Don't Harsh My Mallow... It's Christmas, Man.

I feel like I haven't been here much lately. And that's because I haven't. So much life stuff is happening. I have a lot to tell you. I know, I'm sounding obtuse again. Things will come clearer soon enough. Truth be told, it was a big challenge to pack up, move clear across the country and then unpack and get settled in our new world with a new climate, new sights and smells, new people, new markets, new restaurants, new routine, new everything and then have the wherewithal to share it all.

But that changes now. So let's catch up.

We left off with the road trip trajectory in Atlanta. From there we drove to Charleston where we spent a couple of fantastic nights. A lot of very cool stuff is happening there right now. Especially in the culinary realm. We had our most favorite, most memorable, and surprising meal on our first night at The Ordinary – which was anything but. In fact, in addition to the cocktails, wine, oysters on the half shell, tempura battered okra with sambal, Capers inlet clams Meunîere with pan con tomate and fresh sea salt potato chips - all of which were extraordinary- I tasted, quite possibly, the most remarkable soup of my life. And that's saying something. It was a pumpkin, blue crab and miso soup with chives and brown butter – and it blew my mind. Our lunch the next day at Xiao Bao Biscuit was equally distinctive with an amalgam of dishes pulled willy-nilly from across Asia and tweaked considerably with Southern accents. We had a somewhat disappointing experience at our much anticipated visit to Husk. You win some, you lose some.

We spent a few hours in Asheville and an early tapas dinner at Curate, a restaurant that about half a dozen people insisted we check out if we had only one meal in Asheville. And this was yet another great call. A couple glasses of albariño, an order of pan con tomate (twice in one trip!) with manchego, some iberico ham, boquerones, and a few other odds and ends and we were ready to take the dogs on a breathtaking sunset stroll through the heart of picturesque Asheville, nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains. All this smack in the middle of the peak of fall beauty. Yes, it was only a few hours, but it was memorable.

And then we were on the road again. After two and a half weeks of travel, we were getting anxious to anchor down in our new home. With a short night's sleep at a (creepy) motel in nowhere, North Carolina and brief stop in another tiny town the next day for a classic meat 'n three, Carolina BBQ lunch (pulled pork sandwich, collards, mac 'n cheese and hush puppies), we were in the final stretch.

We were so close, we could just about tune into the Richmond Folk Festival on the radio. I remember it was raining, but through the windshield wipers, I could just begin see the city come into the horizon and I took a big, anticipatory breath and looked over at Fred. He was sound asleep. As the buildings got bigger and my home town began to envelope us, all of the familiar exits and landmarks whizzing past, as the beautiful sounds from the folk festival hummed on the radio, I was relieved I was sort of alone for that moment. Because I realized that for a very long time, many more weeks than we had been on the road, months, maybe even years, I wanted to come home – and here I was. And in that very personal moment, reflecting on everything in my rear view mirror and everything that lay ahead, I burst into tears of elation. I was finally home. And my family was with me.

We have been here for two months now. A stunning and colorful Fall complete with an intimate and delicious family Thanksgiving has come and gone, leaving us with Winter and the holidays right on our doorstep. A lot of important things have happened, some of which will unfold right here in the weeks and months to come. One pretty big zing, however, is that all of these years of writing about life, the universe and everything food-related right here, with you, has yielded something exciting – I will be writing for our monthly magazine beginning in the new year (!!!!). 

There has been a shameful amount of cooking that I lament not sharing with you – especially considering it has been filled with all of the big, robust dishes of the colder months that I so love. But, as I said, we will catch up.

For now, it's Christmastime. And I've been doing more than my share of holiday baking and the like, including two different batches of the ever-tedious gingerbread men. But, something new also... something wintry, holiday-y, sweet and smile-inducing: big, fluffy, sproingy marshmallows to bob around on that steaming hot mug of decadently chocolatey hot cocoa. Make them with your love, your best friend, your mom, and enjoy and toast their completion over that cozy cup of happy – together.

Better yet – what a great idea for a stocking stuffer?!

Fluffy Fun Time Holiday Marshmallows
(Recipe adapted from Smitten Kitchen)

Makes about 20 assorted holiday cookie cutter shaped marshmallows.

About 1 cup confectioners’ sugar


3 1/2 envelopes (2 tablespoons plus 2 1/2 teaspoons)

unflavored gelatin
1 cup cold water, divided
2 cups granulated sugar

1/2 cup light corn syrup


1/4 teaspoon salt


2 large egg whites


1 tablespoon vanilla 

Oil bottom and sides of a 13- by 9- by 2-inch rectangular metal baking pan and dust bottom and sides with some confectioners’ sugar.

In bowl of a standing electric mixer or in a large bowl sprinkle gelatin over 1/2 cup cold cold water, and let stand to soften.

In a 3-quart heavy saucepan cook granulated sugar, corn syrup, second 1/2 cup of cold water, and salt over low heat, stirring with a wooden spoon, until sugar is dissolved. Increase heat to moderate and boil mixture, without stirring, until a candy or digital thermometer registers 240°F, about 12 minutes.

Remove pan from heat and pour sugar mixture over gelatin mixture, stirring until gelatin is dissolved.

With standing or a hand-held electric mixer beat mixture on high speed until white, thick, and nearly tripled in volume, about six minutes if using standing mixer or about 10 minutes if using hand-held mixer.

