The night before I left for Arkansas I made no-knead bread and rainbow cookies for the first time. The bread blew me away (okay, maybe just the crust – a post is forthcoming) and the rainbow cookies were kinda a total pain, but I think once I get ‘em down a bit better they’ll be unquestionably worth it. They were still worth it taste-wise.

Speaking of firsts – and getting back to the topic at hand – I was introduced to Whataburger for the first time on this trip. So what exactly is Whataburger you ask? Whataburger is hamburger joint. A casual, old-fashioned hamburger joint. The first one opened in 1950 in Texas and they have since spread out around the South. I believe the one we visited was in or near Tulsa, Oklahoma. I was a bit shocked, I must say, at having never previously been taken to or even heard of Whataburger having been visiting Oklahoma and Arkansas for almost twenty years (yeesh!! has it really been THAT long!?!?). My aunt and cousin seemed to find this shocking as well and expressed fondness for Whataburger. Apparently the name comes from the original owner (it’s still family owned and operated) wanting people to enjoy the burgers so much they exclaimed, “What a burger!” upon eating one. Given that it’s been over six months since I ate there I couldn’t really tell you much about the burger. Truthfully, I couldn’t even really tell you what exactly I ordered. My best guess is a cheeseburger and I know I had fries. I almost think of it as blasphemy not to have fries with burgers. What I do remember is having a good time with my aunt and cousins. So that, to me, indicates it would be worth returning to – even more often than once every twenty years. One notable observation though – a Whataburger super hero lives in a case with a beach umbrella in the particular location I ate in. And they’re open 24 hours.

See, I don't lie.

And here’s the “famous” McDonald’s that has often been used as a meeting place/passing off point from the Oklahoma family to the Arkansas family. Aw, memories. No, really. :)

And we finally got home I just couldn’t resist…

What a time was had at Whataburger.

Aside from the normal excitement of seeing family, I was also excited to try new restaurants on this trip recommended by cousins. The first outing occurred two days into my trip at Pho Hoang, a Vietnamese restaurant. Seeing as how I neglected to take photos of my cousins’s food I couldn’t tell you what they had. But fear not – I did take photos of my food! Given the name of the restaurant, you’d think at least one person at our table would have gotten pho. Maybe they did, but it wasn’t me. Truth be told, I’ve never had pho. I’ve never been a big soup person anyway, but seeing as how I’m becoming more of a soup person this might have to be amended soon. Anyway, I digress. First, I sampled a spring roll with a peanut dipping sauce. I’m usually sold on pretty much anything as soon as I see the words “peanut dipping sauce.” Most notably – at least to me – the spring roll had a mint leaf in it. As noted in an earlier post, this past year I finally started being less afraid of mint in savory dishes. This continued by progression along this path. To take it one step further, I had a vermicelli bowl with beef, green onions, lemongrass, and even more mint – and I loved it. Lemongrass is also still kind of new to me, but I wasn’t as afraid of it in savory applications as I was mint.

Another two days later brought more beef in the form of a home-cooked meal at my cousins’s house. I believe it was brisket and had a little smoky flavor, wonderful gravy, slightly charred corn on the cob, and creamy mashed potatoes. Of course, I had some sweet tea alongside – one of the best parts about visiting family in these parts. Dinner was followed by a very appropriate summer dessert of strawberries over pound cake with whipped cream. Thankfully, I have plans to see this people again in the not-so-far future. I also managed to sneak a taste of my cousin’s tomatillo salsa. I do love me some tomatillos.

And yet another two days later (the two-day rule really wasn’t planned, I promise) I got to cook for my aunt and even more cousins. This time it was all about pork. And kitchen catastrophe. Coming from a family of Razorbacks, as in the Arkansas Razorbacks, pork seems more than appropriate (although maybe in a somewhat skewed way). Add that onto being in the South it was pretty much mandatory to make pig. Right? The kitchen catastrophe part may not have been appropriate per se, but it was an integral part of the evening nonetheless. And so it begins…

Pork – it’s what’s for dinner. That was pretty much the slogan of the night. Babyback ribs and “the” green beans, which by now many of you know to be green beans with bacon and garlic, were the pork heavy hitters. Cole slaw, buttermilk biscuits, and chocolate cake with my great-grandma’s fudge frosting were on the menu as well.

