Out Like a Lamb.

The end of March is nigh, and thus is Easter. Passover is happening right now. It's a big time for a lot of people. And plants. Plants are having a blast right now. And people are having a blast with plants. Or, at least, Fred and I are.

When we last spoke, I had mentioned having chatted around to get a feel as to what food things meant to people with regard to Easter. I ended up settling on chocolate and lamb, though not necessarily together – which might not be a bad idea, come to think of it. So I shared a chocolate recipe.

So you probably know where we will be going with this. Lambville.

Coming from completely non-religious parents, other than the Easter Bunny covertly surprising me with an Easter basket each year at my mom's house, Easter meant little else. I don't even recall a special meal. So after sifting through people's responses to my query about what Easter represented, culinarily, to them, I went about figuring out what it meant to me. And I decided to embark on the most traditional Easter supper I have ever had. First order on the agenda: order a giant leg of lamb.

I like lamb just fine, now, but as a child it unnerved me a little. I think it was just the gamey-ness of the meat. It wasn't on the dinner table too often at home, but I know Dad loved it. He always ordered it at the Greek restaurant in our neighborhood. He loved their Lamb Guvetsi.

As I mentioned, years ago, like 2005, I heard Nigella Lawson interviewedon NPR around this time of year. She was promoting her then new book, Feast, a cookbook devoted primarily to celebrations, holidays and entertaining. I vividly recall her discussing her favorite Easter meal, and the great detail with which she described a saffron roasted leg of lamb and some sticky, crispy garlic potatoes. Obviously it stuck with me if eight years later that was the first thing to pop into my head when I decided to make my first, big Easter dinner. So I started planning the menu, the flowers, the dining room look, and called some friends.

Easter dinner was so happening.

Two days before the event I put the lamb in its marinade and refrigerated it. The day before, while Fred went out to get all of our groceries, flowers and the like, I poked around on the computer to find out why lamb in the Spring, and why lamb on Easter. Why throughout the entire world the most popular Easter symbol is the lamb. I'm sure, as usual in this department, everyone else already knows this stuff, but I'm new here.

The roast lamb dinner that many eat on Easter Sunday goes back earlier than Easter to the first Passover of the Jewish people. The sacrificial lamb was roasted and eaten, together with unleavened bread and bitter herbs (a Seder) in hopes that the angel of God would pass over their homes and bring no harm. As Hebrews converted to Christianity, they naturally brought along their traditions with them. The Christians often refer to Jesus as The Lamb of God. Thus, the traditions merged.

In the 7th century the Benedictine monks wrote a prayer for the blessing of lambs.

A few hundred years later the pope adopted it and a whole roasted lamb became the feature of the Pope's Easter Dinner, and has been ever since.

I wasn't going to roast a whole lamb, of course. Just one of its legs.

Now this lamb recipe involved saffron, which I absolutely love. I know a lot of people do not, however. It seems to be one of those ingredients like cilantro: people either love it or hate it. And I understand. Also, like cilantro, it has an unmistakable, very distinct aroma and taste. The thin, delicate, muted red hair-like strands are fragrant, floral, earthy, and honey-like with a bit of bitterness. Saffron also happens to be the most expensive spice in the world. Use too much and that will be the only thing you take away from that dish. With saffron, the words 'a little goes a long way' have never been more accurate. A little dab will do ya.

It's no surprise that you will find a wealth of recipes with saffron and lamb together. Kind of like chocolate and peanut butter, they just make sense. They are also both prominent elements in a lot of Middle-Eastern cuisine. Actually, it's funny, lamb takes me back to eating Greek food with my dad, and I used Greek saffron with my Easter lamb.

Yesterday, on the event of my Easter dinner celebration, once the lamb went into the oven after two days of marinating, I went about the décor of the dining room. I hand-picked each and every piece of silverware, plate and glass, dug through the linens to find the right napkins – I went for the fancies – and began meticulously arranging the bundles of daffodils and hyancinths into little vintage creamers and jelly jars while listening to my go-to soothing sounds: Explosions in the Sky. All the while the house was filling up with the entrancing smell of lamb, lemon and garlic fusing together in the oven. I dare say it was beginning to smell like Easter. Or, at least, really, really good. The air smelled like family and friends and the promise of festivity and future fond memories.

