idiot fish

My cousin sent this to me. He knows a lot about weird foods and World War II submarines. I love him.

Now, here are a few cool things I learned about Idiot Fish on the internets:
-it can survive for five months without eating
-it can live to 50 years old
-the species is at least 10 million years old!!

Unjustly named because of its bulbous eye, and endangered because of deliciousness, it seems idiot fish can't win.

jew can do it: a christmas cookie myth busted

My mom sent me this image in an email with the subject line "You can do it." My entire life she's told me that Jews can't make cutout cookies, that it's just not in our DNA. I explain this to my goy friends a couple times a year and it always provokes a bit of scoff and an eye roll. It's an understandable reaction for liberal arts post racial types. I only half-believed it myself. That's what I say. Except that in high school I had a friend who got to write in class essays on his computer because he had clinically bad handwriting, so a genetic predisposition to ugly cookies doesn't seem entirely impossible. Also, early tests of my cookie cutting prowess indicated that she was correct.

She made these cookies on Monday. Note the precision of the snowflake tips, the expressive bend in the necks of the cookie men--they're lovely. I don't know what to believe anymore.

speaking of gingerbread...

My latest post, "4 Local Gingerbread Structures of Note: How Southern California Builds Christmas," a fun little piece inspired by this little Jew's unlikely love of a little thing called Christmas, received considerable likeage on Facebook last week. I'm very flattered, but these achievements are seldom reached alone...

The lead photo was taken by my favorite almost 21 year old, Jewel Peeler. It doesn't nearly do her justice, because she is quite the budding photographer. You can find her work here and sometimes here.




Gingerbread boardwalk at the Ritz-Carlton Laguna Niguel.

we need these: ninjabread men

For Christmas last year we made gingerdads, gingerbread men in the various costumes of Joe's dad: Iron(bread) man, Breadhead man (he has a Grateful Dead shirt; it's a pun), etc. The dog ate all except one of them while we were out, before we were able to take photos.

Today I found these: ninjabread men, cookie cutters posed for holiday ninja action. We've already decided to make gingerbread moms this year, but next year these are so on.

photographic lunch at Tender Greens Hollywood

Today's special at TG HW: roasted fingerling fries with parmesan, $3. Thoroughly delicious.

tomato soup with dumplings

Because it's winter, and because my grilled cheese needed a buddy, I made tomato soup. My first ever.

I adapted this recipe from one I found on A Cozy Kitchen, a food blog authored by a pair of LA girls, friends of an old friend, which I discovered during a bout of Facebook stalking. The photos are absolutely spectacular, and judging by the results of this test, the tastes are quite sound.

Their soup looks soupier than mine, perhaps because I used a food processor instead of an immersion blender, and redder, which is odd, since I added a can of tomato paste for color and because at first the flavor was surprisingly bland. I realize now that I made a number of modifications to the recipe to get it to taste: I used more butter and a different type of cheese in the dumplings; initially the dough was just too dry. And if I were to make it again, I'd use chicken stock instead of vegetable (because sometimes vegetable stock might as well be brown water), and I'd get rid of the chickpeas altogether. Also, I'd make smaller dumplings.

INGREDIENTS

Soup
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed
½ teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon cumin
¼ teaspoon chili powder
1 ¾ cup vegetable stock
1 14oz can chopped tomatoes
1 can tomato paste

Dumplings
1 cup all purpose flour
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons butter, chopped
2 tablespoons grated cheese (they used parmesan, I used feta)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh herbs
3 tablespoons water

INSTRUCTIONS

Heat the oil over medium-high heat in a large saucepan and sauté the onion for 2-3 minutes or until soft. Add the garlic, cumin, coriander and chili powder and cook for 1 minute. Add the stock and tomatoes and blend with an immersion blender(OR FOOD PROCESSOR!).

Stir in the chickpeas and bring to a boil. Once it boils reduce the heat and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes.

To make the dumplings, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add in the chopped butter and knead with your fingers until the mixture starts to resemble fine bread crumbs. Stir in the cheese and herbs, and then make a well in the center of the mixture. Add in the water and mix together (use your hands).

