M.B. Post - And a Girl Date.

With a little less than a week to go, I have successfully tested, at least once, every recipe for the next Dinner at Eight. I have delivered one of everything to Jill so she can assess her pairings. I have used all of the leftovers to deliver lunches to various folks around Hollywood and I still have a refrigerator that is fecund with said food.

And yet I wanted none of it for dinner last night.

And so I grabbed up Nastassia and headed to Manhattan Beach to finally sample David Lefevre’s kitchen skills at his, highly praised, M.B. Post. My interest was piqued about Lefevre after I tasted but only one dish a few months back at the Test Kitchen reunion. The downstairs of the townhouse (Sotto) had Steve Samson & Zach Pollack hosting Walter Manzke, Nancy Silverton, David and Matt Molina (Mozza). And some cat named David Lefevre whose last job was executive chef at Water Grill.

When I scrolled down the menu, I surprisingly whipped past all of the chef’s-who-I-was-geeked-about’s dishes and became fixated upon Lefevre’s Braised Pork with Crispy Gnocchi, Summer Squash, Bianco Sardo. Without minimizing any of the other chef’s dishes or skills, as the meal in its entirety was remarkable, that braised pork dish, without hesitation, stole the show. And I was not alone with this opinion.

My friend, Emma, and I were also fortunate enough to be seated at the two spots that gaze directly into the kitchen, smack in front of Lefevre’s station. We both thoroughly enjoyed watching him and having some light banter towards the end of the evening (during which we both promised to hit up his new spot, M.B. Post posthaste).

Cut to last night.

It’s not too often I stray from my Hollysphere, but I am rarely a pantywaist about doing so. I guess I just need the right partner to be down with me. Enter Nastassia, and a perfectly pleasant and lovely drive from my Canyon to the most perfect parking place right next to our destination in Manhattan Beach. Easy breezy.

We were shocked to see the place straight up bustling at eight o’clock on a Monday night. Regardless, our hostess was able to seat us immediately at one of the smaller communal tables.

I look around. I dig it. It’s happy. It’s warm and comfortable. It’s confident. It reflects no affectation. I’m surrounded by flip flops, suits, no make-up, lip jobs, cute boys, frat-types, darling dresses, jeans, button-downs, tee-shirts, regulars and newbies alike. And, hey, it’s in an old post office!

 

Our smiling server, with her Rachel Ray-cute looks and Rita Hayworth-sultry voice, was directly present to get our drinks and had a pretty astute knowledge of the wines on the (solid) list. I went for the Pierre Soulez ‘chateau de chamboureau - grand cru’ savennieres, loire, france, 09 ($13.50).

 

After slightly too long, as Nastassia and I were chatty-chat-orama, we got down to it and ordered a few things in the food department from the menu that wanted to take us on a trip around the globe. We began with the bacon cheddar buttermilk biscuits with maple butter ($5), blistering Blue Lake green beans with Thai basil, chili sauce and crispy pork ( $9) and the roasted brussels sprouts with Emmental, hazelnuts and sage ($9).

 

 

The biscuits were downright magnificent. Warm, with burny-crispies on the outside and downy and steamy on the inside, peppered with little chunklets of bacon and infused with cheesiness throughout. Then I tried a bite with the butter. It’s a good thing I got to that butter when I did. Nastassia was threatening to lick the ramekin clean… Yes, that’s how good.

 

 

As we giggled in the reverie of the biscuits and got into a little bit of fun girl-talk, our blistery green beans and our roasty brussels sprouts appeared before us. I love a green bean and I love a brussels sprout even more. These were both special, but the green beans really sparkled here. They were perfectly cooked, crisp, but with a give, and accented with bold, heavy flavors. The pork was rich, succulent and salty and added another layer of nuance and texture to the bright and fresh beans.

 

 

Roasted brussels sprouts are something I not only do at home, with great frequency, but I see out often on menus at establishments ranging from gastro pubs to fine dining. More often than not, their preparation with hazelnuts, brown butter, slow-roasted to an almost perfect storm of burn and caramelization is ubiquitous on these menus. This wasn’t a far cry from that, but I will say that I loved that the brussels sprouts were huge, well-prepared and the Emmental and sage were elegant and apt touches.

