i’m not exactly known for being a fan of the nashville restaurant scene. and that statement right there is one that gets me in a world of trouble around these parts. but it’s the very statement that launched ceF – and in 2 1/2 years i still stand by it firmly. dining out in this town has been – with few exceptions, relatively painful for me. and then tandy wilson came along…

city house opened two years ago and by now i suppose you could call me somewhat of a regular. it’s way on the other side of town from me, but if i’m going out to dinner, that’s the only place i want to spend my money. ok, sushi. there’s the exception. and savarino’s because i love corrado and his family and it’s a wonderful place to be on any given afternoon. oh, and patterson house. i really like that place too – serious cocktails and some decent small plates… and sure, there are a handful of others, and sometimes they surprise me. but overall there’s just not that much to speak of. and dropping a wad of cash on something that strives for mediocrity? i’d rather make myself a bowl of cacio e pepe ANYDAY.

but tandy cooks with a sensibility that speaks to me. even if a random dish misses the mark, i always appreciate where he was going with it. because i ‘get’ the food at city house in a big way. and if i had a restaurant, it’d feel very much like this place. but i will never have a restaurant. and so i eat here. and the fact that stephanie mixes me a fine, fine aviation, which is a rarity in almost any town – or city, delights me to no end.

the wood fired ovens reach a solid 750 degrees and the pizza dough undergoes a solid three day age. the roast chicken is consistently damn good and chef knows his way around a pig. tandy’s a snout to tail kinda guy that supports local farmers, sourcing his meat and produce to within any locavore’s comfort zone.

but it’s often the antipasti and the interesting salads that surprise me. and the one pictured above is a version of the one i had there this past friday night.. i roasted red and golden beets, sliced a still firm fuyu persimmon, mint, toasted walnuts, chili flakes and a drizzle of olive oil finished with a thoughtful placement of crunchy salt. all that and some ricotta salata. just beautiful.

it’s thoughtful plates like this one that excite me. i would never have put beets with persimmons yet somehow they are wonderful together. a dish like this is why city house continues to be both an inspiration and an oasis for me here in nashville.

and for the record, a bad dinner at a restaurant never makes me irritable or outraged. after all, it’s just one meal that i’m even lucky enough to get to eat. and really, when you’re out at a restaurant it’s more about the people, the evening – the memory.

but at home in my kitchen? a bad dinner? now that could really piss me off…

the duck breasts had been in my freezer since last november. they were vacuum sealed by d’artagnan, wrapped in freezer paper and although shoved to the back of a bin, i hadn’t forgotten. i just hadn’t heard them calling. until the figs…

the figs came from texas via an eccentric friend who pulled up to my front door in a hummer loaded down with gifts and stories – and as this one goes there’s a very old woman way out in the back woods just a few hours out of dallas with a little home canning operation. and she’s got fig trees and so, i scored a few jars of spectacular preserves. but even better, i got some of the most beautiful fresh brown figs which delighted me to no end. most of them were eaten just plain. no goat cheese or prosciutto, no speck, mascarpone, bacon or gorgonzola. 15 naked figs became lunch, with none of the aforementioned accoutremonts necessary. because to me, figs are absolutely exquisite just on their own. and then what couldn’t get eaten, got cooked.

i cut them up into quarters discarding the stems and threw them in a small saucepan. i added sugar, sherry vinegar, a lot of minced fresh rosemary and salt and pepper. after 15 minutes or so it was good, but i needed a bottom note, so on a whim i added a heaping teaspoon of cocoa powder – and there it was. beautiful. i opted to puree it all up and the finished product was somehow pretty spectacular.

the magret moulard breasts were large – nearly a pound each. they cross breed a muscovy and pekin and feed them a lot of corn and you get what i suppose are very large ducks which are in turn favored for their very large livers and well, it’s a foie gras thing. the less details the better… and the breasts become kind of steak like – rich and juicy. but although they are quite good, i still find myself missing the gamey flavor of duck from years gone by.

and this is my problem with duck. but these are the good problems to have in life, right? and believe me, i’ve had this conversation before with various purveyors, and all in all i think the only answer may be to buy a rifle and shoot my own wild game. but being that this is highly, but highly unlikely, i suppose i just need keep my memories in the past and remain forever grateful for the present. afterall, duck is good, regardless.

but hey. does anyone else remember when duck was great?

