Forty Days, Forty Nights and Forty Cloves.

Good gracious. Where have I been? I promise I haven’t forgotten about you. I only hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I guess the past month has been filled with curve balls. But mostly my Time appears to have changed. Again.

  

I’ve talked about Time a lot on here over the years. How intrigued I am by how it passes away and how it moves forward - the memories we create from our past, the things we look toward in our future, and most of all, how, at different times, it has the uncanny power to expand and/or contract. How does the same twenty-four hours have the ability to feel like more or less than what it actually is?

As a kid I thought a year was like forever. I would make a point to tell people I was six and three quarters years old, because that quarter of a year was a significant chunk of Time. A significant chunk of Time that I earned to be exactly that old. Yet over the past few years I have felt that Time has been whirling past me at dizzying speeds. Where did that day go? Where did that week go? Where did that month go? How did a year just happen?

But very recently it feels that Time has changed yet again. Now it feels like it’s on double duty; it feels like it’s both whipping past and inching along. Last week feels like both a second and a month ago, I can hardly hold onto the now and next month feels like it’s taking for forever to be the now.

The really cool thing is that yesterday, today and tomorrow all feel pretty awesome.

This past weekend we had our monthly Dinner at Eight. To be honest, none of us were up for this one. Said curve balls and whatnot. I had also personally wanted a month off to recoup from The Holidays. But we had committed to doing the dinner for a private group, and committed we were. I had even conceived of the menu back in October when the group’s host and I were in the initial talks of the evening. She picked the theme: Garlic.

In the spirit of the way Time is behaving at present, the period leading up to this dinner party ambled relaxingly along while sneakily creeping right on up on us. We were seemingly unprepared, yet at the same time we were disarmed by how smooth everything was going. Maggie had her cocktail set; a classic gin martini garnished with okra that she pickled in garlic and dill (interestingly, this was the only element of the meal that had even a speck of our Southern theme peppered in). Nastassiaand Esi were to put their sweet minds together to materialize my brain flower of dessert: a honey-garlic mousse with pinenut-garlic brittle. My mom was going to bake the bread. Me, I had the rest covered. And even though each and every one of these dinners has had one *&%%@# ingredient that gives me issues, I even found my elusive green garlic at the Wednesday Santa Monica Farmers’Market. This was for the creamy green garlic soup garnished with black garlic chips and bacon.

Then the day was upon us. Forty-three days since the last dinner and an unknown number of days until the next dinner. Mom sliced her finger open the day before and had to get five stitches. Not only was she unable to bake the bread for the dinner, she was unable to attend at all.

OK.

The girls weren’t going to be able to show up to the house until about four-thirty to help – and to bring their dessert.

No problem.

Maggie was in the (tiny) kitchen pickling onions (always a hit) as take-away gifts for the guests (in her union suit!) until late-morning, until she worked her magic on The Room (see picture below).

That’s totally cool.

But you know what? It was OK, and not a problem and totally cool. It all worked out. It always does.

It seems like forever ago, now. But it has only been forty-eight hours.

The main course of this particular dinner (of which you can see the full menu here) was a riff on a famous recipe I first heard about many years ago when I worked in a video store in Atlanta. It was mentioned in the Les Blank documentary, Garlic Is As Good as Ten Mothers.It’s called Chicken with Forty Cloves of Garlic.

Forty-three days, forty-eight hours, forty cloves. Well, I used a few more…

By the by, all photographs in this post are credited to Fred. The reason for my Time being what it presently is can probably also be credited to Fred.

Chicken with 40 Cloves of Garlic

Ingredients

• ·      3 whole heads garlic, about 40 cloves
• ·      2 (3 1/2-pound) chickens, cut into eighths
• ·      Kosher salt
• ·      Freshly ground black pepper
• ·      1 tablespoon unsalted butter
• ·      2 tablespoons good olive oil
• ·      1 1/2 tablespoons Madeira, divided
• ·      1 ½ tablespoons Sherry, divided
• ·      1 1/2 cups dry white wine
• ·      1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
• ·      2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• ·      2 tablespoons heavy cream
• ·      A bunch of Italian parsley, chopped

 

Directions

Separate the cloves of garlic and drop them into a pot of boiling water for 60 seconds. Drain the garlic and peel. Set aside.