At our server's suggestion, I moved on to a glass of the Saxon-Brown "cricket creek vineyard" semillon, Alexander Valley, Sonoma, 08 ($11.50).

Then we were delivered the Japanese hamachi with yuzu koshu, avocado, puffed forbidden rice ($12) and the Vietnamese caramel pork jowl with green papaya salad and lime ($13). I thought the hamachi was fresh, elegant and delicious. I thought that the dish was conceptually, perfect. But I also thought that the puffed forbidden rice was very big and thick and crunchy and intense. It battled with the delicate and perfect hamachi a bit. I would have loved it just as much sans puffed forbidden rice.

 

 

The pork jowl was divine. It. Was. Divine. It was unctuous, fatty, savory, sweet, acidic, crisp, soft and utterly delectable. This and the green beans are, in my humble opinion must haves. 

 

 

This is normally where I would call it a night, food-wise, and just continue on my wine trajectory. But I was with Natstassia… hello? So, yes, we ordered the Spiced Honeycrisp apple handpies with salted caramel sauce ($7).

I ordered a tawny port to go with this.

 

 

It was awesome. It really was. Nastassia was over the moon. We deduced that there must be lard in that perfect salty crust. I ate a few bites, even with the cooked fruit situation, but I liked it a lot. For a more discerned palate’s dialogue on the dish, I suggest you stay tuned for Nastassia’s words on the matter.

 

But we were really happy. This is a good place. This is a smart place. We both want to return.

 

 

One year ago today: Sausage Over Creamy Lentils

Two years ago today: Grilled Cheese Night at Campanile

 

 

Mozart. Music. Flowers & poetry.

 
It’s Sunday morning, we’ve just gained an hour, and it’s pouring down rain. It’s perfect. The next Dinner at Eight is creeping up and I’ve been testing recipes like it’s nobody’s business (or definitely like it’s my business). I’m very pleased with the creamy chestnut soup, though I haven’t settled on its garnish. The only problem with the soup is that I gave all my friends samples of it and completely forgot to take some to Jill so she can assess an appropriate paIring. So I’ll be making that again today.

Maggie is infusing the vodka with kabocha and acorn squash for her cocktail and Esi just dropped off her first go at the pumpkin bread pudding with bourbon-vanilla sauce. And I have made two, overly massive, rounds of the short-rib stew with mushroom and parsley dumplings. The second one pretty much nailed it. 

Save for the anxiety dream in which I told the guests the wrong date resulting in no one showing up, I think everything is on course.

It seems things are going well in my universe. Things are stable. Work is picking up, I finally caught up on Sons of Anarchy and sleep, and an old, college friend, Frampy, stopped through town for a visit. That was nice. Mostly.

But let’s get back to the stew. And the dumplings. You see, I had never made dumplings before this whole project. I didn’t really know exactly what to expect. The recipe I used is from The Colony Club Cookbook: one of the dozen old school cookbooks I brought back from my recent trip to Richmond. The recipes in this – and many of the cookbooks from this place and time – are very archaic and very, very simple. They are made for people who were already familiar with the techniques and ingredients that they require and also with how the end result should look, feel, smell, and taste. They are short and sweet.

But for someone like me, who is accustomed to Sunday Suppers at Lucques, with recipes that are pages long, these old school cookbooks are so simple that they become complex.

For instance, with this stew (recipe originally from Gloria Brahany), after searing off the short ribs in their flour mixture, I am supposed to combine four cups tomatoes, some garlic and a little Worcestershire, simmer for and hour and a half and pour over ribs. Fresh tomatoes? Canned tomatoes? This is my stock?  No red wine? No chicken or beef stock? The rest of the directions instruct me to add sliced carrot, onion, potato, and simmer for forty-five minutes. Well, that’s hardly enough time to get the veggies all soft and smushy. Where’s the bay leaf? Where’s the thyme? Hell, where’s the salt and pepper?

