It's like, a heat wave.

My word. June strutted out with a lasting impression. We've got a full-on heatwave out West. It's that kind of heat, that muggy, oppressive heat that crosses over into kind of sexy. I mean, you just can't help it if it's so hot that you must walk, or rather, sashay, around in nothing but a slip and and something cool to drink in a glass beaded with sweat. You may even have to put said glass up to your forehead or the side of your neck to further assist in cooling off. I'm just saying...

Or you could grab your bathing suit, an exceptionally cute looking, breezy throw over, and call your friends with a pool. Then you are able to do all of the above, but while sporting a bikini under an exceptionally cute looking, breezy throw over in lieu of the slip, and actually be cool – while acting sultry.

And so, yesterday, that is exactly what Fred and I did. The only thing is, unlike Fred - and most people - I don't really care much for pools. Unless they are about as hot as a bath would be. And I also realized that it had actually been a couple of years (three) since I had put on a bikini. But, I figured, it was that hot and I would be spending the afternoon with good friends - very good, old friends. So I threw the bikini and my impossibly perfect and exceptionally cute looking, breezy throw over into a canvas bag, grabbed my just-so worn-in, flouncy straw hat, and my fancy sunglasses and hopped in the car with Fred to head over to Kisma and Jonathan's place for a beat-the-heat poolside, backyard picnic.

The backyard picnic is great, as it can be as ornate or pared down as you want it to be. Why? Because a kitchen is right there. You don't have to pack cleverly or concisely. Fitting everything into a basket or back pack is a non-issue. And another fun possibility with a backyard picnic: games! Backgammon, chess, croquet, volleyball, Yahtzee, water polo... if you have the game, you can play the game. But all the fun picnicy parts are all in place: blanket, lots of snackies and noshables, any number of drinks (even the adult variety) and, of course, the flies. It seems no picnic would feel like much of a picnic without flies, ants or mosquitos, so just man up and deal with it.

After a quick dip in the pool, some laughter while recalling the debacle that was the end of my birthday last week over a glass of wine, and oogling and googling with their baby, Jones, we all got into our various places in the kitchen and grill to begin cooking, slicing and assembling everything for our picnic. We had a cheese and charcuterie plate with rosemary crisps, some homemade pickles, roasted almonds, cornichons, an orzo salad with fresh veggies and herbs from the garden, blanched and chilled haricot verts with minced garlic, lemon and purple basil flowers, grilled bratwurst with lavender and thyme sauerkraut and brown mustard, grilled haloumi, celery stalks and homemade bleu cheese dressing for dipping, fresh strawberries and blueberries with candied ginger, a couple of watermelon and lime water cocktails and some chilled wine. But what ended up being the star of this glorious spread was actually all Fred's. He has made this dish a handful of times, now with much success: grilled then marinated Summer vegetables over grilled rustic bread topped with burrata. It can be a snack, it can be an appetizer or it can be lunch. It's fresh, seasonal, robust, bright, and has a medley of shapes, colors, flavors and textures. You can use whatever veggies you happen to have at a given time, making it versatile, fairly easy and extraordinarily delicious.

After our massive festival of grazing food and sipping drinks, we all jumped back in the pool for another cool down before some more lounging in the grass, a little more grazing and another glass of so and so. Next thing we knew it it was seven o'clock. You have to love these long, Summer days.

And so, with the end of June comes the end of our picnic posts (for this year, anyway). And I can think of nothing more perfect with which to close out a month of picnic ideas that this recipe for Fred's grilled, marinated veggies. And, likewise, I can think of no recipe more perfect which which to usher in July.  

P.S. Thanks to Kisma and Jonathan for hosting this picnic and Kisma for styling the shoot!

Grilled, Marinated Summer Vegetables over Rustic Toast with Burrata

Serves 6

3 summer squash or zucchini (about 1 lb.), sliced on a diagonal 1/2" thick

3 red, orange or yellow bell peppers, cut into 1" strips

1 bunch of asparagus, trimmed

4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided

Kosher salt & freshly ground pepper

2 garlic cloves

2 tablespoons Sherry or red wine vinegar
1 small shallot, minced

4 sprigs oregano

1 loaf of rustic bread, sliced into large chunks and brushed with oilve oil, lightly grilled or toasted.

