Three Tastes: San Diego County

Technically, these are not all things that I tasted. Technically, there are not three. But this is a series and I love a series. And there are rules, which I love to break.

Two dogs in a car at Solana Beach.

Lavender says hello.

Market Gimlet @ Grant Grill, one delicious taste in an otherwise underwhelming meal.

One gas lamp.

SAN Bound: Underbelly in Little Italy

Underbelly
750 W Fir Street
San Diego, CA 92101
609-269-4626
Little Italy

Stopping in Little Italy with a friend Friday for a birthday glass of wine and a mani/pedi before picking up one of our favorite Texans at the airport, K and I found ourselves at newcomer Underbelly. Love at first sight, without a doubt. Underbelly is THE realization of the kind of bar D and I have dreamt about, schemed and discussed a million times while buying lottery tickets.

Underbelly is a yatai-style bar & restaurant. Yatai are food stalls in Japan, the type you have seen under train stations or near commuter centers with stools around a tiny cooking area typically serving ramen and other hot food as well as beer and sake. Underbelly has a simple multi-Asian-inspired menu with many tempting choices such as Oxtail Dumpling with Hoisin Glazed Short Rib, Char-Sui Belly, Charred Spicy Kimchee Ramen as well as several other ramen choices. I almost talked D into driving to San Diego Sunday afternoon so I could eat there for a full meal and maybe have a little Gas Lamp pub crawl on three-day weekend Saturday night #2. Failure to manipulate. :-(

Menu above. There are some simple rules about seating in this tiny venue. Underbelly has a walk up ordering system at the bar, and you cannot order unless there is an available seat for everyone in your party. Seats surround the horseshoe bar, line the walls facing the street and are actually on the sidewalk facing into the restaurant through the open windows that make up the outer walls.

Facing out.

Facing in. K and I grabbed a fast glass of wine prior to our pedis at Lena Nails down the street, and returned post-pedis for a second glass and a snack. This is a serious beer list including beers I have never heard of as well as Hitachino Nest, Chimay, Alagash White, Serpent's Stout, and so on. A few well chosen wines are stored cask style for space saving, and Urbanist reports Suntory Yamazaki whiskey and a raw bar are both on the way.

K and I shared a couple appies, as we planned to eat later with EKD.  Above, I nommed three smallish (but really not that small) Kurobuta weiners with whole grain mustard and kim chee. Inhaled.

K munched some beautiful Ahi Tataki with ponzu and sesame oil with definite flavors of yuzu hanging around the greens. Beautiful dish.

I loved the concept, the food, the friendly service from literally everyone working there and didn't even mind the funky ordering protocol...I just wish it wasn't 122 miles (exactly) away.

THE Chicken

This is THE chicken. This Bon Appetit recipe is very well reviewed on Epicurious and is now well cooked among my friends, my family and in my own kitchen here in Los Angeles and abroad. It seems unassuming at first glance, but with the smoked paprika, cumin, and cooling yogurt sauce it has distinctive Moroccan flavors, a little bite from chile pepper flakes and favors a carb conscious diet.

I have made this chicken at home many times because it is fast and inexpensive. I also made it last summer cooking for eleven people in a tiny London kitchen. What is up with the tiny-ness of UK kitchens? It's not like the British are miniature people. I also cooked it this fall for a very good friend's baby shower in Austin. I claim to this day J owes baby Laine's good looks and happy nature to this chicken. More recently, I threw it together for an Australian Open viewing party instead of ordering pizza, food win all around, IMO. 

This is very easy, and as stated, preparation is not time consuming. A couple things to remember. The chicken must be on the bone whether you choose to use breast pieces, or thighs and legs. The bones elevate the chicken from the cooking sheet allowing it to crisp a little all around. Also, the above pic shows the ingredients quite packed together in the cooking pan. Don't do this. Use a pan larger than you need (two if you are doubling the recipe) so the tomatoes and garbanzos have room to spread out and crisp as well. The beans should be toothsome and the tomatoes should get nice and roasty. Do what I say, not what I do.

My mom is a genius at following, interpreting and tweaking recipes, bringing them to further greatness. She suggests doubling the oil mixture, so you can be a little more generous with the yogurt sauce and a little extra spiced oil also leaves your chicken nicely moist.


