started off making some gelato…

NOW, I go out of my way to buy organic heavy cream and obsess over cacao content. I arrange my schedule to account for canister freezing and custard chilling times. I catch myself at work wondering things like, How do you really clean a fine mesh sieve? (Seriously, does anyone know?)

But, after early forays into gianduja gelato, blueberry and vanilla frozen yogurts and Vietnamese coffee ice cream, I still wasn’t completely satisfied. Despite all the straining, stirring and sweating, there was something missing. To feel like an ice-cream-making success, I needed to reach a point where obsession became taste revelation…French-style Chocolate Ice Cream is it. For Lebovitz’ recipe, I turned to my all-time favorite California chocolatiers: Scharffen Berger semisweet 60% & bittersweet 72% and Guittard dutch-process cocoa. (My kind of summer triple-play.) The results were surprising yet when you think about it obvious. Creamy, custardy, soft yet dense, California-style intense chocolate flavor... fruity acidity and that dark choco bite...trademark Scharffen Berger. (Made lickable!) Devour with waffle cookies.

Here's some Frozen Fun Trivia...Straight from Spicy's Archives:

The first time I had gelato? Circa 1991 in NY's West Village at Rocco's—Italian pistachio with a lacey millefiori cookie. Favorite Italian ice flavor? Rainbow. (Old school. There's one called Blue Hawaii that’s captured my niece's generation.) Best Sorbet I've ever had? Pear-Chardonnay at Gelato Classico in SF's North Beach. Most unusual ice cream I've ever tasted? Bubblegum. I think it’s disgusting. Most unusual ice cream I've ever heard of? American Cheese! (A highlight from kuya’s trip to the PI.) What kind of ice cream I'm making tomorrow? Guinness Milk Chocolate.

Have you been making ice cream, too? (Or, sorbet? Or, a dish of slushy granita?) Let's share some favorite recipes...Please leave a comment for the Spicy Browngirl...

(Look! We're holding ice cream cones!)
(actually, i think we're eating frozen bananas)

other photos (from top down):
Triple-Cali-Chocolate Ice Cream, Spicy's 9th Birthday Cake from Carvel,
Vanilla frozen yogurt made with Straus Yogurt and served with Frog Hollow Farm Peaches,
Rocco's on Bleecker, NYC

Sawsawan!

2008-07-30T23:52:00.001-07:00

If everyone had the same taste...

...there would only be one flavor.

Sometimes, I get homesick for loud brownfolk. Homesick for a world where aunties arrive, competing for loudest entrance to a room. A world where the dining room seems to tilt as one more pot of pancit noodles or another platter of plantain fritters is added to the table.

(we get excited about karaoke; we are, afterall, ASIAN)

When I can't fly back home to my NY, I head straight down to SoCal where my "California" cousins have been calling San Diego home for over 30 years. Of course, when we get together, there is plenty of eating going on. Witness the edible carnage at a lazy Sunday afternoon bbq in Temecula...

(we get excited about meat marbling, too)

But, for the brown and down, meat—beef, fish or pig!—is not officially eaten in Filipino homes until a bowl of sawsawan is prepared. Loaded with salt, tang and kick, the sawsawan is essentially a condiment. Yet, so much more. Think of it as a dipping sauce that makes use of all those tiny bowls that come with a full dinnerware set. And, you thought those were for ice cream! Well, think again.

(this was an enormous bowl of sawsawan made by my cousin's husband who does the equivalent of "keeping kosher" by "preserving pinoy." Romel's sawsawan is composed of chopped fresh tomato, white onion, jalapeños—seeds included, pickled peppers, probably a couple whole garlic cloves, lemon juice, vinegar and soy sauce.)

Sawsawan, usually a "sour accompaniment," is delicious with any grilled, broiled, baked or fried meat. It can be as simple as a bowl of patis. Or, a side of soy sauce, calamansi juice and a few dry red chilies. How 'bout a small dish of bagoong with chopped green mangoes?

