Put your Heart (of Palm) Into It.

I get a lot of food magazines. I actually get way too many food magazines. The problem, the reason why I say way too many, is that I insist on reading every word and staring at every detail of every photograph – and all in one sitting. Maybe everyone does that, but I feel like magazines, except for the literary ones, are more often enjoyed in a leaf-through-it-casually-and-pick-it-up-and-down-over-time sort of way. But me, once I pick it up and open the cover, I'm in it to win it until I flip that very last page. Kind of like me and a bag of chips.

Oh, and that's not all. Not by a long shot. I save them. I keep them all in a pile for a larger project. And once the pile reaches a certain height, about two or three times a year, I go back through every single page of every single magazine and rip out the pages that have recipes I want to play with and images that inspire me. After I tear them all out, I sort through them and file them into binders assigned to different categories; soups, breakfast, vegetables, poultry, holidays, and so on. The photographic inspired pages go into their own binder. It's like my own private Pinterest.

I can understand why Fred always tells me, 'It must be exhausting to be you'.

So now you see why perhaps I ought to cut back on the magazines.

And now that I'm moving across the country in less than two months (!), this all seems really idiotic. Especially considering if I ever want to find one of the recipes I can just Google them. But I can't stop myself. It's as if I am compelled. Which is scary since I just saw The Conjuring last weekend.

But, fairly often, I do refer to my binders of recipes to get dinner ideas. And just as often I refer to my binder of inspirational photos as a reference of how I'd like to visually capture said dinners.

So as I was poking around in the cupboard the other day I found a jar of hearts of palm. I honestly do not recall buying them and have no idea how long they had been living with me. I've always been fond of hearts of palm, but it totally reminds me of the early nineties. It lives in my memories with sun dried tomatoes, tuna tartare with mango, Dippin' Dots and Zima. I even vaguely recall a rumor going around that hearts of palm was bad for the world, kind of like the whole shrimp thing right now.

As I was holding the jar of hearts of palm and noodling down memory lane, reminiscing about white zin and baked brie, I remembered that very recently I saved and filed away a recipe for what else, hearts of palm. And I just so happened to have most of the ingredients. And what I did not have was easy to change out with other things, to make it my own. That's just kismet.

Heart of palm is an interesting thing. It is a vegetable. It's harvested from the inner core of certain palm trees. And yes, harvesting of many non-cultivated palms results in palm tree death. However, other palm species are clonal and moderate harvesting will not kill the entire clonal palm. Moreover, an alternative to wild hearts of palm are palm varieties which have undergone a process of adaptation to become a domesticated farm species. This variety is the most widely used for canning. And this very farmed variety is what we are buying at the market. But since harvesting is still a labor intensive task, palm hearts are regarded as a delicacy.

Move over foie gras, here comes something leaner?

Heart of palm does actually seem like a delicacy. It is delicate. It's soft in color and texture and has a subtle, muted taste. A taste that could be described as, well, delicate. Though I like to snack on one or two, straight up, no chaser, you will almost always find them in salads.

And here is no different.

I love this salad. It is bright and fresh and zippy. It's colorful and covers the entire texture spectrum, from super soft all the way over to super crunchy with everything in between. The original recipe called for parsley where I used cilantro. But I think any number of fresh herbs could and should be folded in as well; basil chives, shiso, mint, you name it. 

I will tell you now that once the hearts of palm jumped into that salad, they also jumped into a new memory category. One that is very much in the present. It was so simple to make and so fun to eat, that I bet once you try it, this is one of those recipes that will end up in your binder as well.

Hearts of Palm, Heirloom Tomato and Avocado Salad

Serves 2-4

1 cup mixed color heirloom tomatoes, chopped into ½-inch pieces

1/2 small sweet onion, cut into thin slivers

1 14-ounce cans hearts of palm, drained and sliced 1/2 inch thick

1 avocado, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

1/4 cup coarsely chopped cilantro

1/2 teaspoon finely grated lime zest

2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lime juice

2 tablespoons mayonnaise

2 tablespoons canola oil

Salt

Freshly ground pepper

In a medium bowl, toss the tomatoes with the onion slivers, hearts of palm, avocado and chopped cilantro. In a small bowl, whisk the lime zest and lime juice with the mayonnaise and oil; season the dressing with salt and pepper. Pour the dressing over the salad, toss gently and serve right away.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Zucchini Fries with Poblano Cream

Two years ago: Bourbon-Vanilla Bean Banana Bread with Candied Walnuts

Three years ago: Classic Southern Deviled Eggs

Four years ago: Baked Tomatoes with Goat Cheese, Fresh Herbs & Hazelnut Breadcrumbs

Good To Go

Goddammit. I’m sick. 

