Swimming Into the Spotlight.

Yellow Umbrella, or Yellah Umbrellah as many Richmonders call it, has been serving up choice seafood in Richmond's West End since my whole life (they opened in 1975). I only learned about the place a few years ago but it quickly became my The Go-To for extraordinary – and sustainably harvested - fresh fish (when I was in town, of course). I also always had to grab some of their remarkable prepared cheese grits right before checking out. Random, right? Not in the South.

This past February they moved. Across the street. You can throw a rock, it's so close. But now they are way bigger and even better. I imagine much to Belmont Butchery's chagrin, they now boast a nose-to-tail, butcher shop with humanely-raised meat. Even better, they offer 'cellar-to-table' wines and cheeses, seasonal produce, artisanal breads and homemade prepared foods.

On their website they claim to have 'fanatical and quality service', and I'm here to tell you it is absolutely true. A week or so ago, whilst my dad, Fred and I began planning a dinner party for six people, their intrepid Travis endured twenty-four hours and a myriad of phone calls from yours truly. During one return call I mistook Travis for my friend, Spencer, and squealed familiarly; during another, Travis thought I called him 'honey' – I'm pretty sure I didn't, but one never knows. I for sure knew I wanted whole fish. They expected whole Rockfish, Red Snapper and Branzino delivered the next day and did not know the exact specs of the fish. Why?

Because someone had to go catch the fish.

So, my new BFF, Travis, called me first thing the next morning with the option of fifteen pounds and over thirty inches of Rockfish. That was definitely the option I desired most but I was quickly reminded that cooking something of that size would be impossible. There was no way it would fit in the oven or the grill. Parade rained on, I settled for four large Branzino and about six pounds of mussels. And a huge chunk of those cheese grits. They scaled and gutted the fish right there in front of us in the store, and even asked if we wanted heads and tails on – which we did.

We cooked everything that night. Dad was on fish duty, Fred took the Mussel patrol, and I was assigned 'the sides' (I made a delicate salad of frisée, lightly dressed with finishing oil, lemon and salt, and roasted sunchokes with a buttery bagna cauda). The mussels were so plump, briny and rich – and the Branzino – which we roasted whole, was bracingly fresh, simple and exquisite.

Back in LA and doing some grocery shopping yesterday, I poked around the fish counter to check out my options. They had whole Branzino, but even to say that it paled in comparison would be weak. Paz had a memorable Yellah Umbrellah story to share: she bought a whole Red Snapper from them once and named her fish Carl. I recall her sending me a picture of Carl. This was probably about four years ago and she still waxes on about Carl, the most beautiful, freshest fish she had ever seen and eaten. Ask her about him, I'm serious.

The crew at Yellow Umbrella Provisions are doing something singular and noteworthy. I honestly think their product is unparalleled and the people behind it are equally so. I just don't understand why they are still in the best-kept-secret category.

When I return, I'm going to go back and give Travis a hug.

Spicy Coconut Mussels with Lemongrass
(recipe from NYT Dining, April 2012)

Serves 2

2 tablespoons coconut or safflower oil

1 shallot, finely chopped

3 garlic cloves, finely chopped

1 stalk lemon grass, trimmed (outer layers removed) and finely chopped

1 serrano chile, seeded and finely chopped

1 cup unsweetened coconut milk

2 pounds fresh mussels, rinsed well & de-bearded

Zest of 1/2 lemon

1 teaspoon lemon juice, or to taste

1/2 teaspoon fish sauce, or to taste

1/2 cup whole cilantro leaves

Heat the oil in the bottom of a large pot until hot. Add the shallot, garlic, lemon grass and chile. Cook over medium heat until soft, about 3 minutes. Add the coconut milk and mussels. Cover with a tight-fitting lid and cook until the mussels have opened, 5 to 7 minutes (discard any mussels that remained closed). Remove from heat, and use a slotted spoon to transfer the mussels to a large bowl, leaving the liquid in the pot. Stir the lemon zest and juice, fish sauce and cilantro into the pot. Taste and add more fish sauce and/or lemon juice if needed (fish sauce provides the salt).

Scoop the mussels into a large serving bowl. Pour the remaining sauce on top. Finish with a generous sprinkling of fresh cilantro. Add lemon or lime wedges on the side.

Serve with crusty French loaf to help soak up the juices.

A good, crisp white wine pairs nicely with this dish. 

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Pasture

Two years ago: Classic Tuna Salad

Three years ago: Paz's World Famous Rice & Beans

Sample This.

I love samples. I love little samples of makeup and spices and the little snacks to sample at farmers’ markets, Whole Foods and especially Bristol Farms. Their samples are the fanciest. Although I used to like to get perfume samples, I don’t any more. After many years I have my perfume, and I am comfortable and secure with my choice. But I do really love the little sample-size perfume bottles. They are just so dear. Same goes for samples of shampoo, conditioner and all sorts of fun beauty products. Here in LA we even get little samples of rocks dropped off by our doors. Well, at least I do. Two little rocks in a plastic bag with an advertisement for the rock company that wants to get hired to do the driveway or something. Even those samples intrigue me.

