My Americana.

It was hot. Very hot and very humid. In those dog days of summer at Dad's house, we would turn on the one air conditioner window unit we had downstairs and pretty much camp out down there. I can remember Wimbledon playing on the tiny TV that traveled around to whichever room my dad, barefoot wearing cut-off denim shorts and a perfectly worn in red Adidas t-shirt, was situated in. In the kitchen, also barefoot, with the back door open the sound of the cicadas and the smell of the 30% chance of afternoon thunderstorms through the screen door, I would be standing over the sink with a tomato sandwich in my hands and the magical mixture of salty mayonnaise and the seedy, juicy mess of the perfectly sweet and ripe tomato running down my face and wrists.

After wiping my face with the back of my hand and throwing on some flip flops, I would run out the front door to meet up with neighborhood friends and roam around streets, parks, alleys or the river until the light began to shift, the cicadas got ear-piercingly louder, and the fireflies began to light up the dusk, signifying the end of our day. All of us kids, with our hands and feet brownish-black, covered with dirt and muck, would scurry home for baths and dinner. And in those beautiful, nasty, hot, humid dog days of summer, the deep red, ripe tomatoes would most assuredly be on the plate at dinnertime as well. Perhaps served in chunks with some raw sweet corn kernels, in a mixed salad or most often, simply thickly sliced and generously sprinkled with salt and pepper.

I couldn't tell you my favorite color. I couldn't tell you my favorite ice cream flavor or my favorite band. Shockingly, I couldn't even tell you my favorite dish or meal, though sea urchin and extra salty movie theater popcorn would invariably be in the running (but not together). But I can tell you this: the tomato is my favorite food. I will eat a tomato any way it can possibly be made to exist, even in jam form. And unlike my dad, if I'm desperate, I will even eat a wintery, mealy out of season tomato. I just can't turn one away.

The perfect tomato – at least in Virginia - is a singular yet fleeting experience. Its prime season is short and very sweet. Even after spending more than a decade in Southern California, with its vast array of year-round beautiful and amazing produce, I never came across a tomato to rival the ones in Virginia in July and August.

It's 4^th of July weekend – America's birthday – which harks to a lot of tradition and nostalgia for many of us. With all of our senses: smells, sounds, textures, sights and tastes in overdrive, we think of apple pies cooling on the windowsill, hot dogs and hamburgers sizzling on the grill, baseball, parades, picnics on the grass, music and fireworks. But for me, my Americana, though it can and does include those things, is really that tomato sandwich and its gorgeous juicy mess running down my face and wrists as I triumphantly devour it over the kitchen sink as the cicadas sing and I can smell the 30% chance of afternoon thunderstorms just outside the screen door. 

The Perfect Tomato Sandwich

Makes 2 sandwiches

The perfect, transcendent tomato sandwich is so extraordinarily simple that it requires considerable restraint to not mess it up, to not gild the lily. There is a place and time to add the avocado or to toast the bread - or to even go full BLT - but that is a different thing entirely. For the sandwich I speak of you will need only five things and napkins and plates are not on the list.

Ingredients:

4 slices of soft, white bread

1 large, perfectly ripe tomato, sliced about 1/4” thick (the quality of the tomato is 99.9% of what makes this sandwich great, so select yours wisely)

Duke's mayonnaise

Salt & pepper (no need for the fancy stuff)

Directions:

Go ahead and be decadent with the mayo. Smear it liberally on each piece of bread. 

For that matter, go ahead and be decadent with the salt and pepper as well. Salt and pepper each slice of the mayo-laden bread.

Ideally the tomato is large enough that you will only need one, maybe two slices for the whole sandwich. Put the tomato on one side of the bread and place the other piece of bread on top.

The mayo and the juices of the tomato will quickly create a beautiful pink, milky liquid that renders the sandwich a drippy, wet mess. Embrace the mess but eat fast and deftly - I suggest over the sink. While the last bite is still in your mouth, slurp juices off hands, wipe face with back of now 'clean' hands and promptly run outside to play with your friends.

Printable recipe. 