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

But oddly I have not lost my appetite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So I won't.

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

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

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

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

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

Cheebo: Good To Go

7533 W. Sunset Blvd.

Los Angeles, CA 90046

323.850.7070

One year ago: Cremini Mushroom & Meyer Lemon Risotto

Two years ago: Chocolate & Chile de Arbol Brownies 

FOUR years ago: Oyster Stew

And This Little Piggy Went to Mercantile...

Last week Doug, Kendra and I went out to dinner. It was kind of spontaneous as I thought I was going to just throw together something from my kitchen and had pretty much planned to do so in my sweats. But, at the Eleventh hour, we decided to go out. Something chill.

Our go-to in this situation is Cheebo. I have an affinity for their chopped salad. But their bar doesn’t cater well to three (it doesn’t have a corner) and I am not wild about the dining room experience there. I threw out a few suggestions and we ended up settling on Mercantile. I had a really nice lunch there a couple of weeks prior (excellent chestnut apple soup, celery root soup and the Frenchy sandwich) and a few glasses of wine (specifically a rosé I was particularly fond of) back closer to when they first opened - these two visits left me curious for a dinner. Plus, they have a corner at the bar.

I think Mercantile is very cute. It’s rustic with wood ceilings, antique wallpaper and jelly jar glasses. It’s both a café and a gourmet market, selling everything from small tins of mustard seeds to wine. It is also the latest addition to George Abou-Daoud’s Hollywood imperium (the Bowery, Delancey, the Mission Cantina). Unbelievably, chef Kevin Napier serves up his international comfort dishes in one of the smallest, most pared down kitchens I’ve seen in a while. I’m talking about two hot plates and a salamander. In his gnomic kitchen he manages to pump out brunch, lunch and dinner, serving up omelettes, biscuits and gravy, lovely soups, foie gras terrine, a badass duck confit salad, a yummy Cuban sandwich, beef shortrib and mac n’cheese.

In addition to a simple and well-priced wine list (sold by the glass, carafe and bottle), they also offer beer and liquor.

This recent evening we split a bottle of red and started things off with a cheese plate ($14 for three cheeses). I appreciate the descriptions of the cheeses with words like stinky and gooey, or earthy and hard, or musty and semi-hard. We went with one of each; a couple of sheep’s milk cheeses and the third with sheep, cow and goat’s milk.

We ate every ounce of our cheeses – we even had to request more bread on which to smear them.

We followed this with a salad of broccoli, burrata and pine nuts. I really fancied the flavors and temperature of this warm salad. I would have preferred a slightly charred broccolini to the steamed broccoli – but that’s just me.

Doug opted for the BLT for his main course. This was bacon, lettuce and tomatillo jam with charred jalapeño goat cheese and pickled red onion on toasty sourdough bread with an accompaniment of mixed greens ($11.50). Although Doug seemed a little thrown by the lack of the traditional T, he thought it was a cool twist.

Kendra ordered the salad of Fennel-Crusted Albacore with potato salad, haricot vert, soft-cooked quail egg, olive tapenade and arugula ($13). All three of us found this dish to be superlative. The tuna was seared to perfection with just the right amount of dressing, the potato salad was surprising and a great touch and the quail egg was beautiful.

I went for the Mushroom Soup ($6); a dairy-free puree topped with a dollop of crème fraiche and chives. I found the soup delicate and rounded. I was actually surprised it wasn’t finished with cream. I also had the Roasted Chicken Salad: butter lettuce, avocado, bacon, cherry tomatoes, chicken crispies, onion rings and tobasco ranch ($13.50). I’ll be honest, I ordered it solely because they used the words chicken crispies in the description. I liked my salad just fine. But I can leave it at that. It was just fine. It was slightly under-dressed with an enormous amount of the lettuce. The crispies were a little overly fried – a little overly crispied. 