Everything was coming together perfectly. The food was on schedule, the room looked great, I had the perfect wines; some lovely rosés from a tasting the day before, and just moments before the guests arrived, as I was lighting the candles, Fred and I got our Easter baskets in the mail! I guess the Easter Bunny is trying to help out the US Post Office in their time of need... Nevertheless, that took care of dessert; Cadbury Creme Eggs!

As we all sat down to the table, we raised our glasses of rosé and toasted to a happy Easter. And as I looked around the room, I took stock. The smiling faces of my friends, the table looked beauteous, the food was delicious, the wine went perfectly with the saffrony lamb, the flowers smelled wonderful, and best of all we were all so happy to be with each other. Good friends, together, on our Easter, eating, drinking, smiling, talking, sharing Easter memories and laughter.

SAFFRON ROAST LAMB WITH STICKY GARLIC POTATOES

(recipe adapted from Nigella Lawson's book, Feast)

Serves 6

1 leg of lamb (4.5 lbs)

1/3 cup olive oil

3 cloves garlic, bruised

6 scallions

2 bay leaves

juice of 1 lemon

small bunch mint, 1 1/2 oz including stalks, torn roughly makes 1 cup

1/2 teaspoon saffron threads, steeped in 1 cup very hot water

1/3 cup rosé wine

 Put the lamb in a large freezer bag, pour over the olive oil and then throw in the garlic, trimmed scallions and bay leaves, squeeze in the lemon juice and throw in the squeezed-out lemon halves too, then add the torn-up bunch of mint. Seal the bag and marinate in the fridge overnight.

Bring the lamb to room temperature before you even think of putting it in the oven, and preheat that to 425 degrees F when you take the lamb out of the fridge.

Pour the entire contents of the freezer bag into a roasting pan and roast for about 20 minutes a pound, or until the lamb is cooked a perfect, à point pink; you will just have to pierce it with the knife to see. Just before the lamb is due to come out of the oven, put the saffron strands in a measuring cup and pour over the hot water so that it can get on with steeping.

Remove the lamb to a wooden carving board to rest. Pick out the lemon rinds, and then place the roasting pan on the stove over medium heat, and stir until it starts bubbling. Stir in the saffron in its water and add 1/3 cup rosé – tasting for seasoning as you go – as needed to let this bubble into a small amount of ungloopy gravy. 

Carve the lamb on to a large warmed plate and strain the saffrony juices, stirring in any liquid first from the carving board, over the pink meat.

Read the sticky garlic potato recipe now so that you can coordinate your movements. And, to go with, I'd want no more than a bowl of green peas, turned in some butter.

STICKY GARLIC POTATOES

Serves 6

1 1/2 lbs small fingerling potatoes

8 cloves garlic (more if you like)

1/2 cup olive or other vegetable oil 

Coarse salt & freshly cracked pepper to taste.

Bring a saucepan of water to the boil and add some salt, add the potatoes and cook for 30 minutes. Drain, and put back into the dry pan.

Peel the garlic cloves by squishing with the flat of a knife so that they bruise slightly and the skin slips off. Put them in the dry pan with the potatoes, and then bash potatoes and garlic  so they are cracked and split. You can do this ahead and leave them in the pan – though with the lid off, so that they don’t get watery – until you want to roast them.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F and slip a roasting pan in to heat up at the same time. Once the oven’s hot, pour in the oil and let it, in turn, heat up for 10 minutes.

Carefully tip the potatoes and garlic into the hot oil and cook for 15 minutes. Turn the potatoes over and then give them another 15 minutes. 

Salt & pepper to taste.

Serve on a platter with the lamb.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Rustic Cremini Mushroom Soup with Chives & Basil Oil
Two years ago: Nutter Butter Cookies
Three years ago: The Grill 'Em All Truck

The Birdcage

Yes. I know. I know.  It has been too long. But I am back now. Things have been very lively in my world. Paz was in town for ten (10) days and she only just left. Don’t worry, you’ll be hearing all about that soon enough as there is much to share. But first I would be remiss if I didn’t share a story with you of an evening that took place right before Paz’s arrival.