I am having some formatting issues with this post, annoying the piss out of me on a Sunday morning. Read more after the jump

It's Friday Night and Nothing Much at All

There's nothing better than coming home from a business trip on Friday night to a busy weekend full of busyness loaded with promise. I'm not gonna cook tonight, but I'm gonna have a couple strong drinks and run around like a maniac with Jackson.

Drink du jour is Bacardi and Fresca. Fresca is an easy blend of sweet and bitter. I tm'd T to announce my new home cocktail a couple weeks ago, she responded "summer 2012". I thought, "now 2012". Drink and in the background my MIL's 75th birthday present, party tomorrow night. Can't wait.

These stools are one of the first things I see when I walk in the door. They are bar stools from HAC, or Hollywood Athletic Club, where I spent one evening a week swing dancing with the Moth back in the single days. Mom and I spied these years ago standing on Sunset, broken down and bitter outside the defunked Den of Antiquity. At the time, I thought, "I know Sue would appreciate these". Mom and I snapped them up; D and I later spent a small fortune to refurbish. Never regretted a penny. They are the center of our home. No lie.

On a joyful night guitar playing ensues, while dog mania accompanies on the paw-striking-floor (an under appreciated percussionary instrument).

When I take pictures like this I often remember something I said to a friend of a friend during the bravado of a foolish youth.

She was in the middle of a challenging photo journalism course at a London college and I was in the middle of vagabonding it around the world to avoid growing up in any way, shape or form. She lamented the fact her peers had the funds to travel abroad to take meaningful and striking photojournalistic shots in India, Dubai, South America...while her funds kept her firmly planted in the UK in un-newsworthy ground.

In the way only immature youth can, I surely informed her some of the most worthy shots are right in front of you, if you look deeply enough.

Not that I don't stand by my previous assessment. I do. I believe new happens all the time, in small and otherwise unnoticed events around us, we need to remain eyes wide open. However, many vagabond and somewhat iconoclastic years behind me... here I am. Happily snapping endless un-newsworthy shots of my dog, my husband's guitars and my Echo Park shack. There's nothing newsworthy here. Just a little joy on a Friday night. Waiting for someone to deliver dinner.

Jarlsberg: a Cheese, a Dip, an Ingredient and a Giveaway

Jarlsberg
From the Jarlsberg website:

A mild, semi-soft, part skim cheese made from cow’s milk. Jarlsberg has a buttery, rich texture with a mild, nutty flavor characterized by large round holes. It is an all-purpose cheese, good for both cooking and for eating as a snack. Choose from Jarlsberg regular or Jarlsberg Lite, available in slices, wedges, and random weight pieces. Jarlsberg is the #1 selling specialty cheese in the USA.



When I think of Jarlsberg, I think of one of the few foodie moments in my favorite guilty pleasure film, The Devil Wears Prada. Mid-movie, after Andy turns down the beautiful, fatty and carblicious grilled cheese Nate has made, Nate says, "Give that to me, there's like ten dollars worth of Jarlsberg in there". I would never turn down a sandwich made by Adrien Grenier. If it were made of Jarlsberg, I might eat it off his stomach

This month, Jarlsberg is running a promotion asking food bloggers all over to post a recipe using Jarlsberg dip...myself included. The Super Bowl has inspired me to make finger food easily shared but healthfully made. Oven roasted sweet potatoes (crispy goodness) and a Jarslberg Dip based sauce with a kick!

Jarslberg Dip combines Jarlsberg, mayo and sweet red onion...and you should be able to procure Jarlsberg Dip premade (just in time for the Superbowl) at Gelsons, Von's, Ralph's, Safeway and Lucky's, to name a few spots. It would be great in one of many recipes, but also just used alone for munching on crackers, a dip for crudite, spread on grilled french bread or ciabatta.

Jarlsberg Smoked Paprika Dip

4 ounces Jarlsberg Dip

1 ounce plain Greek yogurt

2 tsp smoked paprika

1 tsp sriracha

Combine ingredients, cover and chill.