During the course of our meal, we were entertained by both the music and our bartender/server (whose iPod was playing said music). After Kendra and Doug left I lingered for a while to try a few other wines and chatted with our DJ/bartender/server, Kyle. Good man.

I was also pleased to discover that they remain open until midnight. I also suggest checking out the cheeses, charcuterie, fresh pastries and ice cream in the case.

It's Gettin, It's Gettin, It's Gettin' Kinda Hectic.

I am getting nervous. I am nervous.

In just one short week the second Dinner at Eight will be upon us. But this one won’t consist of six of my friends. This guest list includes six of my fellow food bloggers – only some of whom I have met personally. My peeps, yes, but these are also critical minds and educated palates.

I have the menu pretty much put together. I have been and will continue to tweak and test all of my recipes. Plus, I have to shuttle all the samples to Jill at Domaine LA so she can get all of the pairings just right. Sadly, Jill won’t be able to personally attend this next dinner party. I will have to find a substitute Jill. That should be interesting. I’ll add that to my very long Dinner at Eight to do list, now.

The other night I had Doug over to be a taste tester for a few of the recipes. One would think most people would not hesitate to say yes to that invite. But it was the night of the last game of the Lakers/Celtics thing. So, I agreed that we could tune into the game and taste test simultaneously . Awesome meal + Lakers/Celtics thing + my effervescent company? Not for free, buddy. Doug had to install the hardware for my new curtains--a little off my talent chart. That’s a fair trade, yes?

Some things worked out well, some needed attention. Such is life. We had fun. A couple of the recipes that will be involved in the next dinner I have already written about here and here. But today I am going to share with you the recipe for the salad course.

I know I have told you about my moniker from my days (years) in Atlanta. Michael Fancini coined a new name and it stuck. I became known as The Duchess - to me it was endearing and strangely flattering.

According to my Larousse Gastronomique, Green Goddess dressing is a variation of a dressing originated in France by a Chef to Louis XIII who made a Sauce Au Vert (Green Sauce) which was traditionally served with 'Green Eel'. Another story has the dressing invented at the historic Palace Hotel in San Francisco in the 1920's in honor of William Archer's hit play The Green Goddess. Much like my Duchess moniker, I don’t see the royal Goddess parallel anywhere with either of these stories. So, with a few twists and toggles, I have created a Duchess dressing. You saw that coming, right?

This dressing is crisp, cool, tart, and light, yet creamy, rich and delicately textured. It needs very little in the salad-bells-and-whistles department: merely romaine lettuce, avocados, cucumbers and a sprinkle of toasted pine nuts.

Duchess Salad with Romaine, Avocado, Cucumber and Pine Nuts

Serves 6

2 large heads romaine lettuce

1 extra-large egg yolk

1 cup grapeseed oil
1 1/4 cup Italian parsely

1 cup packed watercress, cleaned, stems removed

2 tablespoons tarragon leaves

3 tablespoons minced chives, plus 2 tablespoons 1/2-inch snipped chives

1 clove garlic, chopped

2 salt-packed anchovies, rinsed, bones removed

Juice of 1 lemon

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon champagne vinegar

2 large ripe avocados

1 hothouse cucumber, peeled and seeded

1/2 cup toasted pine nuts

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Remove the outer leaves of the romaine. Trim and separate the leaves, clean and chill in refrigerator.

Place the egg yolk in a stainless steel bowl. Slowly pour 1/4 cup of the oil in bowl, drop by drop, constantly whisking. Continue until mixture is emulsified. At this point whisk in another 1/4 cup of oil in a steady stream.

Purée 1 cup of parsley, watercress, tarragon and minced chives in a blender with the garlic, anchovies, lemon juice and remaining 1/2 cup of oil.

Whisk the herb purée, vinegar, 2 teaspoons salt and 1/2 teaspoon of pepper into the mayonnaise. Taste for balance and seasoning.

Cut avocados and cucumbers into long diagonal wedges and season generously with salt and pepper.

Place the romaine in a large salad bowl, and toss with 1/2 cup of dressing, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and some more black pepper. Gently toss in the avocado and cucumber. Arrange delicately on a plate and sprinkle with pine nuts, parsley and chives.