1 lb. burrata

Place squash, pepper and asparagus in a large bowl with 1/2 tablespoon olive oil, salt & pepper and toss to coat. Spread out in a single layer on grill, turning peppers skin side up.

Roast until tender, turning squash once, about 15-20 minutes. Let cool slightly; remove skins from peppers.

Whisk garlic, shallot, vinegar and remaining olive oil in a large bowl; season with salt & pepper. Add vegetables and oregano; toss to coat. Cover and let sit at least an hour.

Portion burrata evenly onto slabs of grilled bread and top with marinated vegetables.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Sausage, Egg & Fontina Cheese Pizza

Two years ago: Yerp: Part 4 - Les Sentiers Gourmands

Three years ago: Rustic Cherry Tart with Almond Ice Cream

Comfort Me With Bucatini.

Growing up in Richmond, I recall very little pasta happening in either of my parents' kitchens, except maybe pasta salad. I also don't remember going out for much Italian food back then. I'm sure there was spaghetti and meatballs when I had dinner at my friends' houses, but – and I could be wrong – I don't think I ever saw it on my dining room table(s). That's weird, right? I mean, I don't even think we did lasagna, for crying out loud. It's a miracle I turned out alright.

That being said, there wasn't a ton of Italian food in my life for quite some time. After college, in the early Atlanta years, there were a couple of EYEtalian restaurants where I dined on occasion. By EYEtalian, I mean dimly lit rooms with red checker tablecloths, taper candles in old chianti bottles, dishes like eggplant parmigiana, veal scaloppini, chicken marsala, penne alla vodka (one of my favorite pasta dishes to this day), mostaccioli, linguine with clam sauce, baked ziti, lasagna, and spumoni or cannoli for dessert. Oh, and both kinds of wine: red and white.

Then in the last year or two there, a couple of Italian restaurants popped up that became game changers. For me, at least. Actually, it was really one restaurant that later became two with the same owner. The first born, Sotto Sotto, was the higher end version of its younger sibling, Fritti. It was at Sotto Sotto where a lot of things about Italian fare really evolved in my world. In a little restaurant in Inman Park, Atlanta, my palate got to travel from Southern to Northern Italy for the first time. I remember tasting delicate, handmade pastas of all shapes, sizes and consistencies, flecked with bright and fresh surprising accents like arugula, mint, and lemon or anchored down with braised, local duck with an aged twelve year balsamic. There were fresh truffles, walnut sauce and sage browned butter, which fifteen years ago was not something I saw on menus very often. I remember having the most delicate beef carpaccio I had ever tasted. The beef sliced so carefully, so thinly, that it essentially melted on my tongue. And then when the little sister, Fritti, came along, I was introduced to the lightest, freshest calamari fritti, garnished only with fresh lemon, and their crimini and portobello mushrooms, lightly fried in rice flour batter with white truffle oil. Most importantly, it was the first time I became acquainted with Neapolitan pizza. And burrata.

Best of all, I lived a mere two blocks away. Even bester, two of my girlfriends and my then boyfriend worked there.

And so an Italian food lover was born.

In the eleven years that I have lived here in LA, though, I don't make pasta at home as much as other things, I would say that my go to meal out is easily for Italian food. More often than not, what I crave is the Northern Italian fare; the fine handmade pastas with fresh, seasonal produce, nuanced flavors and elegant sauces, and almost always I will opt for Neapolitan pies to that of any other. That said, I would never turn down a dinner at Dan Tana's. Who wouldn't want a side of spaghetti with their spaghetti?