Dry the chicken with paper towels. Season liberally with salt and pepper on both sides. Heat the butter and oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. In batches, saute the chicken in the fat, skin side down first, until nicely browned, about 3 to 5 minutes on each side. Turn with tongs or a spatula; you don't want to pierce the skin with a fork. If the fat is burning, turn the heat down to medium. When a batch is done, transfer it to a plate and continue to saute all the chicken in batches. Remove the last chicken to the plate and add all of the garlic to the pot. Lower the heat and saute for 5 to 10 minutes, turning often, until evenly browned. Add 1 tablespoon of the Madeira, 1 tablespoon of the Sherry and the wine, return to a boil, and scrape the brown bits from the bottom of the pan. Return the chicken to the pot with the juices and sprinkle with the thyme leaves. Cover and simmer over the lowest heat for about 30 minutes, until all the chicken is done.

Remove the chicken to a platter and cover with aluminum foil to keep warm. In a small bowl, whisk together 1/2 cup of the sauce and the flour and then whisk it back into the sauce in the pot. Raise the heat, add the remaining tablespoon of both the Madeira and the Sherry and the cream, and boil for 3 minutes. Add salt and pepper, to taste; it should be very flavorful because chicken tends to be bland. Pour the sauce and the garlic over the chicken and serve hot.

Garnish with parsley.

Printable recipe 

One year ago: Mercantile

Two years ago: Swiss Fondue with Truffle Essence

Four years ago: The Hungry Cat, Santa Barbara

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

Dominoes

I have been noodling with different ideas for my end-of-the-year post for about a week or so now. I bandied about the idea of a 2011 ‘round-up’ and even started that one – I got two paragraphs in and everything. I guess I abandoned it when I realized 2011 has been a year I have been kind of ambivalent about. I mean, it has been quite a year. A year that feels like a minute. But, without trying to sound maudlin, a year I’m perfectly fine with passing into a new one.

Admittedly, I am tremendously excited about 2012. But I ought not get my panties in a bunch about a year that has not yet begun.

2011 has had a lot of beauty, don’t get me wrong. It has just been very Big. I have seen some friends go away and come back, seen some friendships become incredibly fueled and intense in both good and bad ways, seen some go away never to return again and I feel I have been strengthening my relationship with my mom. I have eaten a mountain of amazing food, drunk vats of delicious wine, added a beautifully intense Chihuahua to my family, danced in closed restaurants with random people until four o’clock in the morning, traveled through Europe with friends and family; at times cried myself to sleep on the couch but at times also wanted to spin around on top of a mountain singing with joy.

But I’ve wanted something that hasn’t been there. Something I have been missing for some time. Something I didn’t even realize I forgot what it felt like. Until I felt it. Again. And, as a result, right this minute, as 2011 is about to slide into 2012, I am so very full and warm and fuzzy and happy. But I did just eat a pile of carnitas/asparagus/bacon/potato hash with two fried eggs on top.

The past couple of days I have thinking a lot about dominoes. It clearly began on Christmas Eve. Fred and I made dinner. We roasted a turkey, stuffed with Meyer lemon, covered in a weave of bacon and served with a sherry-pan gravy, a burrata and beet salad, roasted parsnips and my Brussels sprouts with toasted hazelnuts in a sage-brown butter. We also riffed on a recipe I had seen in Bon Appetît a few months back called ‘domino potatoes’. I had been wanting to prepare it since I first saw it, so I was excited. It’s a beautiful dish.

But then I started thinking about dominoes and moreover, tesselation, in general. In the area of math, the word domino often refers to any rectangle formed from joining two congruent squares edge to edge. To go in a bit further, tessellation is the process of creating a two-dimensional plane using the repetition of a geometric shape with no overlaps and no gaps. Generalizations to higher dimensions are also possible. Think M. C. Escher.

One use of dominoes is standing them on end in long lines so that when the first tile is toppled, it topples the second, which topples the third, etc., resulting in all of the tiles falling. By analogy, the phenomenon of small events causing similar events leading to eventual catastrophe is called the domino effect.

Well, over the past month, I have been toppling and my walls have been falling. There have been moments where I have feared the possibility of eventual (or immediate) catastrophe. I guess is big part of me still harbors that fear. But I have simultaneously felt a form of tessellation has occurred – its as though a plane with no overlaps or gaps has been created. With two congruent squares, edge to edge, a rectangle has been formed and, as a result, higher dimensions are now possible.

And this, my friends, is one of the primary reasons I am so very much looking into that which the possibility of 2012 holds. Right now, it seems infinite.

I wish each and every one of you a beautiful and inspired 2012...

Roasted Domino Potatoes

Serves 8

Ingredients

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted, divided

3 1/2 pounds Idaho potatoes (4-6 large)

1 tablespoon chopped, fresh rosemary

4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

24 (about) fresh or dried bay leaves

Kosher salt and fleur de sel

Fresh cracked pepper

Preparation

Preheat oven to 425°. Brush a 13x9x2" baking dish or cast-iron griddle with 2 Tbsp. butter. Peel potatoes and trim ends (do not rinse). Trim all 4 sides of potatoes to form a rectangle. Using a mandoline, cut potatoes crosswise into 1/8" slices, keeping slices in stacks as best you can.

