Never be a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic...

June is here. Which means Summer is this close. Which also means my birthday is coming up*. I like June. June is usually warm enough to comfortably wear tank tops and Summer dresses, even in the evening, without the fear of needing another layer. But June is also not yet the dog days of summer, where one feels the need to hop from one air conditioned space to the next, without ever really being exposed to the outside. June is green, not brown. June is not anticipatory and hopeful, like April and May, or exhausted and wilted like August. Rather, June is confident, pert and happy. June does cartwheels. And June is pleased as punch to be right where it is. In June.

I also think June likes picnics. Don't you think? Not too hot, not too cold, not too mosquito-y, not too humid, not too smoggy. Even Goldilocks would concur, it's just right. And clearly I'm not the only one that feels this way. NPRjust had a story about picnicking through the ages last week, I'm seeing picnic-themed foods and the like all over Pinterest, one of my peers had a blurb about gourmet picnics in the most recent Westways, Lucques is having their 'Tennessee Indoor Picnic' in a couple of weeks and I recall last year, exactly at this time, Splendid Table aired a piece about the most perfect, most neat-est, most conceptual picnic sandwich I've ever heard of. This sandwich originated, and is a specialty, in the South of France – Nice, to be exact. It is sold in every bakery and market there. This sandwich is the pan bagnat. Fred and I even made a couple of them to take on our weekend trip to the Santa Ynez Valley for my birthday last year. I have not made one since, but I have never forgotten about the pan bagnat.

It's hard to say which part of the pan bagnat made it so memorable. But if pressed (like the sandwich), I'd have to say it was Melissa Clark's story about it in that Splendid Table piece. Yes, it was an impressive sandwich, but Clark's story was really special. She spoke about being a seven year-old, on family vacations in the South of France. About the daily picnics they would have at the beach, and how her mom would make the most amazing sandwiches. It sounded like a sandwich which originated with the base ingredients of a tuna nicoise salad, but turned into an everything-but-the-kitchen sink sandwich that was stuffed full of ingredients a mile high. Her mom would have she and her sister sit on the wrapped sandwiches, in the car, all the way to the beach so that it would end up with all the salties and juicies, the burst capers, anchovies crammed into a paste, tuna, oil, everything perfectly married in addition to then being flat enough to eat properly.

It just sounded so romantic to me. I always do love a process, a story. And this one comes with the most perfect picnic sandwich I could possibly imagine. One with everything under the sun in it. That sandwich is a picnic.

So last weekend, Fred and I, for the second time, exactly a year apart, made our pan bagnats again and had ourselves a picnic. Since we were not driving to wine country and we didn't have a seven year-old on hand, we opted to weigh our sandwiches down with our biggest, heaviest cast-iron topped with a full tea kettle. Our Sunday picnic menu was as follows:

Pan Bagnat

Dill pickle spears

Potato salad with peperoncini & bacon

Dolmas

Cherries

Fresh squeezed limeade

All of the food ended up being perfect for a picnic. But the pan bagnat was undoubtedly the star. Pan bagnat is literally translated as ' bathed bread' or 'wet bread', and that is an accurate description. When it's ready to eat, the bread has absorbed a lot of the liquid from the filling and all of the ingredients are pressed to form a tight strata with all of those textures and flavors in a perfect union. This sandwich was also a favorite of Julia Child and Jacques Pepîn. You can even watch them make one here. I have to say, I bet the pan bagnat would be a sandwich to make Dagwoodhimself quite proud.

*I will be accepting birthday gifts all through June. Inquire within for suggestions and ideas.

Pan Bagnat
(recipe inspired by Melissa Clark on The Splendid Table)

Makes one big-ass sandwich that can feeds at least 2

Ingredients

3 anchovy fillets, minced

1 tablespoon capers, chopped

1 garlic clove, minced

1 1/2 teaspoon red wine vinegar

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

Pinch of salt and freshly ground pepper

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 baguette

1/2 regular cucumber

1 medium-size, ripe tomato, sliced

¾ roasted red pepper

½ avocado, sliced

½ cup arugula

1/2 small red onion, sliced

1 jar (8 oz) tuna packed in olive oil, drained

8 large basil leaves

4 tablespoons chopped Kalamata olives, pitted

1 hard-cooked egg, peeled and thinly sliced.




