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

Ghost Meets Manchurian Candidate. With a Heart. In the Right Spot.

When I was in college I studied – among other things – film theory and production. And, until a disastrous Summer co-op in LA in 1994, that’s what I thought I wanted to DO with my life. I’ll expound on that in a bit.

I actually made some pretty cool films, if not technically wondrous. Bear in mind, this was pre-Avid. I was also every man: writer, story boarder, camera loader, director, grip, audio, editor. I was literally cutting the celluloid and taping it back together using either a Moviola or a Steenbeck. So I guess it looked a little Frankenstein-y. But conceptually I had some great stuff. My senior project was, perhaps, my coup de grace. It was a multi-media installation involving 16mm film, video and a dj (my boyfriend at the time). All of the elements were synced together and were supposed to be an autobiography, of sorts. The event took place in the “dance space” on campus (a dilapidated, graffiti covered, shithole) where I recreated my bedroom from home. It was entitled Play Pretties and was a "hit" (amongst the tiny population of my school). It saddens me that it will never see the light of day again – but also sort of lovely in the same sense.

 That's me setting it all up, checking the sync.

One of the other films I made was about accidentally overhearing random parts of other people's conversations. I can’t recall the title. I filmed it in a diner in Xenia, Ohio, starring Paz as the girl who is overly affected by hearing the audio clips and two girls that lived in the dorm room next to me as the “offenders”. All shots with Paz were in color and everything shot with the other girls was in black and white.

The dialogue was actual random stuff I had overheard and found compelling in some way. Things like “…that I wasn’t in that fucking car when it went down.” Or “You know old men are dirty.” There was some line about a bathtub or something, but I can’t remember much else.

I used the diner order tickets for my credits.

I thought I was terribly clever.

My Friday ritual of late is to spend hours on end at The Chateau Marmont and write. For some reason I have found it increasingly difficult to accomplish much in that department at home. The Chateau is usually quiet, serene, comfortable, and I’ve always felt at home with camping out here. This Friday, however, I was unaware that it is Golden Globe weekend. The Chateau is packed. I’m sitting a few feet away from that dude from Dazed and Confused who is now on Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew (oops) Brendan Fraser, staring through the window at Matt Dillon and overhearing parts of conversation that is reminiscent of any number of scenes from The Player. “Oh, you mean THE Barry Levinson?” “No, LARRY Levinson.” “Oh, right, LARRY.”

WHAT?!?! Actually, wasn't there a JOEL Levinson in The Player?

It all reminds me of that film I made. But here’s the thing – this all also reminds me of that maelstrom of a Summer back in 1994. Right when I was so excited and in love with movies and film. What better place to do my required internship than Hollywood? I even had a good college friend, Emma, already out here doing an internship of her own. She told me she’d help me find a job and had a friend’s place I could stay. I can’t recall if that was supposed to be temporary sofa surfing or if it was cool if I stayed the entire Summer. Obviously I stayed on that sofa the entire Summer. I also never really found a job.

I was also living in Brentwood. Without a car. Hardly knew a soul. No job.

Then, one day, one of the girls I was crashing with did me a solid. I guess she was working with Tarantino and Bender’s company A Band Apart in some capacity. Or maybe the other girl I that lived there was working for Oliver Stone’s company, Ixtlan. Honestly, I can’t recall the details, but I got a gig reading scripts for Stone’s company and writing coverages. For no pay.

The thing was, I came from unusual schooling and a wild, hippie college where I was studying 16mm film production, underground, independent films, modern jazz, juggling, how to pull a massive bong hit and irreverence. So reading scripts called Surfing the Himalayas and all the other Hollywood shite I was handed was literally obscene to me. In addition to that I didn’t know how to write in a non overly verbose and non-academic way. I didn’t know or understand Hollywood. Nor did I want to. I waited with bated breath to leave this town of evil. And I was never to return.

Hey, I was also an extra in Nixon. I played a "sleeping hippie" in the Lincoln Memorial scene. Look for a blonde girl, wearing brown, so rudely interrupted by Anthony Hopkins and James Woods walking down the steps of the memorial and kicking a beer bottle towards her head. That was pretty neat. But I still hated what I saw that that Summer: This machine that makes movies - Hollywood.