One year ago: Fig, Peach & Mascarpone Tart

Two years ago: Sausage, Egg & Fontina Cheese Pizza

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

Four years ago: Summer Squash Gratin with Salsa Verde

Five years ago: Pimiento Cheese

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

It's like, a heat wave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grilled, Marinated Summer Vegetables over Rustic Toast with Burrata

Serves 6

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

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

1 bunch of asparagus, trimmed

4 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided

Kosher salt & freshly ground pepper

2 garlic cloves

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

4 sprigs oregano

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

1 lb. burrata

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

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

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

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

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Sausage, Egg & Fontina Cheese Pizza

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

Three years ago: Rustic Cherry Tart with Almond Ice Cream

The Egg Man

Eggs. They are the new black. Or at least the new bacon. Eggs can be used in every type of meal in countless ways: sunny side up, scrambled, frittata'd or used to coat bread for French toast for breakfast, on top of a burger at lunch, deviled eggs for a snack, over roasted asparagus, in an avgolemono soup or used to make a pasta for dinner and even baked into cakes, cookies, whipped into meringues for dessert. You can have them soft, medium or hard boiled, or go for the sixty-two degree version. The options are endless.

And the types of eggs with which to play are also numerous: chicken eggs, duck eggs, quail eggs, ostrich eggs, fish eggs (roe and caviar). Think of the infinite creations and myriad of recipes using all manner of eggs. And, in every single type of regional cuisine, from Japanese to Italian to Israeli to every place.

I've got it: eggs are the little black dress of food. Dressed up or dressed down, accessorized or kept simple. A classic. A staple. And much like always wanting to have that little, black dress in your closet, one always wants eggs on hand in the refrigerator.

One iteration of the egg I haven't seen much of in recent memory (save for untouched in deli cases), but I grew up with, is egg salad. I know a lot of people get a little ooged out by proteins followed by the word salad: tuna salad, ham salad, chicken salad, shrimp salad, egg salad, and the grossest of all, Jell-o salad. Usually these salads involve mayonnaise as a binder, and there is a pretty substantial anti-mayo cult out there. This particular family of salads is also considered straight old school. It can be grouped into things like casserole, Betty Crocker and the like which dates back to the 1950s and 1960s.

Even though, theoretically, these salads should fall into the category of not suitable for packed lunches or picnics, what with the mayonnaise and the tuna fish and the eggs and all, that is exactly where they do fall. How many of you had one of these fill-in-the-blank salad sandwiches, wrapped tidily in wax paper in your lunch box or brown paper lunch bag? How many of you have had one of these fill-in-the-blank salads on sandwiches, crackers, on top of lettuce or just straight out of their container on a picnic? I am willing to bet quite a few.

My dad had to learn how to make shrimp salad in a home economics class in high school in the mid 1960s. He food poisoned himself. So I don't recall much of that around growing up. But, between Mom and Dad, there was a lot of tuna salad, chicken salad, and a weird-but-totally-delicious sandwich my mom packed for school lunch involving cream cheese and sliced green olives between two slices of bread. But, though I'm not sure why, my dad's egg salad always stood out to me. Whenever he made it, which was usually for a late-afternoon, dog days of Summer snack, I was thrilled.

Egg salad is one of those things I have never given mountains of thought. I could probably count on one hand the times I've ordered it out. But I order chicken and tuna salads often. And make them. And even more often, I order, and prepare at home, deviled eggs. And really, a deviled egg is pretty much the same thing as egg salad, but constructed differently.

As we have deemed June picnic month here at F for Food, andJune is when his birthday falls and, of course, Father's Day, I called my dad to find out his egg salad recipe to take on our next picnic. He made a couple of batches so he could recall his recipe-non-recipe and sent it forth.He wanted to let you know that either white or wheat bread is acceptable but the bread you choose MUST be a soft bread and it is certainly not to be toasted. And if you must add lettuce, tomato or bacon, feel free. But he won't be having any of that.

I left the recipe in his words since they are so extremely cute. Googier?! I love it.

Steve's Egg Salad

Makes enough egg salad for 3 or 4 sandwiches.

6 hard boiled eggs:

(Foolproof hard boiled eggs can be made as follows: Start the eggs in cold water, bring the water to a boil, then remove the pan from the heat, cover and let the eggs sit for 10 minutes.)