As long as I’ve lived in my canyon, when I go on hikes and walks and such, I’ve noticed this enormous, old, antique birdcage next to some trashcans behind a house. I’ve always coveted this birdcage. I told Maggie as much.

And so we debated.

I figured if it was literally sitting next to a trash can, untouched for years, no one would really miss it. Right? It wasn’t officially wrong or steal-y. It was perfectly fine. Right?

And so we plotted.

Well, I guess we didn’t really plot – we decided to bust up there one night after dinner when it was dark. That was the long and short of it.

So one particular night, after an especially delicious dinner at home with Maggie and Michael Motorcycle during clean-up, MM and I heard a definitive, “Alright, let’s do this” from behind. We whirled around to see Maggie in full-on burgle gear: all black with black paint under her eyes. She was rocking her “menacing” pose. At that moment I think I peed my pants a little bit.

So Maggie, Michael Motorcycle and I all piled into my car and headed up the hill. Laughing hysterically. In the world’s loudest car. In the world’s quietest canyon. At about midnight.

Did I mention we neglected to plot?

We drive up past the house. We make a u-turn and go back down to idle in front of the house. Michael was on getaway driver duty, Maggie was going to hold up the back gate of my car (it doesn’t stay up by itself) and I was to be the birdcage grabber. It was my mission so, of course, I was to take the biggest risk. Why we didn’t park farther away from the house and walk up, stealth-like, I don’t know. Perhaps the lack of plotting?

Anyway, I jump out and after nearly wiping out en route to the trash can area in my Crocs (stupid choice, but I had just been cooking) and arrive face to face with The Birdcage. Now I am a tall woman and this thing was taller than me. The birdcage is massive and cumbersome and worst of all, heavy. And right when I get almost to the car I realize that the base of it had rotted away and that the top and bottom were not attached. The reason I noticed this is that the top fell, with a bang-crash-extreme cacophony, to the street. I'm talking loud. This is also right about when I notice a person a dozen or so yards away, standing in the street. But, I was unyielding. We had come this far, right?

So, while laughing even harder, next to the world’s loudest car, in the world’s quietest canyon, with a neighbor standing right up the street, I started to cram the birdcage into the back of my car. It’s so big it doesn’t fit. “Just ram it in and leave the back open! It’ll be fine! Let’s just GO!”

At this point I should, perhaps, add that wine may have been involved.

And so, while laughing even harder, in the world’s loudest car, in the world’s quietest canyon, after about five years of coveting, I have my birdcage. It really brings the garden together. Michael Motorcycle is going to put an upside down tomato plant inside – or so he says.

Oh, and that night’s dinner was a beauty: we went to Lindy Grundy on their opening day and bought a Frenched rack of lamb and some of Erika’s special pork kimchi sausage. We grilled. We served the lamb over mint-infused jasmine rice with a minted English pea puree and roasted brussels sprouts. I have actually shared this particular recipe before but with much less ado. It’s a beautiful, fresh and simple recipe and one that really showcases a truly gorgeous piece of meat.

What, you thought I'd show you a picture of the birdcage? No way! You might could send me up the river!

 *P.S. Picture of Maggie in "full-on burgle gear" may be provided upon request.

 (I hope I don’t have to go on The Lam)

 Lamb Chops with Cumin, Cardamom and Lime

Ingredients:

12-16 cloves of garlic
1 tsp cumin
1 tbsp fresh cardamom
1/3 cup FRESH lime juice
1 tbsp salt
2 tsp pepper
1/2 cup olive oil
16 rib or Frenched lamb chops

 

Directions:

In the food processor, drop garlic, add cumin, cardamom, lime juice, salt, pepper and oil.  Pour into a large bag or container to marinate (a coupla hours or up to 2 days). 

On the grill is a must, and with a medium flame they'll be done in about 4 minutes per side.  Perhaps a bit more but rarer is better.

Whew.

You know it was a party when, the next morning, your guests send pictures as evidence and call with stories of their maladies that occurred in the aftermath of the evening. That reminds me, someone promised a picture that I have not yet received...