Samples seem precious – like Boo Radley’s gifts he leaves in the tree for Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird. She covets them and keeps them in a small trunk in her room: chewing gum, two pennies, and a ball of twine, soap carvings to resemble Scout and her brother, Jem, and a pocket watch that doesn't work. Precious treasures.

You know how much I love hip hop (well, mostly old to middle school hip hop)… It’s made up of samples!

And who doesn't like a sample sale?

I get extra excited when I get fun food samples in the mail (or any package in the mail – even if I order it from Amazon and ‘send’ it to myself). It happens every so often when one is a food blogger, I suppose, that one gets these food samples. Last week I got a whole box of salami from Columbus Salame.  A whole box of salami I tell you!

What to do, what to do.

And then Fred appeared with one of his bright ideas. Mussels.

The first meal Fred ever made for me was on our fourth date. I was exhausted from doing a Dinner at Eight the night before and so Fred offered to cook for me.  He made mussels with cider and bacon and Cacio e Pepe. Not together. Mussels first, then pasta. I had never been to his apartment, and when I arrived I saw he had put a little two-person bistro table in the middle of his living room, all set, with taper candles. It was so cute I wanted to pull my hair out. I think he was a little nervous to cook for me. But I tell you what - everything was delicious and perfect. And listen, Cacio e Pepe is one of my absolute favorite dishes. I’ve tried to make it. I did a terrible job. Fred’s was perfect. And so were those mussels. And so was that little table with the taper candles and everything else about that evening.

For this version of his mussels, Fred had the idea to use the Chorizo Casero, from Columbus' box of salame samples, in lieu of bacon, in an otherwise classic interpretation of mussels and white wine. And we also added some Tuscan kale from my garden. It was delicious and colorful and the chorizo really was the perfect touch. 

Speaking of samples and Fred and dates and food and fun - tomorrow is my birthday and Fred is taking me to Los Olivos. And you know what we're going to do while we're there? Sample wines! A great one to pair with this dish is actually from Los Olivos and one I plan to sample tomorrow; Brander Sauvignon Blanc, Santa Ynez Valley (2011).

Mussels with Chorizo & Kale

2lbs mussels

8 oz chorizo cubed

1 med onion diced

3 cloves garlic, smashed

2 tbsp olive oil

2 tbsp butter

1 cup Tuscan kale, coarsely chopped

1 cup dry white wine

Parsley

Salt & pepper to taste

Sauté the chorizo and onion in olive oil for about 8 minutes, or until golden brown.

Add the garlic, and sauté for about 2 minutes, or until fragrant.

Add the mussels and toss quickly to coat.

Add the wine.

Cover and cook over medium-high heat for about 3 minutes, or until the mussels begin to open.

Discard any mussels that do not open.

Using a slotted spoon, transfer the mussels and sausages to a warm large serving bowl.

Add kale to pot.

Cover to keep warm.

Boil the kale and juices remaining in the pan for 1 minute.

Whisk in the butter.

Pour the sauce over the mussels, sprinkle with the parsley, salt and pepper to taste and serve immediately with crusty rustic bread.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Yerp: Part 3

Two years ago: Duchess Salad with Romaine, Avocado, Cucumber & Pine Nuts

Three years ago: The Hall at Palihouse

Yerp: Part 1 (of many).

May 11 & 12, 2011

I’m doing this. I’m on the plane. I’m running on three hours of (wine-induced) sleep, two Xanax, a quarter of a bottle of water, and three quarters of a cup of coffee from the La Brea Bakery stand next to airport terminal 21. I’m listening to Explosions in the Sky and I’m pretty loopy. Loopy in the good, euphoric way.

It was a stressful stretch from waking up this morning up until this point. I fell asleep irritated about something tremendously trivial, woke up fifteen minutes after I was supposed to have walked out the front door, endured the cacophony of my disco car’s sounds during the teeth grinding ride to the airport, all after those tiny three hours of sleep. I have about twenty-four hours of travel to work through before I arrive where I’m going and I look like hell in a hand basket (whatever that means). But now I’m here. Here, at this point. On my way. On my way to vacation. My European vacation.

Against all odds I feel pretty good.

My mission for this here vacation:

Read.

Take naps (gasp!).

Drink wine.

Eat.

Write about it.

Take pictures.

Go to markets and purchase food stuffs I have never seen or prepared before.

Cook said food stuffs.

Wander.

Drink wine.

Eat.

Read.

Write about it.

Sounds pretty reasonable to me.

  

I have made it to Munich at this point. I have the final stretch in front of me: the brief flight from here to Barcelona. And then there’s the two-hour drive from Barcelona to Armissan, France. 

I awoke at five this morning. By the time I arrive at my final destination it will be after six in the morning on LA time. Twenty-four hours. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, this is why God invented Xanax.

And that was the first, last and only thing I actually wrote on my trip. My ten (10) day trip in the south of France and Barcelona. My trip to Yerp. 

Until today.

So, yes. After three years I took myself a vacation. Emma and I (via Los Angeles) were to meet Dad and his girlfriend, Dale (via Richmond, VA) in the Barcelona airport to then drive immediately to Armissan, a small town in the south of France, to meet Chris and his dad (and a host of other characters which will all be introduced soon enough) in time for a big welcome dinner at the house where we were staying.