Oven Roasted Sweet Potato Fries

1.5 pounds sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into .5 inch wedges

.25 cup olive oil

.5 tsp kosher salt

.5 tsp Italian seasoning or other herbs (I also love these fries with rosemary or even cilantro)

Preheat oven to 425F. Line baking sheet with aluminum foil and cooking spray. Toss strips in bowl with oil, herbs and salt. Spread strips in one layer on baking sheet, not touching. Bake for 30 minutes, turning every 10 minutes for even browning. Serve warm with cool dip.

The giveaway:

Tailgate tote stocked with the following:

• Jarlsberg Lite Cheese
• Jarlsberg Cheese Dip
• Snofrisk (Norwegian style cream cheese)
• Crisp breads
• Honey cremes
• Honey vinegar

To enter giveaway, click through to 28 Ways to Leap Into Jarlsberg Dip icon below.

The entirety of this post was monetarily sponsored by Jarlsberg, my time, my groceries and my belly!

Three Tastes: Ludobites 8.0

Ludobites 8.0

Lemon Moon

12200 West Olympic (at Bundy)

Los Angeles, CA 

310.442.9191

Despite not having won the reservation lottery (love this concept) that secured patrons a table in the current Ludobites iteration, I got under Ludo's wife's skin enough times on Twitter for her to offer us a table when one came available. I am extremely grateful. Going to each issue of Ludobites is like decorating your food experiences with a unique jewel. For those who don's know, Ludobites is a small plates pop-up concept. Every time I have been, Ludo has toyed with flavors, ethnic perspectives, classic technique, and composition to create new dishes to wow diners. No two times are ever alike; I still hear bloggers reminisce over the infamous Foie Crocque Monsieur.

I admit, Ludobites has changed since I started going in 2009. Mostly the crowd has changed: the size and who is there. Back in the Breadbar days, I couldn't drop in without running into bloggers I know such as Kevineats, Gastronomnom (where the eff is his blog anyway), the Gastronomer, and so on. This issue finds @chefludo in a larger space, seemingly better set up to run a restaurant (although I understand the kitchen is tiny) inhabiting Lemon Moon in the first floor of the Westside Media Center where the permanent restaurant clears out bright and early for Ludo's prep team. Every table on the considerably larger floor is filled except a two top and two spots at the communal dining table before we arrive. and before we leave there are 10 people waiting for us to do so. Ludo's show Ludobites America has not hurt his popularity, nor have his well edited and extremely entertaining visits to Top Chef Masters. Everyone wants a bite of Ludo.

My three favorite bites of the night.

Chicken Tandoori Crackling. This was far and away D's favorite., it appealed to his Jewish culinary background. He will always eat pâté because it reminds him of Mom's chopped liver. This is elevated chopped liver however, sea salted and scooped gently onto fried chicken skin. Four orders of this, people. Ludo swung by our table before we left wondering why we weren't ordering dessert. 

FOUR ORDERS, that's WHY!

Uni Creme Brulee. I hesitated to order this...it sounds exotic and fun but almost gratuitously over the top. Like a foie gras crocque monsieur with cherry jam on squid ink bread, you ask? Yes, kind of like that.

The. Perfect. Bite. Uni creme, bruleed sugar, and salmon roe. This wowed. I would have licked the ramekin had we not been seated so visibly by the front door. Savory, sweet, salty and that uni taste of the sea in the best way possible.

Pics courtesy of iPhone and Finger Focus app...and at the table they looked way better than they look on my monitor this morning. Eh-bien, tant pis.

Veal. I was excited to try this because it was debuting for the first time on the menu. The flavor profiles are huge with the rich meat covered in a dried black olive tapenade. Olives imparted a slightly bitter flavor not dissimilar from a little char on the meat, but the meat was cooked perfectly medium/medium rare without a trace of char. It reminded me ever so slightly of steak au poivre in a really good French (not steak) restaurant...

There were more bites. We tried lots of things on the fun and reasonably priced menu. But these were my top three.  Thank you Ludo, for your creativity. And thank you Krissy, for being the best hostess. 