With warm, steamed white rice and a meat of choice, sawsawan makes a meal more personal. Perhaps, you're partaking in a host family's favorite sawsawan. Maybe, your little dipping bowl transports a solitary meal to a place called Home. If you want to get REAL, eat with your hands*: Squish together mounds of meat and rice, dip and enjoy. A friend once wrote that her perfect lover would relish the scent of patis on her fingers and seek out her vinegar kiss.

Sawsawan. Flavor. Try it.

(it's guaranteed to empty your rice pot!)

*Kamayan: "Eat with your hands"

More Strawberries (Happy Bastille Day!).

2008-07-14T21:51:00.000-07:00

Today at work I had a fried chicken craving. I announced it to the first person I saw in the hallway, but he couldn't help me. Then, I told Julie. And, she was glad to bend my ear:

"Bakesale Betty's," she said. "They have chicken sandwiches, and they only have one kind. But, it's really, really good. Don't tell anyone you're going. You'll be buying sandwiches for the whole office!"

She went on to passionately described the coleslaw-stuffed, fried chicken on a roll concoction at Betty's.

This is what I lovelovelove about the Bay Area. It's what brought me here. Eighty percent of the nations produce grown an hour away, and nearly everyone's everyday passion for food. I used to think that I tended to gravitate toward "foodies" or whatever people who stock four different kinds of paprika like to call themselves, but after ten plus years in the Bay, I know I can't get through even the simplest meal—pizza, a bagel, a packet of oatmeal even—without hearing some kind of strong opinion about food.

Transplant or local, like a rite of passage, nearly everyone in the Bay has had an artichoke, knows what aioli is (and how to make it!) and can tell you the difference between wild and farm-raised. Food crazy is in the air, the water, the food. The whole, organic food. Whether you happened upon your food passion as a waiter or a food snob or both, we love our food. Especially, OUR food. Bay Area food. Which brings me back to Bakesale Betty's...

The drive from Emeryville was a little under ten minutes (with the speed bumps). As I pulled up to 50th and Telegraph, I could already see the line about twenty deep at the door. Magically, a parking spot opened. Then, I fell in line noting the lunch crowd hunched over bare ironing boards serving as cafe tables.

(all pictures courtesy of my fellow yelpers)

Almost immediately, someone filed behind me, assessed the waiting line and muttered with conviction.

"It's so worth it," he said to himself. "So worth it."

"Yeah, there's a wait," I said stating the obvious.

"Have you ever been here before?" he asked.

"No. This is my first time."

"Really? Wow."

He thought I was a tourist.

"Where are you from?"

I explained the fried chicken craving. It's so worth it, he said again. And, he went on to passionately describe his morning ritual of Betty's pear-ginger scone, coffee and a fried chicken sandwich—he saves it for a few hours until lunchtime—that he eats at work in Martinez.

"You drove here from Martinez?" I asked.

He said yes. Then, he said, Is that far? But, he didn't seem to mind. Especially, if it meant he could get Betty's fried chicken sandwich in his stomach. Passion. For food.

The line moved fairly quickly, and before I knew it I was wide-eyed inside the shop. A mound of ginger cookies and a whole pie brimming with berries welcomed me like a grand dames on silver stands. The air buzzed with the yammering, hustling staff—about a dozen people including Betty clad in her signature blue wig!—assembling and stuffing pastry boxes and filling and calling out orders. The air was just slightly sugary.

I ordered two chicken sandwiches, a ginger cookie and a strawberry shortcake (yet another craving I've had since strawberry season went into full swing). The single-file line pressed through the door with ravenous eyes.

Just beyond the glass partition where the staff made sandwiches, it was a tremendous scene. Not one but two (3 gallon cap.) metal bowls stacked with freshly fried chicken breasts, a third bowl heaped with an even fresher cabbage slaw flecked with vibrant pickled red onions and hands, very fast hands, inserting chicken and slaw, chicken and slaw into a delicate yet substantial torpedo roll.