ok. a little story for you… when i was a kid growing up in nyc, we dined out a fair amount. WHENEVER there was duck on the menu, i ordered it. it was my thing. my favorite. and if it was a l’orange, well that was even better. somehow this made my father crazy. so much so that one day at a lovely inn in connecticut on new years’s eve, i happily ordered my duck, handed the waiter my menu and my father looked at me sternly and loudly exclaimed, "this is not your last meal. order something else." the rest of the details are sketchy but i never forgot that. it’s become a bit if a joke with me and my kid.

regardless, duck breasts are quite simple to cook. i heated up my large cast iron pan, and after a liberal seasoning on all sides, the skin and fat are gently scored (not too deep) in two directions and the breasts are placed skin side down. cook over a medium flame until most of the fat is rendered and skin color is a deep golden. then you brown the meaty side and after they are done, i hold the breasts on their edges with my tongs while the sides cook through. it’s not a long process and the edge of the pan comes in handy as a good assist – just lean it up there. usually, this is about all it takes to get the breasts cooked leaving the centers nice and pink. the whole process is about as simple as one could wish for.

some chard was cooked down in just a bit of the duck fat and seasoned. the meat was sliced and it was all plated in no time flat.

and now a question. does anybody out there remember a restaurant in nyc, many years ago on the upper east side that served ONLY DUCK? my mother took me there when i was a kid and it must have been 35 years ago…if anyone can name it, you win something. i’m not sure what – but it’ll be fabulous…

a sampling of some fresh picked wine berries, huckleberries and wild blackberries – a gift from my friend jack on my birthday last month

it’s not that i’m not cooking. because i am. there are gatherings of friends and just plain hungriness resulting in well, dinner. i even sometimes whip out the nikon and snap a few lame shots but these days not so much. and i’m not sure what’s come over me. but just the thought of posting on ceF was beginning to feel like ‘work’ and god only knows we wouldn’t want that to happen to a nice woman like me… after all, my lack of ambition is my greatest luxury. (i stole that line from my friend emily and have been using it ad nauseum but only because it is SO TRUE.)

but we’ve been to chicago and then i went to cleveland. dallas is this week and seattle comes next. i’m doing the 4 day cooking gig again come the first of october and then i’m off to nyc…  and all i want is to go back to italy. is that asking so much? IS IT? but honestly, i’m not complaining. it’s a charmed life. the past week or so has pretty much revolved around trips to the park in much appreciated cooler than normal temps, so after a 9 week hiatus i’m back on the bike and fighting the fat (albeit somewhat of a losing battle).

but mostly – if i could just say, i’m so deeply grateful for this amazing life that i get to live that i could cry. for those of you that read the sunday ny times magazine section yesterday, we are the fortunate ones…

ok – back to food…

presenting… a summer dinner. grilled corn with flaky maldon salt and a squeeze of lime. grilled tomatoes with thyme and a farro salad with a slightly overcooked poached egg on top. i’ve got just a vague recollection of what was in the farro salad but i’m thinking it was pequillo peppers and goat cheese – and something else but remembering is difficult…

best beans ever. rancho gordo cannellini’s with grape tomatoes, basil, thyme, lemon zest and juice, some potlikker, finely minced anchovy, a very good olive oil, salt and pepper. i think that was it but i’ve no idea because i can’t recall a damn thing.

lamb meatballs with a cherry sauce over whole wheat couscous finished with mint leaves. a lot of ingredients went into that sauce until it was nicely balanced and pretty damn impressive tasting. but i’m not sure exactly what i did – because of my memory…

all cary ever really wants for his birthday are two (2) angel food cakes with his grandmother’s ’7 minute boiled icing’. the icing becomes slightly hard on the outside and then yields to a slightly marshmallow like goo on the inside. ruhlman’s angel food cake from his bestseller ‘ratio‘, takes this cake to where it needs to go – from spongy and boring to totally delicious. in my opinion it’s all in the weighing of the flour and then using both lemon juice and vanilla. for your viewing pleasure i give you 4 pictures as they were all so awful i just couldn’t choose… this is the whitest cake in america and despite the absence of any fats and the overabundance of sugar, somehow it just works.

my icing technique is legendary. obviously.

moving on…

i phone pics before i bought the 3Gs. but this is the wonderful donnie madia pictured at his flagship restaurant blackbird. for my money, he and eduard seitan are the best restaurateurs in chicago with blackbird, avec, the publican and the newest addition, a tacqueria opening very soon. donnie’s attention to every detail is second to none with a modern sensibility that slays me, as i am highly susceptible to such things. with executive chef and partner paul kahan at the helm of the kitchen, it continues to be a recipe for greatness. we were in chicago for only 4 nights and ate at avec, then publican and then blackbird – finishing up with an anniversary dinner at tru, a gift from my mother. and for a whopping $425 that included only one glass of wine, it paled in comparison by such a long shot that i can’t even begin to explain the differences in the food except to say that in the end, blackbird kicked tru’s ass – big time. tru is supremely elegant and the room is lovely. it’s quiet and serious and the servers are ON IT. but dinner at blackbird was once again phenomenal. oh AND best negroni ever – hands down.