Bäco Mercat

Bäco Mercat

408 S Main Street

Los Angeles, CA 90013

213.687.8808

I feel like I have been stalking chef Josef Centeno for years. A huge fan of Meson G (although I seem to be a fan of every restaurant in that Melrose Avenue space including long gone Alex and  current Hatfield's), experienced the flash in the pan that was Lot 1 right by my house, really like the food at wildly popular Lazy Ox, and now Bäco Mercat is my new most favorite place.

A couple weeks back we spent an evening at Bäco (as it's called by the hostess answering the phone) with friends and loved it so much we experienced cravings for the food immediately. We returned this weekend to have a pre-Wilco show meal. Just as good the second time around, maybe better.

The bar guys. The bar guy on the right on the photo has an excellent bartending pedigree, we know him from his days at Grace (is Grace defunked, is it not defunked) and Mozza. He makes a great drink and gives all around excellent service. You can't see his face in the shot, but he sports some excellent facial hair.

This weekend's visit to Bäco saw a change in policy regarding adult beverages. Please see above vodka martini. During the first visit, we were told we could only order cocktails from the cocktail menu. The bar policy (despite having a full bar) was to make market driven cocktails designed to compliment the food. The end. This week we were made twin martinis no questions asked, no explanations needed. They may have had to stray from their initial vision, but this is a big win in the name of customer service in my opinion.

I love okra. My grandmother used to grow her own okra, pick it from the garden, coat it in cornmeal, fry and serve. No okra will ever be better than the okra I had at Grandma's. But this is close. Blistered okra cooked on the grill and served just barely coated in a beautiful red sauce. I inhaled this both visits.

I blame it on the shrimp. This crispy shrimp is one of the reasons I am such a picky bitch. Anytime we visit a small plates focused menu, D jumps in before I get a chance to read the menu and immediately orders whatever catches his eye. By the time there are 10 small plates ordered, we're too far in for me to add my .02. THIS visit I specified, he wasn't allowed to order until I was ready. And I wanted my own food. I wanted this shrimp and I did not want to share. Crispy shrimp with the heads on, lots of lime wedges and a smoked paprika aoili. If I could, I would eat this for breakfast right now. I squeezed lime all over each shrimp to soften whatever the shrimp is coated in (it's very crispy, needs a little softening, especially the head bits). Next I dip in just a tiny bit of the aoili. So good. Soooooooo good.

Mussels in light creamy broth, grilled bread. Mussel perfection.

My favorite flatbread in all of Los Angeles. What j'adore about this flatbread is all the beautiful fresh herbs on top. We ordered this both visits. This is simply "the tomato & cheese", with smoked tomato, jalapeno and basil. But on top after cooking they throw generous branches of dill and cilantro. Just heavenly.

It's close, it's priced reasonably and the food is that perfect mixture of rustic and refined. I wonder if we can go tonight.

Images in this post brought to you by the iPhone and Finger Focus. My Nikon may never leave the house again.

Eggs en Cocotte in My Pajamas

Planning on working from home today, I lay in bed at the late hour of 6:15 trolling the Internet on my phone. I look at food blogs, read about this and that, engage in the wonderful directionless treasure hunt that is web surfing. Today I came across a post about Egg Slut on Squid Ink, LA Weekly's food blog. Coddled eggs in a baby food jar with potato, butter and cream? OMG, I leapt from the bed, threw on some sweats, put a leash on the dog and headed immediately west toward the Egg Slut truck on Fairfax to be there waiting for one when they opened.

Lies. After laying in bed for another thirty minutes pondering the ceiling, I shuffled my pajama clad body into the kitchen and investigated the refrigerator. Potato? Check. Eggs? Duh. Cream? Lactaid. Cheese? Is this a question? Etc. I ambled over the my desktop, reviewed the chemistry of eggs en cocotte by checking out a few blogs, then headed back into the kitchen to see what I could throw together. I sure af was not going to the store.

I boiled one medium red potato, then pureed with a little goat's milk butter, leaving the skin on. Saute half an onion until translucent, add herbs. We had cilantro on hand, I used about a child's handful.