No, really.

What a cool night. The setting was ethereal, the wine was flowing, the food turned out pretty great, and everyone seemed to have a blast. The only sad part is that this is all hear-say for me as I was in the kitchen the entire time. And I was a little crazed. But I was happy. I was in The Zone.

Vichysoisse atop a Hama Hama Oyster, Garnished with Caviar

But, with a few pacing and plating issues figured out (too little time between a few courses, way too much time between another and I need to plate slightly smaller portions) I believe this whole Dinner at Eight brain flower of mine might just take off!

Grilled lamb chops with mint and lemon over spring pea risotto and heirloom carrots braised in vermouth, sweet butter & sage

The next day (or maybe a couple of days later to allow everyone to cater to their recovery period) I emailed, called, texted and sent smoke signals to everyone for their - no-holds-barred - input. Theoretically this was why I wanted them to come in the first place. What I found the most interesting is that everyone found the salad course, and the pairing with it, to be their favorite. The salad??

It is an interesting salad, I must admit. It is composed of endive, which is great fun to eat with one's hands. In the spirit of Alice Waters, who prefers to eat salad with her hands, I had Heather (our awesome server for the evening AND one of my oldest friends) instruct everyone to do just that. And to add a little more fun to the course, Heather had suggested we provide the guests with rolled, hot hand towels both before and after the course was served for clean hands. I'm guessing the delicious salad was even more so with a little process, a little story.

So, from the maiden voyage of Dinner at Eight, I share with you today the recipe for the salad course. For last Saturday’s complete menu and pairings, and for future dates, reservations and menus, visit Dinner at Eight.

Endive salad with roasted garlic, walnuts and oil cured olives with Meyer lemon cream

Serves 6

1 Meyer lemon, very thinly sliced

5 Belgian endives, cores removed, separated into spears

Meyer lemon cream (recipe follows)

3/4 cup toasted walnuts, in small chunks

1/4 cup thinly sliced shallots

1 bulb roasted garlic (minus a couple of cloves for the Meyer lemon cream)

1/3 cup oil-cured black olives, pitted and chopped

2 tablespoons flat-leaf parsley leaves

1 tablespoon fresh chives, chopped

Sea salt & freshly ground black pepper

Place the endive in a large bowl and pour the Meyer lemon cream over them. Add the walnuts, lemon slices, and sliced shallots. Season with salt and pepper and toss gently to coat the endive with the dressing. Taste for seasoning, and arrange on plate. Scatter the olives and herbs over the salad.

Meyer lemon cream

2 tablespoons finely diced shallots

1/4 cup Meyer lemon juice
2 cloves of the roasted garlic

1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon heavy cream

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Place the shallot, roasted garlic, lemon juice, and 1/4 teaspoon salt in a bowl and let sit for 5 minutes. Whisk in the olive oil. Gently stir in cream, add a few grinds of pepper, and taste for balance and seasoning.

Printable Recipe

 

This Little Light of Mine.

Occasionally, if it’s a clear day or during a sunset, while I’m driving along Mulholland, I almost drive off the road. Even after 8 years of living in Los Angeles, she still takes my breath away.  It’s easy to forget, sometimes, what a beautiful city this is when the blinders of traffic, smog and sheer population bombard our daily life. But when you have a moment to breathe, to change perspective, to look down at this sprawling metropolis from up above, you only see the landscape, the colors and shapes. The honking, tedium and wheeling and dealing going on in small nooks and crannies throughout the city become invisible.

These moments are important to me, but I often fail to remember to take them. That’s why, when I’m chugging along in my junk-heap, gas guzzler of a car (with no air conditioning), and I suddenly get a little window - a glimpse – of the sparkly city I sometimes forget I live in, I am taken aback. LA is winking at me. Bringing me back to basics. And for this I am grateful.

There are so many things to see and do in our fair city. One can live here for decades and decades and never exhaust all of the culture, museums, restaurants, parks, events and communities to discover. It’s both exhilarating and daunting.