(the chicken sandwich is $7.75; they also have chicken pot pie and sometimes egg salad sandwiches, I hear)

The price for such a great lunch spot tip was getting a fried chicken sandwich for Julie, too. But it was a pleasure in itself to watch her eat the damn thing in about fifty-five seconds.

"You saved my life," she said. "This is the only thing I eat fast. Uh, well, this and In-n-Out."

The chicken was incredibly moist, and the slaw was laced with sweet (champagne?) vinegar dressing instead of traditional mayo. Bakesale Betty's quenched the fried chicken fiend in me, for sure. Or, for now. I even got to try a delicious "bakesale" good—the strawberry shortcake.

Betty's famous shortcake mounds, layered in sugared strawberries and a heap of dense, whipped cream sure was tasty. But, I wouldn't say it surpassed my friend Anne's strawberry shortcake— Anne employs the big guns: thick strawberry puree, irish-secret-recipe shortcakes the size of your head, creamy light dollops—

But, I wouldn't want to get into every little detail from cream to crumb though. I wouldn't want you to think I was a food-obsessed, crazy, FTW, all-passionate Bay Area foodie.

It gets cold here (in May!). Then, we roast things.

2008-05-26T23:56:00.000-07:00

But. first, another quick trip to NOLA*...

Southern Strawberries Juleps!

- crushed ice
- strawberry pureé
- Southern Bourbon, like Knob Creek
- simply syrup
- mint
-water

Juleps are deceptively simple: Muddle mint (but not too much), a few strawberry slices and tsp sugar, 2 tsp still water. Add a handful of crushed ice, strawberry pureé, simple syrup and bourbon, to taste. Cut with still water as needed. Garnish with mint and fresh strawberry slices. A smooth, sweet taste of sun-drenched Southern goodness. Positively enjoyable!

IT GETS COLD HERE. THEN, WE ROAST THINGS:
More comfort food from the chilly city by the Bay

... with Ella Bella Farm Provence Sea Salt.

The micro-climate known as the San Francisco Bay Area has many surprises like eighty-five-degree beach weekends in April while March's lions still extend their paws into Spring. Long-lines at ice cream shops in February. Cashmere, denim and Uggs in May!

When the sun disappears and the skies threaten rain, I roast chicken legs in my heavy iron skillet. Aromatics and herbs that hint at summer and spring and a simple gravy (roasted root veggies, light stock hit with an immersion blender) to warm the bones. Pan-roasting chicken is all about the sear. Start off with fresh, free-range birds and make sure to give it some good brown color before it goes into the oven.

For a more hand-held affair, smoke up the house with an indoor grill. Beef-n-Brie sliders on toasted Ciabatta bread unites local grains & artisan bakers, humanely-handled beef and French brie.

(You can even add caramelized shallot!)

NO FRIES NEEDED!

So, what else do you do when the weather runs cold in the Bay Area?
Turn on the heat and cuddle up to that stack of magazines by the bed. Open up the "off-limits" bottle of Cabernet Franc, and shop for cookbooks online. You can even don your favorite pashmina and walk off (up steps, stairs and hills of SF) all that gooey brie.

Still hungry? How about another not-so-heart-healthy cold-weather snack?

Roasted Asparagus and Crimini Mushroom Dressing
with Toasted Double-Cream Gouda on Levain Bread

(Look delish? Send me a comment and I'll tell all: technique & recipe!)

*Check out my previous posts and pics from New Orleans.

Always,

Cooking with E Luv.

"Do you know what it means to Miss New Orleans?"*

2008-05-12T21:29:00.000-07:00

Here I am again. Decatur Street.
Always my first stop in the Quarter.
Licking my white-sugar-coated-cafe-au-lait lips.
Inhaling the Mississippi at night.
It begins.

Eight years have passed since my last trip to New Orleans. My Uncle Sidney's not up in the loft at his store. That same trumpeter doesn't stand on the corner of the Square anymore.*

I can't help but wonder who's left and who's stayed (despite all the documentaries about it!). All I want is to throw money around because I can't help build houses. And, stay...

I'm eating my beignet. But, I still miss New Orleans.

*(with a nod to Jazz great Louis Armstrong.)