The cool or room temperature eggs are peeled and chopped up in a mixing bowl.  I use a fork and do a mixture of slicing and pressing to get my desired base. A mixer makes it too creamy.

Add and mix:

1/3 cup Duke's mayo. You can add a little more if you want it googier.

1 tablespoon brown spicy mustard

1/2 kosher dill pickle, finely chopped

1/4  teaspoon ground pepper, kosher salt & (secret ingredient) vinegar.

Bon appetite, y all.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Mussels with Chorizo & Kale

Two years ago: Artichoke-Potato Hash

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

Blais Runner.

Chances are, you have probably heard of Richard Blais. Most likely from television. Most likely from reality television: Top Chef, Top Chef: All Stars, Life After Top Chef, Top Chef Masters, Iron Chef, and his own show on the Science Channel, Blais Off.

But here's why you should know Richard Blais: he received an AOS in culinary arts from The Culinary Institute of America and has studied under chefs Thomas Keller, Daniel Boulud, and Ferran Adrià. Blais also studied at Chez Panisse. He currently runs four restaurants, three in Atlanta: The Spence, Flip Burger Boutique (also one in Birmingham), and HD-1 (also known as Haute Doggery). In 2011 he released his cookbook, Try This atHome: Recipes from My Head to Your Plate. And, finally, he is slated to open another spot in San Diego in December.

It looks like he's also running marathons as well - Blais Runner (I had to do it). With a wife and two daughters, Blais is a busy man, to say the least.

So you can imagine my good fortune to be able to catch him for an interview recently to talk about the South, pimiento cheese, vinegar and his perfect picnic.

FFF:   I’m curious about how you got to Atlanta.

RB:   I’m a native New Yorker and I was dating a girl whose dad was a restaurateur in Atlanta. I was working in Manhattan at the time at Restaurant Danielle and the restaurateur asked me to come down there and take over the restaurant and I did.

FFF:  When was that?

RB:  That was a long time ago, 1999-2000.

FFF: I know that you’re not known necessarily for Southern anything, but I’m curious where you see the trajectory of Southern food and how you fit into that and what’s happening in the South, food-wise, right now.

RB:  It took me a while to really embrace Southern food as a stubborn Yankee, self-admittedly.  I think the thing about Southern food is that it is not a trend.  It’s all about heritage, ingredients and recipes.  There are a lot of young, modern chefs that are now bringing back heirloom seeds.  It’s never going to go out of style.  Southern cuisine happens to be the trend at the moment but it’s not molecular gastronomy or small plates - it’s history and tradition and it’s not going to go away.

FFF:  What do you think the great Southern food cities are right now?

RB:  A few I haven’t been to that I want to visit.  Certainly I think Charleston is a great food city.  Obviously, I’m a little biased to Atlanta - I think Atlanta is great.  I have not been but I need to get to Oxford, Mississippi.  I think that is a place that is just calling me, and I need to get out there. There are so many cities now.  It's not just about one place. There are great chefs and great restaurants in every city.

FFF: Any specific restaurants or chefs that come to mind?

RB: I'm a fan of all my colleagues and peers. I think Sean Brock (Husk in Charleston), who is a good friend of mine, is one of my favorite Southern chefs. He's from Richmond. I think Hugh Acheson is doing a great job. There are just so many. I mean certainly (Steven) Satterfield (Miller Union in Atlanta) and Anne Quatrano (Star Provisions), who I don't think a lot of people know. She is a chef in Atlanta and one of the best chefs in the country, if not the world. You don't hear her name a lot but she's been around.

FFF: I want to know what you're cooking/playing with right now that's seasonal or that's just weird and crazy that is really inspiring you.

RB: Herbs and flowers and the idea of what happens after we pick them: rosemary flowers or blossoms on other herbs. The whole seed to stalk thing. Cooking with the seeds as well as the stems as well as the blossoms. Herbs and flowers are what I'm into at the moment, but it changes every day.

FFF: I've been hearing a lot of buzz about Peru and ingredients sourced from the Andes. Do you think that is the next big thing? If not, what do you think is?