Divide the dough into 8 portions and roll into small balls. [ED NOTE: These small dough balls fluff up when they're cooked. Try dividing the dough into 12 small balls to get a greater quantity of smaller, more delicate dumplings.] Add the dumplings to the soup, cover and simmer for 20 more minutes.

black toast

I'm very grateful for Design Sponge. It is not merely my window to beautiful things made by beautiful people with their beautiful hands, my daily source for inspiration and bridge to the craft community, Design Sponge is also my blissful, if momentary break from my job, an alternative to watching people walk in and out of the bathroom, which faces my office. It's my escape from all of the round gray desks in my life, and more.

Today I am grateful for Black Toast, one of ten finalists from round one of DS's Design Your Own Alphabet Contest. Toast is my favorite alphabet for obvious reasons (I could eat my words, with butter), but Kern Over, which constructs letters out of various styles of comb-over, and Sweat Pants, a sort of YMCA type type, are close runners up. I'm also grateful for them.

Emily the Strange soda, a better investment than American real estate

BNWT Jones Soda Releases Collectable Emily the Strange Labels

Aaron and I went to a fun little masquerade party for the Emily the Strange pop up shop at Royal/T cafe and happened across these limited edition bottles of Jones soda. Ridiculous, because they're just limited edition labels, not really for drinking, but a pretty great find actually: Jones only made 600 of these babies and Emily the Strange is a sort of unofficial collectable queen, so you know, A + B = C (ASH). Buy some, and sell them on ebay.

Naresh's, THAT post

"Naresh Mehra Built Main Street with His Bare Hands, Opens Eponymous Restaurant"

Did I do it? My mom didn't particularly like it, and my editor cut two paragraphs, but my favorite writer assures me that it is actually very good. So I'm still undecided, but I have a hard time liking the stuff I write.

I've said before that I think I make things too precious, I project holiness onto the commonplace so writing about any subject becomes stifling, my words inadequate. It's probably a compound of being Jewish and hyper-literate. I mean, I cry during commercials for women's deodorant and read into the subtext of croissants. I don't know that stuff is appropriate for food blogging, which seems best when it's fast-paced and specific, but if I ever write a book, you bes' believe it'll be full of poetic waxings on the perfection of fun-size Milky Way Midnight and reasons not to eat an ice cream sandwich while walking.

That said, Naresh's really is that place you want to bring your friends. It's open late and feels like you could stay all night, sharing small plates, freezing time. Naresh himself is a delight. I wish him all the best in his new business.

There is much from this last month that I'm proud of. Cool people and cool things, back-to-back and all strung together. My proximity to them has made me feel powerfully alive, and grown-up.

It has also overwhelmed me, all this coolness. Strung together in my datebook as it is, in different colors denoting the categorical divisions I've invented to "organize" my life, packed in so tightly that during the short hours when I'm alone, I can motivate no greater action than watching NBC shows on my laptop--this coolness has kept me from writing, has inched out one of the best and most validating parts of me. I mean that I have done that; I've neglected my work.

I read these words now and they remind me of something I heard Francis Ford Coppola say about pretentiousness. They feel clumsy and inarticulate, the reaching words of someone who used to wield words. But merely writing them is such a deep relief to me, to this nebulous physical weight I've been carrying behind my eyes. I ask myself for the thousandth time if I'm a writer, and today I tell myself that I must be since writing is the only thing that makes me sick when I don't do it.

A writer. The title makes me beam and shiver. Looking at it conjures dubious images of my path, and I muse that perhaps it's just the finality of the period that scares me. I already feel a sense of competition and rejection, and exhaustion from this seemingly relentless hustle of life -- but I know (at least rationally) that all of this is self-imposed. I wonder if should I go back to school, worry that I won't make enough money, that I won't be able to have a family, that I'll end up with nothing. I'm 25 now and I'm scared to be what I am.

