Archive for the ‘Food and Wine’ Category
I bought a new BBQ! The old one was sad and lonely, a cast off from my mother’s retirement move:
I posted it on craigslist for free and within 20 minutes had 9 takers. Ususally a sign that you should have sold the thing but NO MATTER. It went to a multi-generational family who really needed it and after cramming it into the giftee’s CR-V I was free of the ugliness and looking forward to something new.
I hauled that monster box in from the garage and unpacked violently (see earlier post about how I am all action now). I did it with such determination, scissors flying, that my six year old asked me to consider if a new BBQ was really something worth losing a limb over. And then, the assembly. Twenty minutes in had me hollering “Honeeeeeyyyyy? Can you helllpp meeeee?” into the kitchen for backup.
Ultimately, It was not the take-charge-of-your-destiny event I had envisioned. Nothing sucks the air out of a self-actualization balloon like a loosely translated from Chinese assembly manual for a Kenmore appliance that uses a highly flammable power source.
1.5 hours into the madness we realized we had put the damn thing together backwards on the frame. As in, the front black panel that makes it took all chic and fancy was facing the back fence and we were staring at all the wiry mess that should be concealed. My wife, tired and wishing we did not tend to a Spanish mealtime schedule quite so regularly, sighed and wondered aloud if we were really the kind of people who cared. My last burst of energy was spent unscrewing the base, walking the million pound thing around counter-clockwise and forcing it into place.
Et voila! It is gorgeous and spaceship like.
And a little large. But capable of grilling 28 burgers at once (or so Kenmore says). We had Moroccan night and the lamb was the BOMB.
I just HAD to have a glass of wine. The house is (finally) quiet: all family members sleeping, all dogs admonished from couches, dishwasher empty, laundry load put in. I can attempt to distill the ideas that are rocketing around in my head into coherent thoughts.
First, I am SO excited about dinnerparty- my new company. I’ll be throwing dinner parties in super secret non-traditional dining spaces. This summer I’ll host a series of high-end events to get things flowing. My lovely wife will be photographing the magic for all to ogle. I can’t give much away but to say that the first event is based on a classic children’s story… I can’t wait!
Secondly, I’ve started rehearsing for a spring concert. Solo, perhaps? Not sure yet. Two songs are in the pipeline after a two hour session last week and there are more on the verge. They basically write themselves. I just catch them as they’re falling into place and put them in the right order. In my younger years I didn’t care much about craft, and several friendships with good songwriters were ended over method (I can’t get down with grinding it out. What’s the point?). I like to think I’m a bit more focused now, with scheduled rehearsals and all.
Anyway, there’s the plan. Coming to a venue near you, if you live within 12 square blocks from my house on the Oakland-Berkeley border. Ha.
Thirdly, spring is on the move. The rest of the country is feeling ill from cold and sloggy freezing awful blizzard apocalypse while we in the Bay Area are casually watching birds flit about in the sun and expecting the bulbs to peek out of the ground any day. Tortuous, but true. These warm, delightful mornings make me think of two things:
HEY it’s tax time, you better get it together
and, simultaneously,
HEY it’s time to update my wardrobe- when can I go shopping?
Clearly tax time does not get along well with wardrobe reshaping. They hang in midair together, having a staring contest and trying to look mean all through February until one gives in. Typically fashion trumps.
What is a look book, you ask? You probably don’t ask that but just in case… it’s a little booklet (or large binder, in my case) full of inspiration and fun things you run across as the weather changes that will inform your buying decisions and fashion objectives for the next season. For instance, I spent nearly two years wrapped up in the idea of “sexy librarian” and have the look book to prove it. You know, cabernet lips, liquid liner, tweedy fitted skirts with the slightest flirty trumpet flare at the bottom, round-toed pumps and fitted sweaters, dark tights and the ubiquitous bun or chic ponytail. Sexy librarian.
I have before me several months worth of magazines to tear through before I finish this glass of wine and high-tail it upstairs.
Night all, and happy thaw.