RB: It's funny you say that because I'm opening a restaurant in San Diego in December and my business partner and I are taking a trip to Mexico City and Peru. So, yes, I don't know if it's the next big thing, but people definitely want to know what's going on there.

FFF: I feel like right now the egg is the new bacon. I'm wondering, what is your ideal preparation of an egg, if you had to pick just one?

RB: It's not going to be as romantic as you would want. I like a good sunny side up egg, but cooked really hard on one side. So the bottom is crusty and all browned on the edges. I'm a native New Yorker, so Egg on a Roll style. I mean, who says roll anymore? No one says that except for my dad. But, yes, cooked hard on one side.

I think scrambled in a microwave probably would be my second. Using the microwave is pretty inspiring to me at home. People give it a bad knock, but it's usually the food that goes into it, not the technology itself.

FFF: You're on your way home in Atlanta traffic at about four o'clock in the afternoon and you get a call from your wife announcing that four of your friends are coming over for dinner in two hours. What are you going to do?

RB: Pasta. For sure. I'm on a big extruding pasta kick so we always have a number of shapes ready in our kitchen. Our kids are even making it. So I would say a pasta of some sort with some garlic, some vinegar, some fresh herbs and a little touch of butter.

FFF: Pimiento Cheese.

RB: Love it. I love it on a sandwich. I also love it on a cracker. As a matter of fact, I just did an event in Napa a couple of days ago where that was my dish. It was a big, fancy Napa Valley wine auction and I served it pretty much like a grilled cheese. I did a riff on it using Jack cheese and poblano peppers instead of pimientos, and a little bit of horseradish and chiles.

FFF: Duke's Mayonnaise?

RB: I love Dukes Mayonnaise! I'm a big fan of Duke's Mayonnaise. It's got more of an acidity to it. I like it on white bread, too. Soft, white bread... I'm a convert of the pimiento cheese sandwich and we eat it a lot. I even buy it sometimes, prepared from Whole Foods, and I have no shame in that. I also like it as a topping for a burger, a pimiento cheese burger.

It's such a simple thing, but most people don't know about it. It's got this sort of mystique to it, like it's a very famous French cheese. But it's just some chopped up cheese with some peppers and mayonnaise in it!

FFF: What is your ideal picnic and what is the one must-have that you are going to take on that picnic?

RB: Wow. Well, I'm not as much of an experienced picnic-er as I should be. Not to just recycle the last answer, but I would probably bring some pimiento cheese sandwiches. And some carbonated beverages – soda for myself, I'm a big soda freak. I actually do work with a soda company (DRY) as the creative director, which uses only four ingredients like natural sugar – so we're packing some cucumber soda for our picnic. And crudité! And, hey listen, leftover fried chicken is not a bad picnic thing. Some chili vinegar. I usually do a buttermilk-vinegar soaked chicken, a couple dredges of flour. Vinegar is my favorite ingredient in the world. That's the one. Vinegar makes food great. A lot of people think it's fat or salt, and those are important, but it's really acidity and vinegar.

And, so, as we have deemed June Picnic Month here at F for Food, we decided to make Richard Blais' 'ideal picnic':

Pimiento Jack Cheese Tea Sandwiches

Crudité: Radishes with Salted Butter and Heirloom Tomato, Cucumber, Red Onion Salad

Cucumber Soda

Double-Dipped Buttermilk-Chile Vinegar Marinated Fried Chicken

Chocolate Chunks

Everything was sensational. I even like his version of pimiento cheese (I can feel my mom's eyes rolling out of her head right now). I think Blais would be pleased - we used vinegar in almost everything. I even made my own chile infused vinegar for the salad dressing and the chicken marinade. But the recipe I want to share is that of the fried chicken. That was the star. The chile vinegar added a really nice back end heat with every bite, and the double dredging ensures a super, extra awesome crackly, crispety, crunchety skin. And that's the whole point, right?

Happy picnicking!