Apparently the good folks using this cookbook needed only some bare bones, a skeleton off of which they could riff. And it’s true, a basic beef stew is not rocket science. But what’s the point of a cookbook then, right?

So first off the lack of anything except tomato that would create liquid bemused me.  But the tomatoes quickly became a viable stock, if a bit too sweet. And too tomato-y. Also, Maggie thought that we should do mushroom and parsley dumplings rather than just parsley dumplings. Without thinking I followed the recipe for parsley dumplings and did not compensate for the amount of moisture the mushrooms would add. The dumplings fell apart if you merely looked at them too hard.

Okay. Round two. This time I began with marinating the short ribs in red wine, salt and pepper overnight. I then used about half the tomatoes but added two cups of home made chicken stock and a quarter cup of the marinade wine. I doubled the garlic, added a bay leaf, a sprig of fresh sage, a little thyme and a generous amount of salt and pepper. For the dumplings I compensated for the moisture by adding a great deal more flour, less milk and a drop more salt. I also made the dumplings considerably smaller as they poof up twice their original size once they steam up. They still looked weird to me, but after I did some research online, they looked exactly the way they were supposed to. 

Another example of how stripped down the instructions in the cookbook are. There is no description of how things are supposed to turn out.

The fact that I used LindyGrundy’s meat the second go ‘round also made a world of difference. I would have used theirs the first time but they were closed on the day I needed to get started. Of course, their meat will be used for the stew at the dinner party.

So, in the time it’s taken me to write this, the sun has come out and the sky is clear and bright blue. I’ve still got that extra hour. It’s perfect.

But we are full-on in the throes of Fall and Winter is three weeks away. The holidays are not far off. It’s time for stew.

Short Rib Stew with Mushroom & Parsley Dumplings

Serves 6

Cut 2 lbs beef short ribs into serving pieces. Marinate in red wine overnight.

Combine 1/4 cup all-purpose flour, 1 tbsp salt, 1/4 tsp pepper; dredge ribs in mixture and brown on all sides in 2 tbsp hot fat.

Combine ribs with 2 1/2 cups chopped Roma tomatoes, 2 cups chicken or beef stock, 1/4 cup marinade wine, 4 cloves of chopped garlic & 1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce. Cover and simmer for 2 hours. 

Add 4 sliced carrots, 2 medium onions, chopped, 1 medium potato, peeled and chopped, 1 bay leaf, a sprig of fresh sage and a tsp of thyme. Cover and simmer, stirring occasionally for 2 more hours.

Skim off the fat and season with salt & pepper to taste.

Mushroom & Parsley Dumplings

Sift together 1 1/2 cup sifted all-purpose flour, 2 tsp baking powder, 3/4 tsp salt. Add 1/4 cup chopped parsley and 3 tbsp chopped mushrooms. Combine 1/4 cup milk and 2 tbsp vegetable oil, and add to dry ingredients. Stir just until flour is dampened. 

Form small, large-marble sized balls atop bubbling stew. Cover tightly and bring to a boil. Reduce heat (do not lift cover!) and simmer for 15 minutes longer.

Printable Recipe

One year ago today: SugarFISH
Two years ago today: Scallops with Wild Mushroom Risotto & Rosé Fonduta

The Blue Goat: RVA Goes Nose-to-Tail

 

As you know, I very recently visited my hometown, Richmond, Virginia. Richmond has pretty sweet restaurants and I have been lucky enough to sample many of them throughout my life. The city is flecked with small, intimate corner cafes and independent bistros with thoughtful food, kind staff and, more often than not, big windows and pressed tin ceilings. And, almost always, a welcoming bar where one can comfortably sit and eat.

To this day that is the style of dining experience to which I am drawn. I prefer small spaces with big food.

Prior to arriving on this particular trip, Paz, Dad and I decided to share a meal out together on my first night in town. We all settled on the Blue Goat, a new venture by Chris Tsui and chef, Kevin La Civita (Osaka, Sushi-O and Wild Ginger) with a nose-to-tail concept. Here in LA we are certainly not for want in this department. We have Animal, Sotto, Gorbals, Lazy Ox Canteen, of course,  Salt’s Cure (my favorite), to name a few. But for Richmond this is pretty damned cool. Their products are also all sourced from local farms including the much lauded Polyface Farm. I was excited.