*(Uncle Sidney has been displaced to a condo in Gainesville; I still miss that trumpet.)

I'd Rather be Jazzfestin'.

2008-04-29T10:33:00.001-07:00

As our Big Easy holiday ends, we linger on thoughts of crawfish (Acme's Craw Puppies!) and bumpin' and jazz... Big. Easy.

Come back soon for adventurous tales of eating and drinking along the Mississippi.

Chicken Breast Dumplings... and a Spicy Wontons EXTRA!

2008-04-06T21:22:00.001-07:00

If you're Asian, you make enough to feed your family-- blood and extended-- even if they're thousands of miles away. If they are far away, you freeze.

This year I attempted chicken breast dumplings. A friend had left me a Kitchen Aid sausage attachment, and I was eager to grind my own meat. Chicken breast extruded right into a big stainless bowl with the rest of my dumpling filling mix of green onions, garlic, S&P and drizzles of toasted sesame oil. (A bit healthier than the traditional pork; much more substantial than veggie versions.)

Once again, armed with teaspoons and little bowls of egg white, we filled and crimped, filled and crimped... The silky wonton skins stuffed with slippery raw meat, the skins-edge dotted with egg white and sealed, with a simple pattern, from the tines of a dessert fork.

When the last dumpling was filled, it was nearly midnight. Exhausted, I tossed the dumplings in freezer bags lined with parchment paper. Ready when we are... for soup, pan fry, ravioli or a gently steamed snack.

*Make and freeze your dumplings in November, December and January, then have them available through the rains and just in time for Chinese New Year!

OUR FOOD-CENTRIC WEBSERIES IS UP... CHECK OUT THE TASTY VIDEO!

IS this a BUTTER BLOG? More obsessions revealed.

2008-03-22T18:51:00.000-07:00

It could very well be. After recent gourmandine trysts with Monsieur le Beurre... in the form of extremely tasty butter croissants at Tartine (see pic) and Acme bread. AND, some 85% + fatty butter from Straus Family Creamery where they (from Saveur, Mar 08) "celebrate the variations." In spring and summer, their butter has a "yellower color" with a "slightly sweeter, herbaceous flavor" made from milk given by grass-fed cows. (Delicious, of course!)

Straus Family Creamery sublime salted butter. Sold-by-the-$2-stick (at BiRite and other stores).

(spread that on your sconehenge english muffin!)

On matters other than butter, I've succumbed to Williams-Sonoma's April catalog of delights. This is my latest obsession:

The three-quart saucier that I'm convinced will dispel my risotto woes (yes, dammit, I parboil my arborio! I learned this trick from the line cooks at a "trattoria" in Evanston. Mounds of half-cooked rice were drained and packed into square tubs, then scooped into 10-inch saute pans to finish with broth... Portabello. Pea, white onion and ham. Or, just pure, creamy parmiggiano risotto--perfect everytime. But, completely inauthentic, I gather).

I've tried a handful of times to make risotto the traditional way: toasting the rice with the aromatics; a hefty pot of stock simmering at the ready; 1/2 cupfuls of patience and a wooden spoon. All for naught. I can still taste that first time in my little kitchen on Oak Avenue, ca. 1993. Steam from a too-shallow pan flying up in my face; the fruitless search for extra canned broth that would never save my risotto da inferno. The crunchy mass Stephen tried to eat before reverting to a pint of Ben and Jerry's (Chocolate Fudge Brownie, if I remember correctly) for dinner.

Anyway, in cooking, the right pan/utensil can solve lots of things. If only life were so sure.

Check out the cool video on how Le Creuset is made at the WS site.
(Making videos for WS is my dreamjob. Unfortunately, I did not shoot this video.)

Do you share my obsessions?

Limited-production Butter? Pricey French cookware? Let me know in a comment!

E -

More to come soon... Cabinet Curry, Freezer Dumplings. These are my chilly weather recipes. Hope to share them before we're all sporting tanktops in SF! If not, we'll surely think of something.