Double-Dipped Buttermilk & Chile Vinegar Fried Chicken

Serves 4

2 cups buttermilk

3 tablespoons chile vinegar

1 tablespoon dijon mustard

2 teaspoons tarragon, divided

½ teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon plus ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

1tablepoon plus 1 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon plus 1teaspoon ground pepper

1 chicken cut up into 8 pieces

3 cups all-purpose flour

Vegetable shortening & vegetable oil, for frying

Combine the buttermilk, chile vinegar, dijon mustard, 1 teaspoon tarragon, paprika, ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper, 1 tablespoon of the salt, and 1 of the pepper in a nonreactive bowl large enough to contain all of the chicken pieces with at least 1 inch to spare. Add the chicken and turn to coat fully in the marinade. Cover with plastic wrap and marinate in the refrigerator for at least 6 hours or overnight. Remove the chicken from the refrigerator about 45 minutes before frying.

Line a large baking sheet with aluminum foil. In a large, shallow bowl, combine the flour, remaining salt, pepper, tarragon & cayenne pepper. Remove the chicken from the buttermilk marinade and roll it around in the seasoned flour until completely covered. Set it on the prepared baking sheet; repeat with the remaining chicken. Dip the coated chicken pieces once more in the marinade, then again in flour. Return the pieces to the baking sheet (a few minutes’ rest makes for a sturdier, crisper coating).

Have a wire cooling rack set over paper towels ready. In a large, heavy cast-iron skillet, heat 1 1/2 inches of shortening & oil over medium heat until it reaches 350°F on a deep-fat thermometer. Using kitchen tongs, add a few chicken pieces at a time to the hot oil (crowding will lower the temperature, making for greasy chicken). Fry the chicken until the internal temperature reaches 180°F, about 10 minutes per side (watch carefully, it can easily burn). Transfer the cooked chicken to the wire rack. Serve immediately or at room temperature (don’t let the chicken sit more than 2 hours).

Do it Early
The chicken can be fried up to 2 days in advance, covered, and refrigerated. Serve it cold—a classic picnic food—or reheat on wire racks set on baking sheets in a 375°F oven for 15 to 20 minutes.

Tip 
If the chicken looks pretty dark before it is cooked through, transfer to wire racks set on baking sheets and bake in a 375°F oven until the meat reaches an internal temperature of 180°F on an instant-read thermometer. Keep fried chicken warm in a 200°F oven. Using a digital thermometer eliminates the need to stand over the chicken. When the alarm sounds, the meat is done.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Fresh Mint & Chip Ice Cream

Two years ago: An Evening in Gruissan.

Three years ago: Shiso Leaf Butter

Never be a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic...

June is here. Which means Summer is this close. Which also means my birthday is coming up*. I like June. June is usually warm enough to comfortably wear tank tops and Summer dresses, even in the evening, without the fear of needing another layer. But June is also not yet the dog days of summer, where one feels the need to hop from one air conditioned space to the next, without ever really being exposed to the outside. June is green, not brown. June is not anticipatory and hopeful, like April and May, or exhausted and wilted like August. Rather, June is confident, pert and happy. June does cartwheels. And June is pleased as punch to be right where it is. In June.

I also think June likes picnics. Don't you think? Not too hot, not too cold, not too mosquito-y, not too humid, not too smoggy. Even Goldilocks would concur, it's just right. And clearly I'm not the only one that feels this way. NPRjust had a story about picnicking through the ages last week, I'm seeing picnic-themed foods and the like all over Pinterest, one of my peers had a blurb about gourmet picnics in the most recent Westways, Lucques is having their 'Tennessee Indoor Picnic' in a couple of weeks and I recall last year, exactly at this time, Splendid Table aired a piece about the most perfect, most neat-est, most conceptual picnic sandwich I've ever heard of. This sandwich originated, and is a specialty, in the South of France – Nice, to be exact. It is sold in every bakery and market there. This sandwich is the pan bagnat. Fred and I even made a couple of them to take on our weekend trip to the Santa Ynez Valley for my birthday last year. I have not made one since, but I have never forgotten about the pan bagnat.