Directions

In a small mixing bowl, whisk together the anchovies, garlic, vinegar, mustard, salt and pepper. While continuing to whisk, gradually add the olive oil. Whisk until an emulsion forms.

Peel cucumber & halve lengthwise, and scoop out seeds from one half. Thinly slice seedless half. Add sliced cucumber to vinaigrette and toss well. Set aside.

Coarsely chop the olives and capers, then combine in a small bowl with the minced garlic and set aside.

Slice the baguette horizontally into 2 pieces. Tear out some of the soft bread in the center of each side, making a slight well in the bread.

Spread the olive and caper mixture evenly across the bottom half of the baguette, then spread other half the cucumbers on top. Next up, spread the tuna over that. Top with tomato and onion slices, then with pepper, arugula, avocado, basil, olives & egg slices. Top egg with remaining cucumbers and vinaigrette. Cover with second bread half and firmly smush sandwich together.

Wrap sandwich tightly in foil or plastic wrap, then place in a plastic bag. Refrigerate and weight sandwich under a cast-iron skillet or a pot of water for anywhere from 2 to 8 hours, flipping sandwich occasionally. Unwrap, slice and serve immediately or you can keep it wrapped for up to 2 hours at room temperature before serving.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Fresh Mint & Chip Ice Cream

Two years ago: Yerp: Part 2 - An Evening in Gruissan.

Three years ago: Fresh Strawberries, Chocolate Mint & Chantilly cream with Cornmeal Shortcakes

I Am the Ostrich, Coo Coo Ca Choo.

When I was in college, a group of us in Victor Garcia’s Spanish class went on a trip to Mexico – ostensibly to study the language while immersed in its culture. Fortunately for me, a lot of my closest friends, and my boyfriend, Paul, were in that group. I also had a pretty big crush on Victor Garcia. Not the kind where I wanted to get in his pantalones, but more the kind that I just wanted to be part of his life, his family. He was just so great. And his wife and son were great, too. Very happy. And, he was so attractive.

The program took place in Cuernavaca. We were all assigned and lived with ‘host’ families during the stretch of this program. There were four of us in my house. I shared a room with Carl, who, on that trip, became Ray Ray (he bought a pair of Ray Ban’s from a street vendor and later discovered that on the lens read Ray Ray’s in lieu of Ray Ban’s. The die was cast. He was forever Ray Ray.)  Ray Ray was a short, bald, black, flamboyantly gay young man. At the time I had cut my hair off (myself) into, what I thought would be, a pixie cut, and dyed it canary yellow (myself). And so, in traditional, machismo-infested Mexico, the six-foot tall girl with the cut-off jean shorts, Pac-Man tee shirt and canary yellow hair and the short bald, flamboyantly gay black man roamed the streets. We most definitely got rocks thrown at us from passengers on buses.

I will say, however, that my Spanish was great during this time - though more from hanging out and drinking beer and tequila in the bars with the locals than as a result of the program. Or maybe that was the program…

After the ‘school’ part of the trip, a core group of my friends and I split off and went rogue, exploring Mexico the way we wanted: backpacks, hostels in cities, hammocks on the beach, café con leche, homemade mescal, and a lot of bouts of Gin Rummy. Very late one night, I believe we were in Oaxaca; Amy, Paul, Mike, Ray Ray and I were sitting in our hotel room, drinking tequila, smoking and playing round after round of Gin Rummy. At some point during this evening, at some ungodly hour, we all decided to figure out our animal. We became fixated on getting them just right and spent hours doing so. Here’s what we settled on: Amy was an owl, Mike was a walrus, Paul was a koala bear, Ray Ray was a jaguar, and me – I was an ostrich. What a gyp! I couldn’t even get to be a flamingo? Nope, I was an ostrich.

It made sense, I suppose. I was very tall, awkwardly skinny, had that whole hair situation and I was certainly not the most graceful bird in the land. To be fair, I don’t think Paul was feeling very masculine about being a koala bear. But it really did fit.