Printable Recipe

A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing.

People sneak up on us. They surprise us. Sometimes beautifully and positively, and sometimes not so much.

Often when I meet men, they seem to make an effort to appear very sweet, sensitive, and attentive. Generally they turn out to be more self involved and disingenuous than at first blush. Not always, of course. And this could be an LA affectation. “Deep down I’m really shallow,” or some such thing.

But recently I met an even more interesting beast. The kind who paints himself a warrior. An animal. He claims not to care about what other people think or want.  He is predatory and self-aggrandizing. But guess what? Directly beneath this veneer is hand-blown glass. An eggshell composition. He wants desperately to be understood in spite of himself. This person wants to be swaddled by someone.

Am I that person? Do I even want to be? I highly doubt it, at least not in this instance, and that is not why I broach the subject here.

I keep thinking about Aesop’s fable:

The wolf put on the fleece and went off in search of a flock of sheep. It spied a flock of sheep just as the sun was setting and approached the flock. Just as it was about to pounce on a lamb, a shepherd came by looking for a sheep to slaughter for supper. Thinking the disguised wolf was a sheep, the shepherd quickly grabbed and killed the wolf.

So it would appear we are all disrobed in one form or another. The mask always comes off at the end of Scooby Doo. Even though the shepherd had no idea that he killed a wolf, the wolf was essentially outed and our odd sense of equilibrium, or justice, prevailed in the end.

So why do we all wear our costumes? And we do, you know. It almost seems that we literally present our anti-self, our inner opposite, when we first meet some people. Perhaps it’s like having curly hair but wanting straight hair and vice versa. Perhaps we want to be perceived as tough and resilient if we are truly sensitive and soft, and perhaps we want to be perceived as delicate and emotional if we are inherently more desensitized and crusty.

And much like the wolf and the shepherd in Aesop’s fable, without really trying, we all see and are all seen. Eventually. But we also must always continue to play our roles, wear our costumes. And not necessarily for anyone else. Not really because of how we want to be perceived, but for ourselves – how we perceive ourselves.

Kind of like orzo. Most people think it’s rice. It might think it’s rice. It acts like rice. But orzo is undeniably pasta. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Watch out for false prophets? Maybe, but mostly I think it’s important to know that everyone might be a prophet and very little is actually false.

Orzo Salad with Tomatoes, Feta, Spinach and Mint

Serves 8 to 10

Ingredients

12 ounces orzo
2 tablespoons plus 1/4 cup olive oil
¼ cup walnut oil
1 1/2 cups crumbled seasoned feta cheese
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1 /2 cup chopped red onion
¼ cup chopped fresh mint
1 handful fresh spinach, lightly steamed
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Salt & pepper to taste

Bring a large pot of lightly salted water, with the 2 tablespoons of oil, to a boil. Add orzo and cook for 8 to 10 minutes or until al dente; drain and rinse with cold water. Transfer to a large bowl and stir in oil, vinegar, lemon, garlic, spinach, feta, onion, tomatoes, mint, salt & pepper.  Refrigerate and serve cold.

Wanderlust

I’ve changed my mind again (surprise). I know I had mentioned recently being a little distracted one day and then saying I had grounded myself the next. Now I think I’m still out there a little bit. I’m a little spirally.

The latest incarnation of my springy-spirallyness is a major case of wanderlust. It’s not just that I feel an overwhelming desire to travel, it’s also that I can’t stay still. I don’t want to be home for very long and, every time I get into my car, I just want to keep driving. I’ve even been inventing errands and taking longer routes to get to my destinations. In this town?! I must be out of my mind.

Clearly all of my errands have been accomplished. I even made a trip to the dry cleaners to drop off one (1) item. I have told my friends that live in, say, Watts, Venice or Long Beach, that I’d be happy to leave my canyon to visit them. I’m not surprised, but I’m pretty sure they think I’m joking as none have taken me up on the offer.

It’s true, I don’t get to travel very much. Not in the past 5 or 6 years at least. But it has never really mattered to me before. I’m a nester. I always love being close to home. In fact I actually hate packing so very, very much that it practically inhibits my urge to travel. But I think I’d hop on a plane, train or automobile in a hot second and take off anywhere right now. So what is going on?

