The Village Idiot *A Brunch Review*

I have been to the Village Idiot on a scant few occasions. These visits have only been during random times, however, always in the evenings. I have seen it packed out with people and I have seen it moderately empty. I have had a few glasses of assorted wines and I have had a couple of appetizers from the evening menu. It is a lovely space that boasts lofted wood beam ceilings, chalkboard menus, brick walls, skylights and large street-facing windows. It’s located along the touristy Melrose stretch of boutiques, tattoo parlors, fetish shops and cafes. While this is not exactly my nook of the city, The Village Idiot has been a convenient meeting place, a convenient watering hole, in a convenient location.

This past Sunday I met a friend there for brunch. Normally I would poo-poo the idea as I’m not extremely familiar with Idiot’s (as the cool kids refer to it) food but what I do know is no great shakes. HOWEVER, I am always willing to try a new brunch spot and I heard it would be practically empty (a plus for me on a Sunday morning). Meaning, I could camp out and spread out at either the bar or a table, do my crossword, have a few bloody mary’s, and eat whenever it suited me.

The rumor was true; there were only about 6 other people in the place when I arrived. So, I sidled up to the bar, slapped the paper down and ordered my bloody and a coffee. The bloody appeared in a pint glass, which is always a plus. But what’s this? It was also really good! It was spicy and thick and strong. The coffee was from Intelligentsia and quite exceptional, as is widely known. So far, so good.

I might add that at this point, that I like to sip my beverages (of which I have three, now, counting my water), and toil with the crossword while I work up to the food. I appreciated the bartender (as I sat at the bar) giving me my space and distance, never hounding me to order. And he was an incredibly affable chap.

The brunch menu is really going for the Brit style. Traditional English breakfast: bangers, mash, beans, toast, rashers, etc. It is actually a pretty extensive menu beyond that as well. Everything from homemade breakfast bread to cherry-cashew granola… from whiskey cured ocean trout with toasted brioche, crème fraiche and pickled beets to fried duck eggs, chorizo, tomato, chiles & yellow corn grits… from tomato ricotta tart with poached eggs and herb salad to lemon ricotta pancakes with sliced bananas and honeycomb butter. The Idiot’s (see, I'm cool, now) brunch menu also has, among other items, a selection of English pies; sandwiches, including “Breaux & Sheftell” filet-o-fish, butter lettuce, house tartar sauce & slaw; a pub burger; salads; stuffed bacon wrapped dates with a roasted pepper tomato sauce and steamed mussels.

I ordered the Fried Duck Egg over Polenta and Grilled Vegetables. It was quite good. I am not a huge bell pepper fan and found there to be a few too many of them scattered about in the polenta. But at least they were the red and yellows, not the greens. The dish had a nice, rich flavor, the polenta’s texture was spot on, and the egg was a resplendent specimen. I also ordered a side of bacon, which was delicious, thick, peppery and smoky.


My friend had the full English breakfast which included eggs (he had his scrambled) & beans on toast (again a nice thick slice of homemade bread), rasher & banger, roasted tomatoes and mushrooms. The rasher was not your ordinary ‘rasher’ of plain smoked bacon, but a ‘bacon’ made of thinly sliced pork loin.


The pace at the Idiot started to pick up as the day wore on but it was never even remotely crowded or loud. I felt it was a bit dark and, obviously, smelled like a bar. I appreciate the British pub effect in the menu, but again, it’s not entirely my style. On occasion, perhaps. But even while I was in England, it was never exactly the food that thrilled me. Yorkshire pudding downright scared the b’jeezus out of me (although I think I’d really fancy it these days). I’m telling you that I definitely won’t be a regular – at any time of day – at the Village Idiot. But I know a lot of other people are and the good folks that run the place are doing a damn fine job. I’ll just say that although it’s not in my circulation, I’m glad it’s in the world.

The Village Idiot
(323) 655-3331
7383 Melrose Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90046

For the love of TOMATOES!

You say tomato, I say perfection. I have always loved tomatoes, in almost all of their incarnations. But when they are in season and perfectly ripe, I say, why reinvent the wheel? Slice them up with some salt and pepper, or just eat them like an apple! However, with friend’s plants, my mother’s plants and even my own, this season has proven to be The Summer of the Tomato, so I have been tinkering…

Recently, a friend with an over-abundance of beauties shared a mass of his harvest with me. This gave me pause. I mean, how many salads and tomato sandwiches can I eat? The answer is 2947985687465, but how uninspired would that be?