Re-form slices from each potato into a stack. Place in prepared dish, fanning apart slightly like a deck of cards. Insert bay leaves and garlic between potato slices at even intervals. Season with rosemary,salt and pepper and drizzle with remaining 4 Tbsp. butter.

Bake potatoes, rotating the dish halfway through cooking, until the edges are crisp and golden and the centers are tender, about 1 hour. Sprinkle with fleur de sel.

Printable recipe

One year ago: Vinegar-Braised Chicken with Garlic and Celery Leaves

To years ago: 2009: The Year of the Food Truck

I'm Totally Rushing You In the Fall.

Things are happy. Things are good. Business is good, things feel pretty stable, and, on these crisp nights, I can rock layers (clothing). Thanksgiving has passed and Christmas is coming up really fast. Usually I am a pretty major Christmas geek. I love Christmas music, the tree, the decorating, the parties, the excuse to be over dressed and wear sparkly things, the excuse to be over dressed, wearing sparkly thinks while drinking sparkly things.

This year I don’t feel as much like Mother Christmas as I usually do. I don’t foresee having my annual Christmas party, I’m entirely unclear what I’m giving to whom as gifts (and I usually have that on lockdown months before), and I’m not even getting a tree. I have dug the big boxes of Christmas from the garage, so that’s a start.

A lot of this could be because of the timing of the most recent Dinner at Eight. That would have been last Friday. But even though that’s over and done with, I don’t feel like I can concentrate on things. I am decidedly distracted. I’ve barely even written anything this month. But maybe that’s because I have a crush.

I do.

 

And it (he) has taken quite a bit of my physical and mental space over the past few weeks. He’s coming over for dinner tonight. I haven’t cooked for him yet. I’m nervous. Why am I nervous? I cook for people all the time. I cook for friends, family and even complete strangers. All. The. Time. And yet I’m nervous to cook for Fred tonight. I know I’m going to make my oyster stew. However, I don’t know what will follow. I’m sure it will be fine. I’m sure it will be better than fine. I’m sure it will be delicious and fun.

But I’ve still got the swirlies. Ugh.

Anyway, this past Sunday we spent the better part of the day making cassoulet. I’ve wanted to make cassoulet for forevers. It’ one of my very most favorite dishes. Cassoulet night at Lucques is something I look forward to all year (that’s coming up, by the way). Our cassoulet making was a really fun process that began with procuring our Meat(s) at Lindy & Grundy around one o’clock and ended on Fred’s couch, chowing down at about eleven o’clock. And that was with the fast soak on the cannelini beans. We spent a good deal of the down time doing the Sunday crossword and watching In A Lonely Place (best movie, ever). It all worked out really nicely. It was good times and good food, I must admit. And, as you know, I do so love a Process. And a Sunday. And a cassoulet.

So, back to tonight. I’m thinking either scallops or a stuffed pork tenderloin. Something with beets? I welcome your thoughts on the matter. Regardless, I’ll keep you posted on how tonight’s meal turns out. Promise.

Our Sunday Cassoulet

Serves 6-8

1 lb. dried cannelini beans
10 tbsp. duck fat 

16 cloves garlic, smashed
5 shallots, chopped3 carrots, chopped

1 large ham hock
1 lb. lamb neck, cut into 1"cubes
1⁄2 lb. pancetta, cubed
4 sprigs oregano
4 sprigs thyme
3 bay leaves
1 cup whole peeled canned tomatoes
1 1/2 cup white wine
2 cups chicken stock

2 confit duck legs (we used chicken legs)
1 lb. pork sausages
2 cups bread crumbs

Soak beans in a 4-qt. bowl in 7 1⁄2 cups water overnight. Heat 2 tbsp. duck fat in a 6-qt. pot over medium-high heat. Add half the garlic, shallots, and carrots and cook until lightly browned, about 10 minutes. Add ham hock along with beans and their water and boil. Reduce heat and simmer beans until tender, about 1 1⁄2 hours.

Transfer ham hock to a plate; let cool. Pull off meat; discard skin, bone, and gristle. Chop meat; add to beans. Set aside.

Heat 2 tbsp. duck fat in a 5-qt. dutch oven over medium-high heat. Add lamb and brown for 8 minutes. Add pancetta; cook for 5 minutes. Add remaining garlic, onions, and carrots; cook until lightly browned, about 10 minutes. Tie together oregano, thyme, and bay leaves with twine; add to pan with tomatoes; cook until liquid thickens, 8–10 minutes. Add wine; reduce by half. Add broth; boil. Reduce heat to medium-low; cook, uncovered, until liquid has thickened, about 1 hour. Discard herbs; set dutch oven aside.