I don't want to be scared and I don't want to be neglectful. I want to self-actualize and make beautiful things. I want to be brave. Tomorrow I'm going to start a new post for the Weekly about a very special restaurant in Venice. I'm going to try to communicate love and professionalism with an earnestness that I that I haven't used before. I want to know that I can. It'll probably go up on Thursday, and I'll repost it here then.

still life with puffed rice

In his essay on gift-giving, Emerson says "the only gift is a portion of thyself." Gifts should be individualized, they should covey your biography, and be unique to what you (the giver) do. Thus, the shepherd should give a lamb, the sewer, a needle-pointed handkerchief--and the casual crafter, Hello Kitty lover should do something like this. This Hello Kitty rice crispy treat was made for me by my friend Maryrose. The bow and the eyes are made with M & Ms and there's a mini chocolate chip for the nose. Though it is just one of the insanely cool birthday presents I received this year, it is perhaps the only one that's Emerson approved.

birthday cake

My mom's birthday is one week before mine so we share a cake. It is a chocolate cake from Rose Cafe in Venice, with alternating layers of chocolate cake and chocolate mouse with raspberries, topped with chocolate ganache. And it is enormous. My mom, who is famous for under-ordering food stuffs (like me, she is 5'' tall and just over 100 lbs., and thusly assumes that everyone eats the way she does--bird-like), does not skimp on cake. In the days following a party, she has been known to eat leftovers of this cake for breakfast lunch and dinner, until it is completely finished. However, this year she left town after our party and therefore wouldn't be home to eat the said leftovers. Or so I assumed.

Today I went home to discover an entire half cake in the freezer, wrapped in tin foil and two gallon-sized plastic bags.

I love you, mom.

Emma Courtland is on the pulse of L.A. dining

If you're looking for sardonic restaurant news, or stories about chocolate shaped like poo poo, or screening announcements for food films that "bite back," check in next week. Restaurant Musical Chairs, Mexican Edition: Frida's Tacos in, Santito's Tortas out is almost real reporting.

Sara's roasted bell pepper bruschetta

We had bell pepper and people coming over so...yeah, this is what happens when my roommate Sara wings it. Everything's made to taste so we don't have real recipe for this. It's just roasted pepper, peeled dry (that is, NOT under the water), chopped with basil, then salted (heavily), peppered, with some olive oil, and maybe some acid (she can't remember; we started drinking on the early-side) on little toasts topped with sliced, melted mozzarella. Freaking delish.

Photographic Lunch at Thuan Phat

These pan-fried root cakes were the most edible thing on the menu at this market-adjacent Vietnamese cafe in San Diego.

They Draw & Cook, and hand-written recipes

There are few things in the world that are more wonderful to me than the hand-written recipe.

While visiting my grandmother's house last week, I spent hours perusing the cookbooks in her kitchen. They're filled with her favorite recipes, transcribed from ancient issues of Gourmet and Bon Apetit, always credited, or from her friends who (I like to imagine) traded them like gossip or quasi-folk remedies at parties. The latter have titles like "Sybil Bracker's Famous Meatloaf" and "Marcy Shapiro's Delicious Fruit Cake." Adapted in her slanted finishing school handwriting on now browning paper, they seem to me like integral but forgotten history, as if they might contain an answer to life's most pressing questions, or, at the very least, a cure for cancer.

They don't, but there is still something wise about them. The romance of sharing knowledge among women coupled with the distinct beauty of my grandmother's script, maybe. I used to receive a letter from her every month when I was little and to me, her handwriting is her signature, her seal of approval. Her pithy commentary too; even the typed recipes have little hand-written notes and food stains, a reminder of their continued evolution. I'm sure it's all three--the sharing, the script, the evolution--they're all so personal, like a living history.

Which brings me to this, the hand-drawn recipe.

I don't often check in with They Draw & Cook, a blog of recipe renderings by different artists and illustrators, but every time I do, I'm amazed with the beauty and coolness of its offerings. The recipes, which are often basic, scrambled eggs, spaghetti and meatballs type-things, become incredibly personal and meaningful when drawn by hand. I am so thoroughly gladdened that this project exists.