And, if that wasn't Spicybrowngirl enough for you...

2008-03-10T17:15:00.000-07:00

...TRY SOME OF THIS.
(maybe, tuna and pepperocini's in the previous post is not your idea of spicy.)

Chorizo Bilbao is one of my very favorite things. I love to cook up my 'ghetto' paella chock full of shrimp, chicken, pimenton, peppers, peas and sizzling slices of this greasy, salty semi-cured Spanish sausage.

(OK. I confess. I do use arborio in my paella!)

See this beloved chorizo in action:

If you think that sizzles, visit shadtrax.com to download the Spicy Browngirl Mix.

(aka Super Sounds for the Kitchen, Bedroom and Beyond.)

Spicy Brown Girl

track list

Al Otro Lado Del Rio – Jorge Drexler

War Ina Babylon – Max Romeo

Reggaeton Latino – Don Omar

Sunshine – Floetry

Rainy Dayz (feat Jah Rule) – Mary J Blige

Closer – Goapele

Fanatic – Vivian Green

Brother Sister – Brand New Heavies

Love Rain – Jill Scott

Sometimes – Erykah Badu

Your World - Common

What's in the cabinet-cookery returns.

2008-03-10T08:35:00.000-07:00

Today, we play with canned tuna found lingering in the cabinet.

WHY? you ask.

(For a wee frugal feast.)

Were you menaced with canned tuna as a child? Whether its unique aroma plagued your superheroes lunchbox, or you were greeted with the deadly tuna noodle casserole at dinnertime, it's safe to say, canned tuna gets as bad a wrap in the U.S. as instant mac-n-cheese. And, now that we're all a little older and much, much more sophisticated, we banish canned tuna from our chic existence. Oui, oui.

Well, as far as this tuna genre is concerned, I consider myself lucky. I was raised in the U.S. by immigrants, so I didn't discover tuna-as-cheap-food-staple until college. You know, there was actually a time when my mom bought canned tuna, but I think it was just for show-- some kind of mercy on us for when our 'white' friends came over. My brother slid the jars of bagoong and jackfruit to the back of the 'fridge, and we feigned tuna in the cabinet like everyone else. My dad, who did most of the cooking in the house, never touched them.

During college, I worked at nouveau diner that served a very serious tuna cheddar melt on cornbread. While its mayo goodness and ooey cheese complimented the salty, chunky salad well, an odyssey was born out of the fact that I wasn't exactly impressed... I didn't understand tuna salad until I came to San Francisco and had BiRite's housemade. It was a food moment.

Capers. Red onion. A curious lack of celery. Good mayonnaise. It was tuna salad reborn on my palette so much so that I never bothered to steal their recipe. I took a tub of it on the road when I moved from California to Colorado.

(I feel BiRite's house items kindof have goût de terroir. It's the micro-climate!--in the way NY bread has NY water.)

Smuggling tuna salad through the Sierras. I know it sounds crazy, but as a child I was terrorized by pots of oxtails (and tripe) in peanut butter sauce that simmered away on the stove for half a day. (My dad was always 'perfecting' it.) I had zero tuna trauma. It was a new taste.

Soon enough, I discovered tuna in olive oil. In Italy, where I tend to think there's also a lack of tuna disdain, it's called tonno in olio d'oliva. If you're trying to kick your mayo habit as I am these days, the olive oil offers a different take on richness. And, it's just the right ingredient to make a tuna salad for your chic, grown-up tastes. I borrowed the capers from BiRite's recipe, and add in pepperocini, crushed red pepper and extra drizzles of extra virgin olive oil from me.

A little decadence. A little bite.