It's hard to say which part of the pan bagnat made it so memorable. But if pressed (like the sandwich), I'd have to say it was Melissa Clark's story about it in that Splendid Table piece. Yes, it was an impressive sandwich, but Clark's story was really special. She spoke about being a seven year-old, on family vacations in the South of France. About the daily picnics they would have at the beach, and how her mom would make the most amazing sandwiches. It sounded like a sandwich which originated with the base ingredients of a tuna nicoise salad, but turned into an everything-but-the-kitchen sink sandwich that was stuffed full of ingredients a mile high. Her mom would have she and her sister sit on the wrapped sandwiches, in the car, all the way to the beach so that it would end up with all the salties and juicies, the burst capers, anchovies crammed into a paste, tuna, oil, everything perfectly married in addition to then being flat enough to eat properly.

It just sounded so romantic to me. I always do love a process, a story. And this one comes with the most perfect picnic sandwich I could possibly imagine. One with everything under the sun in it. That sandwich is a picnic.

So last weekend, Fred and I, for the second time, exactly a year apart, made our pan bagnats again and had ourselves a picnic. Since we were not driving to wine country and we didn't have a seven year-old on hand, we opted to weigh our sandwiches down with our biggest, heaviest cast-iron topped with a full tea kettle. Our Sunday picnic menu was as follows:

Pan Bagnat

Dill pickle spears

Potato salad with peperoncini & bacon

Dolmas

Cherries

Fresh squeezed limeade

All of the food ended up being perfect for a picnic. But the pan bagnat was undoubtedly the star. Pan bagnat is literally translated as ' bathed bread' or 'wet bread', and that is an accurate description. When it's ready to eat, the bread has absorbed a lot of the liquid from the filling and all of the ingredients are pressed to form a tight strata with all of those textures and flavors in a perfect union. This sandwich was also a favorite of Julia Child and Jacques Pepîn. You can even watch them make one here. I have to say, I bet the pan bagnat would be a sandwich to make Dagwoodhimself quite proud.

*I will be accepting birthday gifts all through June. Inquire within for suggestions and ideas.

Pan Bagnat
(recipe inspired by Melissa Clark on The Splendid Table)

Makes one big-ass sandwich that can feeds at least 2

Ingredients

3 anchovy fillets, minced

1 tablespoon capers, chopped

1 garlic clove, minced

1 1/2 teaspoon red wine vinegar

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

Pinch of salt and freshly ground pepper

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 baguette

1/2 regular cucumber

1 medium-size, ripe tomato, sliced

¾ roasted red pepper

½ avocado, sliced

½ cup arugula

1/2 small red onion, sliced

1 jar (8 oz) tuna packed in olive oil, drained

8 large basil leaves

4 tablespoons chopped Kalamata olives, pitted

1 hard-cooked egg, peeled and thinly sliced.




Directions

In a small mixing bowl, whisk together the anchovies, garlic, vinegar, mustard, salt and pepper. While continuing to whisk, gradually add the olive oil. Whisk until an emulsion forms.

Peel cucumber & halve lengthwise, and scoop out seeds from one half. Thinly slice seedless half. Add sliced cucumber to vinaigrette and toss well. Set aside.

Coarsely chop the olives and capers, then combine in a small bowl with the minced garlic and set aside.

Slice the baguette horizontally into 2 pieces. Tear out some of the soft bread in the center of each side, making a slight well in the bread.

Spread the olive and caper mixture evenly across the bottom half of the baguette, then spread other half the cucumbers on top. Next up, spread the tuna over that. Top with tomato and onion slices, then with pepper, arugula, avocado, basil, olives & egg slices. Top egg with remaining cucumbers and vinaigrette. Cover with second bread half and firmly smush sandwich together.

Wrap sandwich tightly in foil or plastic wrap, then place in a plastic bag. Refrigerate and weight sandwich under a cast-iron skillet or a pot of water for anywhere from 2 to 8 hours, flipping sandwich occasionally. Unwrap, slice and serve immediately or you can keep it wrapped for up to 2 hours at room temperature before serving.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Fresh Mint & Chip Ice Cream

Two years ago: Yerp: Part 2 - An Evening in Gruissan.