Wondering how I’m going to wrap this one back around, aren’t you…

About seven or so years ago, I started going to Santa Barbara County for little trips, long days, short weekends, etc. for wine tastings and micro-getaways. I have been with a few people, and I’ve been by myself. I love the tasting rooms, the wineries, the landscape, the food, the people, the drive up and the drive back. It’s very dear to me. There is a pretty cool place in between The Hitching Post, in Buellton and the little, Danish Colony in Solvang. It’s called Ostrichland. Yes, it is. Ostrichland!

Used to be you could roll right up and see, touch, feed, and be bitten by, the birds (they have emu and ostriches). Now you have to pay. But a measly $4.95 is more than worth all that one experiences in Ostrichland. Did you know that ostriches have the ability to run at maximum speeds of 43 mph, the fastest land speed of any bird? And, the Ostrich is the largest living species of bird and lays the largest egg of any living bird!

The largest egg in all the land? I clearly had to have one. So, at about $30 a pop, I bought one ostrich egg that is the equivalent to approximately twenty chicken eggs.

Other than turning the shell of the egg into a lamp base or some such thing, what was I going to do with an egg that big? This question plagued me for quite some time. So much time, in fact, that I realized I had better do something with the egg or it would simply go to waste, and all I would have is the shell with which to make a lamp base or some such thing. I needed to move fast as y’all all know how much I loathe to waste food.

While I really did like the idea of one, ginormous deviled egg, I realized I would have to make scramble-ness with the egg if I wanted to keep the shell intact for my lamp base (or some such thing). I looked around and saw my rainbow of heirloom tomatoes and it hit me: frittata.
  
And so Fred and I went about making the most enormous frittata of all time. For the two of us. It was a really interesting process, getting the eggy insides out without compromising the shell. The dish took the better part of the morning to cook through as it was a LOT of egg. It filled an entire, large, cast-iron skillet almost to the top. I guess you could say it was really more of a crustless quiche. And it was very tasty. While I couldn’t decipher a real difference in the taste of the egg from that of a chicken egg, I will say that it was much fluffier and lighter than a chicken egg. 

And now I have the shell. I can’t imagine what on earth I’ll do with it. But I like it.

So here’s the deal; after my multiple visits to Ostrichland and bonding with its residents, I guess my animal being the ostrich is not so bad. I’m not really that gawky and lanky any more, but I’m still pretty tall. My hair is not hacked off my head in my personal attempt to resemble Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby, nor is it canary yellow. I can’t run all that fast, nor do I really try. But, like the ostrich, I’m kind of goofy, kind of awkward, not very graceful, love to eat, and have my own brand of cuteness and allure. I have also been known to bite.
 

For the recipe below I am providing you with the recipe with the standard measurements rather than the ginormous ostrich egg version. If you would like to try this with an ostrich egg, multiply everything by four...

Heirloom Tomato & Fresh Basil Frittata

Serves 6

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons butter, cubed
6 large eggs
¼ pound ground sausage

6-8 slices of red onion, very thinly sliced 3 tablespoons finely grated Parmesan cheese
3 tablespoons grated gruyere cheese
1 garlic clove, minced
1 tablespoon chopped pistou basil
Handful of green and purple basil, mixed
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 1/2 pounds ripe heirloom tomatoes (mixed colors & sizes), cut crosswise into 1/4" slices

Directions

Preheat oven to 350°.

Brown sausage in a 10-inch (2-inch-deep) ovenproof skillet over medium-high heat, stirring often, 7 to 8 minutes or until meat crumbles and is no longer pink; remove from skillet, and drain. Wipe skillet clean.

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Lightly beat eggs in a medium bowl. Stir in sausage, cheese, pistou basil and garlic, cubes of butter and season with salt and pepper. When oil is shimmering, pour egg mixture into pan and cook until eggs begin to turn golden brown around the edges. Arrange tomato slices, red onion cirlces and basil leaves on top of egg mixture. (Some tomato slices may sink.)

Transfer skillet to oven and bake frittata until eggs are just set in the center, 10-12 minutes. Using a heatproof spatula, loosen frittata from pan and slide onto a warm plate. Slice and serve warm or at room temperature.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Yerp: Part 6. Barthelona (Part 2), THE HAMOVER.