Molto Chic Italian Tuna Salad

- 1 - 6 oz. can tuna packed in olive oil, drained
- 1 T. non-pareil capers, some juice
- 1 small shallot clove, thinly sliced
- 1 or 2 golden pepperocini, sliced into rings, to taste
- 1-2 t. extra virgin olive oil, the best you have, to taste
- 1 to 1 ½ t. lemon juice, meyer's are great
- kosher salt and ground peppercorn blend, to taste
- crushed red pepper flakes,optional
- white italian flatbread (like focaccia) or pita bread
- aioli, optional

Drain and place tuna in prep bowl. (You may want to add back some of the drained liquid depending on texture of the tuna.) Add capers, shallot (better than red onion!) and pepperocini. Mix gently with a spoon while breaking up the tuna. Add salt and pepper, olive oil and lemon. Mix gently again, then taste. Fix seasonings. Chill in refrigerator covered in plastic wrap.

Cut flatbread or pita into triangles or small squares just larger than bite-size. Toast until medium golden. Let cool slightly. Cover will small amount of aioli or olive oil mayo. Top with chilled tuna salad. Scatter thinly sliced shallot and-or pepperocini rings. Drizzle with your best extra virgin olive oil. Sprinkle with a pinch of crushed red pepper flakes.

Close your eyes. Imagine yourself reclining while tasting the azure Mediterranean air!

(Spicy bits.)

It's not called an "olive oil croissant" for a reason.

2008-03-05T10:11:00.000-08:00

I won't start calling myself a "blutter'er" or a "but'ogger," but I can't wait to see how many bloggers do after reaching into their mailboxes this month and birthing "The Beauty of Butter" from Saveur, aka 'Playboy for Cooks.' If you didn't read all about it, contribs celebrate butter by glancing at it's controversial past when margarine surpassed U.S. butter consumption in the 80's, then sing a song of praise for its present popularity.

(US butter-lust could be a surrogate European vacation while the EURO kicks the USD on its bum.)

Butter has never been a bad'un in my book, but I wanted to share my own tale of butter lust...

On a recent visit, my sister said that butter is only really bad (the big BAD cholesterol) when it reaches past the smoking point. "Oh, really?" I said while patiently awaiting careful crisping , especially edge, on our multi-grain pancakes by cooking in small puddle of browned butter.

(Maybe she was saying this because her kids were watching.)

I was butter-obsessed as a child, I reminded her, snubbing bright tubs of margarine mom bought in three-packs. I learned patience from my love of butter. I had to lop hard pats off a stick of unsalted butter for my bagels. First I toasted the bagel to soften the butter, then spread it carefully and then I toasted the bagel again, just long enough to watch the butter bubble-up hot and golden already anticipating the first warm, crunch. Warm. Butter. Crunch.

Over platters of crispy-edged pancakes and real maple syrup, we resigned ourselves to the fact that I will be taken out by a fate that can be directly and easily traced to my over-zealous relationship with food. Chef-author Anthony Bourdain will likely share my food fate. In the New Yorker, he gave readers the straight dope on a much loved fat (from "Don't Eat Before Reading This," New Yorker, 1999):

"In the world of chefs, butter is everything. Even non-French restaurants... throw around butter like crazy. In almost every restaurant worth patronizing, sauces are enriched with mellowing, emulsifying butter. Pastas are tightened with it. Meat and fish are seared with a mixture of butter and oil. Shallots and chicken are caramelized with butter. It's the first and last thing in almost every pan; the final hit is called monter au beurre. In a good restaurant, what this all adds up to is that you could be putting away almost a stick of butter with every meal."

Monter au beurre. It's not called an "olive oil croissant" for a reason.

(Miss Minnesota, butterized.)

Morning-After Wild Blueberry Muffins
(tops with that warm, butter crunch)

Want to know more about the science of butterfat or hear a geek's tale of homemade buttermaking. ? (or paste, http://www.cookingforengineers.com/article/113/Making-Butter)

Want the recipe for the muffins? Please leave a comment and let me know. They're delicious!

Something 'bout Spicy.

2008-02-27T01:09:00.000-08:00

IN my favorite scene in the movie SIGNS, the camera cuts to Mel Gibson sitting at the head of the table presiding over his family at what he fears is their last meal together before being attacked by aliens. Double bacon cheeseburgers, greasy french fries, heaps of meaty spaghetti, stacks of buttery, syrupy pancakes and milkshakes all around clutter the family table...their hollywood faces stricken with impending doom. Met with the end-- What would you chew?