so, a few things… and please again – forgive the poor photo quality.

salad of endives with crispy potatoes, basil, dijon, pancetta and poached egg = sheer perfection. not kidding. this salad was incredible in every way.

chilled cuttlefish noodles with green garlic, red onion jam, trout caviar, nasturtiums and buttermilk = amazingness. i loved it.

wood-grilled california sturgeon with english peas, braised peanuts, crispy bacon and bourbon caramel = seriously impressive.

cary had the organic pork belly and crispy sweet shrimp with chinese broccoli, preserved green tomato and black pepper. he started with the pistachio gazpacho with ahi, watermelon confit, sea beans and cocoa. both were smashing.

this was my idea. sorry.

desserts were wonderful. donnie brought us three and each one was greatness. ricotta fritters with compari, rhubarb and pine nut ice cream, pistachio panna cotta with a raspberry consommé and brown butter ice cream and a torn black sesame cake with pineapple that looked a little something like this that was  – out. of. this. world…

avec, a bit more down to earth, is my favorite restaurant in all the land. and at the publican, albeit a bit on the loud side, we had an abundance of seriously excellent food. beer, oysters, fish and pork. just splendid.

chicago is such an extraordinary food town… thank you donnie.

south west of chicago. mies van der rohe’s masterpiece – the farnsworth house. i wept in its presence. it is genius if not impractical.

no tinkering with picassa was going to help this photo taken through the door of my oven. it was shredded zucchini and yellow squash with minced garlic, chiles and ricotta. i stole the idea from city house restaurant here in nashville. their’s was far better and i’m going to work on this because it was frustrating that i couldn’t replicate it. i need to call chef tandy wilson and ask for help. plus my chiles were so strong that they almost hurt. so, fail, although not in an epic way…

the project – buy 20 lbs of balaton cherries from earthy.com and use 10 to make some cherry bourbon hooch. i’ll get back to you in 6 weeks on how it turns out and if you’re on the short list, it’s what’s for christmas, so no surprises here. the other 10 lbs. became a salted cherry vanilla bean balsamic compote.

oh, and jack’s arm after blackberry picking. the things friends do for friends…

the flan was created due to sheer necessity. i had read a post over at ‘the pie lady’ and could NOT get it off my mind. like at all. like i really tried. yet it haunted me. even taunted me, until i could no longer resist the urge. but brittany’s recipe called for the wonderful and bitter seville oranges – and in nashville, that’s a tall order. but i did find a really good looking bag of organic tangelos and well, that was going to have to do.

flan is one of my favorite things. really, it’s just my obsession with all things custardy. but at least flan is just milk, sugar and eggs. there’s no cream or butter to feel all that awful guilt about. yet let me be the one to tell you that these babies still weighed in at about 500 calories a piece, easy. but in their defense, they were pretty big and therefore perfect for sharing. which is what i did. i shared. all 5 of them. yes, i got to share 5 WHOLE TIMES in just 48 hours. doesn’t that show my willingness to be abundantly generous? i freakin’ shared my flan in the name of kindness and calories. 5x. please don’t do the math. i am well aware…

so there were tons of eggs and yolks and milk and sugar and 2 vanilla beans along with the grated rind of my tangelos. and i followed the recipe and well, talk about FRETting. i was getting nervous because i couldn’t get the flan to set. so i switched to convection, upped the heat a bit and within no time flat – they were dreamy.

that right there? 2500 calories. not including the tangelos. and then? divide by 2. because i shared.

i am telling you… so damn good…

but you’re probably wondering why i bruleed my flan. which really, is a very fair thing to wonder… and honestly, it just happened. it wasn’t planned or well thought out. no dear readers, it was off the cuff and original – even spontaneous. and perhaps i also veered partially because although brittany’s flan was my inspiration for this delightful confection – i didn’t want to totally rip off a professional pastry chef who could then turn around and sue me.

unlikely? i’d say so… BUT STILL.

when the flans were unmolded there was still a fair amount of hardened caramel in the ramekins. so i popped that in the microwave for about 40 seconds until it became a viscous molten substance and quickly poured it over the flan. hot sugar really is a wonder.

and i kinda felt like i was onto something…

(grace – totally not FRETing…)

since i believe in the law of averages, and my last post was a novella (bless those of you that read…), i give to you the grilled peach in 100 words.

i sat these georgia beauties cut side down in some olive oil and then sprinkled them with a good flakey salt. after a trip to the grill, my peaches were dressed with creme fraiche, tasmanian honey and some pan toasted almonds.  because it’s what was here. 

it seems like all the cool people are using mascarpone and pistachios.  but let me tell you, this was truly not shabby. 

at all.