In separate medium bowl with cleaned beaters beat egg whites (or reconstituted powdered whites) until they just hold stiff peaks. Beat whites and vanilla (or your choice of flavoring) into sugar mixture until just combined. Pour mixture into baking pan and don’t fret if you don’t get it all out (learning from my mess of a first round). Sift 1/4 cup confectioners sugar evenly over top. Chill marshmallow, uncovered, until firm, at least three hours, and up to one day.

Run a thin knife around edges of pan and invert pan onto a large cutting board. Lifting up one corner of inverted pan, with fingers loosen marshmallow and ease onto cutting board. Coat a 1- or 2-inch holiday-shaped cookie cutter with oil or cooking spray to prevent it from sticking. Cut out as many individual marshmallows as possible; coat cutter with more spray as needed. Use marshmallows immediately or store in an airtight container at room temperature up to 1 week.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Kathy's Deviled Ham Salad

Two years ago: Sunday Cassoulet

Three years ago: Linguine with Pancetta Mushroom Cream Sauce

For years ago: 2009: The Year of the Food Truck

What You Really Know About the Dirty South?

Before moving to the City of Angels, I lived in Atlanta. I moved there straight from college and spent six important years in the Dirty South. For the most part I loved it and those were happy years. My twenties – the salad days, if you will. And, with the exception of one very brief visit to a friend, I had not returned.

Until now.

One of the beefs I had with the ATL when I was there was the sprawl (and so, of course, I moved to LA). The city seemed disconnected as a whole. I remember the nail in the coffin for me and the ATL - I was walking down the street in my neighborhood, Little 5 Points, when a friend drove by, honked his horn and hollered, “What up, Duchess?!” (Yes, that was my nickname). I don't know what it was about that moment. I suppose I had been itchy already, but right then I felt like I couldn't breathe. Despite the sprawl, despite the city-ness of the city, everything seemed so small. I needed to fly away. I needed to find bigger. And so I did.

It's a funny thing, however. After all of my years in LA, the very thing thing I really missed, the thing I yearned for the most was exactly the thing I had turned away from in Atlanta all those years before. Screw anonymity, screw the whole little fish/big pond thing, I wanted community and family. I wanted little(r), not big(gest). I wanted to return home to Richmond.

So, how could I not stop in Atlanta, the very city that took me on my long journey back home? (And I do so love to come full circle) Plus, it has become a pretty big food destination over the past few years. What's more, some of my old friends from back in the day are smack in the middle of this Atlanta, New South food surge. And some other old friends are still making their food, their way, deliciously, same as it ever was. And I had three places to visit that fell into either one, the other, or both of these categories.

Our first stop was one of those classics, El Myr. It was my Regal Beagle, so to speak, and perhaps where the whole “duchess” thing originated. Part dive bar, part DJ venue, part diner, part tattoo corral, all cheap beer, tequila, chips, salsa, guacamole and massive burritos. I was relieved to find, upon bellying up to the bar one quiet afternoon for lunch, that not a thing has changed. Every possible surface is covered with outsider art or band stickers, ashtrays on each table, jukebox in the corner, and the same gloriously irreverent and surly staff: perfect. As Fred and I split chips, salsa and guacamole, a couple of sweet teas and a Brunswick stew burrito that was the size of our dog, Eduardo, I gazed around the space, nostalgically. If those walls could talk... Actually, I'm glad they can't. As soon as we finished, I hurried Fred out. Just in case.

El Myr's 14th birthday party
Photo courtesy of El Myr

The next morning was slotted for brunch at another restaurant that held a special place in my heart, a spot that employed me for my last year in Atlanta: Ria's Bluebird. Ria is a local celebrity of sorts in Atlanta and has been for as long as I can remember. Everyone knows Ria. And, likewise, everyone knows her namesake restaurant famous for its brunch. In fact, Ria recently appeared on the Food Network's show, Chopped. It was a brunch battle. Ria won. Even on a weekday there was a bit of a wait in her tiny little nook on Memorial Drive, but fortunately Fred and I most often prefer to dine at the counter, and, after about ten minutes, we had our seats. And then we dove in: two coffees, huevos (grilled, blue corn tortillas with black and pinto beans, topped with white cheddar, two fried eggs, salsa and sour cream), biscuits and gravy (two handmade buttermilk biscuits with pepper milk gravy), and a short stack of buttermilk pancakes, aka “The world's best pancakes” - New York Times (hand-sifted, made from scratch, with hot maple syrup). Chopped champion? “World's best pancakes”? I get it. This is food for the heart, mind and soul. 

After that meal, we returned to our home base: my dear, dear friend, Brian's house, at which point we all three decided we should take a walk. Brian led us to Atlanta's newest, and probably most attractive addition yet; the BeltLine. The BeltLine is a former railway corridor around the core of Atlanta which is under development in stages as a multi-use trail. Some portions are already complete, while others are still in progress, but absolutely hikeable. We walked from Brian's house, which is a stone's throw from my old apartment, all the way to the dog run in Piedmont Park. Though there and back took the better part of the afternoon, the concept of that route being realistically walkable in that amount of time would have been completely unheard of during my time in Atlanta. To see all of the people walking, riding their bikes or skateboarding, through the heart of a city as car-centric as Los Angeles was remarkable, and truly a beautiful sight. Kudos, ATL.