We had 8pm reservations on a Friday night, rolled in right on time into a bustling scene, and yet were seated immediately by our welcoming and smiling hostess. Take that LA!

The restaurant is occupying what I grew up knowing as Peking, a Chinese restaurant that kicked around for 31 years. I remember their Peking Duck fondly. In a Grosse Point Blank moment, I was shocked to notice that it is entirely unrecognizable in any semblance of my recollection. But it does look pretty great. The walls have been stripped, leaving the original exposed brick. The wooden ceiling, once hidden by another layer of wood, is now exposed. That extra wood was converted into the restaurant’s refinished Douglas-fir tables and, after some digging, Tsui and company found and polished the floor that was used when the building was a grocery store in the 1930s. The space includes a bar that runs the length of the building, as well as spacious, cozy booths, high tables and even a private wine room that seats parties of up to 12 and has a window looking right into the kitchen.

The menu is vast. We were overwhelmed. We wanted one of everything. But we first ordered cocktails. Now y’all know I am by no means a cocktail person, but I figured I was back home and they were doing this whole she-she-la-la cocktail thing everyone’s got their panties in a bunch about everywhere, so why not? I went for the obvious choice as it was entitled, The Only Thing You Drink: Aperol Apertivo, St. Germain, Fresh Squeezed Lime, Rosemary Sprig ($9). I enjoyed it, actually. Dad ordered his standard martini and Paz ordered a glass of Albarino.

We went ahead and got some Pork rinds with gray sea salt ($4) to go with cocktail time. They were straightforward and genius. They managed to be light and airy without the greasy and heavy. The pork flavor came through absolutely and the gray sea salt only brought it forth one step further. I would appreciate a big bag of them now to snack on while I write.

Then we went a little bit crazy…

Daily Shellfish Selection $17 
Local Fresh Raw Oysters (selection of Chincoteague, Upper James & Sting Rays)

With Jumbo Carolina Head On Shrimp Paired

With house made pepper relish and mignonette sauces

This was exactly what it was: fresh, local, beautiful shellfish. I never bother with relishes, mignonettes or the like when I have raw shellfish before me. Just give it to me straight up, no chaser.

 Batter fried, julienne strips of Smithfield Farm pig ear, a sunny side duck egg with crispy Swiss chard ($12)

Oh my. This was decadence. This was my salt fest. Slice through that egg and let all of the textures and flavors marry and this is one hell of a dish. This dish would bowl over any of my pig ear-loving Angelinos, for sure. And most certainly Maggie.

 Hudson Valley seared foie gras over black mission fig quick bread, huckleberry

and plum compote and pomegranate reduction ($15)

Foie is one of my all-time favorite things to put in my mouth. This did not disappoint. It’s exterior was ever so slightly crisped to give way to a luscious, ethereal interior. I even triedit with the compote and didn’t drop to the floor in dramatic convulsions. Even I could see that the flavor profiles were matched beautifully. 

*For you Richmonders reading this: please note that “compromised” fruit is – and always has been - something of a fear of mine.

 Manakintowne mixed field green salad, Hanover tomato, strawberries, white anchovies, with a pomegranate mint vinaigrette ($7)

Two things in the description of this salad had me at hello: Hanover tomatoes and white anchovies. So much so that I threw caution to the wind with the strawberry factor (see fruit disclaimer above). The salad was perfectly conceived. The only criticism I have is that the tomatoes were either not entirely in season any longer or not ripe. Eagerly anticipating my first Hanover tomato in over a year, I was, admittedly, disappointed. Fantastic dressing, however.

 Fallen Oaks Farm rabbit pate “country style”, bruschetta and white truffle honey ($11)

This was an unexpected treat, brought over to us by the manager, Chris (could it have been my huge camera, perhaps?). I’m so pleased he brought this as it was a surprise hit. The white truffle honey was glorious and this dish’s smoothness and warmth added a perfect follow up to the anchovies and pomegranate vinaigrette. Thanks, Chris!