IN PRINT again

The post I wrote about Chew, along with my plug for Nuclear Comics. 2x cool!

photographic lunch at samosa house east

garlic naan

my first bread pudding

20 minutes before people arrived for our last minute Labor Day BBQ, I still didn't know I was going to make this. But we didn't know how many people were going to show up/ if we were going to have enough food and we'd had these two loaves of stale sourdough in the fridge for about a month so, you know, transitive property.

I adapted this recipe from one I found on grouprecipes.com. I used a higher baking temperature to begin with, so that the top formed a nice crust. I also subbed dried cherries for raisins and eliminated the meringue topping altogether. For my next round, I'm going to try adding fresh stone fruit and maybe brulee the top.

SOURDOUGH BREAD PUDDING WITH CHERRIES

INGREDIENTS

1 large round loaf of stale sourdough bread, torn into rough chunks
1 cup dried cherries
4 Tbs. butter
1/2 tsp cinnamon
6 eggs - yolks
1 cup sugar
1/3 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
6 cups milk
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 425°. Combine bread, cherries, and butter in a baking dish, mine was a large round tin. Sprinkle on cinnamon. In a large bowl mix well the egg yolks, 1 cup of sugar, salt, 1 tsp vanilla, and milk. Pour over bread, make sure to get the pieces at the top too. Bake for 30 minutes. Reduce the heat to 350° and continue baking for 20 minutes, or until the custard appears to be absorbed. Remove and let cool.

F You Fest

Last Saturday, we all schlepped downtown to L.A. State Historic Park for the 7th annual F Yeah Fest. Despite the negative food situation I wrote about in F Yeah Fest: An Effing Food Nightmare, the day was actually very positive. Blue sky, lots of dancing, and, if you were willing to wait for them, super delicious french fries. Just a lot of love about.

PALETA TEST KITCHEN, PART 5

First, I'm sorry about the crappy photo. You can't tell here but these paletas were lovely, ivory speckled with black. Someday I'll have bigger windows.

This recipe for VANILLA RICE PUDDING POPS was adapted from a recipe for COCONUT MANGO RICE PUDDING POPS on Apartment Therapy, which was adapted from one in Saveur.

These were definitely one of the best pops I made. They were delicately sweet, soft and creamy. Some people told me they were a bit filling, but I'm biased as this was the first time I'd ever cooked with a whole vanilla bean. Scraping out the little seeds from the pod was something of a moonwalk for me, exciting and a bit scary, and it made my hands smell wonderful. Also, the bean I used was gifted to my roommate Sara by Top Chef Michael Votaggio. So yeah, I'm biased.


VANILLA RICE PUDDING POPS

INGREDIENTS
1 15-ounce can coconut milk, shaken
1 1/4 cups whole milk
1 vanilla bean, halved lengthwise
1 cup arborio rice
1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
2 cups water
1 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

DIRECTIONS
Whisk the coconut milk and whole milk together in a saucepan. Scrape the seeds out of the vanilla bean and stir in. Stir in the rice, and bring the whole mixture to a simmer over medium heat. Turn the heat down to low and cook for about 25 minutes, or until the rice is tender.

Whisk in the sweetened condensed milk, water, vanilla extract, and salt. Let it cool and then divide the mixture between cups and freeze. After about 1.5 hours, insert popsicle stick and let freeze over night.

PALETA TEST KITCHEN, PART 4

STRAWBERRY MINT ICE POP

INGREDIENTS
1 basket ripe strawberries
1 can strawberry juice
1 cup lemonade
1/2 cup mint
1 lemon

DIRECTIONS
Slice ripe strawberries lengthwise (so that they look like thin hearts). Chop mint extra finely. Put both in a jar. Add the lemonade and refridgerate overnight to let the flavors infuse.

Pour the contents of the jar into a food processor. Add the juice from half a lemon and pulse so that the strawberries remain pulpy. Mix in 1/4 can of strawberry juice. Taste the mix. If it's not very sweet, add sugar until it seems like it's just a bit too sweet. Divide the mixture between cups and freeze. After about 40 minutes, insert popsicle stick and let freeze over night.