Brian and yours truly making happy faces.

Alright, we all three had exercised, we got sunshine, some beautiful fall scenes, a lot of laughter and conversation, and now were showered and ready for our fancy dinner at my third, planned destination: Miller Union. As a result of more old friends and Facebook and other social media, I had been hearing about the development of Miller Union long before they opened in late 2009. Plus all those years ago, their chef, Steven Satterfield had worked at quite a few well-known and well-respected restaurants in Atlanta (one with Ria!) and was my roommate's bandmate. So I was very much looking forward to saying hello and finally experiencing this New South food magic he has been creating that has been mentioned in every, single food-related magazine that I have touched in the past few years. But really, one dish in particular, I'd say their most iconic dish: his farm egg baked in celery cream.That's right - a single, beautiful, farm fresh egg with that bright orange yolk suspended in cream, infused with the earthiness of celery, and baked until it's set like custard, and served with a crisp, buttery slab of grilled country bread. This dish exemplifies freshness, simplicity, restraint and beauty.

That alone, and of course a little QT and a glass of wine with Steven after dinner was well worth the entire evening.

What a trip.

Atlanta, you surprised and delighted me on many levels. You gave me three days with Brian, good wine, delicious food, first glimpses of fall, pride and confidence in growth and change for the better, wonderful and profound memories of a life and a me that I had almost forgotten – and missed. You took sprawl and created cohesion. Atlanta, you are big and beautiful and doing things right. And though I am confidently heading towards my new home, I will keep all of these thoughts tucked not too far away. Because you never know. You never do.

Signed,

The Duchess

Farm Egg Baked in Celery Cream
(Recipe adapted from Stephen Satterfield, Miller Union, Atlanta)

Serves 2

Ingredients

1/3 cup fresh cream


2 stalks celery, including leaves, roughly chopped


1 shallot, sliced, including skin


1/2 small onion, sliced, including skin


1 tsp kosher salt


3 peppercorns


1 small bay leaf


1 sprig fresh thyme


butter for greasing  


2 farm fresh eggs

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a small saucepan, gently heat cream, celery, shallot, onion, salt, peppercorns, and herbs until very hot. Remove from heat and let steep for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, lightly butter two small ovenproof ramekins and crack an egg into each, being careful not to break the yolk. Strain the cream into a small bowl, gently pressing on the solids. Discard solids. Spoon cream over each egg just until covered. (It's okay if the egg yolk is protruding slightly across the top.)

Bake dishes in preheated oven for 5 to 6 minutes. Check closely to make sure the whites are setting but the yolk is still soft. Then turn the oven to broil and, with the door propped open, heat until tops begin to brown. Remove immediately and let rest a minute before serving. Serve with warm crusty bread brushed with olive oil.

Printable recipe.

Two years ago: M.B. Post
Three years ago: Sausage over Creamy Lentils
Four years ago: Chicken Fricassee

Hot Stuff in Nashville.

Nashville is hot stuff right now - it's quite the culinary darling, actually. In addition to our hefty list of restaurants to visit, one of my closest friends from LA, Chris, is from Nashville, and his family all live there. His brother-in-law runs a restaurant that I had been hearing about for some time.

Unfortunately for me, somewhere between New Orleans and Nashville I acquired one super nasty cold (that fortunately – and bizarrely – only lasted twenty-four hours). But we had reservations at Rolf & Daughters, and by gum, we were sticking to it. Even through a super hero dosage of cold medicines, I was able to appreciate the atmosphere, service, food and wine. As per usual, I ordered the chicken. But alas, we were not long for the world that night, and right after dinner, hurried back to the hotel to rest up for the next few days in town. And our next stop was going to be Chris' brother-in-law's restaurant; Fido.

In 1993, way before local, sustainable, organic, farm to table took root (think Pearl Jam-era), Fido was launched as part of the unofficial Bongo World and consists of a wholesale coffee roasting company and four cafes – each having a unique identity and menu. Their coffee is 100% organic and bought directly from Fair Trade small-farm co-ops. Fido is both coffee shop and restaurant, nestled in Nashville’s Hillsboro neighborhood. Well known for their fish tacos, the Local Burger and their sweet potato fries, and with dishes like a grilled Tennessee cheddar and country ham sandwich and baked cheese grits, Chef John Stephenson offers a fresh, local menu which simultaneously breaks away from, and pays homage to, traditional southern fare.

Fido got its name from the pet store that previously occupied their space and is, no surprise here, dog-friendly. This was a huge plus for us traveling with two of our canine boys, Eduardo and Byron. Right around lunchtime on a recent weekday, the four of us laid claim to one of the precious tables outside before we went in to peruse the menu and place our order. And out popped Chris' brother-in-law, Chef John himself – lucky for us he was manning all of the food coming out of the kitchen that day. So we ordered a lot: the Local Burger with sweet potato fries, the last of the season heirloom tomato salad with fresh figs and blue cheese, tomato-basil soup with focaccia, grilled salmon with polenta, mache, berries and feta, the special plate of the day which had a sampling of a couple Southern staples: green bean casserole, succotash, and finally a hefty slice of pumpkin cheesecake.