Three years ago: Fresh Strawberries, Chocolate Mint & Chantilly cream with Cornmeal Shortcakes

A Picnic in Bed

Last weekend Fred and I camped out at home. We planned our 'getaway' carefully, and made sure we had a plentitude of rations (of every imaginable sort) to ensure there would be absolutely no reason to get into a car at any point between day's end on Friday and first light on Monday. And, I dare say, mission accomplished with flying, colorful colors.

After our camping expedition in the living room the night before, we took Saturday to sleep in. Even the pups stayed in bed with us and snuggled, as opposed to Beso waking up at the crack of dawn to commence his ritual of whimpering and squiggling until I get up to feed him. Eventually, though, the pups had to be fed. So Fred lingered in bed while I took care of them, made coffee and poked around in the kitchen to see what I wanted to rustle up for breakfast. 

Breakfast turned into brunch as I looked up from the stove, where I was making heart-shaped eggs in a basket, and saw that it was almost noon. Then, the breakfast that turned into brunch, turned into brunch in bed; coffee, orange juice, sausages, eggs in a basket, and a crossword. On a tray. In bed. At Noon. 

That's when I got an idea, or as I like to call them, brainflowers.

I was so excited that I zipped right back into the kitchen. I dug up cocoa powder, walnuts and blood oranges and I was going to make cake, or cupcakes, or something. Something cute and sweet. I called Mom, rifled through cookbooks and searched online for ideas on how to incorporate the ingredients. I found little. It seems when that happens, the best go to is cupcakes. So I got to it.

A couple of things: A) I don't bake much, and when I flop in the kitchen, it's usually baking-related. B) I have never made chocolate anything.

I am a big fan of blood oranges. When they appear for a few short weeks in the middle of winter, I jump at the opportunity to make just about everything I possibly can with them. But I had yet to make them into cupcakes. I figured it was about damn time. And because I’ve found that little is quite as satisfying as a chocolate cupcake, the chocolate blood orange cupcake was born. With olive oil and walnuts. And for more fun, Fred made candied blood orange peel to top the cupcakes off!

The cupcakes were kind of amazing. I was very proud. They were so incredibly moist. They were heavy in weight, but tremendously light and fluffy on the palate. The sunset hued buttercream and the chocolate cake spiked with orange zest were a perfect match. Like they were made for each other. Success!

Why did I do all of this? What propelled this chocolatey, baking brainflower? Because, I figured, if the night before we could camp out in the living room and make clam chowder over the open fire, then this afternoon we could have a tea party picnic in bed!

And so we did. But we were going to need those cupcakes...

Chocolate, Olive Oil, Blood Orange Cupcakes with Walnuts
(recipe adapted from Love & Olive Oil)

Makes 12 cupcakes

Ingredients:

1 cup coconut milk
1/3 cup pure olive oil
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon blood orange zest, finely grated
1/2 cup walnut pieces
3/4 cup sugar
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon almond meal
1/3 cup cocoa powder
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt

For Frosting:
1/2 cup butter or margarine, room temperature
2-3 cups confectioners' sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 tablespoons blood orange juice
1 teaspoon blood orange zest, finely grated
1-2 tablespoons soy creamer or heavy cream (as needed)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line muffin pan with paper liners.

Whisk together the coconut milk, sugar, oil, vanilla extract, and zest until incorporated. In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, almond meal, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Make a well in the center of dry ingredients and pour in coconut milk mixture. Add walnuts and stir until just smooth (do not overmix). 

Pour into liners, filling each with 3 tablespoons of batter (cups should be no more than 2/3 full). Bake 18-20 minutes (or 10-12 for minis), or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Transfer to a cooling rack and let cool completely.

For frosting, cream butter until smooth and fluffy, 2-3 minutes. Add 1 cup powdered sugar and beat until combined. Mix in orange juice, zest, and vanilla. Continue adding sugar, 1/2 cup at a time, mixing well after each addition (depending on the temperature of your butter, you may need more or less sugar or added cream to achieve the proper consistency). Continue beating until light and fluffy, about 3-5 minutes. Spread or pipe onto cooled cupcakes.

Top with a little curl of candied orange peel - basic recipe here.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner

Two years ago: The Gabrielle Hamilton dinner at Lucques

Three years ago: The Willoughby Road food truck