PALETA TEST KITCHEN, PART 3

Another strange thing about ice pops: popsicle sticks are impossible to find. This kind of blew my mind because they seem so common. I mean, are they not the basic build blocks of any and all structure? Ultimately, I fashioned my own sticks from coffee stirrers and chopsticks, halfed and sanded. If you're using the stirrers, I recommend doubling up. Single sticks hold up okay, but the doubles feel much much sturdier. (Of course, it wasn't until after I'd completed my pops that a friend suggested I try looking for popsicle sticks at the 99 cent store. I haven't checked, but I'm 75% sure that they definitely have them.)


The recipe below for BANANA COCONUT ICE POPS is from a series originally printed in the LA Times. The bananas I used were not as ripe as the recipe calls for so I had to add more honey. I also found them to be a bit icy. Should I choose to make them again, I'll definitely use riper bananas (for sweetness, and more of those adorable speckles) and try adding a bit of sugar too.

BANANA COCONUT POPS

INGREDIENTS
1 1/2 cups full-fat Greek yogurt
2 bananas, very ripe
1/2 cup whole milk
1/2 cup coconut milk
3 tablespoons honey
3/4 cup unsweetened coconut flakes

DIRECTIONS
Place the yogurt, bananas, milk, coconut milk and honey in a blender. Blend until smooth. Stir in coconut flakes, then re-cover the blender and pulse briefly to combine.

Divide the puréed mixture evenly among your pop molds, leaving about one-half inch of headroom at the top of each one. Once they are filled, tap the molds gently against the counter, allowing the purée to settle evenly into the molds and dislodging any air bubbles that may have formed. Cover the molds and fit with popsicle sticks, if necessary. Freeze the molds until completely firm, at least 5 hours.

for geeks and gastronomes...

Full disclosure: I picked up this book with the intention of writing about it. It was food-related in a round about way, and categorically seemed to fit that certain type of weirdo niched that I look for in subjects. Plus, I'd get to plug Joe's old comic book shop, Nuclear Comics & Skate Shop in Laguna Niguel ;). Anyway, I loved it. I think everyone should read it.

Here's
Chew: A Comic Book Series for Geeks and Gastronomes

PALETA TEST KITCHEN, PART 2

Here's the other thing I learned during my week-long paleta frenzy: as much as I would like to make my pops out of nothing but fruits, juices, herbs, and dairy, the key to softer pops is sugar. Sugar lowers the freezing point of liquid, acting as a "lubricant between ice crystals," so they don't turn out so rock hard. (Thank you Marthastewart.com)



PINEAPPLE CRANBERRY KIWI POPS

INGREDIENTS
1 pineapple
8 kiwi
1/4 cup dried cranberries, chopped
sugar
1 lemon

DIRECTIONS
Heat equal parts sugar and water to make SIMPLE SYRUP. Let it cool. Puree chopped pineapple in a food processor. Add quarter cup of simple syrup. Strain pineapple mix to remove the leftover pulp. Fill molds half way and freeze. Puree chopped kiwi in food processor. Add the juice of 1 lemon and 1/4 cup simple syrup. Remove the molds filled half way with pineapple from the freezer. Distribute the pieces of chopped dried cranberries between them, then top with the kiwi mixture. Return molds to the freezer. After about 50 minutes, insert popsicle sticks and let them freeze overnight.

PALETA TEST KITCHEN, PART 1

To set things straight: "Popsicle" is a brand. Like Kleenex, or Band Aid, or any of the other brands that have successfully worked themselves into the American lexicon in place of generic terms without us (me) knowing. What we're talking about here is "ice pops," frozen water-based desserts on a stick, and "paletas," like Latin American ice pops, though not necessarily water-based. Paletas are not necessarily frozen either, but that's a subject for a different post.