I first wanted to prepare a chilled tomato soup with a fresh crab garnish (inspired by Palate). Then I set my sights on an heirloom tomato salad with opal basil and torn croutons (inspired by Suzanne Goin). A tomato tart? Tomato aspic (No. Everyone thinks that's gross, except me)? Tomato sauce?? I settled on Baked Tomatoes with Goat Cheese, Fresh Herbs and Hazelnut Breadcrumbs; a version of a recipe I found in Bon Appetit (August, 2009), with a few of my own modifications. This was pretty tasty and quite beautiful, but I must stick to my guns as far as the importance of tomato purity. With the one, lonely tomato left behind from this dish, I tossed it with a bit of salt, pepper, oil and basil. I can’t think of anything that would have enhanced that tomato more.

Baked Tomatoes with Goat Cheese, Fresh Herbs & Hazelnut Breadcrumbs

Ingredients

2 cups coarse fresh bread crumbs (from country bread, preferably whole-wheat)
4 to 6 large heirloom tomatoes (about 3 pounds total)
1 1/2 tablespoons chopped fresh lemon thyme or regular thyme, divided
1 tablespoon fresh oregano
2 tablespoons of fresh basil/opal basil, mixed, divided
3-4 tablespoons chevre
1/2 stick unsalted butter
1 cup hazelnuts, toasted , any loose skins rubbed off, cooled, and coarsely chopped


Preparation

Preheat oven to 350°F with rack in middle. Butter a 2-quart shallow ceramic or glass baking dish.
Spread bread crumbs in a 4-sided sheet pan and toast in oven until dried and pale golden, about 15 minutes. Cool crumbs. Increase oven temperature to 450°F.

Thickly slice tomatoes and arrange, overlapping, in baking dish. Season with 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper and sprinkle with 1 tablespoon thyme, oregano, and 1 tablespoon of the basils. Sprinkle chevre throughout. Melt butter in a large heavy skillet over medium heat, then cook nuts and crumbs, stirring frequently, until golden, 4 to 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Spoon evenly over tomatoes.

Bake until tomatoes are bubbling and crumbs are browned, 15 to 25 minutes. Cool to warm or room temperature and sprinkle with remaining 1/2 tablespoon thyme and the remainder of the basils.


Cooks' note: Bread crumbs and nuts can be toasted (but not cooked in butter) 1 day ahead and kept together in an airtight container at room temperature.

Vichyssoise is NOT pronounced "Veeshy-Swah"

For my 18^th birthday – which fell during the summer in between high school graduation and moving off to college – my dad took me to a fancy dinner at a fancy French restaurant in Richmond, Va.; I believe it was called La Petite France. I had wanted to go there for some time. I will never forget that dinner. My dad, a man of few spoken (and even fewer written (sadly, a trait that I in no way inherited )) words, gave me a watch. He knew that I valued any evidence, trinkets, tchotckes, what have you, of his and my mom’s marriage (they divorced when I was 3, but have remained close friends to this day). The watch, he explained, was given to him by my mom before I was born. He had worn it for decades. The back of the watch was inscribed with his initials and the year 1972. He also went on to explain his interest in the concept of time – how our perception of it changes. I didn’t really understand what he meant at the time. But then I remember thinking a year was such a long time, and Summer vacations were always forever away. Now, a year is like a second, a blip. 

And that that meal seems like yesterday.

Still waters run deep, eh dad?

That night, among other food firsts, I tasted vichyssoise. I was absolutely blown away. This creamy and rich, yet delicate and subtle chilled soup was like nothing I had ever experienced. I could have had 4 bowls and not been sated. I am not sure if I have ordered vichyssoise out too many times since but I have endeavored to make it numerous times. Each time I do, I share it with whomever is close by and everyone seems to react the way I did when I first tasted it, and how I feel about it to this day. Except I have now learned that this is not a soup to have 4 bowls of. Considering it’s primarily potatoes, milk, heavy cream and butter, it’s best to show a little restraint (learned that the hard way with my last batch).

The culinary origins of vichyssoise, namely whether it is a genuinely French dish or an American innovation, is a subject of debate among culinary historians. Credit for the dish usually goes to Louis Diat, in 1917. Diat was the chef at the Ritz-Carlton in New York City for most of the first half of the 20th century. His inspiration for the soup was his mother’s much heartier potato-leek soup. He found it too hot to eat and poured cold milk into it to make it more palatable. The name is from Vichy, a city near where Diat grew up.