Their most popular dish is the Local burger with sweet potato fries, is fantastic. It's made with Tennessee beef and local lamb, Swiss cheese, pickles, onion strips and a zesty sauce. The meat was seasoned with a beautiful blend of spices. The bread was an ideal texture and there wasn't too much of it to eclipse the meat. The sweet potato fries were grilled, made from sweet potatoes on site, were tender, soft and delicious.

We saw John and his family quite a bit during our three nights in Nashville. We hit the hotspots and the nightspots and the old tried and true spots. We heard rad, live music, went to a farmers' market and I even bought a beautiful, new handbag from a local designer that Chris' sister, Katherine, turned me on to. But culinarily, two things in Nashville really stood out to me; Fido and another joint Katherine and John sent us to: Hattie B's Hot Chicken. It was my first Hot Chicken experience and it was memorable. We sat outside (again with the pups) and stared down at our massive platters of Nashville-style fried chicken: marinated in buttermilk, breaded, sauced using a paste that had been heavily spiced with cayenne pepper, then pan-fried and coated in 'damn hot' sauce. It is served atop slices of white bread with pickle chips with traditional Southern sides like collards, black-eyed pea salad, fried okra, pimiento mac n cheese, and tea so sweet it hurts your teeth. Fred, of course, ordered his hot chicken as hot as he could and was on fire after two bites in. But we loved it. We felt so Nashville.

The food we experienced in Nashville – all of it – was solid, satisfying and fresh. We appreciated that we were also able to experience the new school and the old school. None were necessarily bells and whistles places. More, I'd say, salt of the earth, with just the right amount of salt.

We use this salsa for many things at Fido, but mainly it is the star ingredient in our Huevos Cubano.  Add it to soft scrambled eggs, with some nice sharp cheese and you have a wonderful breakfast item. Place in a blender with some of your favorite hot sauce and you have a tangy green hot sauce. Serve on pork loin, tacos, or just eat with chips! 

~ Chef John Stephenson

Fido Roasted Tomatillo Salsa

Ingredients

1 red onions finely diced

1 poblano finely diced

1diced jalapeño

1 lemons juice and zest

1 tablespoon garlic minced

½ cup chopped cilantro

¼ cup chopped parsley

2 teaspoons cumin

1 teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon ground coriander

½ cup olive oil

¼ cup rice wine vinegar

2 teaspoons brown sugar

salt & pepper to taste

4 quarts tomatillos

Directions

Preheat oven to 400F.  In a large bowl filled with water, place a few tomatillos at a time in and remove stems and paper husk from tomatillos. Place on large sheet pan. Place the sheet pan with all tomatillos, a little olive oil, and a pinch of salt in the oven and roast for 15-20 minutes until soft. Remove and cool for 10 minutes.

Place the tomatillos in a blender and pulse until chunky. Pour into large mixing bowl.

Put all other ingredients in bowl with tomatillos and mix together until combined. Taste for salt and pepper.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: This Bud's For You.

Two years ago: Short Rib Stew with Mushroom & Parsley Dumplings

Three years ago: SugarFISH

Four years ago: Scallops with Wild Mushroom Risotto & Rosé Fonduta

Deep in the heart of Texas.

We arrived at our next stop after a long day on the road. We had driven all day and only been in one state – so you know we must have been in Texas. I was extra excited because A) I was meeting an old friend I hadn't seen since college, and B) I had never, ever been to Texas before. One thing for sure; there would be BBQ.

Now, I'm from the East Coast and that's usually the Carolina style BBQ camp. This means the meat (usually pork) is served pulled, shredded, or chopped. The predominant flavor is that vinegar-based sauce - it's tart. And cole slaw is invariably on top of it. Texas BBQ sauce is darker, thicker, tomato-ier, it's sweet. And this Q is slaw-free (or, at least, on the side).

After a fury of back and forth texting from the road with my friend, we agreed to meet at the landmark Texas BBQ joint, The Salt Lick. It worked out beautifully as we rolled into town in the middle of a beautiful sunset. The restaurant wasn't too far from their house – a little ways out of Austin, on the side of a long, lonesome, bucolic road in Driftwood, Texas. They call it Hill Country.

Opened in 1969 by Augustus 'Texas Boy' Roberts, Sr. and his wife, The Salt Lick grew quickly in popularity and went from being open only a few times a year to being open seven days a week. Upon walking into the large, ye olde wagon wheel, lodge-like space, I was greeted immediately by the massive open BBQ pit filled with MEAT.

Between the four of us we ordered everything – brisket, pork ribs, beef ribs, sausage, turkey and a half of a chicken. All of which came with sides of potato salad, cole slaw, beans, bread, pickles and onions. 'Thurman's Plate' was put in front of me (because that's the dish that 'Poppa always ate'); brisket, pork ribs and sausage. We did get some sweet tea, but as for the adult beverages, BYO. Thankfully our friends brought a mobile cooler filled with local beers and a box of wine (!).

About mid-way and 32596 bites of that sweet, Texas barbeque'd meat through the meal my friend asked me, “So, do you think it's GOOOD or do you think it's good?” Fred and I looked at one another and then back to her and replied in unison, “I think it's good.” And that kind of says it all. It's a really wonderful experience. The space is fun and authentic. The BBQ pit is fantastic. The food comes out at a clip, is inexpensive (the entire meal for four was around $60) and there is a ton of it. The service is friendly and approachable. We had a box of wine. Maybe it's those Carolina BBQ roots, and though I thoroughly enjoyed my foray into Texas BBQ, it was good. Really good. And really fun.