Two weeks ago I became overwhelmingly inspired to test kitchen paletas. I can no longer remember what sparked it, but I imagine that while cruising my favorite crafting blogs I stumbled across a batch with particularly charming shape and bright happy colors and became smitten. That's usually how it goes anyway. So I spent the better part of a week in the kitchen, making a mess, buying ingredients that I thought I'd use but didn't (Greek yogurt), dying the tips of my fingers, running out of space in the freezer, eating Lean Cuisines to make room in the freezer...and ultimately concocting a proud batch of pops. I found that some of my favorite recipes were the traditional fruit and simple syrup mix, but if I weren't so terrified of wasting fruit (fresh berries are ridiculously expensive in L.A. right now) I would've tried to incorporated some gelatin a la estilo mexicano. Maybe next time we're in Oregon.

I'll run the recipes one at a time.



MEXICAN MANGO CHILE AND LIME

INGREDIENTS
4 mangoes
1 enormous, juicy lime
1/4 cup sugar
Arbol chile powder

DIRECTIONS
In a food processor, puree the mango until free of chunks. Add lime juice and sugar. Add arbol chile a little at a time, to taste. Remember that freezing dulls all of the flavors, so if the mix tastes too sweet or too spicy, it will probably turn out right. For more spice, run a lightly lamp towel on the inside of the pop mold. Sprinkle chile powder inside of the mold so that it collects at the top. Fill your molds and freeze. If you don't have ice pop molds, use Dixie cups. First stage freeze time will depend on the size of your mold. After about 30 minutes, insert a sticks into the pops. Freeze overnight.

WE'RE IN PRINT!

I had planned to throw a party when this happened, but it caught me completely off guard. I could not be happier.

a taste of things to come...

pomegranate blueberry ice pop

beanworld action figure

Battle damaged bean, one of the many attractive bean action figures offered at Larry Marder's Beanworld table at San Diego Comic-Con 2010.

Liège Waffle makes me feel fine

Feeling positively filled lately. The past few months have been a stream of wonderfully haphazard, exciting, intercity adventures, which strangely, have produced in me a most welcome calm. My legs have browned (finally) and the impromptu over-the-bathroom sink haircuts I've been giving myself have actually begun to settle nicely. And, after fighting myself for well over a year, a tributary battle in the life-long war of Am I smart? Can I have a public voice with any legitimacy?, I'm finding a place in the world of food writing where I fit. It might be too early to say, but I think I love my place.

Shaky Alibi Serves the Holy Grail of Waffles, the Liège Waffle
A new post with photos by Aaron.

business card prototype

There are a lot of changes I want to make. For one, I think my name should be at the top left. So maybe I'll switch the positions of the utencils, put the knife at the top, because it's straighter on the left side. Then I'll try black text, and see how it looks from there. Of course, it took me an hour to figure out how to isolate and export this one draft in Lightroom, so who knows when I'll have them printed. But, true progress happens slowly (is my new mantra).

I love the rough edges of the utencils. They look like they were drawn by a Swedish child, though really they were drawn by me, a helpless Merimekkophile, during one particularly monotonous 4 p.m. at the office. Special thank you to John Bobrow for developing this draft for me, and for my two-hour crash-course in Illustrator.

strawberry preserves

When we used to work the counter at Clementine, I would have to wait until Christmas for a single jar of jam from Amanda, who was then still a part-time home-baker, and my personal cultured butter queen. With only slight embarrassment, I confess one particular jar of Davis Strawberry jam was so good that I'd sneak sips straight from them jar when we had run out of bread. Recently, after what seems like years of planning, Amanda and finally got together for a Sunday preserve tutorial.

Here are some of Amanda's notes:
Fruit: some of it should be on the under ripe side, for extra pectin and complexity. Wash it if it's covered in pesticide or dirt. Cut it into bite-sized pieces.

Taste them. If they're super tart, use more sugar. Fruit preserves are at least 1/4 sugar by volume. (That's 1 cup of sugar to four cups of fruit).

For every four cups of fruit, add a lemon. The seeds of that lemon should be added separately in a tea strainer or cheesecloth bag or something.

Boil it until it's syrupy.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to a boil. There should be enough water in the pot to fully submerge the jars.

When the preserves is syrupy it's ready to pack into jars. If it's foamy, go ahead and turn off the heat under it. Let the foam settle and skim it off before you proceed.