(inspired by proud italian cook)

              

my rss feeder broke.  and i didn’t realize it for 3 months.  mostly because i (still) don’t even understand what exactly an rss feeder is, or what it does – talk about being oh so techno savvy… but my stat’s were dropping off and well, try as i might to just ignore the cold hard numbers, i started to take it personally.  was it something i said?  something i cooked?  where did so many of my bleaders go and why would they leave me after all we have meant to each other? 

but before i called my therapist, i called mark from simpler computing! and he quickly came to my rescue – again.  thank you mark.  you solved the mystery and now once again you are so totally my blero. 

so listen up – all you techno losers out there that just like to cook and write and take a little photo here and there, but do not want to bother your pretty little heads with html and templates and embedding and wordpress editors that suck and the like, call mark.  today.  he can tweak your blog into submission.  AND he likes to cook… (btw – ceF is still under construction as i type so please bear with…)

speaking of liking to cook… here’s the deal.  i cook a lot.  but sometimes it’s just dinner.  and sometimes it’s not my idea of a blog worthy post.  and usually it’s just that i’m too lazy to write.  but it’s totally me, not you.  you, i adore.  you make my life better, adding an entirely new fangled dimension that did not exist just 16 months ago. but still, i am often unmotivated, or perhaps even more often than that, i’m just reading OPB’s…

so what happens is that some of these dishes fall by the blogosphere’s wayside.  but i thought since we were dealing with feeds and feeding, i’d show you what gets fed around here to my immediate world.  so i’m going to hit you with a fair few of what i’ve not bothered to bother you with until now, along with some pictures. take a deep breath – here goes…

look familiar?  this one was made with the half and half, as per ripert’s recipe.  was it better?  yes.  did i LOVE it?  not so much.  it’s ok.  kinda brunchy, not desserty.  i like custard.  life is good.  and eric, you’re totally cool and sexy and hot and all those things.  but my tony still has you beat, big time. i hope you can understand…

ok so i realize i am blogger #4721 to make jim lahey’s no knead bread.  but i did it.  quietly.  and it was a good and crusty loaf of bread that if nothing else looked very, very impressive. 

i baked it in my romertopf that i dug out and dusted off.  although it stays unused and because it looks so beautiful – i keep it.  i’m sure you understand such things.  so, i soaked the terracotta in water and then baked the bread as per the direction for a dutch oven.  i felt my dutch oven was too big and i didn’t want a 2" high bread.  somehow, this worked out quite nicely.  so take a chance, dear readers – bake no knead bread.  oh, and have i made this again since?  nope.  will i?  maybe, probably not.

this was made quite awhile ago.  it was panko encrusted chicken livers served over what i think was swiss chard and finely sliced ‘delightful tiny purple potatoes’ and shallots sautéed with pimm’s and port.  what?  you think they may not have been tiny and delightful?  you are sooooo wrong….

i present to you… delightful. tiny. purple. potatoes.  i only wish i could have been in the room when the marketing team thought of that.  can you imagine what the discussion would have sounded like?  i only know they were republicans with bad haircuts.  after that, i know nothing.

so now you ask, what the hell is that?  that, my dear readers is a watermelon salad with mint leaves, chili oil and feta – topped with a very anti-locavore piece of barramundi from costco via australia.  in a previous life i lived down under (husband #1) and ate this fish regularly.  perhaps i didn’t need to sit the barramundi on top of the watermelon, but it seemed like a good idea at the time… and it was our dinner that night and we were happy enough.  so stop smirking.  thank you.

i made this last weekend and it was good and rich and saucy and chicken thighey – all that with trofie pasta thrown in for very good measure.  it’s what patricia wells eats when she’s at home in provence, a recipe that i picked up from feeding groom.  oh and it’s got sherry vinegar and garlic cloves and dijon mustard and lots of tarragon and minced sundried tomatoes… it’s more wintry than it is septembery in nashville, but i had 4 chicken thighs in the freezer and suddenly this just happened…

ok are you ready to hear what this was supposed to be?  what it almost was… what i wished it might have been and what it could be if i ever decide to take it on again?  salted butterscotch pudding with chocolate covered bacon.  thank you and goodnight.  the end.  by claudia. 