Two years ago: Grilled Salmon with Market Relish over Jasmine Rice

Three years ago: Vichyssoise

Shopping.

I’ve never really been a shopper, per se. Apparently I used to have small anxiety attacks at the mere thought of going into a shoe store when I was younger. I guess the shoe salespeople at  Thom McCann really upset me. Likewise – and a lot more recently - I would get antsy at the thought of the greeters at The Gap. Their Black Hole Sun like smiles and overly effervescent and solicitous welcomes kind of freaked me out. I would find myself zipping in and trying desperately to dodge them. They always won.

When I go shopping with friends I am always the first one to be over it. I find trying on clothes, taking things off and on and off and on, really tiring. I always get sweaty. I find stores that aren’t organized properly to my aesthetic to be wearying to sort through. As a result, as a shopper for clothes, shoes and the like, I am both deft and impulsive.

But put me at a farmers’ market, a larder, a grocery store, an Asian market or a tienda and I will methodically go down each and every aisle and scrutinize, poke and ogle every, single item. I can linger forever. And when shopping for food stuffs I am neither deft nor impulsive.

This past weekend I stayed mostly over at Fred’s place on the Eastside. On Saturday we rode our bikes to the Silverlake Farmers’ Market. We started out at the western end of it and ambled, slowly, through each and every stall – even the non-food related ones. I even found an old copy of Raymond Chandler’s The Lady in The Lake for six bucks. We grabbed a couple of iced americanos, a bunch of carrots, a pound of wax beans, some sprouted broccolini, a demi-baguette, and three beautiful heirloom tomatoes. I carefully packed our tiny bounty into our baskets and we rode on.

The next day, after being super lazy, we decided to go on a late afternoon bike ride. This time we took Besito with us and rode in the other direction and ended up in a sweet little nook of Echo Park peppered with shops and markets and people. There I discovered the most adorable, teeny, tiny little neighborhood green grocer called Cookbook. They sell meats, cheese, bread, fruit, veggies, coffee, olives, cornichons, sweets, and some fresh prepared foods. I was in heaven. My teeny, tiny heaven.

And so there I picked up a small ball of burrata, some fresh strozzapreti,  and some caramel ice cream. Yes. Caramel ice cream. Again, I carefully packed our even tinier bounty into my basket, so as not to crowd Besito in Fred’s basket and we quickly rode home. We couldn’t have that caramel ice cream melting on us. Yes. Caramel ice cream.

Food-wise we had a bunch of stuff to work with. We also had our usual Sunday evening plans to watch Mad Men and then Game of Thrones #nerdalert. It was a warm day and a warm evening. I took inventory.

I noticed that I had brought with me some shopping from my garden; dandelion greens, kale and a cornucopia of fresh herbs.

Then things came together. After a weekend of casual food shopping we made a delcious meal incorporating elements from all of our stops. We went alfresco with zebra tomato, pistou basil and burrata crostini during Mad Men and a dandelion green, white bean, and tuna salad for Game of Thrones. All of this we paired with a couple of rosés from Domaine LA. And, of course, we capped off the evening with a couple spoon fulls each of that caramel ice cream. Yes. Caramel ice cream.

Ah, Sunday.

Me – I guess I DO like shopping. Hell, I’m a shopasaurus. I did buy a particularly special pair of shoes somewhat recently - not at Thom McCann. But, I guess mostly it just depends on what I’m shopping for.

 Zebra Tomato, Pistou Basil and Burrata Crostini

Serves 4

Ingredients

1 baguette, sliced

Extra virgin olive oil (the good stuff)

2 garlic cloves, peeled

3 Zebra Tomatoes (any color) sliced into 1/2 inch rounds

1 lb fresh Burrata Cheese

1 bunch of Pistou Basil, chopped

Maldon salt

Freshly cracked black pepper

Directions

Toast or grill the slices of baguette and brush with olive oil. Rub toasts with cloves of garlic.

Assemble beginning with slices of tomatoes and then a dollop of burrata and a sprinkle of the basil. Top with a droplet of olive oil, salt & pepper.

Printable recipe.

Two years ago: Potato Salad with Creme Fraiche, Mint & Basil