Perhaps it is simply time. Perhaps the last 5 or 6 years has caught up with me. Perhaps I am looking for something.

One result of this wanderlust has been going out to eat. Going out to drink. Going out. And a direct result of the going out has provided me with the emptiest refrigerator I’ve ever had. Seriously, here’s the entirety of what’s going on in there:

7 eggs (which may be bad)

The better part of a package of bacon (which I think is still okay)

Most of a bulb of fennel (I really need to toss that)

An individual yogurt left over from my dad’s visit (still good)

Milk (for coffee)

Part of a wedge of Parmesan (obviously fine)

A package of crème fraiche (must use, post haste)

2 beers (1 from Dad’s visit & 1 from Doug stopping by recently. I don't even drink beer.)

Condiments

On the counter I have various onions, shallots, garlic and potatoes – most of which need to get used immediamente as well. At this point, they may even be doing Fantasia-esque dancing in the kitchen whilst I sleep.

So, this afternoon, being so busy with work-related things that have strapped me to the homestead, I took stock and realized I needed to: (1) try to save as much of the food as possible; and (2) get my arse moving in the kitchen.

Potato salad is springy, it’s even summery. Potato salad elicits memories of home and coziness and also of being outside, being in the sunshiney shine, being with friends. But really, being anywhere and everywhere.

Potato Salad with Crème Fraiche, Mint & Basil

Serves 6

1 lb. Baby Russet Potatoes

¾ cup crème fraiche

2 tbsp grainy mustard

1 large shallot, diced

1 tsp cider vinegar

2 large sprigs of fresh mint, chopped

6-8 large leaves of fresh basil, chiffonade

1 ½ tsp salt

1 tsp pepper

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add potatoes and cook until tender but still firm, about 15 minutes. Drain, cool, and chop.

In a large bowl, combine the potatoes, crème fraiche, mustard, shallot, vinegar, mint, basil salt and pepper. Mix together well and refrigerate until chilled.

Dad's Recoup Din-Din in the Old Dominion.

As previously mentioned, I'm back home, in Virginia. I'm helping my dad recover from a lil' back surgery. A large part of my duties exist in the shopping, cooking, and feeding realm. And what better to do with my time while he naps and trips out on the painkillers than write about all this foodness happening, here in the dirty south?

Joel Salitin is pretty much The Man. He is a self-described environmentalist capitalist lunatic farmer, or as the New York Times calls him, “the high priest of the pasture.” You may remember him from The Omnivore’s Dilemma, in which he was profiled at length by Michael Pollan. Salatin’s innovative farming system at his Polyface Farm —where the animals live according to their “ness,” the earth is used for symbiosis, and happiness and health is key—has gained attention from around the country, and he travels in the winter giving lectures and demonstrations. He is the author of a number of books including Holy Cows and Hog Heaven, Everything I Want to Do Is Illegal, You Can Farm, Pastured Poultry Profit$, Salad Bar Beef and Family Friendly Farming.

So you may imagine my absolute delight to be able to be able to purchase his farm's bacon whilst shopping here, in Richmond. I prepared a meal, for my dad, incorporating said bacon and/or its fat in a number of ways.

Dad's Special Meal:

• Hanover Tomato, Butterhead Lettuce, and Bacon with Blue Cheese Dresssing
• Cheesy Creamed Corn with Cilantro
• Will's Awesome Lamb Chops with Cumin, Cardamom & Lime (lamb from the Belmont Butchery)

Hanover tomato, Butterhead Lettuce, and Bacon with Blue Cheese Dresssing

Serves 4

Ingredients:

6 bacon slices, chopped

1/2 cup sour cream

3 Tbsp whole milk plus additional if necessary

2 Tbsp cider vinegar

1 scallion, chopped

1 cup crumbled blue cheese (1/4 lb), divided

1 (1/2-lb) head Bibb or Boston lettuce

1 large Hanover tomato, cut into wedges

Directions:

• Cook bacon in a 10-inch skillet over medium heat until crisp. Transfer to paper towels to drain, reserving fat in skillet.
• Whisk together 1 Tbsp hot bacon fat, sour cream, milk, vinegar, and 1/4 tsp each of salt & pepper until smooth. Stir in scallion and 2/3 cup of blue cheese. Thin with additional milk if desired.
• Quarter lettuce lengthwise (through stem) into wedges, then remove core and arrange each wedge on a plate with tomato wedges. Stir dressing and spoon over top. Sprinkle with bacon, remaining 1/3 cup blue cheese, and pepper to taste.