That was then This is now. Fifteen plus years later. Now I live in Hollywood, I work in Hollywood, I eat in Hollywood, I drink in Hollywood and I love Hollywood. I AM a Southern Californian.

I remember at the beginning of that Summer, whenever I would walk into a café or store or what have you, I thought everyone was looking at me, checking me out, because I was so cool. Then I realized – everyone checks out everyone to see if they’re someone.

Now, here I sit, at the famed Chateau Marmont, with a glass of iced tea, lillet, and now merlot – on the Friday before the Golden Globes, surrounded by celebrities, agents, and everyone who is supposed to be someone, writing for my little food blog.

Funny how life works.

Anyway, one other thing that happened that ill-fated (or not so ill-fated) Summer, was - in my melancholy, when I wasn't reading, writing, drinking wine or watching Looking for Mr. Goodbar, I was cooking. Nothing fancy, mind you. But even when just making pasta sauces I made a point to chop as many things as possible, stir as much as possible, create food that required as much preparation and tedium as possible. It was like knitting or yoga for some. It was my Zen.

So, in the spirit of that time and this time, and my slightly more advanced kitchen capability, I share with you a dish that requires both knife skills and constant attention. It also seems very Hollywood.

Cremini Mushroom and Meyer Lemon Risotto

Serves 4 

Ingredients 

2 1/4 cups boiling-hot water
3 cups chicken stock
1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter
3/4 lb small cremini mushrooms, quartered
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons Arborio rice (8 oz)
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 teaspoon finely grated fresh Meyer lemon zest
1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan

Directions

Bring stock and 2 cups hot water to a simmer. Keep at a bare simmer, covered. 

Heat 1 tablespoon butter in a heavy skillet over moderately high heat until foam subsides, then sauté cremini, stirring, until browned, about 7 minutes. Remove from heat. 

Cook onion in 1 1/2 tablespoons butter in a 3-quart heavy saucepan over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, 3 to 4 minutes. 

Add rice and cook, stirring constantly, 1 minute. Add wine and simmer, stirring constantly, until absorbed. 

Stir in 1/2 cup simmering stock mixture and cook at a strong simmer, stirring frequently, until broth is absorbed. Continue simmering and adding stock 1/2 cup at a time, stirring frequently and letting each addition become absorbed before adding the next, until rice is tender but still al dente and creamy (it should be the consistency of a thick soup), 18 minutes. (There will be leftover broth.) 

Stir in zest, mushrooms, remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons butter, Parmesan and pepper to taste. (If necessary, thin risotto with some of remaining broth.) Serve immediately.

  

A Fork in the Road

A couple of nights ago I met up with Chris at Susan Feniger's Street. We have been trying to use up our Blackboard Eats coupons before they expire. Ryan and I went about a year ago and ordered a few menu items and several glasses of wine. This, however, was Chris’ maiden voyage. We met at 8:30 with reservations but decided to ditch them for the bar. He was already at the bar; that’s usually my seating preference anyway.

It was bustling. Large parties, couples, friends, special dates, casual meet ups, all sorts of diners filled the small-ish dining room and adjacent patio. The color scheme consists primarily of orange and black. There are graffiti inspired street murals by Huntley Muir covering a good deal of the non-slated wood wall space, both inside and out. The overall effect of this aesthetic is somewhere between Blade Runner and being physically inserted into a Keith Haring piece. Both might be neat, but both are 1982 and neither, in my humble opinion, create the ambiance of “cozy” for dining.

So let us travel down this road now, shall we?

Right out of the gate we were served an Amuse-Bouche.  A savory version of a Rice Crispy Treat: Millet Seed Puffs, with Marshmallow, Fennel, Curry, Coriander, Cumin and Black Currant -- I liked all of the flavors but found the texture to be more on the moist rather than crispy side.

We began our order with the famed Kaya Toast which is Street’s tour de force. Originally a breakfast dish from Singapore, this is toasted bread spread thick with coconut jam served with a soft poached egg drizzled in dark soy and white pepper ($11). This undoubtedly lives up to the buzz.  While Kaya Toast is very simple, once in your mouth it becomes incredibly complex both in texture and taste. It’s surprising, imaginative in every way and absolutely illuminates the palate.