except it never really thickened properly.  and benton’s bacon is crazy salty.  so salty that i forgot just how salty it was therefore making it an out and out wrong bacon choice.  because it seems that is actually possible.  to make a wrong bacon choice.  you’d think not, but what this dessert needed was a thin cut good bacon that crisps up in a curly, artsy strip, and only then could it be dipped into lindt chocolate and put into a pudding recipe that WORKS.  because this recipe did not.  and another blogger tried it and it didn’t work for her either.  so. oh well,  we all drank our pudding and chucked the wayyy too salty pork.  seemed sinful but we got over it.  we lived and learned, moving onwards and upwards – with the comforting knowledge that bacon rarely ever lets you down…

so not even a little pretty.  AND the wrong color bowl.  but it was just a simple dinner of fresh crowder peas with bacon.  the bacon did just as it should, redeeming itself from the previous mishap.  there was something else served with this but really, i have no idea… i think it was grilled tilapia.  unexciting, quick and easy and not exactly memorable – but hey, not every night can be foie gras…

OK – EVERYBODY STAND UP AND STRETCH.  NO REALLY.  BECAUSE I AM NOT DONE.  BATHROOM BREAK?  GO ON.  I’LL WAIT….

oh, hi, you’re back.  wonderful, because i was worried… ok, just a few more…

this was lazzaroli’s sweet potato and ricotta ravioli.  i dressed it up with a side of kale, done in a sauce of olive oil, cream, honey and sage, and then dusted the pasta with nutmeg and parmegiano.  again – super fast and easy.  (tommy noodles, you are a nashville godsend… thank you for giving me an option that is first rate and still allows me to get creative.)

yes, i too jumped on the bandwagon thanks to michelle from thursday night smackdown and all the rest of you that grilled the hell outa a bunch of pizzas…  except michelle was the one who took my call on a saturday night so i could get very specific information about the whole pizza grilling process.  this particular pizza was taken from her post and it was damn fine.  i cooked down some swiss chard in a bit of olive oil, salt and pepper, and used copious amounts of minced garlic and ricotta.  i also sliced up a big ripe yellow tomato with red stripes running through it (we will miss you beautiful heirloom tomatoes),

awesomeness, no?  well yes – but… from here on in i’ll stick to the pizza stone with my oven set to broil and 550f… because grilled pizza is too damn white on top.  and flipping it before the toppings go on doesn’t allow the cheese and sauce to bake into the dough and well, my grill runs hot (it’s infrared) so even on the lowest setting it never got the top brown and i kept having to turn the flame on and off so as not to scorch the bottom and was nervously moving it to the top rack and well, i like my pizza stone in my oven.  so if i had a real charcoal grill which i don’t and do not plan on getting because it’s too much work and i am not willing (go on – think of me what you will but there are extenuating circumstances… like a boyfriend who is also happy with oven baked pizza’s), maybe that would be better.  but as it stands, and i repeat – i am a pizza in the oven kinda gal – set to broil on super high heat with the stone on the very bottom rack.  but i made the obligatory grilled pizza.  yes i did.

i present to you… voodoo mac and cheese

do you read gild the (voodoo)lily?  if not, you need to read gild the (voodoo)lily…  heather is very smart and very funny and this bitch can cook.  and i mean that in a good way.  heather is another one of those foodcentric people that seriously knows how to put ingredients together.  like if you turned your pantry over to her, she’d blow your mind.  and you’d be thinking all, why didn’t i think of that?… and the answer is because she KNOWS MORE THAN YOU DO.  plus she’s a botanist.  a freakin’ botanist... so she’s always growing and foraging and well, it’s a little bit intimidating.  heather could totally kick your ass and never even touch you…

anyway, back in july she made something called garden mac.  for her it was merely a ‘clean your fridge out’ kinda dinner, and i’m thinking – mac and cheese with roasted tomatoes in a bechamel base?  sign me the hell up. 

the ingredients i used were as follows; mostaccioli pasta, the 4 cheeses were – asiago, parmigiano reggiano, st jerome and fontal.  and for the garden part – fresh thyme and heirloom tomatoes, kale, onion, squash and zucchini.  i drove all the ingredients about an hour south, down to my friend shannon’s house and we spent the day cooking and drinking wine and talking and laughing and then we sat out on the porch overlooking her farm and had a late lunch…

and for the grand finale i give to you an extremely abbreviated version of my veal stock mission…

bones arrive from snook’s.  i tried for weeks to find a local source.  nada.