Obviously my main obsession in LA and life is all things food. I try to check out as many restaurants, hot dog carts, food trucks, and markets as I possibly can. I wish I was invited to lots of dinner parties as well, but either my friends don’t have them or I’m not invited because I may be too harsh a critic in their opinion. Gosh, I do hope it’s the former.

I also love classic Hollywood films. I actually studied Film Noir in college (obviously I didn't go to Yale). I love the way formality was a part of each meal: the coffee being sipped from beautiful china, toasts with jam & butter, fresh fruit and the morning paper being enjoyed in front of a bay window while dressed in silk robes, and perhaps an ascot (on him). The three-martini lunch being served by vested servers while sitting in a dark leather booth, dressed in a suit (him or her). And the dinner parties. The dinner parties, always served at 8pm, exquisite gowns (think Adriane), ornate place settings, cocktails, formal conversation masking secrets, mystery and intrigue. Interestingly, many of these films during this era took place in this very city of sunshine & shadows.

So guess what? I want to bring it back. I also want to give something to my city. My people. Myself. 

I have conceived of a dinner party: 6 people, 4 courses, once a month, complete with wine pairings from Jill at Domaine LA, under the stars in Laurel Canyon. The food is seasonal and primarily sourced from our local farmer’s markets and whatever I can utilize from my garden. Get here at 7pm for cocktails and noshables. The first course will be served at 8pm. Let's call it Dinner at Eight.

So, my fellow Angelinos, who’s in? Perhaps after dinner you can cruise home along Mulholland, have the city of angels wink at you and remember what drew you to this magical city in the first place.

  

Michael Mann, eat your heart out. Literally.

Dinner at Eight: The Maiden Voyage

June 5, 2010

Vichyssoise atop one raw Hama Hama oyster, garnished with caviar

with

2008 Domaine de la Fruitiere "Cuvée Petit M," Muscadet Sevre-et-Maine

Endive salad with roasted garlic, walnuts and oil cured olives with Meyer lemon cream

with

2007 COS "Rami," Sicily

Grilled lamb chops with mint and lemon over spring pea risotto and heirloom carrots braised in vermouth, sweet butter & sage

with

2008 Pithon-Paille "Graviers," Bourgueil

Fresh strawberries, chocolate mint & Chantilly cream with cornmeal shortcakes

with

NV Terres Dorées "FRV100," Beaujolais

Today, I share with you the recipe for the dessert course. For more information, recipes, or an invite… comment below!

P.S. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!!!!! 

 Fresh Strawberries, Chocolate Mint & Chantilly cream with Cornmeal Shortcakes

Serves 6

Cornmeal Shortcakes

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup stone-ground cornmeal

1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

3 tablespoons granulated sugar

5 tablespoons cold unsalted butter (cut into small pieces)

1 cup + 1 tablespoon heavy cream

Preheat oven to 425

Mix with fork:  flour, cornmeal, baking powder, salt, and 3 tablespoons of sugar.

Add butter; blend to a consistency of coarse meal

Quickly pour in cream and mix until dough starts to come together

Place dough on clean surface and bring together with your hands.  Shape into circle 1 1/4" thick.  Cut circle in half and then cut each half into four wedges.

Place shortcakes on buttered baking sheet

Brush with remaining tablespoon of cream and sprinkle a little sugar on top

Bake 15 minutes (until biscuits are golden brown)

Chantilly Cream

2 cups heavy cream

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

In a large mixing bowl, beat the heavy cream, sugar, and vanilla extract together on high speed until soft peaks form in the mixture. Chill any unused Chantilly cream

Makes enough cream for one average-size cake or pastry recipe

Mascerated strawberries

2 pints strawberries

1/3 cup clover honey

1/4 cup chocolate mint, cut in small, thin strips

1 tablespoon lemon zest

Rinse the berries in colander under cool running water, pat dry with a paper towel.

Hull the berries and quarter

Add the honey, lemon zest and chocolate mint

Refrigerate for at least 2 hours

Refer to photo for assembly option.

Aaahhhhh, the French: Ludobites 4.0.

I've been wanting to use that title for some time now. Here's why.