Next up we visit Turkey and Syria with the Lamb Kafta Meatballs over warm Syrian cheese wrapped in grape leaf and drizzled with date and carob molasses and served with za’atar spiced flatbread ($10). I thought the meatballs were succulent and robust.  I could have eaten a pile of them. But what I was confused about was the dish as a whole. The flatbread was crisp like a cracker. Was I supposed to spread the cheese over it and then eat a bite of meatball? I attempted to put some meatball on the cracker with the cheese but to no avail. Meatball falls off. I wish the bread was giving and accepted the meatball so I could have that perfect bite. That aside, all elements on the plate were appetizing on their own.

With the meatballs we ordered the Sauteed Black Kale with Refried White Beans served with toasted olive bread and white anchovy butter ($7). Again, everything on the plate was good. I prefer my kale and kale-like greens cooked down a little more, but that’s a preference thing (after all, I did grow up in the South). I am also a fan of any version of white beans that can be created. I also love butter and am over the top for anchovy butter. But I still found myself at a dead end when assembling everything for the perfect bite. Where does the anchovy butter go? I still smeared it over the smear of refried white beans over the kale over the bread.

Our bartender/server had told us that, very recently, Cat Cora was in the house shooting a part of the show, The Best Thing I Ever Ate. Apparently, Iron Chef Cora’s favorite thing to eat is Feniger’s Mandoo Vegetable Dumplings: Asian vegetables, sweet potato and kimchi filled dumplings with roasted ginger yam and sesame dipping sauce ($9). So off we went to Korea. I will say that while I was underwhelmed with the actual dumpling, I really enjoyed the ginger yam puree combined with the sesame oil and the tang of the soy. It did make the dish but it didn’t make it in the echelon of best things I have ever eaten. 

Now let us jet off to Thailand for the Thai Rice Noodles: flat wide rice noodles with Chinese broccoli, seasoned pork, tomato, mint, thai basil and chiles ($15). I was downright disappointed with the actual noodles. They were flaccid with no chew to them. The pork was seasoned and cooked to perfection. I didn’t find anything that would define this dish as special and it would have a tough time standing up to most of our wonderful Thai restaurants within a couple miles of Street. I also felt the $15 price tag was a tad high.

Our last dish was in Japan with the Tatsutage Fried Chicken marinated with soy, mirin, and sake crispy fried in rice batter and topped with spicy kewpie mayonnaise sauce ($15). Chris and I have always adored this dish at Ita Cho and we were excited to try this version. The chicken was over fried and very oily. While the meat of the chicken was cooked nicely, the marinade was nowhere to be tasted. The kewpie mayonnaise was a nice touch, a little creamy, a little citrusy and little heat. The pickled vegetables seemed like an afterthought. They were under pickled and seemed lost on this plate. 

Chris and I have been bandying about the idea of a “Greatest Hits From Around the World” restaurant for years – mostly jokingly. A single chef attempting to master so many different cuisines seems like machine gun fire. Something will hit the mark but impossible to land them all.  Street’s concept actually suffers in a City like Los Angeles; a city replete with street food from all corners of the world – delicious, authentic, and affordable.

All in all I'd say this evening led us down a street with very uneven pavement.

Food That Loves

Oh, the rain. How I love it. The smell, the sound, the fact that I don’t need to water my garden: I love it. I’ve had fires roaring in the fireplace for the past two nights, jazz playing loudly, and cooking lots of food that just hugs you all over.

A few days back I was reading Orangette’s column in Bon Appetit, and remembered how I really wanted to try my hand at meatballs. They fall into that category of food that I’ve not experienced much in my life – kind of like the meatloaf or "Taco Night". And when dining out I will almost always order Pasta alla Carbonara or Penne alla Vodka over Spaghetti and Meatballs. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever ordered Spaghetti and Meatballs.