Kitchen mishaps made up the rest of the evening. The months of May and June saw some important firsts: the first time I ever set my dinner on fire – unintentionally that is – and the first time I dropped dinner on the floor. I feel no requirement to specify that action as unintentional, as dinner is never supposed to be dropped on the floor intentionally – at least not insofar as I’m aware. Well, I guess dinner isn’t really supposed to be set on fire either. Maybe unless you’re flambeing something…

For the ribs, I made a dry rub and a Coca-Cola-inspired barbeque sauce. I couldn’t recount the ingredients or even any real particular method for you all as it’s been so long. As I remember it, it was tasty. I know onion and garlic were definitely in the dry rub. Chili powder or cumin, paprkia, cayenne – those are some of the other probable ingredients. The BBQ sauce had ketchup, brown sugar, garlic, possibly some mustard, and definitely some vinegar. The green beans didn’t stray too far from what their normal deliciousness – at least not until another two or so days later courtesy of my wily aunt, but that’s another story.

Next, I ventured into the coleslaw. I think biscuits came last, and of course the chocolate cake was the finale. While I do have some record of how I put together the coleslaw, that’s still not exact. Here we go anyway… I used one package of coleslaw mix and for the dressing combined 1 cup of mayonnaise, 1 tablespoon of the horseradish mustard my aunt had on hand, 1 tablespoon of salad vinegar, 1 tablespoon of honey, 1/4 cup of chopped fresh parsley, and salt and pepper. I may or may not have added somewhere between a pinch and 1 tablespoon of granulated sugar to the dressing, but I can’t remember for the life of me. I’d say, if I were doing it again, add everything, season it with salt and pepper, taste it, and then decide if you want more honey or to add some sugar. The buttermilk biscuits were based off my now-standard recipe, which happens to be Alton’s Brown’s.

So now what you all really care about – the kitchen catastrophes. There was a main event and then a couple side shows. Onto the main event… It literally was kind of like a scene in a movie or T.V. show. It was comical and heart-wrenching all at the same time. Picture it. The ribs were placed precariously on a short tower of other pans and dishes. They weren’t level. I was doing a million things at once. I picked up a saucepan with the barbecue sauce in it, was awkwardly walking to/leaning over to the ribs, already running around frenetically and frazzled, and hit the rib pan at just the right angle to make it go crashing down onto the floor. Boom! As the pan crashed to the floor and the ribs flew out of the pan sliding onto the floor – into the cat food naturally – the noise from the conversation in the living room was just sucked into the air – a collective gasp. Then silence. After a few “Oh, crap!” panicking moments in my head I tentatively yelled out, “I’m okay…” and started hurriedly picking up the pan and ribs, pondering what exactly to do. You see, while the ribs were in foil packets, small portions of them were exposed and had met the floor. And quite possibly the dry cat food. Hey, at least it wasn’t the wet cat food bowls, right? My cousin, Jennifer, came rushing into the kitchen. She saw the ribs on the floor and we looked at each other totally shocked and I somewhat expectantly and most definitely completely mortified. After a short pause she assured me the ribs were still fine – I picked them up right away – and she then promised not to spill about my spill. Later in the evening, when I slyly referenced the great fall, she said, “I said nothing.” So, of course, here I am telling you all about it. Smooth, eh? Somewhat more assuredly, I finished cleaning up, brushing the ribs with BBQ sauce and put them under the broiler. See, they hadn’t even been under the screaming hot broiler yet. The heat would definitely take care of the cat food and floor germs.