The drive was a blur. A champagne-filled blur.

But we made it just in the nick of time. There everyone was, at the dining table of Midge and Jean-Jacques, our gracious hosts. With the addition of us four, I believe we made the group around twelve. Dinner was grand. We had lamb tagine, rice, asparagus, a salad from the garden and fresh strawberries and cheeses for dessert. It was a blur. A champagne, food and winewinewine-filled grand blur.

I believe Emma and I capped off this evening with a bottle or two more bottles of wine while laying in our beds, sighing, giggling, and taking stock of the last few hours, the whirlwind, of our adventure. 

I made it. I'm on vacation.

Stay tuned...

All Lost in the Supermarket.

It seems like it has been a while since I’ve written. Has it? Maybe not. I feel like my sense of time is a little warped right now. Why? I don’t know. The days and weeks are whipping past me at lightning fast speed. Yet the days are theoretically longer now. I think I’m just distracted.

Spring is being so springy right now. It makes me want to be springy, too. I want to play. I want to fly. I am enjoying my distractions. I am still accomplishing what needs to be done, so it should be fine that I’m distractedly springy, right? But, admittedly, I feel guilty. I have not been swimming in food thoughts as much as I’d like, and this is unusual.

I actually haven’t really even cooked in about a week. I don’t feel like I’ve been eating out an unusual amount. Hell, am I eating? This, to me, seems to be a bit strange. Is Mercury in retrograde or something?

Am I escaping something? Am I running towards something? I’m not sure. I imagine it will all figure itself out. I will focus.

Chris came over last night to do his laundry and have dinner. We do this every couple of weeks. So I ran to the store, with nary a recipe in mind, to find inspirato. Interestingly, my shopping was also distractedly springy and unfocused. I bought a bunch of random things hoping some meal concept would jump out at me. I knew I wanted to make something lighter, springier than usual: fish. The trout looked fresh and beautiful, so I bought that. Then I picked up, among other things, a bulb of fennel, a shallot, some green grapes - something was coming together in my head, but only very vaguely. Then, I remembered Chris’ various steamed mussels recipes he has prepared for us in the past and wanted those as well. So I ran back over to the fish counter again. All very disorganized, I know.

When I arrived home, I rifled through the refrigerator to find a bounty of Crimini mushrooms. So I decided to make a soup. Now why, I wonder, did I decide to do that? I just bought a mountain of seafood. See what I mean? Scattered, scattered, scattered.

But it was a good thing to do. Perhaps I was trying to get my footing back in the kitchen by making something I am so comfortable with. And while I made my soup I concentrated on how I was going to put together dinner.

We had steamed mussels in white wine and garlic with crusty, French bread as an appetizer. For the main course I decided to very loosely adapt Suzanne Goin’s grilled pancetta-wrapped trout with verjus, crushed grapes, and fennel gratin. Except I didn’t wrap the trout in pancetta, grill it or use verjus. I served this all with a side of bacon-wrapped asparagus.

I went at this meal strangely. I didn’t really refer to her recipe, except to get the broadest concept of ingredients. And I didn’t exactly adhere to those either. I would say I primarily maintained some of the basic flavor combinations. In the end I was happy with the way everything turned out. Chris absolutely loved the fennel gratin but we both decided it was more of a hash than a gratin. He wasn’t wild about the fish. He was surprised that I would ever use fruit, moreover cooked fruit, in a savory dish and found it to be too sweet for his taste. Shockingly, I really liked it.

It was a nice meal that I was perfectly pleased with. However, it was unlike anything I usually serve and unlike any way I usually go about preparing a meal. I think it’s tremendously interesting that whatever orbit I am in right now came through in every facet of this meal and its composition.

What I will share with you here is the fennel hash recipe. It was great with the fish, but would be equally appropriate with a grilled skirt steak or a roasted chicken.

Potato Fennel Hash

Serves 4

3 tbsp olive oil

1 fennel bulb

1 shallot, thinly sliced

1 tbsp chopped fennel fronds

1 bay leaf

1 tbsp fresh thyme

juice of 1/2 Meyer lemon

3/4 lb fingerling potatoes, boiled and drained

½ cup heavy cream

2 tbsp chopped Italian parsley

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 425F.

Trim the root end of the fennel, cut the stalks off where they meet the bulb, and peel off any outer layers that are brown or bruised. Cut the bulb in half lengthwise, leaving the core intact. Place the halves, cut side down, on a cutting board, and slice the fennel thinly lengthwise.

Toss the fennel in a large bowl with the shallot, thyme, bay leaf, fennel fronds, 1 tbsp olive oil, salt & pepper.

Heat oil in a cast iron skillet until it is very hot and then toss in the fennel mixture. Once the mixture is tender and somewhat translucent (about 10 minutes), toss in the potatoes, and smash them up a bit with a potato masher. Add lemon and stir everything together for about 5 minutes and add cream.

Bake for 30-45 minutes, until golden and slightly crispy on top.

Top with parsley and serve.