So, back to the column. I have followed Orangette for years now. Since before her fancy and exciting column in a fancy and shiny magazine. I like her writing, I like her photography, and I almost always like her recipes (of which I have made my fair share). This particular recipe not only caught my eye for its meatball factor, it also caught my eye because it originally came from Carla Leonardi and Jordi Viladas, owners of Café Lago in Seattle.

Before you ask, no, I have never been to Café Lago. Nor have I been to Seattle, actually. But I did make their recipe, Pomodori al Forno, after reading about it in Orangette’s column in the Fall of 2008. Both Chris and I loved it and I have made it many times hence. Anyway, meatball excitement overcame me so I jumped in the car to wrangle up ingredients smack in the middle of the afternoon. I then spent the remainder of the day and night preparing enough spaghetti and meatballs for 10 people. I was all by myself. (Note: Much later that night Maggie ate some. The next day Chris and Maggie ate some more. The day after that I made a meatball sub with some more, and later that night Brandon took the rest home in Tupperware. So it all worked out.)

I had so much fun making these meatballs. I usually hate making a mess and wash my hands constantly. But realizing that there was no way around it, I embraced this tactile experience. With my fingers separated and immersed in the milky, meaty, eggy, bready mess, I melded the ingredients to their proper consistency. By the time I finished rolling them all into perfect golf ball sized spheres and dropped them in the sauce, I was filled with a child-like glee. Bring on the mess!

Then I sat on the couch, in front of the fire, with Ahmad Jamal melting my ears with his beautiful, jazzy mastery on the piano. And waited.

And then, with much anticipation, I served myself a heaping pile of spaghetti and meatballs. I poured a massive glass of Dolcetto. And I very much enjoyed my perfect Fall evening. I may have been the only dinner guest, but I felt entirely embraced by this dish.

Spaghetti and Meatballs

For the best texture, don't overwork the meat mixture and use Parmesan that's ground to a fine powder (use the processor or the rasp side of a box grater). For more heat, add 1/2 to 3/4 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper to the sauce.

6 main-course servings

• PREP: 1 hour 30 minutes
• TOTAL: 2 hours 45 minutes

Ingredients

Sauce

• 2 28-ounce cans whole peeled tomatoes in juice, drained, juice reserved, tomatoes finely chopped
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
• 2 medium onions, peeled, halved through root end
• 1/2 teaspoon (or more) salt

Meatballs

• 1 cup fresh breadcrumbs made from crustless French or country-style bread
• 1/3 cup whole milk
• 8 ounces ground beef (15% fat)
• 8 ounces ground pork
• 1 cup finely ground (not grated) Parmesan cheese
• 1/3 cup finely chopped Italian parsley
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 2 large eggs
• 2 large garlic cloves, pressed
• 1 pound spaghetti
• Freshly grated Parmesan cheese (for serving)

Preparation

Sauce

• Combine tomatoes with juice, butter, onions, and salt in large wide pot. Bring to simmer over medium heat. Reduce heat; simmer uncovered 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. Discard onions. Using immersion blender, process sauce briefly to break up any large pieces of tomato (texture should be even but not completely smooth). Season sauce with more salt and freshly ground black pepper. Remove from heat.

Meatballs

• Combine breadcrumbs and milk in small bowl; stir until breadcrumbs are evenly moistened. Let stand 10 minutes.
• Place beef and pork in large bowl and break up into small chunks. Add 1 cup ground Parmesan, parsley, salt, and pepper.
• Whisk eggs to blend in small bowl; whisk in garlic. Add to meat mixture.
• Using hands, squeeze milk from breadcrumbs, reserving milk. Add breadcrumbs to meat mixture. Using hands, quickly and gently mix meat mixture just until all ingredients are evenly combined (do not overmix). Chill mixture at least 15 minutes and up to 1 hour.
• Moisten hands with some of reserved milk from breadcrumbs, then roll meat mixture between palms into golf-ball-size balls, occasionally moistening hands with milk as needed and arranging meatballs in single layer in sauce in pot. Bring to simmer. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer until meatballs are cooked through, 15 to 20 minutes. DO AHEAD Can be made 2 days ahead. Cool slightly. Chill uncovered until cold, then cover and keep chilled. Rewarm before continuing.
• Cook spaghetti in large pot of boiling salted water until just tender but still firm to bite, stirring occasionally. Drain.
• Using slotted spoon, transfer meatballs to platter. Add pasta to sauce in pot and toss to coat. Divide pasta among 6 plates. Top each serving with meatballs. Sprinkle meatballs with freshly grated Parmesan cheese and serve.
  