That incident kind of set me off for the rest of the night. I ended up dropping my aunt’s crystal sugar bowl – right on top of the fresh-out-of-the-oven biscuits. Once ensuring the bowl was unscathed (thank goodness biscuits are soft; no crystal was harmed during the process) I calmly let it roll off me and said, “Eh, sugar never hurt biscuits,” which, I must say, I believe to my core is mostly kinda sorta true.  Many people like sugar with their biscuits in some form. Me? I go the honey route. But sugar had also found its way onto the floor. And the counter. As it turned out, after everyone had left and my aunt and I were cleaning up the kitchen we found sugar in all sorts of places. Score!

To top the night off,  later in the evening, when discussing three-lettered names, I enthusiastically offered “Bill” as an option. I was proud and surprised no one had come up with it yet because it was a relatively common name and like names were being offered up. Everyone looked at me kind of funny. And then it hit me. I had been totally convinced “Bill” was a legitimate option. I blame the early rib fall.

The end product.

And lest we not forget the chocolate cake with fudge frosting. How bad can that be? I mean really – chocolate cake AND chocolate fudge. And vanilla ice cream on the side of course. :) Last year my aunt introduced me to her grandma’s frosting for the first time and making a batch of it with my little cousin after dinner that night really was icing on the cake…wah, wah, wah. But it really was a nice moment being part of the passing down of family recipes.

Then my aunt and I had the oh-so-fun task of clean-up. Such is the nature of cooking.

Instead of the random two-day rule that I somehow inadvertently instituted my next Arkansan food adventure happened the very next day. I met two of my cousins for lunch at Rolando’s, a “nuevo Latino” restaurant according to the Web site. One of the owners is Ecuadorean and the other an Arkansan. One of my cousin loves the tortilla soup and tamales. I ordered the goat cheese quesadilla with chicken. It was adorned with an Argentinean sauce, which I think was a chimichurri or something similar,  a mango sauce, and brown sauce. The fruit was very present in the mango sauce and it wasn’t cloyingly sweet, which was nice, and had a very slight undertone of tea to me. The brown sauce had a little heat to it – I’m not sure exactly what it was, but it had a slight smokiness – maybe chipotle – and reminded of something similar to a mole. The black beans and rice came with green onions, peppers, and cheese and tasted very Cuban. Pickled cucumbers and onions were served as an accompaniment as well. I LOVED these. They were quite sour and I got hints of lime and maybe coconut – and this might sound weird – but the flavor was reminiscent of a coconut mojito to me.

And isn’t the plate so fun and festive?!

For dinner that night, I was treated to a dinner made by my aunt. I can’t remember exactly what she called it. She made ground beef patties cooked in a tomato sauce with buttered (and I believe Parmesan-ed) noodles, biscuits, and reheated some green beans from the night before…or so I thought. Tricksy, tricksy auntie. Of course, she also made her sweet tea, which I absolutely adore. If I could package it and bring it home with me, I would. After we’d enjoyed a yummy dinner – and I was telling her so – she slyly let slip that she’d doctored up my green beans. Scandal! She added some vegetable seasoning to the green beans and I can’t deny that they were very tasty. Tricksy, tricksy, tricksy.

(Sorry for the poorer-than-normal quality of the last three photos – they’re phone photos.)

The next day brought one of the most exciting events of probably my whole summer. SNOW CONES!! We went to Snow To Go by The Little Red Caboose in a strip mall parking lot. For the past few years at least, I know it’s been in the same lot – maybe longer and I sadly don’t visit it often enough to remember. Either way – snow cones! For as long as I can remember, that’s always been one of my favorite things to do when visiting Arkansas. Flavor-wise…it’s all about the Chocolada. Chocolate and coconut. Best thing ever. My aunt always gets some Hawaiian something or the other thing. It’s bright yellow. Maybe it has cream in it… I kinda get tunnel vision when I go or talk about these snow cones. CHOCOLADA! I don’t know how they do it, but they are amazing. They’re creamy without being like a milkshake or ice cream, the flavor is balanced perfectly, and when they melt the liquid isn’t too watery and is just as good to slurp through a straw as it is to scoop up with the “spoon” end of the long red straws. I love these things. I’d bring these home with me too if I could. While on our afternoon snow cone adventure my aunt drove me by Miss Laura’s, Forth Smith’s visitor center, which is the first former brothel listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and the concert venue down by the river. Snow cones AND brothels – clearly this was an exciting day!