Printable Recipe

Cheesy Creamed Corn with Cilantro

Serves 6

Ingredients:

• 1 tablespoon bacon fat

• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter

• 1 1/2 cups chopped scallions (about 6 large)

• 12 ears corn, kernels cut from cobs

• 2/3 cup heavy cream

• 2 teaspoons cornstarch

• 1 large garlic clove

• 6 oz queso fresco or mild feta, crumbled (1 1/3 cups)

• 1 cup cilantro sprigs

Directions:

• Heat bacon fat and butter in a deep 12-inch heavy skillet over medium-high heat until foam subsides, then cook scallions, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add corn and 1/2 tsp each of salt and pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, 5 minutes.
• Stir together cream and cornstarch in a small bowl until thoroughly combined, then add to corn and simmer, stirring, until slightly thickened, about 3 minutes. Transfer 1 1/2 cups corn mixture to a blender with garlic and purée until smooth (use caution when blending hot liquids). Return to skillet and cook, stirring constantly, until just heated through.
• Transfer corn to a large shallow serving bowl and sprinkle cheese and cilantro over top.

Will's Awesome Lamb Chops with Cumin, Cardamom and Lime (lamb from the Belmont Butchery)

Ingredients:

12-16 cloves of garlic
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp cardamom
1/3 cup FRESH lime juice
1 tbsp salt
2 tsp pepper
1/2 cup olive oil
16 rib lamb chops (If you're willing to spend the extra money, the American really are quite superior - better meat/better fat)

 

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 2 minutes per side.  Perhaps a bit more but rarer is better.
  

We both agreed, this was a damn good meal.

Scarlet Runner Bean Salad

Let me begin by stating that I used dried beans instead of fresh (the recipe calls for fresh if you can find them). I soaked them for three days and then simmered them in water, salt, chicken stock and a chilé de arbol for the better part of a day before allowing them to cool, peeling them, and splitting them lengthwise. After all of this tedium, they still were not the tender creatures I had anticipated. 

But I had never dealt with the scarlet runner bean before. If you can't find this variety of bean I suggest cannellini beans. (Dixon LOVED this recipe!)

This turned out to be pretty tasty. Very fresh and summery. I would serve it with some olives, a crust of bread, and a glass of crisp, sauvignon blanc (I recommend the Brander, 2006 Sauvignon Blanc, Santa Ynez Valley).

4 Servings

Ingredients

1 lb scarlet runner beans
1/2 md red onion; thinly sliced
1 cup of cherry tomatoes, cut in half
1 bunch of watercress
3 cloves garlic; minced
6 tb olive oil
2 tb red wine vinegar
2 ts balsamic vinegar
juice of 1/2 of a lemon
1/2 ts coarse sea salt
1/2 ts freshly ground black pepper
1 ts prepared mustard

Wash the beans, snap off the ends, and French-cut into lengthwise strips. Steam briefly, until just tender; drain thoroughly, and place in a large bowl with the onion, tomatoes, watercress and garlic. Toss well. Combine the remaining ingredients to make a dressing. Pour over the beans, toss well, and refrigerate for an hour or two before serving to blend flavors.

Printable Recipe

A|O|C - I still love you.

Let me begin by stating that AOC has been one of my top favorite restaurants in LA since it opened its doors in 2002. Co-owned by Lucques partners Suzanne Goin and Caroline Styne, AOC takes its name from appellation d'origine controlée, the French system governing the origin and authenticity of wines as well as regional foods of quality. The menu (manned by chef Goin) consists of Mediterranean small plates and the wine list (overseen by wine guru and front of the house overseer, Styne) boasts over 50 by the glass in their cruvinet.

I revisited AOC last week with Dixon after at least a six month absence. We always like to sit at the wine bar where we can go at it a bit more casually, graze, taste lots of wines and chat with the knowledgeable and conversant bartenders.