To sterilize the jars, drop them carefully into the boiling water. After ten minutes, use your handy-dandy jar lifter to get them out. [ed note: Amanda got a her jar lifter from Big Lots or Tuesday Morning or some such. If you don't have one, use tongs.] Next, boil the lids to the jars for exactly five minutes. More than that will damage the rubber seals, less won't necessarily be sterilizing enough.

It's easiest to sterilize the lids in a strainer of some sort, because picking up flat heavy objects that are at rest in a large pot of boiling water is one of those things that life is too short for.

Drain the jars. Fill them to within 1/4" of the top with jam. Wipe the rims off with a paper towel or something that you have dipped in boiling water (we must keep everything very, very clean at this point). Put the lids on, then screw down the rings. Boil for another ten minutes.

AND YOU'RE DONE!



Occasionally Amanda teaches classes on rustic, seasonal baking at FOOD, a neighborhood market/cafe in West LA, where she's the head baker.

mouth pleaser

Excuse the absence, we've been very busy. Movie making, berry picking, nerd proming, cream cheese frosting. I'm hoping to get settled long enough to share our photos and recipes this week. That is, before Lil's bday and There Will Be Blood Roadshow consume my attention and my milkshake. In the meantime, enjoy the amuse bouche:

Top 5 Culinary Absurditites at Comic-Con

Top 10 Killer (Literally) Food Films

Ink about town

Two new pieces from about town.

Now Open: Paddy Rice, Not Your Grandma's Pho Shop

Food bloggers were ripping off this post like it wudn't no thang. To be fair though, some gave credit.


Best Wowshi: Definition Included

This little gem I wrote for the upcoming "Best of L.A." print edition. Fingers crossed it'll make it in.

Photographic Lunch at Cardinale

New Argentinian/Italian/American place around the block from my apartment. Pretty decent empanadas, $1 on Mondays.

forgetting my food films on ink. beef hearts and zombie chickens

Zombies + Fried Chicken = "Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead"

Les Blank Cooks Beef Hearts and Guinea Pigs (Probably) for Cinefamily Screening

No guinea pigs, but Joe and I prep'd the beef heart for Les Blank. I don't know if he actually cooked them himself, but they turned out unexpectedly well. A lot like lamb kabob really and, as you can see, so much cheaper.


Recipe from the Washington Post


INGREDIENTS:
3 tablespoons corn oil
1 tablespoon ground achiote (annatto seed)
1/2 fresh or canned aji amarillo pepper, minced (1 to 2 tablespoons)
1/2 cup water
2 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons ground cumin
5 medium cloves garlic, minced
6 pounds beef heart, cleaned and cut into 1 1/2-inch-by-2-inch rectangular pieces*

DIRECTIONS:
Place the oil in a small heatproof container; microwave on HIGH for 10 to 20 seconds. Add the achiote, stirring to form a paste. Transfer to a large resealable plastic food storage bag.

Combine the aji amarillo and water in a mini food processor**; pulse to form a pastelike puree. Add to the bag, along with the salt, cumin, pepper, garlic and vinegar; mix well.

Add the pieces of beef heart; seal the bag, pressing as much air out of it as possible. Massage the marinade into the meat. Refrigerate for at least 4 hours and preferably overnight.

When ready to cook, soak several 12-inch-long bamboo skewers in water for 30 minutes, or have ready metal skewers.
Prepare the grill for direct heat. Lightly coat the grill rack with oil and place it on the grill.

Push 4 or 5 pieces of seasoned meat close together, end to end, on each skewer, reserving the marinade. Grill for 3 to 4 minutes (for medium-rare), turning the skewers as needed and using the marinade to brush the meat.

NOTES:
*The butcher can clean the heart for you. At Jons, which was pretty much the only place we could find hearts without at least a days notice, they were already cleaned and packed in cellophane.
**We didn't have a food processor so we just chopped as finely as possible. All combining was done by Joe with his bare hands. Further note, you might want to wear gloves. Also, don't touch your eyes.

double coconut

At the Conservatory of Flowers, San Francisco.