20 lbs.

because i am awesome…

i made brown and white stock.  i followed the ruhlman way.  it is the only way. (great version here)

otherwise when you die, you go to culinary hell where you are forced to live on nothing but shoney’s buffets. (please click on the shoney’s link.  there are no words…)

and hey, thanks so much for reading.  i realize this post was a commitment. 

you can go now…

a clafouti as deflated as my ego…

dear mr. ripert,

i am a long time fan of le bernardin and an avid reader of your new blog, avec eric. i eagerly await the new book being released this autumn and may i also take this opportunity to tell you that i absolutely adore ‘a return to cooking’ and would have to say that it is without a doubt the most beautiful cook book that i own. 

i think you’d be pleased to know that because of you i purchased the cuisinart brick oven, if only to cook along, through a simple but perfect array of dishes that you yourself appear to thoroughly enjoy.  of course watching you cook while listening to your ever so incredibly sexy french accent…  well, all i can say is that the people at cuisinart are marketing genuises.

so i grill my tomatoes, bake and broil my fish – among many other things, and tonight i decided to finally make the clafouti as i had just bought a batch of tart blackberries at the farmers market this past weekend.  the thing is, i only had 2% milk.  eric (may i call you eric?), i drink my coffee black and well, i just didn’t want to head out to the store for a pint of 1/2 and 1/2 that would most likely turn bad after i used my 6 tablespoons.  big, big miscalculation on my part. 

i suppose i don’t have to tell you what my clafouti tasted like because naturally, if you are reading this you are making the same face that i did upon taking my first bite.  it was that nearly inedible low fat version of what might have been a wonderful dessert if i’d so much as followed your directions.  i say nearly because as a woman in my 40′s i am guilty of eating substandard foods on occasion in the name of vanity and valiant attempts at zipping my jeans – but this was no place to skimp on a few fat grams.  so my clafouti was permeated by ‘that taste’ that is devoid of all that it could have and should have been. 

so eric, when you wrote "its consistency will lie somewhere between a custard and a cake. smooth, moist, silky with a slight crisp of the crust."  mine was kind of rubbery, devoid of anything that could ever be construed as silky.  and for this i am sorry because i should have just listened to you.  afterall it’s not like you even asked us to use heavy cream.  you were being moderate, just like a true frenchman would.

i knew better, eric.  i really did.
but mostly, i believe that i have learned from the error of my ways… 

sincerely,

claudia of ceF

this may be the longest i’ve gone without posting – a solid 2 weeks.  it seems i’ve got a slight case of food blogger ennui.  there’s been no cooking of my own – none at all.  and really?  it’s been a welcome respite that shows no signs of waning just yet… but a woman’s got to eat and my camera is usually close by, so…

feel healthier yet?  lord knows i do. 

and do you see this salad?  this very, very big salad?  this is what i ate for 2+ weeks.  WITH NOTHING ON IT.  and dear readers, let me tell you what i’m sure you already know, that a salad such as this really begs – no, pleads – for just a touch of walnut oil and a fine sprinkling of guerende salt.  but no, i dutifully got that plate of produce down au natural with minimal whining.  and although a bit lackluster, i consoled myself with the anticipation that i’d be dining at ‘osteria mozza’ in the immediate future.

which was stellar.  sublime.  wondrous. 

damn, mario – we were blown away. the creamy burrata. the grilled to perfection octopus, the brilliant and mind blowing (hee) calves brain ravioli (thank you michael ruhlman), the tender duck with a pear mostarda… the wine, the attentive service, the dessert of bombolini with a lemon curd, along with a torta della nonna with pine nuts and honey… i took no photos during this 4 1/2 hour dinner.  i was too enraptured by the experience and just wanted to get lost in every moment – every bite.  it was one of the best food experiences i’ve had in a very long time (per se will always stand alone) and it was FUN.  we had so. much. fun. 

and tonight i’m in nyc and dinner is at babbo, osteria mozza’s sister restaurant in nyc.  interestingly, it’s a very similar menu.  i last ate at babbo 9 years ago. 

so, southern california, where everyday is nearly perfect.  i will miss you. 

but not tonight – tonight my heart belonds to mario.

in the meantime though, remember me because i will be back – soon…

buddha wants you to know that even though ‘life is suffering’, drink acai

and you probably think i made that up, right?  "not just a berry, a lifestyle…" but no dear readers, it’s the actual motto from the acai roots company.  i definitely would have been so berry much more clever.