 House made Ravioli stuffed with braised goat, ricotta and swiss chard with sage brown butter and shaved Pecorino Romano ($11)

This was another I-must-have-this-immediately dish I spotted on the menu. I am somewhat fixated on hand-made pasta at present, and anything with brown butter is a go. Unfortunately the ravioli was a little bit too toothsome and a lot bit too oleaginous. The brown butter was not tremendously visible aesthetically or on the tongue. The braised goat, ricotta and swiss chard insides were remarkable, however.

 Braised pork cheeks over spaetzle ($15)

Hold the phone. Hold. The. Phone. This dish was RIDICULOUS. I wish we had ordered it earlier on in our gluttony as I wanted to savor each and every droplet in each and every bite. Dear Chef LaCivita, Pretty please ship me 284969 pounds of this tout suite!

We all agreed that this was our favorite of the evening.

If you can believe it, we also tried to order the Veal marrow bone with gray sea salt, bruschetta and black olive tapenade ($11) – but (thank God) they were out.

I can’t recall what Paz or Dad ordered in the wine department but I paired my meal with a glass of The Prisoner ($13) and a glass of the Petît Batard ($12) – and they were absolutely tailor-made for the meal.

Listen, the food was great. The service was great. The atmosphere, if a bit loud, was great. I totally applaud that Tsui and LaCivita are giving Richmond diners a bit more credit than they often receive.

I know my dad and Paz will be back, if they haven’t already. I plan to return upon my next visit to Richmond--VERY SOON. And Hell, I’m sitting here in Los Angeles writing about a restaurant 3,000 miles away because I think if you are able, you should go there, too.


One Year Ago: Pecan Shortbread
Two Years Ago: The Grilled Cheese Truck

Slowing Down.

I have gone home to Richmond and now I have returned home to Los Angeles. I had somewhat of a seminal trip, I must say. While I always appreciate going back home, it is, more often than not, fraught with some sort of mess(usually caused by me). This visit, however, was decidedly different. It was not only mess-free, it was calm and nice (with a lite peppering of pretty great play-times), and it made me honestly miss Richmond.

Don’t get too worried. I don’t see myself leaving LA. Certainly not any time soon.

On my first night there I had plans to have dinner with my dad and Paz. We had reservations at the Blue Goat at eight o’clock. Paz came over a little after seven or so for a champagne toast before heading out. But I just could not relax. I kept looking at my watch and asking Dad if we were okay on time. We had to get to the West End, after all! He told me to chill (which he does a lot). We left at ten minutes to eight, effortlessly found parking and walked in the front door of the restaurant at two minutes to eight.

Um.

On another day I was driving through my neighborhood, The Fan, with My Favorite Rugby Boy when I noticed the car in front of me pulled over to the right and put their hazards on while someone proceeded to get out of, or into, the car. Without hesitation I checked my blind spot and whizzed around them. MFRB grabbed the OMG handle in the car and was, visibly, a bit rattled. I turned to him and said, “What’s the problem?” To which he replied, “I forgot about you Los Angeles drivers, is all.” During that moment that I rolled my eyes at him, I also realized, he’s right. There was really no reason to go around that car. Why couldn’t I have just waited one minute, until they were moving again, and amble along from there? What’s the hurry?

And you know what? I’m always in a hurry. I always have to be doing, moving, going. I’m obsessed with time and being on time. There’s never enough time.

After I realized this, I slowed it down. I meandered around the new grounds of the Virginia Museum, I leafed through a magazine, I took a nap, and I wasn’t even crabby when My Favorite Rugby Boy told me he was running late for cooking-lesson-night at his house (bless his heart – he boils chicken and eats it for dinner).

