Who They Think They Best They Was.

My friend Ryan came over for dinner last night. He has only been to my house a couple of times, and I haven’t really cooked much for him, and never in my own kitchen. Of course this meant I had to flex.

I actually toiled over the menu for a good 24 hours. It has been all rainy and blustery for the past few days, so this meal had to be chock full of seasonal, snuggly, comfort food. It had to go with the fire in the fireplace.

I ransacked my binder of food ideas and inspirato, rooted through my current food magazines, poked around on the interwebs and considered favorites of fall pasts (lest you forget, dear readers, this is fun for me). I suddenly remembered a sweet potato dish with caramelized onions that I made for friends, when I lived in Atlanta, in October, 2001. Now I just had to figure out how to build around that. But, much like getting that pesky first sentence out of the way, the menu ball was rolling. From here, I knew it would all start to come together. And it did.

These sweet potatoes that I recall so vividly were only prepared the one time in 2001. The reason I have such a strong remembrance of this recipe, and the date which it was prepared, is the same reason it had not yet been revisited. Don’t get me wrong - this is an absolutely delicious dish. As it happened, that October night, while I was caramelizing the onions to top the potatoes, I received a call informing me of the passing of my very, very dear friend, Sam.

It’s taken a long time to be able to revisit certain things that remind me of him: songs, movies, letters, places, pictures, foods, smells, and even types of clothes (he had a very specific, and colorful, way of dressing). But I now realize that all of these things celebrate his life and his memory, and that it’s time to embrace them. I need to remember Sam and not allow him to fade with each year. But some things, like these sweet potatoes, need to be able create their own, new, memories, and inhabit their own realm in my consciousness.

Fun fact: Sam ran the entire Honolulu Marathon, yes all 26 miles of it, backwards. He also rode his bicycle from Virginia to California, one summer. Pretty amazing. I remember he referred to his dad (affectionately) as Duck Butter, slapped his chest when he danced, made a bong in our high school ceramics class, absolutely adored the river, seemed perpetually tanned, and almost always "appeared" at my house, right at dinner time.

So last night I prepared the meal: oyster stew, fennel, apple and sage stuffed pork chops with a fig reduction (recipe coming soon!), sautéed rainbow chard, from my garden, and baked sweet potatoes with caramelized onions, shaved Parmesan and sautéed sage leaves. In my opinion, this was an ideal menu for the brisk, rainy night, the fireplace and, of course, to impress Ryan (and myself). In case you were wondering, he cleaned his plate.

Today, eight years later, I lovingly, and vividly, remember Sam. And now, I know when I embark on preparing, eating and sharing this dish, in the future, I will also think of the rainy night in the canyon, my garden, a roaring fire, good music, a great bottle of Cotes du Rhone, and the magical company of my friends.

Baked Sweet Potatoes with Caramelized Onions, Shaved Parmesan and Sautéed Sage

 Serves 4

Ingredients:

4 medium sweet potatoes

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

1 large, sweet onion, sliced

1 tablespoon sugar

1 teaspoon coarse salt, divided

1/8 teaspoon freshly cracked pepper

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

4-6 fresh sage leaves

1 ounce shaved Parmesan cheese

Directions:

Preheat oven to 450°. Rub sweet potatoes with oil and salt, poke 2-3 times with a fork, and place on baking sheet in oven. Bake until tender, about 45 minutes.

Melt butter in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat. Add onions, cook until soft, about 15 minutes. Sprinkle sugar, sage, salt and pepper; toss to coat.

Continue to cook, stirring occasionally until onions are caramelized; about 30 minutes. Stir in vinegar and cook an additional 10 minutes.

In a separate pan, sauté whole sage leaves in oil and salt until they are crisp.

Split sweet potatoes open, and top with onions, shaved Parmesan, and crumbled sage leaves.

10. LA BBQ Guy

You gotta blame it on something...

I was about to say something to the effect that – considering I hit truck #10 today in the rain – I am unstoppable. I am like the Post Office (except THEY didn’t deliver my mail on this recent, most absurd “holiday” we call Columbus Day). But, as Murphy’s Law does what it will, the power in my house just went out. I can still type as long as my laptop maintains battery power, but at some point I must concede to Mother Nature. Perhaps I can use that as an excuse to go and have a glass of wine out in the world, away from my canyon.

So there I was today, roaming the rain-slicked streets of our fair city, looking for lunch. I knew it would either be the LA FuXion truck or LA BBQ Guy (Spring Street Smokehouse). I am a little bit over the multi-cultural, food fusion thing at the moment and really wanted something hearty for my tummy on this über-autumnal day. And since I didn’t ever even SEE the fusion truck, the choice was made for me (which I always appreciate).