(a few of my) Last Meals on Earth: No Subsitutions Please!!@**

Mexicali Repast with bubbly and a late night trip to spain

- to some LOUD mariachi with accordions, omalara portuondo & andrés segovia.

Veuve Clicquot, Wild Strawberries and Blackberries.
Quesadilla con gambas ala parilla, carne asada, cilantro y queso fresco and mango-papaya salsa 'a mano' by someone’s loving abuela.
Whole red snapper grilled (deboned tableside), cilantro rice, heirloom black turtle beans, avocado crema.
red wine sangria (con banana, peaches and blackberries), rosado.
More strawberries, blackberries and french Champagne.
all night dancing in the island heat (to renew appetite).
churros y chocolate from café san gines, madrid, spain.

Memories of my Italian neighborhood
- to the arias of la Bohéme & madonna’s “borderline.”

Half a New York “Italian” on a roll with pepperocini, o&v, s&p. Side of eggplant parmesan, hot, garlic bread, limonata pellegrino.
3 slices of thin crust cheese pizza (from a wood-fired oven): one regular, one with black olives, garlic and extra tomato slices, the other with escarole, onion and anchovy. A ½ litre of chianti classico, barolo or brunello di montalcino.
pistachio, chocolate hazelnut italian ice & a florentine cookie.
La Serra Moscato di asti or Bonny Doon vin di glaciere.

An American Melting pot feast with a final nod to Scotland & canada
- to “be bop,” billie holiday and mozart’s adagios, al fresco.

Grey goose poire and santa cruz cranberry juice, shaken, a few pomegranate seeds.
A litre of sparkling calistoga water.
Salad of arugula, friseé, roasted beets, tsatsuma supremes and chevre with meyer lemon vinaigraitte (made from northern and central valley california produce).
A few more glasses of sparkling calistoga water, cabernet franc (Rhone valley)
Linguine alla vongole, parsely, chili flake and lemon handmade by someone's loving Nonna.
Whole Steamed maine lobster, Steak Frites (ribeye and yukon shoestrings preferred)
Grilled artichokes, asparagus and fingerling potatoes, meyer lemon aioli
Scharffenberger Chocolate pudding, mint whipped cream and/or pistachio and chocolate hazelnut gelato with crushed almond biscotti.
Double shot espresso.
rest period.
Balvenie, double wood, single malt, with gentle massage.
A cigarette (export A – extra light silver), with a view. If it really is my last meal...
In the end, why not feast... with decadence and abandon!?

How to Drink an Avocado: (and other uses for SCM and Avos)

2008-02-26T16:37:00.000-08:00

An American friend confided that her Italian host family had served morning toast spread with lard. I’ve heard a similar story about German's and their toast. And, in England they reportedly defile their daily bread with Marmite! How many finicky American teens--privileged enough to study abroad-- come-of-age as they meekly accept the unheard of culinary customs of their foreign host families? Raised as a first generation Filipina in New York, I didn't have to venture far for a different take on toast and jam...

In 1980's New York, faraway culinary traditions were introduced right at my kitchen table where my mom--wielding an old school can-n-bottle opener--punched small, triangular spouts on opposite sides of a can of Eagle Brand Sweetened Condensed Milk. Then, as naturally as breathing, she poured a sweet, creamy ribbon straight onto my lightly browned Home Pride wheat toast. With the thickened sheen of cane sugar cooked with milk, sweetened condensed milk induced a natural high that could turn on a room full of four-year-olds.

A staple of the Filipino pantry, condensed milk-as-condiment is not its only benefit. I realized this while rooting around the cabinets for the first ingredient for my “keepin’ it real with thrifty ingredients” project (see Anew, 2.26). This is my mother’s condensed milk, Eagle Brand (see pic).

And, for the slightly-boho-somewhat-bougie-San Fran-dwelling-girl, there's 'Santini Organic Condensed Milk' (discovered at Rainbow Grocery).

So, what can we do with Organic Condensed Milk?