After a few years hiatus, I attended the annual NASFT Fancy Food Show in San Francisco last weekend. My BF and I have gone together in the past, if for no other reason than to see what’s new and validate a nice lunch at Restaurant Lulu afterward (their salted mussels are reason to do anything, really.. and I used to work in the Lulu catering kitchen so it holds a special place in my heart).
The last year we went was the year before those Nespresso-style coffee pods hit the market and I walked around feeling very “industry” when people were getting all geeked about them 15 months later. It’s fun to have seen and done before the average consumer gets there.
Basically, you wander around Moscone center for a day or two (easily two), wearing a badge that states your kind of business. It’s largely full of retail and import people, easily identifiable by their black suits and mover-and-shaker body language. They sort of heft around and dodge in front of you at the booths when you’re trying to break through the crowd and see what the Montepulciano d’Abruzzo lady has to offer. Catering (especially small caterers) don’t have much pull in a big room like that.. you’re only interested in making these tiny little orders and the vendors want, well, Whole Foods to come in and buy their whole year’s worth of stock.
In the past I’ve just pretended to be a bigger caterer, in order to make the connection and find out what people are all about. But this year I was snooty and just passed the import people right by. I wanted to meet the artisanal producers, the (literally) mom and pop businesses. I collected a small stack of business cards but largely was unimpressed by the small-scale representation this year. All I really remember is getting a panini from Mezetta, whose booth eclipsed half of the North hall (and whose sandwiches, in all honesty, were excellent).
Here are the highlights:
HappyGoat Caramels- just what it sounds like. Caramel made from goat milk. Every bit as wonderful as that sounds. And they had a 15 year Malt Scotch caramel sauce that made my knees wobble. And SUCH nice people doing everything right: small production, sustainable farming. They got picked up by Williams-Sonoma and will be hugely successful next holiday season, just you wait and see.
La Quercia: Artisan salumi from heritage pigs (Berkshire, Tamworth) and is doing organic, small batch things to make prosciutto, bacon, pancetta and Acorn-fed coppa, lonza and so much more. They were sampling the Tamworth and Berkshire and they had me at hello.
Hodo Soy Beanery, located here in the East Bay where all good food originates, makes all sorts of high-quality soy products including yuba: thin sheets of fatty soymilk that can be cut, grilled, used like pasta and all kinds of fun things. They are also totally nice and organic/non-GMO and started out at local farmer’s markets.
I leave you with the vanilla and berry Strauss soft-serve above, clearly the best idea (and the best bite) of the entire show. May we all have Strauss Soft-Serve in our immediate futures.
My family has absolutely no ancestral clarity. The best I can tell you is that I’m from a whole mess of adopted children with no knowledge of their biological origins whatsoever. Thankfully, I am good at making things up as I go along.
For example, enchiladas.
Now, there’s a rumor that half of my people come from Texas, née Mexico. Unfortunately, the last generation to have any first hand knowledge of specifically WHO those people were aren’t talking because that would mean admitting that big lies were told, and they’re saving face.
Th
e only time I ever think of these things is when I’m cooking Mexican dishes. I don’t by any stretch claim to sense my Mexican ancestry while I’m making enchiladas. Let’s just put that out there right away. My mom learned everything she knew about food from Betty Crocker, circa 1972, and authentic traditional foods that ‘ain’t. I learned this (and likely only this: she loathes cooking more than I loathe gardening) dish from her.
But there’s something about the process of making verde sauce, grinding chiles, pickling onions and frying tortillas that just pulls me deeper into the moment to where I feel the most, well, me. And if I’m homesick, lonely, or otherwise broken, a plate of tamales and really good beans will turn things around like nothing else. It’s just replenishing, for whatever reason.
And with that, I present to you my enchiladas. They are NOT haute by any stretch, no no. They are soul food on a rainy day. I make them if I love you, and only IF. They are for friends, beloved roommates, family and off-year Thanksgivings. They’re for freezing if you’re a new mom, or doorstep gifts if you’re having a hard time. They come stuffed with whatever the season has to offer and only taste good because I keep reinventing them. And that’s about as close to cultural heritage as I’m ever gonna get.
Have you had a boiled egg and some nice crunchy kosher salt lately? You should. It is the bomb.