The young, chipper woman in the truck recommended that I order the brisket sandwich, which comes with slaw (on the sandwich), cornbread and a pickle ($7). She said the brisket had been smoked for over 18 hours and it was her favorite. She also suggested I tack on some baked beans to the whole affair ($1). I was feeling like $8 was a lot for a sandwich-lunch-from-a-truck, but when I saw the amount of food (not that I could even eat that much) it seemed to make more sense. Plus anything that requires an average of 20 hours to prepare is allowed to be a couple of bones more. So I trotted back to my car to avoid the rain, listened to Left, Right and Center and ate my lunch.

First of all, this was a majorly shambolic affair. And this reminds me; I really think it would be wise for all of the good people of the food truck-sphere, across the board, to provide its patrons with moist towelettes. But I suppose I should have known about this particular one. I mean it is bbq.

I realize that there are a few disparate bbq camps, and I seriously don’t want to alienate those who are not of mine. I was born and raised in the south and my bbq tastes remain there. I prefer the Carolina style: thin, tangy and vinegary, with a kick. Today’s sandwich was not only the opposite of that – sweet and brown sugary and very thick – but it was drowning in the stuff, to the level at which I have no idea what the actual meat was like. And that meat worked for so many hours to get itself into my hands! The slaw was actually just shredded cabbage, witch gave it little slawitude. The cornbread tasted as though it was from a mix and had been sitting under plastic wrap for the better part of a (moist) day. Actually, both the cornbread and the pickle were mostly inedible to me as they were also wading in the sauce that – more than – coated the bottom of the paper tray. The beans were also too sweet for my taste and, while not bad, were just uninspired.

I’m really sorry to have to report negatively on LA BBQ Guy. I have been really excited to try them and was even more anticipatory after I had such a yummy time at Barbie’s Q. They made me want to get my Q on this fall! I am perfectly comfortable with using the “I like a different style of bbq” line, and leaving it at that. However, the fact remains that there was far, far too much sauce, and the cornbread and beans really seemed to be treated as afterthoughts.

Perhaps we can simply blame it on the rain. We seem to do a lot of that here in LA anyway. Heck, I’ve never lived anywhere else where my power goes out each time there’s more than a hint of mist in the air and newscasters are reporting, LIVE! to deliver us the breaking news that it is in fact, raining.

9. The Border Grill Truck

October 11, 2009

The Melrose Trading Post is a lot of fun. It’s nowhere near as vast as the swap meet at the Rose Bowl, but it’s close to home and most definitely has it’s own charm. There is one stand that always has wonderful, vintage kitchen things – specifically 60s-70s Pyrex bake-ware. I also love to shop for vintage cookbooks there.

I was elated to receive a Tweet informing me that celebrity chefs, Mary Sue Milliken and Susan Feniger's, Border Grill Truck would be there this Sunday, and they almost never leave the West side of town. It seemed so fortuitous that I would be able to spend my Sunday both shopping for fun kitcheny stuffs and try out the extrasolar Border Grill Truck. And even more exciting, my roommate, Chris, met me there! This way I can try more items on the menu (and enjoy his delightful company).

The woman taking my order – upon being asked for suggestions – listed about a dozen menu items that were extraordinary. And as usual, this was not really that helpful. There was a chilequiles special that looked dynamite (and was one of the woman’s suggestions), but it seemed messy and a bit ambitious for food truck fare, so I passed. I ended up ordering the Green Corn Tamal ($4), the Carne Asada Quesadilla ($5), and the Crispy Baja Fish Taco ($3). There were a lot more things I would have liked to try on the, very sharp looking, menu. But as I appear more zaftig with each passing food truck day, I stopped myself.

The food is a modern (and successful)  twist on traditional Mexican and Latin American cuisine. The tamal was served in a snow cone cup, with a fork, which I find to be an extremely clever solution to, otherwise, sloppy eatables. The sweet corn was topped with crema and salsa fresca, and it was delectable and fun to eat. 

The fish taco was the opposite of the tamal in the tidy department, but was so effing good, that it mattered not. Both Chris and I found that this myriad of flavors provided a perfect piquancy. It’s chipotle honey and creamy salsa fresca granted us with both sweetness and spice, and the pickled cabbage was a wonderful surprise. All elements worked brilliantly with the hot and crispy, fried fish. 

The carne asada quesadilla was my least favorite item, but was, by no means sub par. I found the meat could have been a bit more tender and I would have liked its marinade to stand out more. I enjoyed the carmelized onion and guajillo salsa, adding a nice essence and adornment to the carne asada. While the tortilla was cooked perfectly in its crispness, the actual quesadilla was not hot.

With thoughtful presentation and solid food, and all for $13 for two people to find themselves entirely sated, the Border Grill Truck has got it going on. I will have to say that these  “Too Hot Tamales” just can’t seem to go wrong.

8. Calbi BBQ

October 9, 2009

I had to go to Highland Park to feed some cats, yesterday. So I used that as an excuse to go as far as Korea Town for my food trucky lunch. I do realize I will soon have to venture out to the west side for my mission, but I am still trying to keep it local, and happenstance-esque, for as long as I am able.

I was Tweeted from Calbi BBQ that they were in K-Town, and I had heard from my roommate, Chris, that they were quite good. I was feeling adventurous. They were on my list. Done.