That night I taught him how to make chicken under a brick (fantastic chicken from Belmont Butchery), slow-cooked broccoli rabe, salt-baked potatoes and a roasted cauliflower and garlic soup with rye croutons. I thought the first three items would all be things he could take away and riff on: simple classics that taste delicious. In an interesting turn of events he was most taken with the soup. In an even more interesting turn of events, I walked away that evening with knowledge of a new term: SCRUM. One never does know, does one?

The next day Dad and I drove up to Northern Virginia to visit Aunt Babe. I napped the whole way there while Dad drove. We had lunch with she and her daughter, my cousin, Noel. It was truly wonderful to see them both. I got a ton of recipes and stories and material to work with. Heck, three of the dishes at the next Dinner at Eight are Aunt Babe’s. The funny thing was, Aunt Babe expressed she was pleased as punch to be out of the kitchen and didn’t miss it one bit. One never does know, does one? 

I then napped the entire way back to Richmond while Dad drove.

Me, Aunt Babe & Dad, circa 1999.

For my last night back home I stayed in. In my pine cone jammies. On the couch. I was sort of sad. I realized that I really love Richmond. I realized that I really miss Richmond. I started fantasizing about moving back to Richmond. It’s so beautiful, so straightforward there. I, of course, also realized that it’s easy to feel this way about a place when you spend your days there jogging, wandering, eating, drinking wine, napping, reading and being snuggly.

But I did make a decision. Here it is: I will be going back home considerably more often. I even pulled a classic chick move on the very house in which I grew up. I left stuff that I knew I would have to return to – namely my pine cone jammies.

~~~

And for all of you and My Favorite Rugby Boy, here’s the recipe for that sexy soup.

Creamy Roasted Garlic and Cauliflower Soup with Rye Croutons

serves 4-6

Ingredients:

1 whole head cauliflower
1 large whole head garlic
1/2 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon butter

6-8 fresh sage leaves
1 medium onion, chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper 
1 tablespoon flour
1/3 cup sherry 
1 cup water
3 cups chicken or vegetable stock, plus up to 2 more as needed for desired consistency
1 dried bay leaf
1/3 cup heavy cream

1 slice crustless rye bread, cut into 1/2-inch dice (1 cup), toasted
 

Directions:

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

Cut cauliflower into individual florets. Toss with 1 tablespoon olive oil. Transfer to a foil lined baking sheet. Scatter fresh sage leaves around the florets. Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper.

Cut the top off of the head of garlic. Drizzle with olive oil and wrap with foil. Place wrapped garlic on the baking sheet. Roast the cauliflower and garlic at 400 degrees F for 15-20 minutes. When the cauliflower is tender and golden remove from the oven.

The garlic will need to roast for a total of about 25-30 minutes. You can remove it to check it's progress as needed - it should smell fragrant but not raw, be golden and tender.

Meanwhile, heat the butter in a cast iron dutch oven or medium-large stock pot. Add the onion. Saute over medium heat for about 10 minutes. Whisk in the salt, pepper, and flour and continue to cook for 2 more minutes.

Add the sherry and water, whisking to combine with the flour mixture. Then, slowly add in the 2 cups broth. Add the bay leaf and roasted garlic cloves. Bring mixture to a boil, then reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for 10 minutes. Add the cauliflower and simmer an additional 5 minutes.

Remove the bay leaf. Working in batches, add the soup to a food processor (or use the trusty immersion blender) and blend until pureed and smooth. Add additional broth during or after blending to achieve desired consistency. After all the batches have been completed, return to the pot. Stir in the cream. Cook until just heated through. Adjust salt and pepper for tastes.

Ladle into bowls, scatter the croutons on top and serve.


Printable Recipe

One year ago: Cream Biscuits
Two years ago: Pizzeria Bianco

The New to the Old. The Old from the New.

I’m going back home for a short stretch. About a week. Interestingly home has been quite the trending topic lately – in my home. My home here in LA that is. This is my home now. But Virginia, is also, and will always be my home. My home where I was born and raised. I’m excited. I’m also excited that I’m excited.

I haven’t been able to return to Virginia much since I started my own business back in 2004. No more Christmases or other holidays, for sure. It seems like the reasons that have lured me back there in the past five years have been mostly not so great things. I can hardly remember I went back just to go. Hence my excitement.

The extra bonus of going right around now is FALL. Fall is, without a doubt, my favoritest season of all. Always has been – even when it represented back-to-school (and I never liked school). While my City of Angels does have whispers and hints of the different seasons, we don’t really get a proper Fall or Winter. Winter I don’t care a whole lot about. Y’all can keep it. But Fall, oh the love.

One of the things I’m extra super thrilled about regarding this visit is that I have scheduled a whole day to hang out with Aunt Babe. I haven’t seen her since her 90^th birthday, which was back in 2007. I’m not sure why, but I’ve always been especially taken with Aunt Babe. I write about her A LOT. But, really, I haven’t spent worlds of time with her throughout my life. I don’t know if I know her, really.

But what I do know is that I admire her composure, her calm. I admire her fortitude – she has been the rock of our family, and single, since her husband passed away over 50 years ago and her sister, my Grandmother, Janie, passed away the year before I was born. I admire her sense of family. I admire the fact that she’s, like, 95 years old and doesn’t wear glasses.

I also admire her cooking. One of the things I most looked forward to all of my life, until I was simply unable to attend, was Christmas Eve dinner, in Roanoke, at Aunt Babe’s place. It was, and is, literally my favorite meal of my life. Hands down.

Aunt Babe in the kitchen, with her sassy Christmas duds.

I’m sure it wasn’t just the food. I’m sure it has way more to do with the evening being so traditional, so normal, so warm and so consistent. But I swear I can still taste everything that was served at that meal each year. I’m kind of obsessed with that meal.

Well and so. In case you haven’t heard I’m bringing back Dinner at Eight. Again.

It all started about a month ago. I attended a bloggy Tweet Upor some such thing, and ran into Let Me Eat Cake. I’ve always gotten a super great vibe from this girl. We started talking about Southern food: how it’s seemingly on the rise like never before, how every other issue of every other food or wine magazine is The Southern Issue, how delicious and special it is, and how there is an obvious dearth of it in our City of Angels. That day we made a loose pact to make it happen here.

What better way to start that then to A) get my tail back home to visit Aunt Babe and get all those wonderful recipes from her and, B) share with and feed all of you, my dear Angelinos, this remarkable cuisine, that, while may be a trend, is also a rediscovery of something that was always there. And, hopefully, now here.

The next Dinner at Eight will be A Southern Sunday Supper. The date is October 23, 2011. We will have two seatings with eight diners each. Dinner will be served inside, by the fire. To see the menu, more details and to make reservations, click here.