Meanwhile, sear duck legs in 2 tbsp. duck fat in a 12" skillet over medium-high heat for 8 minutes; transfer to a plate. Brown sausages in the fat, about 8 minutes. Cut sausages into 1⁄2" slices. Pull duck meat off bones. Discard fat and bones. Stir duck and sausages into pork stew.

Heat oven to 300˚. Mix beans and pork stew in a 4-qt. cast iron dutch oven. Cover with bread crumbs; drizzle with remaining duck fat. Bake, uncovered, for 3 hours. Raise oven temperature to 500˚; cook cassoulet until crust is golden, about 5 minutes.


Printable recipe


One year ago: Linguine with Pancetta Mushroom Cream Sauce
Two years ago: The Flying Pig Truck

Duck, Duck, Fat: Dinner at Sun Ha Jang.

This past Saturday night was very exciting. First off, I may or may not have been on a date. But more importantly, I was taken to two (2) places in my City of Angels that I had never been nor had any prior knowledge of. That’s pretty rare.

I was sent an email a day or two before Saturday with a link to the prodigious Mr. Gold’s review of our restaurant destination: Sun Ha Jang. So I was aware and prepared for whatever lay ahead. That would be duck. Excitement mounted.

At precisely seven o’clock (right on time!) I was picked up and off we went. To Koreatown. And just as I was noticing the façade for a spa I sent my mom to as a gift for Christmas some years ago that left her with PTSD to this day (another story), we were parked smack in front of the restaurant.

Sun Ha Jang was bright, but not too bright, tidy, small and about halfway filled up. I think this was about seven thirty. We were seemingly the only non-Koreans in the house, which was a comforting sign. We were seated immediately and handed golden menus with those hologramy-winky pictures in them. We hardly perused the menu at all before our server came over to get our order. This was fine as we didn’t really know what we were doing and we were pretty much going to go for what was suggested from the review. The Roasted Duck. I’m guessing they were used to Korean food dilettantes coming in, clutching their reference guides Smart Phones since she just kindly nodded, and knew exactly what to deliver.

So right after we got our bottle of soju, a bottle of cold tea, and the usual assortment of panchan, kimchi and marinated bean sprouts, came the sliced duck. Our server was kind to us and guided us through The Process wordlessly. She gingerly placed the round, thick, marbled and fatty duck slices on the griddle in the center of the table with a generous smattering of whole cloves of garlic. Then she picked up a chunklet of kimchi and used it to plug the griddle's drain. We later realized this was to preserve all that glorious duck fat.

After just a few minutes we started to pick at the duck, flipping it and whatnot as I had read that we should by no means allow them to condense into chewy nubs. This was when our server hustled back over to assist, and also where I will insert my companion’s only sound bite from the evening for this post, “Aside from the yumminess of the duck and duck fat roasted garlic and the good company, what sticks in my mind the most was the maternal weariness with which the waitress took over as she watched my relative clumsiness in flipping the duck over on the griddle.”

Did you see that? I’m good company!

Anyway.

When the duck was ready to come off the griddle our server even showed us how to assemble and eat everything together. She made a whole presentation on Date’s plate. The result was not unlike a duck salad: the chopped, dressed lettuce with a few slivers of marinated onion, and a little julienned pickled radish, garnished with the duck topped with a few strands of sliced Korean leek and a small dollop of chili paste. It was fresh and clean, yet rich and unctuous. Each bite was crisp, cool and bright right alongside with being warm, supple and lush.

After a little more time and a lot more bites, the cloves of garlic were all roasty, with crisp outsides and warm, oozy insides. At this point I just wanted to eat bites of the garlic rubbed over slices of the now, ever so slightly brittled duck meat that remained.

But there was more. I knew it was coming and I was aflutter. Our server then brought us a bowl of rice cooked with beans and dumped it onto the griddle, sprinkling it with herbs and sesame seeds. And there it sizzled away as it cooked in that beautiful, seasoned duck fat until it was perfectly crunchety on the bottom.

And then I was sated.

I very much enjoyed my meal and my experience at Sun Ha Jang. I do so love a process. An interactive meal, so to speak. The company was pretty great too.

And then we were off, into the night. Off to destination number two, and as mentioned above, yet another new experience for me, a bar called 1642. This place serves only wine and beer, is perfectly dark and plays almost-but-not-too-loud-and-very-good jazz. Wine and conversation ensued.

This was a good night.


One year ago: Salt's Cure
Two years ago: Grace