Ludobites 4.0 is here and everyone is all aflutter. And guess what? I’ve got the inside dish for you. But first, a splash of back story…

As many of you know, prior to the Ludobites concept, Chef Ludo Lefebvre earned his chops as executive chef at L’Orangerie and Bastide. But in the Fall of 2007, he tossed aside the concept of the brick and mortar establishment with reckless abandon and introduced LA to a 4-month special, guerilla style, dining event, thusly called Ludobites. It was such the to do that Jonathan Gold said procuring a seat was “harder than getting into UCLA film school.” Then there was Ludobites at Breadbar in 2009 followed by Ludobites at Royal T, which sold out a day after being announced. He popped up with a fried chicken truck at the LA Street Food Fair a few months back, and most recently fried up some chicken with Eric Greenspan at The Foundry in a most spontaneous way. Bing. Bang. Bop.

Now, here we are with Ludobites 4.0 at downtown’s Gram & Papa’s: a 2-month stint sold out entirely a mere 18 hours after being announced.

And I am such a charmed girl. Wednesday night I was among the lucky dozen bloggers to be invited to a special 9 course tasting menu/preview dinner of said stint sponsored by Fooddigger. The real deal opened just last night. Jealous much?

This was an interesting evening. A lot of us bloggers recognize one another by our written word but remain faceless for the most part. However, Wednesday night 12 of us were revealed to one another. Our personalities had to stand for themselves – which can be scary when you are accustomed to saying whatever you want under the shield of your moniker. 

The table. 

  The lightbox Krissy supplied for us to shoot the food - which perhaps I should have taken advantage of.

Everyone had a camera (even the LA Times was there with theirs) and no one was afraid to use them. In fact, it was food paparazzi. It was quite freeing, actually. Often, us bloggers feel as though we must wear a hair-shirt for using our cameras in restaurants, pressure exerted by both our dining companions and the restaurant staff. Here, however, cameras were very much welcomed. In fact, that was the whole point.

After a few glasses of champagne, provided by Jill of Domaine LA (who did all of the pairings which were extraordinary), we were seated in front of our place settings inscribed with only our first names and blog titles. I love it.

Our first course was the Tartine Plate of 3 Fat textures. We were each given a small baguette to accompany the textures which included whipped lard with lavendar, clarified butter with Chablis and emulsified brown butter. This was paired with a beautiful Cremant. I loved all three of my fat textures. It seemed the gang was mostly geeking out about the lavendar lard but my vote was with the clarified butter with Chablis. So far, I’m really excited.

Then I turn around to gawk into the open kitchen, right behind my back, and I see a sea of vibrant strips of orange. Carrots. Beautiful carrots. This brings us to the Carrot Salad, Saffron Anglaise Cream, Pearl Onions, Citrus, and Mustard Powder. This was paired PERFECTLY with a California Rosé. Oh my word. The carrots were prepared two ways, gastrovac’d and marinated with orange blossom water, and somewhat carmelized with a blowtorch. There was saffron cream. There was a little heaven. This was exceptionally fresh and inspired. It was also aesthetically jumping off of the plate into my eyes. Honestly, I was starting to freak out a little bit at this point. I was perfectly happy at the moment I was in, but COULD NOT WAIT for the next moment. The next dish. I felt like a little kid at the amusement park. I was having so much fun on the Rebel Yell, but couldn’t wait to ride the Grizzly Bear.

Course number three was the Egg, Potato Mousseline, Lobster, Borage Flower. I will try to keep it together here. I will try to be succinct. This was lobster sashimi lining the bottom of the dish, topped with a perfectly poached egg, topped with a delicate and creamy potato mousse, topped with 4 perfect borage flowers. Now, I know I have a penchant for drama, but this may be one of the most spectacular and perfect things that has ever graced my palate. After my second bite my chest felt tight and I thought a tear might well up in my eye. I’m quite serious. Everyone at the table was silent for the 38 seconds we spent scarfing it down. My fellow blogger, Tze, literally licked hers clean (see picture). This was paired with an heirloom white from California.

Literally, licked clean.