~~~

Shortly after I posted the menu for the next dinner party, Aunt Babe’s daughter, Noel (my cousin and my middle name) sent me this email:

Hi Elliott,

Connie just sent us a link to your Dinner at Eight and we were tickled to see that two of Aunt Babe's dishes are included.

What spoonbread recipe do you use?  The best (and easiest) I ever tasted was one from Mom's first cousin Flonnie Kinnear.  It's just like the one from the old S&W Cafeteria in Roanoke and other southern cities.  You're way too young to have been there. 

Also, we just finished up the last two pieces of a buttermilk pie -- also from Flonnie, I think.

Love, Noel

~~~

So, I’m proud to say, here is Cousin Flonnie Kinnear’s recipe for spoon bread (and the one we will be serving at the dinner party). I’m printing it as is (even with the Pam!) with the exception of adding Anson Mills as a referral for the cornmeal as their product is unsurpassed.

Cousin Flonnie's Spoon Bread

                                                                                   

Serves 4

1 cup buttermilk

1 cup sweet milk

2 eggs

⅓ cup Anson Mills cornmeal

½ tsp soda

½ tsp salt

1 Tb butter, melted

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.  Pam a casserole.

Combine all ingredients.  Mix for one minute.  Pour into casserole (or cast iron).  Bake for 20 minutes.

Printable Recipe

One Year Ago: Spaghetti & Meatballs

Two Years Ago: Roasted Cauliflower Soup with Saffron & Asiago Cheese Crisps