  
  

A watched pot will actually boil.

You can't have your cake and eat it too.

I have contemplated the meaning of that phrase for some time, now.  I’ve never really understood it. My dad sure loves to use them, but most of those old proverbs seem nonsensical to me. Phrases we all use when they seem apropos but really never stopped to think what in God’s teeth they mean. And, really, do they even have meaning anymore?

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

What? Okay, I think that one means that it is better to have a small actual advantage than just the chance at a greater one. Well, I beg to differ.

Back to the cake. Let’s try to suss this out.  First of all, why would you possibly have a cake and not eat it? And if you have cake why can't you eat the cake? It doesn’t seem to be the kind of thing you’d want just hanging around, getting moldy and gross. Eat the damn cake and get another one, if you must. What’s the big issue? It seems to me, that the proverb implies negativity – it says to us, you can’t have it both ways, and you most certainly can't have it all. Sometimes you can, right? Is it always so simple, so black & white? I think not.

I have never been a baker. I can cook, yes, but bake, no. A couple of Christmases ago, Dixon gave me a baking stone for my winter assignment to myself: Project Bread. I had this romantic notion of never having to purchase bread, out, again. I would bake my own, each morning from my prized mother starter that would continue on for generations of bread baking. I tried to bake bread three times that winter and I failed miserably with each attempt. Dixon seemed almost smugly pleased, and most certainly surprised, at my categorical shortcomings in the kitchen (I’d like to think that’s because they’re rare?). Although I did not succeed, I tried, tried again. Perhaps I tried to walk before I could crawl. Regardless, I gave up.

This is the last day of summer, and I feel that I accomplished my summer assignment: Project Grill, with arguable success. Now, it’s time for my fall assignment. I’m trying again, but now calling it: Project Bake.

I don’t actually have a wild and crazy sweet tooth, except for the occasional I-NEED-CHOCOLATE-RIGHT-THIS-MINUTE kind. I do love a cupcake. But I never order desert and I don’t keep sweets around the house. But, I remembered having a similar desert a handful of times over the past few years, in a couple of different places, that really spoke to me – a sort of olive oil cake. One time it was served with champagne grapes and honey, and the other, fresh berries and cream. I loved it’s subtle-sweetness and it’s simple, complexity - or, perhaps its complex simplicity. I found it surprising and earthy and luscious. Together with a seasonal fruit on top created a beautiful marriage of the bounty of Italy and Southern California.

Well, hello there, fall. I baked a cake!

I must tell you, dear readers, my first cake turned out brilliantly! I was so satisfied and proud of myself all evening, like a little peacock, strutting my stuff. I shared the cake, and its story, with anyone who would listen. I also have eaten quite a bit of it. So far Project Bake is looking good for the fall.

While there is some left, I know it won’t be around forever. But you know what? I can make it again, and I will. It’s so exciting that I successfully baked a cake, shared a cake, ate some cake, and can make cake again. I think I can confidently say that I can, in fact, have my cake and eat it too.

This recipe is from the Italy’s Valpolicella region, and one I have adapted from Saveur (issue #75). I topped my version with a Honey Crème Fraiche (simply mix 2 parts crème fraiche with 1 part creamed honey). Fresh blackberries, figs or champagne grapes would be a beautiful and delicious adornment, as well.

This would pair exquisitely with a Tawny Port.

Pissota con l”Olio

Makes 1  9" cake

1 tbsp. butter

3 cups plus
2 tbsp. flour

4 eggs

1 cup sugar

1⁄4 tsp. lemon zest

3⁄4 cup quality extra-virgin olive oil

2⁄3 cup milk

3 tbsp. Grand Marnier or Brandy

1 tbsp. baking powder


1. Preheat oven to 325°. Grease a 3"-deep round 9" cake pan and the outside of a heavy 3"-deep 3" ovenproof ramekin or bowl with butter, then dust with 2 tbsp. of the flour, tapping out excess. Put ramekin or bowl upside down in center of prepared pan. Set prepared pan aside.