I deglazed the onion/cilantro pan with maybe a cup of Lactaid (someone in the house has lactose issues) and continued to cook until reduced about a third. Grate a cup or so of cheese (I used Parmesan, but was tempted by the pepper jack). Puree herb and onion mix, adding a few tablespoons of chicken broth to keep mixture from sticking to the side of the food processor. Butter or non-stick spray two large or four small ramekins. I used my two giant ramekins because I am piggy when it comes to eggs. Pour the herb puree into the bottom of your ramekins.

Split the potato puree between your ramekins, place in gently. The entire contents will naturally mix a little but you want some layering action.

Sprinkle cheese over the potatoes, don't go nuts. You are going to need to top the entire mess with cheese before it goes into the oven, reserve some of said cheese to do so.

Gently crack two eggs over cheese in large ramekins. If you use small ramekins, one egg per cup. If I had been less piggy more thoughtful, I would have also thrown together a fruit salad from the cara cara oranges and pears we have on hand and made two small ramekins instead of two large and no fruit salad.  

Don't forget to feed the dog.

Split the milk/cream/dairy reduction between ramekins. It should mostly cover the eggs. See the pretty cilantro puree seeping up to the top around the edges? Top with cheese.

There are several ways to cook eggs en cocotte. I used a bain-marie in the oven. To make one, I boiled a kettle full of water then filling the broiler pan halfway immediately before adding ramekins. Oven should be at 350F. In the end, I was running out of time as D yelled at me from the his weight lifting/Internet surfing/man sanctuary that he needed to eat within 10 minutes, so I turned the oven up to 400F for the last 7 minutes. I think total cooking time was about 20 minutes, maybe? I measured by the firmness of the yolks. You can decide how firm you like your yolks. Bear in mind, this is a creamy dish anyway. You might enjoy your eggs a little firmer than normal because of all the saucy things going on alongside them.

Serve the dish with toast or something for dipping. Essentially, I took something very sinful and made it a little healthier. It was still delicious, D was really amazed (after having looked slightly annoyed at all the dairy going into the dish, 11 years married and cooking for him, he still doesn't trust that I know what he likes to eat, ffs).

I am now full as a tick, still in my pajamas, and planning to have a really good workout later. Much later.

In Defense of the Bar

I love a bar. Pretty much any bar will do. A wine bar, hotel bar, neighborhood dives, a subterranean bar with the hipsters sporting unfortunate hair, a craft bar, an airport bar, the bar at a steakhouse sitting on a tall stool with a leather seat and a martini, casino bars, strip club bars, the bar down the hill from my house with mariachi music and flaming margaritas; even a suburban bar at a suburban restaurant where the singles mingle and the sweet and sour flows. I enjoy sitting at a bar.

As 2012 really starts to get under way, I am finding my thoughts in defense of the bar. I write in defense of the old school bar, the bar with everyone in mind where the bartender handles a crowd with silent or loud lightning fast panache, making drinks with the speed of a gun slinger at high noon.

Historically, my favorite bars, let me tell them to you. The Post in downtown Sacramento, way back in the eighties when I first turned 21, along with the Brass Rail across the street from the capitol building where I chronologically turned 21. Add the Round Corner Tavern with its pool table to the Sacto list.  The Pilsner Inn at Church and Market in San Francisco was a favorite when I lived there, and before the remodel The Owl Tree up the hill at Post and Taylor. I also lived for the times my roommate and I would swing by the Redwood Room at the Four Seasons Clift in the early nineties before it became a Morgan's property. After moving to LA, I fell in love with Max's on Fairfax (now The Dime) right around the corner from my house and I used to love to drink vodka gimlets at Jones on Santa Monica. I spent eight years sitting on my ass at the east end of the long bar at Three Clubs where I met my husband in a dark dank corner. Nowadays, I find myself eating and drinking at the Mexican bar down the hill from my house, popping into the Library Bar now and again and once a month or so dropping in at 4100 for old time's sake.  All these spots hold a special place in my heart. A place you can sidle up to the bar, utter a friendly or subdued how-dee-do, and wet your whistle with something pretty standard to leave the day behind or celebrate or just about whatever.

These bars are all what I think of as an old school bar. Not really old school in the old school that was the school when my parents were young and free. Old school in the sense that I am usually anywhere from ten to twenty years older than most bartenders in today's new school bars and I think of old school as being the school to which I had grown accustomed prior to the new school being new.