But here's the thing, a couple of years ago I came across a recipe in The Week for a dish called Cacio e Pepe. Its scant few ingredients and seemingly whimsical and simple process tempted me. The recipe called for a long pasta (in this case, bucatini), Parmesan cheese, extra virgin olive oil, Kosher salt and lots and lots of freshly cracked black pepper. After I tried to make it the first time, and failed, I started to read about the recipe. I realized that this dish exemplifies the complexity of pan sauce precision. Of course! This is one of those less-is-more, minimalist recipes by which cooks are measured – and as I read on, I learned that no two chefs agree on how to do it just right.

And, it's a Roman dish... making it kind of EYEtalian!

After that, my interest was piqued. If I saw it on a menu, I ordered it. And, for the most part, folks were using the bucatini. So, my only occasion, other than my own kitchen defeat, for both the bucatini and the cacio e pepe had been when dining out.

Then I met Fred. And on our third date, he invited me to his place to cook me dinner. I remember thinking, “Uh, oh. He has no idea what he's gotten himself into. Be nice, be nice, be nice.” Beyond all of the bells, whistles (the right kind, not the gaudy kind), and the ts crossed and is dotted, there he was, in his kitchen, with a YouTube video playing on his iPad illustrating how to make cacio e pepe. And before you ask, no, he had no idea. This was all Fred.

I remember thinking it was going to be a disaster. If I couldn't make it right, and it was such a cornerstone for great chefs, how was hegoing to do it?

It was perfect. It is still the best version of cacio e pepe (and with bucatini, mind you) I have had to date. I'm serious!

And so, not only did cacio e pepe become even more pivotal to me, but bucatini, in particular did as well. Unfortunately, I have only stumbled upon it a few times here in LA since I began this obsession. And I look. Once I saw it at the Silverlake Farmers' Market, but it seemed a little pricey. Anyway, on a recent trip to San Francisco, Fred and I poked into our favorite EYEtalian deli and grabbed every kind of bucatini they had. That would be five (5) different brands of bucatini.

And a couple of nights ago I made a dish with the prettiest and fanciest of our bucatinis. It was a type of a cacio e pepe, but I added shaved asparagus stalks, a single clove of garlic, some red pepper flakes, lemon and I topped everything with fresh breadcrumbs. I also used two cheeses; a Grana Padano, for its velvety texture, and Pecorino, for its sharpness. Other than adding the extras, the concept and the technique were no different than the original cacio e pepe.

I'd like to tell you how romantic it was that we made this, our very special dish together. I'd like it to seem like we savored that last strand of bucatini like the Lady and the Tramp. But we were really just so excited and so hungry, that we pretty much inhaled our big bowls of pasta and glasses of chianti. Just-a like-a Mama would-a like-a.

Bucatini with Shaved Asparagus & Fresh Breadcrumbs

Serves 4

Ingredients:

2 thick slices hearty bread, torn into about 1-inch pieces


extra virgin olive oil


1 pound bucatini


red pepper flakes


1 clove garlic, minced


2 bundles asparagus, shaved


The juice of 1 lemon


1/4 cup mixed grated Grana Padano & Pecorino cheeses

Kosher salt, and freshly cracked black pepper

Directions:

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Pulse bread in food processor to make bread crumbs.  Spread the crumbs on a small baking tray.  Drizzle with olive oil and a pinch of salt; toss.  Toast for 15 minutes, or until golden brown.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.  Cook bucatini until al dente.  Reserve a bit of the cooking water.

Just before the pasta finishes cooking, heat about a tablespoon of olive oil in a skillet.  Add garlic and a pinch or two of red pepper flakes and cook until fragrant, about a minute.  Add asparagus and a pinch of salt; cook until the asparagus until slightly softened.  Add juice of the lemon.  Toss.

Add the cooked bucatini and parmesan to the skillet with the asparagus; toss to coat.  Add reserved cooking water a tablespoon at a time, if necessary, to achieve your desired consistency.  Serve, topped with toasted breadcrumbs.


Printable recipe.

One year ago: Grilled Oysters with Garlicky, Lemony, Buttery Sauce
Two years ago: I Left My Heart in San Fran-cheesy; Part 3, The Final Chapter
Three years ago: Chili with Beef & Bacon
Five years ago: Angelini Osteria

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