I couldn’t imagine what could possibly follow that, and then, I looked down and there it was… the famed Foie Gras Croque-Monsieur, Lemon Turnip Chutney. The gasps across the table could be heard across downtown. Delicately placed between two slices of bread, dyed with squid ink, was a heaping portion of exquisite foie gras, ham and cheese. It was served along side a dollop of chutney comprised of lemon, turnip and seaweed. Its acidity and tartness provided a pleasant kick to cleanse the coating of the Croque and prepare you for your next bite. This was actually paired with a sparkling cider, which normally I would poo poo in a New York minute. But nothing was escaping the realm of possibility for me on this night. And guess what? It worked beautifully!

Four courses in and I was feeling like standing on a grassy mountain top, swirling around with arms out, singing about the hills being alive.

Next up, we had the beautiful and colorful Burgundy Escargots, Garlic Flan, Green Jus, Yellow Flowers. Perhaps it was its placement in the lineup, but this was too much for me, which is unusual for me to ever say. It was too rich, way too rich. There were 4 escargots, but I could only eat 2. The 2 I ate were a little over cooked in my humble opinion. Upon further thought, this dish would be ideal as an amuse-bouche: just one perfect little bite of decadence that can be as rich as it wants to be. It was paired with a Spanish Benaza Godello, which I found to be the only pairing that didn’t quite work. I think a Sancerre or a white Bordeaux would have been more appropriate.

The next dish, Columbian River King Salmon Confit, Spring Cabbage, Orange Skin & Juniper Berries, left me a little lost. I should say that I’m not a huge fan of cooked salmon in the first place. This however was beautifully cooked at 85 degrees, and the skin (I always love the skin) was cooked to crispy perfection. While I enjoyed the bites of salmon with the juniper berry sauce, the cabbage and the agar held no intrigue or appeal for me.

The two somewhat lukewarm reactions prior were more than made up for in Ludo’s next, and final, savory course: Poached Jidori Chicken, Crispy Skin with Hazelnuts, Garden Vegetables, Bacon Royalé. My lord, I only wish I wasn’t getting so insanely full. I think I was already commenting to Will, from Fooddigger, about needing a wheelbarrow to cart me away at the end of the affair. I find it so interesting that chicken is usually the dish no one would dare order in a fine restaurant, yet Ludo thrives on it and constantly recreates our definition of it. 

 

This was like a Dadaist chicken dinner. The chicken had been rolled and poached, topped with its own skin and hazelnuts, and was moist and delicate. The bacon royalé was a tiny, savory bacon custard. All of this came with a portion of fresh, pickled leeks and English peas. Flavors, textures and colors danced together beautifully on both the plate and in my mouth.

In case you haven’t noticed, I have not mentioned the pairings for the last couple of courses. While I will say that they were all dynamic and well thought out, at this point in the evening I was so overwhelmed with flavors and stimuli, I guess I stopped being able to even understand the wine if I was to understand the food. I hope that makes sense.

And here we move on to the first dessert course, Brie Chantilly Napoleon, Honey Comb, Balsamic, Frisée Salad. I’m not much of a dessert person but this mother blew me away. This could perhaps be because it was more of a savory dessert. Brie, removed of its rind, then whipped for over 2 ½ hours by hand. Wow. Put that buttery cheese bite in your mouth with a little honeycomb and a teardrop of balsamic. You see what I mean? Ambrosia. The calm in the eye of the storm, wife of Ludo, and her own powerhouse, Krissy, added that this is her favoritest thing her sweet husband makes for her. Lucky lady.

Lastly, Ludo, as though he wasn’t French enough that night, provided us with our own personal mountain of chocolate. This was the Dark Chocolate Soufflé, Black Pepper Milk Chocolate Ice Cream, Chocolate Cream. The soufflé was warm, light, chocolatey, and ginormous. I enjoyed the surprising kick and depth the pepper ice cream added to the bites of the soufflé. This pairing I do recall as it was divine: a 2003 Pietre-Geraud Banyuls, Cuvée Méditerranée from France. I strongly suggest you all run to Domaine LA and ask Jill about this, post haste.