All of this isn't to say by any means that I don't like the new generation of bars that have overtaken our drinking habits on both coasts, I do like them very much (yes, NYC, we know you had them first). I love all bars. I really like a bar.

But you know the type of new bar I mean. If you don't know, you need to drink out of the house more often. A craft bar is a bar where the provenance of every label is not only known but  a point of pride. Cocktails are made with artistry using herbs, local and seasonal produce, agave nectar and berries muddled together with unlikely combinations of spirits creating heretofore unknown yet delightful flavor combinations. However. I take issue with this new generation of craft bars on a few points. (And yes, I know if you are from the East coast you have known about these bars forever, like that band no one else knows about yet). My issues are as follows:

I don't always want a dispatch on the glories of Velvet Falernum, an essay about our heralded return to Genever, a monologue about  how vodka drinkers only use vodka to get drunk (and?) and miss so much in the way of flavor profiles by ignoring the rest of the bar, a veritable dissertation about the shape and henceforth melting properties of ice based on total surface area of aforementioned cube. And I certainly never want to hear from another bartender that if the owner knew they were changing the recipe of my drink slightly to suit my taste buds there's a chance s/he would get shit canned. No lie, this happened a few months back.

I theorize my taste for certain cocktails evolved as a rejection of what was popular in my youth.  I was drunk for the first time ever on a stomach heaving combination of cheap champagne and gin, something readily available in someone's parents' liquor cabinet. The flavor of gin henceforth holds no appeal. Coming of age in the eighties meant being subject to a decade specific style of cocktails including Sex on the Beach, B-52s, sweet and sour based margaritas and daiquiris (heresy), Long Island Iced Tea, the Fuzzy Navel and so on. I have been drinking vodka and soda since I can remember.

Given the right bartender and a collaborative environment, a leopard can change its spots. A few well constructed drinks around town that I love include the Old Cuban at The Association, The Chanel at Pattern Bar near FIDM, pretty much anything made by Matt Biancaniello at the Roosevelt in Hollywood, and recently a custom made multi-citrus vodka gimlet at Hatfields. And the daiquiris at La Descarga? All the daiquiris.

I love a bar, and even in a new school bar am excited to see the drink list and experiment with your pet ingredient. However, reserve the lecture and the subtle eye rolling if I order something pedestrian. The only thing I don't like about a bar is not being able to wait to leave.

Martinis Around Town: Barbarella, ink., Baco Mercat

As I looked through recent iPhone snaps last night, I realized I have a nice overview of my eats and drinks of the last few weeks but nothing really in depth.  I also realized I have been drinking a lot of martinis. Ummm....since my favorite martini is basically vodka with more vodka and an olive snorkeling around at the bottom, I have consequently been drinking a lot of the hard stuff. Maybe my liver would appreciate a wine diet for awhile. At any rate.

Of the three recorded, we start with Barbarella. Barbarella is a nice establishment, the bartending style not incredibly modern. An approach, I'll be honest, I don't have any lack of appreciation for. This particular Ketel One martini was ice cold with ice chips from the small cubes and the shaking motion floating on top. I like the little chips, even if they do water down my vodka a bit. Note the run-of-the-mill pimiento olives, two please.

Next up, martini ink. style. Coupe glass strutting the mixology approach to bartending. I love a coupe, the way it sits non-precariously in your hand. My mom has these gorgeous cut crystal coupes she inherited from Auntie Marge (iirc), they are quite a bit larger than this and I love a martini in one of those. I admit it's partially the size. The coupes at ink. are more modest size-wise. Three olives, rested crosswise on a wooden toothpick, no ice chips at all. They use a rather massive cube that prevents chipping during shaking. The vodka in this was an obscure potato vodka from eastern Europe and it was delicious. My favorite martini of the three.

Jerry rigging it. Baco Mercat doesn't make martinis. I have a mouthful to say about this, but I shall self edit because their food was phenomenal, truly. They deserve every dollar of success because their service was even better than the food. Baco Mercat is really doing it right despite their bar policy. A large vodka on one giant rock with a side of lemon minus the lemon. I enjoyed every drop.