Missing were the wheelbarrows to transport us back to our cars.

And after that day of driving and that meal, we slept a sound sleep deep in the heart of Texas.

Well, since it took two days to drive through Texas, you get to hear about two restaurants....

The next day's lunch was all mapped out. And it was all Fred. He has been an avid fan of Top Chef, along with me, for many seasons, and had been reading all about the former Cheftestant, Paul Qui, and his flourishing career in Austin. More interestingly to Fred, Qui's brick and mortar iteration of his East Side King food trucks.

We found it hiding in the back of a divy dive bar aptly called Hole In The Wall, across the street from UT. The ultimate college bar; dark, dingy, old school rock music blaring from the speakers, with pool tables, pinball machines, murals on the walls and band stickers on everything else. Qui uses this iconic space to flex his tasty, funky fusion street food riffs on Japanese, Thai and Filipino cuisines. Using the ubiquitous cilantro, mint, onion, jalapeño combination in many of the dishes, Qui throws a little shout out to Texas to boot. Boot. Texas. Get it? Hello?

Fred ordered the Thai Chicken Kara-age, Liberty Rice, Poor Qui’s Buns, Brussels Sprouts Salad, and the uber melting pot of a dish; Chicken Tortilla Ramen (bacon dashi, chicken-tortilla-Tom-Yum paste, chicken thigh, avocado, corn, corn tortilla, pickled yellow onion, jalapeño, cilantro, garlic, lime).

The food was audaciously impressive. The dishes were heartfelt, inspired and esoteric. Everything was bright and fresh and colorful. The Liberty Rice; simply steamed jasmine rice, ginger, garlic oil, basil, cilantro, mint, onion and jalapeño – yet, so bold and herbaceous. The ramen was the perfect Winter comfort soup - so complex, layered and delicious, we couldn't stop eating it in even the arid ninety degree heat. All of this beauty confidently served up in little paper dishes with little plastic utensils. And putting a mere $40 dent in the wallet.

We ate a lot of food – and fairly big food - but did not feel weighed down at all. I'd even say we left with a spring in our step and a long forgotten Clash song in our heads.

Paul Qui's Chicken Kara-age over Liberty Rice

Serves 4

Ingredients

Brine

1 cup water

1 cup sugar

1 cup white vinegar

1/2 cup fish sauce

1/4 cup chopped garlic

1/4 cup chopped thai chilies

Chicken

24 oz chicken thighs

1.5 fl oz of Chicken Brine

Sauce

1 cup water

1 cup sugar

1 cup white vinegar

1/2 cup fish sauce

1/4 cup chopped garlic

1/4 cup chopped thai chilies

1  1/2 cup Mae Ploy chili sauce

Liberty Rice

1 quart jasmine rice

1 quart water

1 tablespoon julienne ginger

1/2 cup garlic oil (heat chopped garlic in oil)

Veggies & Herbs

10 jalapeños

2 large yellow onions

1/4 bunch basil

1/4 bunch mint

1 bunch cilantro

Directions

Make the Brine

Place water, sugar, fish sauce and vinegar in bowl. Whisk until sugar is completely dissolved. Add garlic and thai chilies and whisk until both are well dispersed throughout the liquid.

Brine the Chicken

Take the chicken thighs and cut into 3/4-inch cubes, making sure to remove fat and tendons from the thighs. Place in bowl. Whisk previously prepared brine to redistribute garlic and chilies evenly. Ladle 1.5oz of brine into the bowl with the chicken and toss. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let marinate for 8 hours before use.

Prepare the Sauce

Place water, sugar, fish sauce and vinegar in bowl. Whisk until sugar is completely dissolved. Add garlic and thai chilies to the mixture and whisk until both are well dispersed. Add mae ploy and whisk until combined with mixture.

Make the Liberty Rice

Wash rice in bowl until water runs relatively clear. Place rice in cooker and add 1 quart water. You want a 1:1 ratio of rice to water. Add ginger. Close lid and set the rice cooker to cook. Once the rice is done mix in garlic oil. Keep warm until ready to serve.

Meanwhile, Slice Jalapeños & Onions

Cut the ends and tips off of 10 large jalapeños. Using a mandolin slice the jalapeños into 1/8-inch slices. Cut the tops off of 2 large yellow onions. Peel onion halves making sure that the root of the onions remain. Slice the halved pieces of onion in half, so that the onions are now quartered. Using a mandolin slice the onion width wise into 1/8-inch slices. Place sliced jalapeños and onions in the fridge and hold until time to serve.

Prepare the Herb Mixture

Pick herbs, making sure that only the nicest green pieces are saved. Places herb mixture in bowl and toss herbs gently making sure that herbs are well mixed in the bowl. Place herbs in fridge and hold until time to serve.

Cooking and Serving

Place 1.5 pounds of brined chicken in a bowl. Pour cornstarch into the bowl and toss chicken, until well coated. Place coated chicken into sieve. Place sieve into empty metal bowl and shake chicken in the sieve until excess cornstarch falls into bowl underneath. Place chicken into fryer basket and drop into oil. Fryer should be at 375 degrees F. Cook chicken until crispy and golden brown. While chicken is cooking make sure to shake the basket so that the pieces are able to evenly cooked. Separate pieces using tongs if needed.