And so. Ludo has morphed yet again. Gone are the fusions. Now we have his classic twist on French cuisine. This menu is beguiling, arresting, elegant, artistic and absolutely delicious. But don’t get attached to anything you’ve read here or any version of the menu you’ve seen. After our meal, Ludo chatted with us and explained that it was very likely that two weeks into Ludobites 4.0 he would get restless and have that compulsion to push the envelope yet again and change everything up. 

I believe it was Dashiell Hammett who once said something like, The moment it is discovered that you have a style, you are doomed." It would seem our Ludo is far from that fate.

I would like to thank Ludo, Krissy, Fooddigger, Jill at Domaine LA and my fellow bloggers for a rare and special evening, and perhaps one of the best meals I have ever had.

Here is our menu from Wednesday, complete with pairings.

The Duchess and The Pea

Spring is springing all over the city of angels and I am really excited about it. I can smell the wisteria and night blooming jasmine, birds are chirping like crazy, everything is green and bloomy, all of my windows are open and I can wear much cuter tops. The clear, bright and warm days morph into clean, cool evenings with a hint of mystery. This is the absolute perfect time of year to be in Los Angeles.

Oh, and did I mention the produce?

Asparagus, artichokes, peas, heirloom tomatoes, arugula, beans, strawberries and rhubarb are all in season right now and the farmers markets are filled to the brim with them. It’s just wonderful.

I lived in Atlanta for about 6 years prior to moving here in late March of 2002. We didn’t have farmers markets like the ones here. There were no outdoor, open-air markets with individual growers. At least, not that I knew of. I’m sure they have them now, of course. There was an interesting place in Decatur called the Dekalb Farmers Market. It was huge and amazing. It was also reminiscent of a Costco, but just for food – a huge warehouse and great prices. The employees had to wear hair nets and no photography was allowed. Looking back, that was actually a really strange place.

One of my closest friends in Atlanta, Michael Fancini, coined me “The Duchess”. I don’t think it was entirely a compliment or an insult and, while I’m not completely sure why he called me that, I get it. If you knew me, you’d probably get it. In fact, everyone in Atlanta got it. So much so, that I became The Duchess. Occasionally, if I was acting particularly persnickety or gooby, Fancini would lengthen the moniker to “The Duchess of Dork”. Cute.

I miss that guy. He had a beautiful Boxer that he named Chesty B. Wiggles. He also worked wonders with polenta.

So, now here I live in this city of sunshine and shadows, limos and lights, diamonds and guns. And this is the place I call home. As far as I know, I currently have no nickname to speak of. But when I’m at the Sunday market, picking over the healthiest, fluffiest chards, nuttiest avocados, brightest dandelion greens, or delicately sifting through the squash blossoms and perfect heirloom tomatoes, I feel like The Duchess.

At last Sunday’s market while delicately examining and selecting my peas, the metaphor was not lost on me: The Duchess and the pea.

And on a beautiful, sunshiney day, remembering my life in Atlanta, Michael Fancini, Chesty B. Wiggles, and the Dekalb Farmers Market, home to make soup I went.

Fresh Mint Pea Soup

*I have a bounty of various mints growing in my garden. I used a mixture of candy mint, lime mint and chocolate mint. If you can find some different mints, they add a wonderful complexity and zing to the soup.

Serves 4-6

1 tbsp olive oil

1 tbsp butter

2 cloves garlic, smashed

1 large shallot, chopped

3 ½ cups fresh peas

3 cups chicken stock

¼ cup fresh mint, chopped

1 cup sour cream

Sea salt & white pepper

Heat oil and butter in a large pot over medium heat. Add shallot and garlic and sauté until tender, about 5-7 minutes. Add peas and stir for a couple of minutes, until well coated. Add stock and bring to simmer. Cook until peas are tender, about 10 minutes. Be careful not to cook too long or on too high heat, to maintain the integrity of the green in the peas.

Let cool for about 15-30 minutes. Puree soup and mint in batches in a blender or food processor until smooth. Return to pot. Can be made 1 day ahead. Cool, cover and chill.

Rewarm soup over medium-low heat and salt & pepper to taste. Garnish with a little sprig of mint and serve.

This soup can be served hot or cold and would pair beautifully with a sparkling vouvray.

Printable Recipe