Interestingly, this culinary delight, which seems to have such complexity, is the most simple creation one can imagine. Call it the Cinderella of soups: its humble home cooking transformed into polished restaurant fare. Yes, you can gussy it up but why toy with perfection? I have found no variations that surpass the original but do often play with the garnish. A sprinkling of finely chopped chives tops a true vichyssoise, but I have experimented with fried leeks, a rosette of smoked salmon and torn croutons.

Since 1917 this recipe has remained almost entirely unchanged. If you order it out, you will see almost no chefs trying to put their bells and whistles on it. It is still as cool and soft as it was eight decades ago. And for the record, the aforementioned watch – I cherish it more than almost anything and wear it to this day. And every time I taste a vichyssoise I think of that watch, my dad, my 18^th birthday dinner, and how while time does fly, it too stands still.

Loius Diat once prepared 8 portions of his famous soup to be delivered to the Manhattan town house of Sara Delano Roosevelt, Franklin D.’s mother, at her request – and enclosed this recipe (with one or two of my own alterations in parenthesis).

VICHYSSOISE
(Adapted from Saveur, 2008)

Serves 8

Ingredients
4tbsp. butter

4 leeks, white and light green parts only, thinly sliced

1 medium onion, thinly sliced

5 medium white boiling potatoes (about 2 ¼ pounds), peeled and thinly sliced

Salt

2 cups whole milk

2 cups light cream

1 cup heavy cream

2 tbsp. finely chopped chives

Directions

Heat butter in a large pot over medium-low heat. Add leeks and onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft but not browned, about 20 minutes. Add potatoes, 4 cups water (I use chicken stock), and salt to taste and increase heat to high. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium-low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until potatoes are soft, 50-60 minutes.

Strain soup through a mesh sieve into a bowl, pressing and scraping the solids with a spoon. Clean pot and return soup to it. Whisk in milk and light cream, bring to a boil over high heat, then remove from heat and let cool. Strain soup through a fine mesh sieve (finer than the first), pressing and scraping it into a bowl with the spoon, leaving behind a thick paste of solids. Discard solids. Stir heavy cream into soup, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate until chilled. Season soup with salt to taste.

Divide soup between 8 soup bowls and garnish with chives (or fried leeks, torn croutons, or a rosette of smoked salmon). Serve cold.

Printable Recipe

Pimiento Cheese – Good for the Soul Foodie

Back in Virginia pimiento cheese was standard fare, especially at my house. More often than not occupying a spot on the shelf in the fridge between Mrs. Marshall’s potato salad, Dad’s egg salad and, well, the mayonnaise. I don’t actually remember Mom or Dad making it, although one or the other did. While this was a place and time where pimiento cheese roamed freely in the dairy section at most markets, I had none of that. Why, you ask? Lucky me, I had only to open the refrigerator and voila! there was pure pimiento ambrosia to be enjoyed most often on soft, white sandwich bread sometimes garnished with a few slices of Hanover tomatoes. But also very tasty on crackers or perhaps smushed into a celery stalk (very Southern). Me, I go for the sandwich, crusts and all.

The recipe for most pimiento cheese consists of mixing just six or so ingredients. Typically, it includes sharp cheddar cheese, mayonnaise, pimientos (not pimentos, mind you) and some simple seasoning such as salt & pepper. Common variations on the recipe include the addition of onion (or a shallot), cream cheese, garlic, bacon, jalapeños, or a variation of cheese types. Some use blenders (bad) and others use hand graters and forks (good). The recipe I will share with you here is my Mom’s. It is not to be altered or trifled with. Don’t get fancy. Don’t you dare. Don’t even consider it.

Ah, my Moms. About a year ago when she visited, there also happened to be a pile of other folks crashing at my house. To my mom’s delight she had a whole new world of people to feed. “But Kathy, what is this PIMIENTO CHEESE you speak of?", they asked. “It sounds kind of gross.” I guess compared to the Scottish eggs, lavender cupcakes and homemade loaves of bread (good for said sandwiches, fyi) mom had prepared, the gooey, orangey “cheese” with red things in it may have seemed less appealing. Well, let me just say that the pimiento cheese lasted about 10 minutes, with requests for the recipe (read - make more, please, Kathy).

About 6 months ago my dear mother moved here to the city of angels and among other fun food adventures, we recently returned to the ole pimiento cheese. I have to say, nary a soul tasting this magnificent, Southern concoction has been disappointed. Rather, I dare say, overwhelmingly surprised and titillated by the experience. It’s a perfect snackulation on a hot, summer afternoon (now).