While the chicken is cooking take medium metal bowl and place small handful of onions and jalapeños in bowl. Set bowl aside until chicken is finished cooking.

When chicken is finished pull from oil and allowing excess oil to drain and the chicken to rest. Place chicken in the medium metal bowl that contains all the vegetables. Season chicken with 1/2 tablespoon of salt. Pour 1/4 cup chicken sauce over chicken. Toss chicken and vegetables in the sauce until all is evenly coated. The chicken and vegetables should have a nice glean to them but chicken should still be very crisp.

Place 3/4 cup cooking rice into individual bowls. Place chicken and vegetables on top of rice. Top with small handful herb mixture and your dish is ready to serve.

Serve the chicken piping hot with sliced onions and jalapeños. Top with mint, basil and cilantro.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Ham Hock & Lima Beans
Two years ago: Cousin Flonnie's Spoon Bread
Three years ago: Spaghetti & Meatballs
Four years ago: Calbi BBQ (Food Truck)

California, Here We Go.

We've been plotting and planning for close to eight months. We've been roommates with boxes and bubble wrap for about as many weeks. Address changes, car selling, new banks, lists and lists and lists, goodbye breakfasts, lunches and dinners, goodbye glasses (that turned into bottles) of wine – all of this, leading up to a moment. The moment we drive away from the City of Angels towards our new home, three thousand miles away in Richmond, Virginia. And that moment happened last Thursday.

It was so hurried and frenetic, nary a moment for goodbye tears or nostalgia. Which suited me just fine. Fred, Eduardo, Byron and I all loaded up in our little car, loaded with our life for the next few weeks - not without grandma Janie's cast-iron skillet and my bacon drippings. Ahead warp zillion! Ahead first to Phoenix, Arizona, where we were set to meet up with the legendary Chris Bianco, creator of what is purported to be the greatest pizza on Earth outside of Italy. And then what next? We were not certain. And that is the beauty. We are like Hansel and Gretel, eating those breadcrumbs all along the trail across this great country to find our way home.

After experiencing a wonderful dinner at Chris' newest iteration of Pizzeria Bianco (which you will be able to read and see all about on TasteSpotting soon!), we popped up bright and early to meet up with him at his cafe and 'test kitchen' of sorts, Pane Bianco. This is where his brother, Marco, bakes the loaves of bread and also where the mill lives. Yes, they grow their own wheat, have their own mill, and bake their own bread with their very own flour.

After a tour of the kitchen, dining room and mill, with tastes of biscotti here, and gelato there, Chris sat with us and talked about love and the beauty in everything, and what inspires him (of which food is but a slice). He talked about rectangles, triangles and circles (everything in Pane Bianco is on wheels). He then sent us on our way with hugs, a bottle of chilled rosé from his restaurant (the label is from a painting his father gave his mother ages ago, of a rose) and told us to pick out one of the loaves that had just come out of the oven – to pick the one 'that spoke to us.'

And on the road we went. To infinity: The Grand Canyon. Where we went to watch the sunset, crack open the bottle of rosé, and eat that beautiful fresh bread with some Italian cheeses we picked up in Flagstaff. And yes, the bread was remarkable – mouth-injuringly crusty on the outside, yet moist, airy and filled with beautiful air pockets on the inside – fundamentally satisfying in every way. I suppose Marco was right, it 'spoke to us.' All this while watching the sun disappear into the canyon. How remarkable was it? So much so that I have goose bumps even writing this.

The next morning we were up bright and early to get on the road again. We needed to make it to Albuquerque, at least. Which shouldn't have been too much of a challenge, but Fred wanted to amble. So we stopped at Meteor Crater, walked the dogs, looked around, took pictures. And then we were off again. Well, for about thirty minutes. When I noticed the car slowing considerably, I looked up and found that Fred had pulled off into a small town. And we were driving down the main drag: Route 66.

Fred turned to me and flatly explained (as though it was quite obvious), “I want to be standin' on a corner in Winslow, Arizona."

Oh, of course. Clearly.

We pulled over, leashed up the pups and went to find The Corner. It wasn't hard to find. After Fred posed for his obligatory picture, we began to wander and stumbled across none other than the 15th Annual Standin' on a Corner Festival. What are the chances?!

So we found a vendor selling Navajo Tacos on Fry Bread, wandered back to the car and had our lunch. As we sat in the sun, noshing this new kind of taco, I looked around and thought about Chris' words from earlier. I ruminated on unexpected beauty, I looked down at my pizza-shaped taco loaded with meat, cheese, tomatoes, green onion, lettuce and salsa with the fry bread confidently glistening with hot oil, I relished the love of Fred and our dogs on this singular adventure. I then looked up and saw a bird fly over (how amazing would it have been if it was an eagle?).

Take it easy? No problem.

And just think, only fort-eight hours prior we were watching the City of Angels disappear in our rear view mirror.