and do you see that glass being lovingly cradled by the buddha?  it contains pure potent purple goodness. what you’re looking at is an acai pulp berry smoothie that will allegedly, among other things - improve your sex drive.  it’s one of the most powerful and nutritious foods known to man, and widely acknowledged as one of the richest anti-oxidants available.  i could go on about the high levels of omega 3 and 6 as well as the amino acids, not to mention all the fiber… but i’ll leave the thorough research in your capable hands.  bottom line is that DR. OZ gives it the big thumbs up.  need i say more? 

i’ve also seen it in the drink section of ’whole foods’, being touted as the superfood to end all superfoods.  it’s as though they’re screaming the accolades of this brazilian berry across the globe.  Drink. This. NOW.

so last week, before i left for LA my friend angela gave me a big frozen container of acai pulp - the creme de la creme of acai.  blended with a banana, fresh blueberries and some ice cubes, it became a really nice spring breakfast for a few days running.

please excuse the fact that i breathed while taking this photograph without a tripod…

so, while i’m on the west coast not eating anything worth mentioning, the memory of this smoothie is actually pretty damn appealing. i plan on ordering a few containers and seeing if i notice… well, anything…

but ummm, do you think that just a little side of bacon would affect the ‘sex life’ perk?

i present to you "the mangosteen".  the mango’s jewish half cousin.  ok, actually, there’s no relation whatsoever.  and if there is, the newly-outed, anti-semitic mango is not owning up. 

the mangosteen is typically advertised and marketed as part of an emerging category of novel "functional fruits" sometimes called "superfruits" presumed to have a combination of 1) appealing subjective characteristics, such as taste, fragrance and visual qualities, 2)nutrient richness, 3)antioxidant strength and 4) potential impact for lowering risk against human diseases.  i stole that entire line from wikipedia and promise to return it the moment you finish this sentence.

oh, but you know how it can be… you read about some foodstuff… and then you start hearing more… and then it escalates into raves… and of course, said item is often both hard to come by – and expensive… and that’s usually about when i place my order. 

but how could you blame me?  the final straw came just as i happened upon a post over at ‘serious eats’ entitled "Delicious Mangosteens: Better Than A Hot Fudge Sundae?"  I mean talk about roping in an already food obsessed person who constantly FRETS about her weight.  i could even say that those words were borderline seduction.  so being the susceptible woman that i am, armed with a newly received tax return in the bank, and an american express card in my wallet – not to mention a perpetual hankering for ice cream despite an ever expanding waistline, i was all about buying these fruits of the mercenary gods.

the case was overnighted from (guess…) california and arrived still cool at my doorstep the next morning.  no matter what you might think from the pics, they’re small.  like about the size of a clementine.  i got 10.  which with shipping averaged them out at about $7 each.  which would have been ok because i was WILLING to go there.  i just wanted to be wow’ed.  i wanted to be the cyber messenger of the mangosteen.

but alas, i am here to say – save your money, kids.  they’re good.  but…

they’re not ’toe scrunching’ good. 

they’re not ‘i have to call my best friend’ good.  nor are they ’i feel good about spending the money’ good. 

and definitely not ’i'll take these over sex’ good. 

 is anything that good?

you peel them.  you cut them in half.  you spritz with fresh lemon juice.  you dot with butter. 

you sprinkle the sugar, the cinnamon.  you put in a few tablespoons of water and a drop of vanilla. 

you roast at 400 for an hour, basting and turning as needed.  upon serving, you top them with some creme fraiche.

and then you immediately comment on orangette’s post.  because she was the inspiration and you’re too tired to write much more than this.

but lastly, you revel in the fact that for so little work, the payback was sublime…

italian prune plums.  every august they show up all too briefly and then they’re gone again – you know the drill. it’s the same with our beloved tomatoes and corn.  i bought a bag earlier in the week with the intention of making something fabulous, but like the decadent fresh figs that i’ve been continually buying these past 2 weeks they just got eaten au naturale.  and then poof.  see you next year. 

yesterday after our usual saturday morning trip to the farmers market we headed to wild oats and i bought probably 3+ lbs of these little guys which at $1.99 per lb. i thought was a pretty decent deal.  it’s nothing for me to pop 6 or more of these little purple orbs, one after the next – multi times a day.  they’re definitely in my top 10 fruits along with anything berry, mango’s, figs, fuyu persimmons, pineapple, blood oranges, watermelon, honeydew and tomatoes – making the list by a technicality as i just see them as a vegetable and always will.

and i keep swearing off baking because i just do not need to be eating cake and truly i am not even much of a baker - but this time i really mean it – starting right now.  but last night (which is so like not right now) i dug through some recipes and decided upon the ‘cook’s illustrated’ rustic plum cake from their august issue. 