In the Philippines, avocados do not belong in salad. There’s no guacamole recipe passed down from mother to daughter, deviled crab or shrimp stuffed in avocado halves spritzed with lemon for luncheons or adding a few ripe green slices to your BLTA. Avocado as a savory ingredient is not its primary function in the Philippines as far as I know.

When ripe avocados came to call at our house, mom got out the blender. And, of course, a handy can of condensed milk. You can buy it by the case, you know.

I’m positive avocado mashed with whole milk and brown sugar was part of my infant diet, but it wasn’t until age six or seven that mom taught me how to DRINK an avocado. You should try it!

Avocado Smoothie or Abokado con Hielo

- 2 or 3 small ripe avocados, pitted, flesh scooped out

- 1/4 cup sweetened condensed milk, or more to taste

- Granulated sugar, optional

- Crushed ice, optional

- Whole or soy milk or, can be used to thin the mixture

Place ingredients in blender and frappé. Pour mixture into a container and chill. Consistency and sweetness is a preference. It can be a creamy pudding with chunks of avo or it can be an icy treat, blended to a liquid, served with a scoop of crushed ice. Use milk only for a drink that's subtly sweet staying true to avocado's origins. Or, it can be sweeter than Sunday kisses with a full can of s-c-m and only a little ice to cool it down.

Like most of mom’s recipes, I find them more doable once I “organic-ize” them. Santini makes a delicious organic condensed milk. Still has all the fat and sugar you want, but now it’s certified natural and unadulterated sugar and fat. The greener, the better. Yum, yum.

Avocados are a California institution. And, the San Francisco Bay Area takes full advantage of its avocado bounty. Savory and sweet. Raw cubed or blended. There’s avocado ice cream (mom simulated this by pouring her avocado cream mixture into ice cube trays and inserting toothpicks mid-way through freezing to make 'Avo Pops'). And, there's plenty of fresh, flavorful avocado in the Bay Area's sushi rolls and sandwich creations (the ubiquitous 'BLTA').

Then, there’s my favorite Avocado Boba (or bubble) shake, a cold Chinese drink packed with real chunks of sweet avocado and a generous scoop of chewy tapioca balls that sink straight to the bottom, served with a double-wide straw. In the finest sweet and tea shops they replace condensed milk with real cream and cane juice syrup. Tasty.

Anew.

2008-02-26T13:03:00.000-08:00

I decide to cook everything in my cabinets. Not all at once though—

Step by step, jar by jar. Brooding over every paper box and plastic packet, creativity and history will weigh-in against anonymous dry goods. Hunger and imagination will dictate—they always do.

In my college dorm, I was the whiz who could build a dish around anything in your pantry. And, cook it up in a 12-cup hot-pot! Between Stairmaster rituals and devoted hours re-reading Joyce or deciphering Eisenstein, I lifted the hot-pot’s dented, stubborn lid to prepare our humblest feasts:

Oglio e Aglio bathed in a cheap Cab and scented with bay leaves… Chicken and rice with frozen peas, flavored with a precious knob of real butter and reggiano shavings. And, my Special stir-fry: Veggies pinched from the dining hall’s salad bar (bottomless carrots, bean sprouts, snow peas, water chestnuts and more), to the muffled sizzling behind closed doors and the gooey brown dribble of a secret ingredient that swooned my Midwest peers… Asian Oyster Sauce, a staple condiment nestled in my mother’s care packages, that when sautéed had the most inviting aroma.

Today, for some reason: impending recession, food rut, a kind of generic denial of life’s other challenges and concerns approaching me like a wave, I’m compelled to reclaim my thrifty cooking skills—minus the hot-pot, of course.

Maybe this food blog would never be if it depended solely on clever adventures with haute ingrédients. Whatever the reason, I’ll fritter my time meandering the world’s high-end food scene—gaggles of micro-groceries and fine dining beacons, purse ready and emptied to my bittersweet delight--on another occasion.

So, let’s begin. Vamos. Andiamo. C’est parti! And, all that good stuff to come!