Navajo Fry Bread
(recipe adapted from The Pioneer Woman)

Makes 6 breads

Ingredients

3 cups All-purpose Flour

1/2 teaspoon Salt

3 teaspoons Baking Powder (slightly Rounded Teaspoons)

3/4 cups Milk

 Water As Needed To Get Dough To Come Together

 Vegetable Shortening Or Lard For Frying

Directions

Stir together flour, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl. Stir with a fork as you pour in the milk; keep stirring for a bit to get it to come together as much as possible. Add just enough water (about 1/4 to 1/2 cup) to get it to come together. Cover the bowl with a dish towel and let it sit for 35 to 45 minutes to rest.

When you're ready to make the fry bread, heat about 1 to 2 inches shortening/lard in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Grab a plum-sized piece of dough (or larger if you want larger fry bread) and press it into a circle with your fingers: place it on a clean surface and begin pressing in the center and work your way out, stretching it as you go.

When the circle is about 4 to 7 inches (however big you want it) carefully drape it into the skillet. Allow it to fry on one side until golden brown, about 1 minute, then carefully flip it to the other side using tongs. Fry it for another 30 to 45 seconds.

Remove the fry bread to a paper towel-lined plate and allow it to drain while you fry the other pieces.

Serve warm!

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Ham Hock & Lima Beans

Two years ago: Chocolate Sea-Salt Pie

Three years ago: Chicks with Knives at Test Kitchen, 2010

Four years ago: The Marked 5 Truck

Check One-Two.

Fred and I just returned from our final trip to San Francisco before we embark on our Eastward adventure. Our last trip, period, before we head East. So, of course, I had a few restaurants, two in particular, to cross off my never ending list. One was Mission Chinese Food. I have been trying forever to find the perfect Chinese food spot. One that's not trying to keep up with the healthy Jones' (I want some of that MSG, umami, and some greasiness, dammit), one that's not too far off the beaten path (no molecular gastronomy here, please), but one that is trying to insert a modicum of creativity into the food. I have been coming up empty. To the universe's credit, I haven't been making any backbreaking attempts either. It would certainly not fall into 'my life mission' category. But, whenever I crave Chinese food I am reminded of the whole issue.

Well, now I'm even more irritated about this since I found EXACTLY what I was looking for in a city where I do not reside and in the very state I am leaving permanently in a few short weeks.

Within a couple of hours of waking up on our first morning, we grabbed coffee, picked up my Dad and his girlfriend, Dale, checked out the Diebenkorn exhibit at the de Young Museum, and found ourselves standing face to face with the wonky, old-school, hole-in-the-wall-Chinese-eatery, pop-up turned restaurant-within-a-restaurant, hipster-hot Mission Chinese Food.

Inside it was still, it was dark and it was hot. If you want ice in your drink, too bad. No ice.

I skipped breakfast for this so I could order as many different items as possible. So we did. Beers for the boys, soda for Dale and a grüner for me. Then we went for it: Beijing Vinegar Peanuts with smoked garlic, anise, fennel seeds, rock sugar ($5), Fresh Rice Noodle with peanut sauce, tofu skin, pickled mustard greens ($8), Stir-Fried Pork Jowl and Radishes with fermented black bean, shiso, mint ($12), Grandma's Spicy Lamb Dumplings with peanuts, dill pickles, chili oil ($9), Squid Ink Noodles with cumin, fennel and chick peas, lamb dipping broth (I can't recall the price), and finally Braised Pea Leaves with pumpkin, pressed tofu, salted chili broth ($12).

All of the flavors were bright, fresh, creative and surprising – think dill, smoked garlic, fennel, pumpkin, all mixed in with the tofu, pork jowl, dumplings, and rice noodles. And somehow, amidst all of this intrigue we were completely sated in the Chinese-food-craving department. This vibrant and intelligent food still had enough of the classic flavors and textures, even the oil, and the unctuous quality we know and love (within reason) about traditional Chinese food. And, no joke, I will be making those vinegar peanuts at home very soon. I could eat those forevers.

I will happily remember that meal for a very, very long time. I'm pretty sure we all will.

Check one.

The second place I knew I had to visit on our short trip was Tartine Bakery. I don't eat a ton of pastries, nor do I crave them very often. However, I have been really exploring the world of baking of late and am extremely interested in everything that goes into the science of it. More importantly, I am a sucker for an incredible butter croissant – and it's almost shocking how few I come across.

And so, on our last morning in San Francisco, while Fred was brunching and bonding with his Aunt and cousins, and Dad and Dale were wrapping things up and checking out of their their hotel, I knew exactly what I would be doing. I knew I had to go at it alone, and really, I wanted to. My dad would never in 2759870 million years have tolerated that line for a pastry, or anything really. Actually, I'm guessing no one involved in this trip would have wanted to endure that line unless it was to pick up their winning Powerball check.

So I hopped into Fred's car (a stick shift), clocked my destination on my smartypants phone and headed out, lurching and jerking along the way (it had been quite a while since I had driven a stick – and this was possibly the worst city to test that time lapse). After spending twenty minutes finding parking, which was about two blocks away, I walked up to the bakery and settled in back of the infernal eternal line, halfway down the block – and yes, it was formidable. And, no, there were no available seats inside or out by the time I received my order: a ham and cheese croissant, a plain butter croissant, a loaf of their sourdough bread and a latte (totaled around $20). So I walked back to the area where the car was and plopped right down on the curb.