And here we go…

Mom’s Pimiento Cheese

Let’s start with the rules:

NOT ALLOWED: food processors, pre-packaged grated cheese, grating cheese too finely or grating too coarsely

ABSOLUTES: Duke's mayonnaise, stirring mixture with a fork, the right consistency

Ingredients: 1 block of sharp & medium cheddar (yellow)
1 small jar of pimientos & pimiento juice
1/8 medium onion (Vidalia preferred if available) minced very, very finely
a couple of generous dashes of Worcestershire sauce
about 6 tablespoons (don't be afraid) of Duke's mayonnaise

In a mixing bowl: Grate the cheese on the smaller grates (not the tinies, though) and add the mayo and onion. Mix together vigorously with a fork until everything is “married”. Add the pimientos and continue to mix. Add pimiento juice and Worcestershire sauce to taste.

Now spread it on a cracker, a stalk of celery or make a bad ass sandwich to enjoy!
Don't you forget to share with your friends and/or neighbors like a good Southerner would...

“You think I don’t have culture just because I’m from down in Georgia. Believe me, we’ve got culture there. We’ve always had sushi. We just called it bait.” -- Ben "Cooter" Jones

Palate Food & Wine

Well, well, well… To my absolute delight Dixon treated me to dinner on my birthday! Not surprising as it has become our tradition; I take Dixon to dinner on his birthday as well. Included in the tradition is that it must be a new (or, at least, new for us) and exciting spot. We had both been curious about Palate since its opening about a year ago.

Located on the motor mile of Brand Avenue in Glendale, it occupies the former Bekins warehouse built in 1928. There's a curved bar at the front of a long narrow room, illuminated primarily by pink neon and candles with handblown glass grapes spilling over the sides of a pair of giant urns. While I found it to be an intimate and comfortable environment, I couldn’t help but feel a bit like part of a Patrick Nagel painting.

Palate is the breakout restaurant for Octavio Becerra, who put in years with Patina Restaurant Group and was the original chef at Pinot Bistro in Studio City. But his cooking at Palate is nothing like the saucy Joachim Splichal style. This is more of a California-Mediterranean bistro and wine bar.

We were seated immediately (at arguably the best table in the house). Just as timely was our server requesting our drink order (rosé for Dixon and a glass of champagne for me) and presenting us with fresh bread and a house made butter, topped with fresh herbs and sea salt. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned my predilection, no – my LOVE of butter? No? Well, let me tell you, this was some of the most fantastic stuff to hit my taste buds in memory. Wine. Bread. Butter. Done.
Palate’s menu, which changes every Thursday, is divided into four sections and is really a tasting menu of sorts. One is meant to try a number of different items, share, and pair them with one or many of the wines on their extensive list. Dixon and I skipped over the Porkfolio (a charcuterie plate with: prosciutto di parma / speck la quercia / salumi: nostrano / toscano / peperone /salame cotto ($12)) and went straight for the Potted Berkshire Pork ($6) from the Mason Jar section (rillettes and confits served in small clear glass canning jars). This was a lush mixture of shredded long-cooked heirloom pork, which was flaky and fork tender with a slightly smoky flavor. With this, we tried the Cherries ($3) from the Pickled section. I am generally dubious of cooked fruit, fruit touching other fruit, jellied fruit and fruit in my savory dishes. But this was something very special (and made me truly wonder how much I’m missing out with this fear of mine). They were fresh (and very much in season), simple and wonderful.
We then moved onto the roasted heirloom tomato soup, garnished with a fried ball of Serrano ham. Simplicity is the hallmark of genius and this soup was testimony. This was followed by Dixon’s Fried Pork Belly with apricots over stone ground grits and my Roasted Salmon over braised fennel and wild rice. Both dishes I found to be impressive, but the pork belly was divine. The apricot added a scrumptious accent and the grits were creamy perfection. The portions were, in the words of Goldilocks, "just right," not overly generous but enough to share tastes and experience every nuance.

We went with our server’s suggestions with the wine pairings and had a different glass with each dish. The plus was that he really knew his wines and did a stellar job with all of the pairings. The minus is that I had no idea what we were drinking and can’t share his suggestions with you. I suppose I would recommend that, should you go, trust your server. They all really know their beeswax and Palate has a wine cellar that would be any wine geek’s dream.

I look forward to more evenings at Palate, different seasons and new tastes. Good plan: Have enough people at the table to order practically the entire menu so you can revel in share-y, noshy, nibbly times!


Palate Food & Wine
www.palatefoodwine.com

933 S Brand Blvd
Glendale, CA 91204-2107
(818) 662-9463