2. Beat eggs and sugar together in a large mixing bowl with an electric mixer on medium-high speed until pale yellow, about 1 minute. Add remaining 3 cups flour, lemon zest, oil, milk, and liqueur and stir with a wooden spoon until well combined. Add baking powder and stir until thoroughly combined.

3. Holding ramekin or bowl firmly in place, spoon batter into prepared pan around ramekin or bowl. Bake until cake is deep golden brown and a wooden skewer inserted in center comes out clean, about 40 minutes. Transfer cake to a wire rack to let cool completely, in its pan.

4. Top with fruit, a generous drizzle of honey crème fraiche and serve.

Mozza's Deserved Fanfare

This was written late Summer, 2007...

 
A friend and I decided to explore Mozza last Wednesday night. We heard that - regardless of the LA, restaurant fanfare - it was relatively easy to roll in and sit at the mozzarella bar. That rumor is correct. We walked in at 8:30 and were guided to one of the tables by the bar while we waited. We ordered a bottle of the Bastianich rosé, which was elegant, crisp, with a light fruit. It seemed apropos as Joe Bastianich was in the house.We were told after 5 minutes that we could have a table if we wanted, but we opted to wait for our two seats at the bar - which only took a few moments more (the entirety of the menu is served at the mozzarella bar). It was a treat to watch Nancy Silverton hone her craft for the duration of our meal.
 
We perused the menu and decided to have the Crispy Pigs Trotter from the antipasti, the Scamorza Panino from the mozzarella bar, the Fresh Ricotta & Egg Raviolo AND the Orrechiette with Sausage & Swiss Chard from the Primi. We also ordered the side of Slow Cooked Broccoli. Much to our chagrin, our server insisted that we order everything at once. We intended to graze and savor. To take our time. However he would not put a single item in until we ordered completely. I am compelled to assume this is not actually the restaurant's policy but rather a server who wants to turn tables. He actually was our server at the pizzeria once and did the same maneuver... That aside, everyone and everything was sublime.
 
The pig's trotter was good, but generally uninteresting. The batter could have been lighter to allow the trotters to shine a bit more. The Panino was fantastic. Rich and rich with spice, with creamy, melty cheese. The Orriechette and the slow cooked broccoli came next. The broccoli was an extremely pleasant surprise, loaded with complex, smoky flavor. The orriechette was one of the dishes I had heard about before coming in and did not disappoint. The sausage and the chard provided wonderful textures and melded spice and bitterness, and the breadcrumb topped at the table created that wonderful bit of crunch that created a perfect accent. In my opinion the Raviolo was the standout of our selections. One, very large raviolo is centered on the plate, filled with the freshest, creamiest ricotta and a soft egg yolk. The entire dish is finished with browned butter. It could have used a small amount of coarse sea salt, but was otherwise heavenly.

 

We accompanied the latter part of the meal with a wonderful, Italian, white wine that cut through the rich, spicy, smoky, savoriness with perfection. For the life of me I cannot recall the name of that wine...
For dessert we had the Olive Oil Gelato and the Greek Yogurt Gelato and a suggested selection of cheeses. The olive oil gelato was subtle and mild, with a creamy texture that was like Summer in my mouth. I must say, that with the exception of the odd server who wanted us to order all at once, every person we encountered there were amazingly helpful, knowledgeable, kind and generous. We were given a selection of digestifs to sample at the end of our meal that were beautiful and delicious.
 
The prices did not offend me at all. It is not cheap, but for a long, winding meal that lasts hours upon hours, excellent, attentive service without rushing (I mean, they make you feel like they WANT you to stay all night.), wonderful, creative food and wine, it is well worth the cost (and really still won't break the bank. Hell, it's no Cut, price-wise.).
 
My friend and I agree. The experience on a whole was fantastic and I eagerly anticipate my return. I can't wait to try the Guinea Fowl and the Orata with a bottle of light, Italian red wine on a cool, Summer evening...

Osteria Mozza
6602 Melrose Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90038
(323) 297-0100