I don't know. To most people none of this may sound appealing in the least: driving strange car in strange city to wait in seemingly endless line to get 'breakfast' only to find there is nowhere to sit and then sit on the side of the road in mid-August to drink hot coffee and eat a pastry. All alone. Not even a book to read.

Well, I'm not certain exactly what it was. The journey, the anticipation, or even the little spot in the shade all by myself, but that croissant and that latte and that moment were... perfect. I mean, perfect. It was one of those – and I've talked about them before – Cosmic Muffin moments. Those Nowhere-I'd-Rather-Be moments.

The latte was warm, rich, smooth and comforting. The croissant was flaky, crunchy, light and yet somehow strapping, with heft... and buttery, oh so buttery, like a delivery system of cultured French butter, buttery. After two bites in, it looked like there had been a flash snowfall of flaky crumbs around my toes on the sidewalk.

Nirvana, pure bliss; I was truly happy.

Check two.

And then I was ready. Ready to get back into the car and brave the drive to pick up the grow ups, then Fred, to head up for the bucolic segment of the trip: Inverness.


One year ago: Heirloom Melon & Tomato Gazpacho
Two years ago: Beer Braised BBQ Pork Butt
Three years ago: Classic Southern Deviled Eggs
Four years ago: Nebulous Misadventures (AKA The Lost Weekend)

Good To Go

Goddammit. I’m sick. 

It’s irritating on obvious levels. But the big rub is that I walk around, all puffed up like a peacock most of the time, touting that I simply do not get sick. But anyone can take one look at me right now and know that’s a load of crap. It would appear I have temporarily acquired Walter Matthau’s nose and I am entirely unable to pronounce any words involving the letters N and/or M. And let’s not even mention the small mountain range of soiled tissues that have become my number one accessory of late.

But oddly I have not lost my appetite.

It is now a new year: 2012. I welcome this year. I’d say it’s already off to an auspicious start. Well, except for the whole sick thing. But I suppose it’s worth it. Fred was sick before me, you see.

Wait, that's right, I was in a car accident last week. No one was hurt, but my car went through over a grand worth of repairs. The other car was fine. I suppose it was all officially my fault, but those tourists stopped at a green light!

Okay, so I’m sick and I caused a car accident that has set me back a considerable chunk of green. All in the first week and a half of a new year that I am heralding as auspicious. Hey, I’m in a good mood, what can I say?

Things look bright. I am going on a mini getaway next weekend to someplace called Inverness. Apparently I will not even have cell service there. I find this to be both frightening and tantalizing. It looks like it will rain there that weekend, so we are anticipating much cooking and snuggles. Works for me. Then, in February, my dad and his girlfriend are coming to visit. I always get excited for some QT with Pops. Plus we always eat out a lot at all the fun places he hasn’t been yet. Cha-ching!

Anyway, things just feel right in 2012 despite the sickies and the car situation.

In case you, my fellow Angelinos, have not noticed, 2012 thus far has hardly been Wintery. In fact, it’s been downright Summery. I do believe it was in the nineties last week. I guess it’s fine. I can’t do much about it anyway. Although, being sick seems even worse when it’s warm and blue and sparkly out. It makes me feel guilty for curling up in a ball with my box of tissues, hot tea and a blanket.

So I won't.

I like to pretend I’m not sick. I’m out in the world. I’m sitting at one of my haunts, Cheebo, having something I have been eating at least once a week for a couple of years, now. It doesn’t matter if it’s Winter or Summer, I can eat their chopped salad any season. I often come here to write (free wi-fi), and Uncle Dougertons and I historically meet up about once a week-ish to have dinner. We always split the chopped salad to start. And we always sit at the bar.

The staff knows me, and my glass of sauvignon blanc is always placed in front of me right as I seat myself. They know not to allow me to eat more than one ramekin of their complimentary home-made potato chips. Sometimes I bring the kitchen fresh herbs from my garden to use. When the power goes out in the canyon I will camp out at Cheebo and read and graze and sip for hours.

Cheebo is not cool or hip or in or sceney. It’s really orange inside and has pretty garish artwork on the walls. The music is usually a little bit too loud and not as calm as I’d like. There is a television above the bar that is always on (though I do appreciate that during baseball season). But there is something to be said for our neighborhood spots. The places that provide us with a sense of community and comfort. Places that are inexpensive with solid food and perfectly acceptable wines by the glass.

So, here I sit, sick with an appetite, at the bar at Cheebo, in the middle of a Wednesday. I’ve got a glass of ice water, a bowl of cream of broccoli soup and my favorite salad. Ever. As I’ve been writing this I realized that, while I have Tweeted and Four SquaredCheebo and my salad love, I have never written about them. And so I feel they deserve their due (and they deliver!).

I’m pretty sure the guy sitting next to me at the bar is sick too. He’s drinking hot tea and has a tissue. I sure hope he is because my ears are blown out from blowing my nose and I can’t hear. So I can’t tell if I just burped loudly or quietly, and more importantly, if he heard me.

Cheebo: Good To Go

7533 W. Sunset Blvd.

Los Angeles, CA 90046

323.850.7070

One year ago: Cremini Mushroom & Meyer Lemon Risotto

Two years ago: Chocolate & Chile de Arbol Brownies 

FOUR years ago: Oyster Stew