The menu is divided into six sections.
It is suggested that you should order approximately three dishes per person.

Cheese:
One cheese ($5)
Three cheese ($15)
Five cheese ($25)
There are 4 or 5 selections of each; goat, sheep, cow, and blue.
Charcuterie
Salads
Fish
Meat
From the wood burning oven

Upon being seated one is presented with bread served with harissa and olives. The harissa is wonderful and one of Goin's signature elements, chile de arbol is a prominent accent.
To get started we ordered the Echo Mountain Rogue Creamery Blue from Oregon and the roasted dates, stuffed with parmesan and wrapped in bacon ($6). The cheese was divine - firm, smooth, earthy and subtle. The dates, an ordering staple no matter the season, are split, pitted and stuffed with a tiny wedge of Parmesan, then tightly mummified with bacon. They are served hot, hot, hot, so try to be patient or you won't be able to taste the remainder of your meal. Even if you do burn your tongue these dates are absolutely sublime - crisp, smoky, salty, and sticky-sweet. So far, everything is divine.

Next we selected the foie gras terrine with quince jam ($21). I admittedly love, love, love some foie gras. Man, do I love it. Can't get enough. With absolutely no rancor to their charcutier's skill (whom I hold in great admiration) I admittedly was underwhelmed. The terrine, while perfectly pink, billowy and succulent - I found to be overly smothered with the quince jam.

The Rabbit ragoût with dijon, chestnuts and tarragon ($15) actually gave cause for me, and the normally appeased (and always sated), Dixon, to raise our eyebrows and question. My main beef was the fact that just about the only stand out flavor in this dish was mustard. It was seemingly a dish consisting of (not awesomely braised) rabbit swimming in watery mustard. I couldn't even necessarily decipher the chestnuts and other delectables in there. We asked our server the official definition of ragout as we thought we may have been mis-educated somewhere along the way. I have to assume this was just a bizzare, one-time, oopsy. I do know Suzanne Goin was not in the kitchen that night...
The chanterelles, ricotta gnocchi and sherry cream ($15) showed up last and were good but not exceptionally memorable. I love chanterelles. I love sherry. The gnocchi were a wee bit more al dente than I would have preferred. No big deal. It was good enough but maybe just an unfortunate closer to the meal.

Don't get me wrong, I love AOC. Forget Clive Owen - I sweat Suzanne Goin (well, and Clive Owen, but you get the point). I dream about her Brussels Sprouts With Pancetta and Toasted Bread Crumbs, the haricots verts with hazelnuts, proscuitto and burrata, the pancetta-wrapped trout with grapes and sorrel, braised pork cheeks with fava bean pesto, and anything she does with skirt steak. I have her cookbook (Sunday Suppers at Lucques) and refer to it often. I respect her creativity, her technique, her love and respect for food and the land from which it comes, and how it all arrives out on the plate in front of me. She is the consummate artist.
I will never stop going to AOC or Lucques for that matter. This was just unfortunately an off night.

A|O|C
8022 W. 3rd St.
Los Angeles, CA 90048
(323) 653-6359

Pissaladière with Herb Salad

1 sheet puff pastry
4 yellow onions, sliced thin along the grain
Sprig of rosemary
Unsalted butter
Cassis
2 anchovy filets, cleaned and sliced diagonally
5 or 6 pitted nicoise olives, sliced
Sprig of thyme
1 egg yolk mixed with a few drops of water

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

1. Saute onions in butter, add rosemary, lightly salt, and cook over medium heat until caramelized.
2. Add a dash of cassis and cook off. Turn off heat and cool slightly.
3. Roll out puff pastry to desired shape (square, rectangle, or circle), puncture in places with a sharp knife, put on a sheet pan covered with parchment paper.
4. Spread cooked onion with a light hand over puff pastry leaving a small rim.
5. Scatter thyme leaves, sliced anchovy filets, and olive slices over top. Paint rim with egg yolk.
6. Bake in oven for five minutes, check, and turn pan in oven. Cook till bottom of crust is light brown.

Let cool slightly, cut, and serve with fresh herbs tossed with fleur de sel, lemon, and olive oil.

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