i ran into 2 glitches.  first, i had the wrong size pan.  i am the proud owner of not one but two beautiful high end french nonstick 10″ springform pans which comes in handy during the holidays when i’m cooking for large gatherings which is rarely if ever these days.  the recipe called for a 9″ and this size has somehow evaded me, so i just decreased the baking time and all was fine although it obviously made a thinner cake than i’d have liked.  second, i put the plums in upside down damnit, but realizing my error relatively quickly i pulled it from the oven and flipped the plums over leaving them slightly batter covered resulting in a not nearly as beautiful rendition of what can be a very impressive looking austrian cake.  hey, i can live with that.  i didn’t even bother with the dusting of confectioner’s sugar.

but despite myself, this was absolutely delicious – a great recipe - which is what i’ve come to expect from anything ‘cook’s illustrated’ puts forth. and for me, it’s just a perfect cake.

rustic plum cake
from ‘cook’s illustrated’  aug ’08 edition

2 T red current jelly or seedless raspberry jam
3 T brandy
1 lb  about 10-14 italian prune plums – halved and seeded
3/4 cup unbleached white flour
3/4 cup sugar
1/3 cup blanched slivered almonds
1/2 t baking powder
1/4 t salt
6 T unsalted butter – cut up – softened but still cool
1 large egg plus one egg yolk
1 t vanilla extract
1/4 t almond extract – optional

cook jam and brandy in 10″ nonstick skillet over medium heat until reduced to thick syrup about 2 to 3 minutes. remove skillet from heat and place plums cut-side down in syrup. return skillet to medium heat and cook until plums shed their juices and thick syrup is again formed, about 5 minutes, shaking pan to prevent plums from sticking. cool plums in pan, about 20 minutes.

adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350. grease and flour 9″ springform pan. process sugar and almonds in food processor until nuts are finely ground, about 1 minute. add flour, baking powder, and salt; pulse to combine. add butter and pulse until mixture resembles coarse sand, about 10 one second pulses. add eggs, vanilla and almond extract and process until smooth, about 5 seconds, scraping bowl if needed. batter will be very thick and heavy.

transfer batter to prepared pan; using offset spatula, spread batter evenly to pan edges and smooth surface. stir plums to coat with syrup. arrange plum halves, skin-side down, evenly over surface of batter. bake until cake is golden brown and wooden skewer inserted into center comes out with a few crumbs attached, 40 to 50 minutes. run paring knife around the sides of cake to loosen. cool in pan on wire rqck until just warm or room temperature, at least 30 minutes. remove cake from pan and dust with confectioners sugar.

i’d make this again and again if only my waistline would allow.  using the wrong pan, sloppy looking plums, with no powdery white dusting to dress it up.  it’d be just fine with me.

afterall, what is essential is invisible to the eye…

i’m kinda drunkish <yawn>

my best friends came over tonight and cary’s working late.  he doesn’t ever drink anymore.  as the story goes he drank his share and then some early on – prior to us meeting.  so i drink much less these days.  which is a good thing.  but tonight i drank and now i’m a little drunk.  and when i’m under the influence i just wanna go to sleep.  yes, that’s me – fun fun fun.  but before my head hits the pillow, i wanted to write about this summer pudding.

i was reading through the recipe’s on david lebovitz’s blog – again.  this one caught my eye as i love puddings and berries and it was beautiful and david claims it to be his favorite which coming from him would be saying quite a lot… 

so i was able to get my hands on the last of the local blackberry’s and i totally lucked out.  i got a gallon for $4.  not a typo – huge score.  and they were at the peak of perfection – sweet and plump and perfect.  the raspberries were a deal too.  1.5 quarts for $10 – and organic.  the recipe calls for red currants but all i could come up with was little purple champagne grapes that claimed to be currants – but they were sweet, not really tart at all.  here’s ‘david’s recipe‘.

firstly, when unmolded, it’s a wow in all of its berry colored lovliness.  very very pretty pretty.  but i have to say that the bread part was a little ummm, dense or gooey or something.  perhaps it was the bread i used which was what i would have guessed to be a pretty decent version of ‘pain de mie‘ – a kind of sweet thin crusted loaf of white from a local bread baker.  still, it was kind of like eating soggy bread drenched with the freshest most delicious syrupy berry juice imaginable.  lastly, bruce hand whipped the sweetened cream which really was the crowning glory to each piece.

it was good.  not great.  we liked it.  not loved it. 

people, i gotta lay my ever so slightly spinning head down now. 

please don’t remember me like this…