I got a parking place directly in front of the truck, parked on Serrano, right off of Wilshire, and sidled up to the order window. Zero line – score! I asked the woman taking my order for suggestions – as always – and she asked me if I like spicy. I do. So upon her suggestion, I ordered both pork and a beef taco ($2 each). I added some Sriracha, in my very decorative way (see photo), and plopped down to try everything out.

Honestly, I don’t have a world of words for this experience. Maybe I shouldn't have had Kogi first, because it has really tainted things for me. I will begin by saying that this was, by far, the messiest food truck experience to date. You know when a sandwich, or whatever, is just so messy and impossible to eat that you get kind of flabbergasted and just want to give up and walk away? Maybe it's just me, but that’s how I felt about these tacos.

Moving right along… Calbi is another Kogi wannabe, and still doesn’t rival its mentor. It’s not bad, but it’s trying so hard to be “the same” and it’s, simply, not. The tacos both had romaine, cabbage, celery, red radish, cilantro, white and green onion, cheddar and Monterey Jack cheeses, egg, sesame seeds, and their respective meats in a flour tortilla. The pork was actually very good - tangy, sweet and spicy, but overshadowed by the volume everything else involved. The beef was, simply, not very interesting. And that’s pretty much, it.

I am so happy that there are so many Korean-Mexican food trucks in the world, and that this new food trend is exploding so beautifully, but I have yet to taste anything in this realm (being the Korean/Mexican fusion category) to rival Kogi.

Yet.

Grand-Paws and Grandma's

A couple of Christmases ago a friend of my roommate at the time gave her sausage as a gift. As they are both foodies, sausage was an entirely appropriate gift. Actually, I guess sausage is a pretty great gift for anyone. Well, it’s not a good gift for vegetarians. Anyway, this particular sausage was unprecedented.

My grandfather used to give my dad, and all the kids, a Virginia ham, in a cloth sack, for Christmas. Dad used to hang it on a hook from the ceiling of our kitchen until we ate it. Sometimes two hams were hanging around as dad didn’t get to them quickly enough (they do serve about 30 people). 

My memories of granddad, Paw as all the grand-kids called him, are fairly vivid. Sadly, my grandmother, whom I know of as Janie, died right before I was born, so Paw lived alone with his cat, Smokey. I remember he prepared these amazing sausage biscuits that seemed to ALWAYS be made-up and ready to eat, in the kitchen. He had pomade-slicked back hair, wore big, thick glasses, and he was a lot smaller than my dad. He was, almost always, in his recliner chair, with the TV on. He smelled like Pall Malls and whiskey and, although he was mean to his cat, he was a gentle and kind man. Hell, he did a great job raising my dad. Anyway, I loved him.

Funny thing, I always thought his name was Paul, not Paw. One Christmas, I sent him a card addressed to Paul. My mom thought it was so “cute” that she didn't say anything, and let it be sent as such. I have yet to hear the end of that "cute" story.

The sausage that my roommate got for Christmas that year was so amazing that I ate pretty much all of it, and had to order more to replace it for her. Ever since, I order this sausage regularly. It has caused me to really explore all that one can do with sausage since I want to incorporate it into so many dishes.

The coolest thing about the sausage, and what makes it even more magical, is that it’s called Grandma Broadbent’s. How can I not think of Paw and Dad and Christmas?

For the past few years I have stepped into Paw’s role as the Christmas pig product provider (dig the alliteration) for my dad. One year I gave him the bacon-of-the-month club, another year he got the awesome sausage, and last year he got a whole ham. I just spoke with him on the phone and, as he has not yet eaten it (seems like old times), he was in the process of putting a hook back in the old spot to hang the ham.

I have made this recipe countless times. I first made it with Grandma Broadbent’s Sausage, and have worked with many other kinds since – including some impressive ones I found at an open air market in the south of France. Absolutely none hold a candle to Grandma’s.

 *Although I doubt Paw would necessarily care for this dish (but I bet Janie would), I dedicate this post and this recipe to his memory.

Tagliatelle with Sausage, Peas & Mint

Serves 4

Ingredients:

1 16oz package tagliatelle pasta

½ lb Grandma Broadbent’s sausage

1 ½ cup fresh peas

½ cup fresh mint, chopped (I used a blend of chocolate, lime and candy mints from my garden)

2 shallots, chopped

3 cloves garlic, chopped

2 tbsp butter, divided

1 cup half & half

1 cup grated asiago cheese

Salt & pepper to taste

Directions:

In a heavy saucepan or cast iron skillet over medium high heat, cook sausage. When it has provided some oil in the pan, add shallots, garlic and peas. Cook until sausage is browned and add mint, half & half, remainder of butter and cheese and stir until everything is smooth and blendy.

Meanwhile, in a large saucepan of boiling salted water, cook the tagliatelle until barely tender, drain.

Spoon sausage mixture over pasta, salt and pepper to taste, sprinkle a little bit of chopped mint on top, and serve.