To top off my last night there I ate cold ribs out of the fridge and made a second batch of buttermilk biscuits because I was slightly disappointed in the first batch. The second batch was indeed better. The next morning on the way to the airport in Tulsa we stopped off at Sweet Bay Coffee Co. I wanted to pick up some beans for a fellow coffee-lover back home and had to pick up some beans for myself as well. I’d heard good things about them, but also they’re a local company meaning I can’t find them elsewhere. I got two pounds of their Double French Roast beans, which were sufficiently rich and strong. I also got a Vietnamese French Coffee for the road, which is basically a normal Vietnamese iced coffee made with sweetened condensed milk. This was my first time having such a drink – and I liked it. I’m interested in finding more of these at home.

And with that I bid Arkansas 2010 adieu and look forward to Arkansas: the 2011 edition. Hopefully it’ll be written about before 2012. And hopefully wintry weather – although not too wintry of course, this is SoCal after all – will bring us back to January in January soon. ;)

If you haven’t tried parsnips before and are a bit unsure about them, I definitely would give this recipe a go – Jamie’s right – parsnips and pancetta are fantastic friends and the rosemary, Parmesan, and butter make this an elegantly comforting dish. Also, if you don’t have tagliatelle like I didn’t, don’t worry about it – spaghetti worked just fine. While parsnips aren’t the prettiest veggie in the garden, they’re definitely one of the tastiest and now one of my favorites. They look like white carrots, but have a much earthier (when describing the flavor to my aunt I said “dirty” – she offered the much more elegant and appealing “earthy”) flavor and not as much sweetness (at least to me/given they were bought in late spring – or the earthy + the sweet = better than less earthy carrot), and very slightly citrusy. I’m not a hater of carrots, but they’re not always in my top ten – er, like three since if we’re being honest about how many veggies I eat on a regular basis. I can’t wait to try parsnips in lieu of or in addition to carrots when, say, roasting a chicken or making a soup. Maybe I’ll find myself at a farmers’s market soon…

See...the parsnip's not that scary.

Well, April 30, I found myself in Santa Monica for a book signing at Williams-Sonoma for Giada De Laurentiis’s newest book, “Giada at Home.” This was the fifth Giada book signing I’d been to, and I FINALLY managed to say something other than “Thank you!” while smiling profusely. Yes, yes, I can get starstruck rather easily. Anyway… Since I was so close, I might as well go to Bay Cities, right? Right.

Parking was a bit complicated, but I eventually decided on the grocery store parking lot across the street – the lot that had signs telling drivers that it was grocery store parking ONLY. Oh, well. It wasn’t crowded. I was a little afraid as there was a security guy walking around, but my car was still there once I returned. The line inside was everything I’d heard about it – horribly long. The place was packed. But about 95% of the people were there for the Godmother, the famed sandwich. They had some pre-made in baskets, but I wanted a freshly made one.

Finally it was my turn to order. A small Godmother with (most of – no pickles) all of the works with sweet pepper salad in lieu of the hot. (The works include mayo, mustard, onions, pickles, lettuce, Italian dressing, and hot or sweet pepper salad.) I think it was the sweet anyway. Either way, I had to smell it the whole way home. That was like at least 45 minutes. It was ridiculous. What was I thinking not just eating it right away…in my car…while I was pseudo-illegally parked?? Next time, next time…

I unwrapped this so-called godly sandwich…and I wasn’t that impressed. It looked good, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t get what the big deal was. Then I tasted it. And then I knew what the big deal was. This was, hands down, one of the best sandwiches – one of the best “Italian meats” sandwiches – I’ve ever had, if not the very best. The flavors are amazing together – the pepper salad definitely stands out – as does the bread – even though it didn’t look like too much to me. For now, it’s the epitome of what an Italian deli meats sandwich should be for me. And without further adieu…

It was a surprisingly small location on La Brea. (There are at least four locations total: La Brea, Los Feliz, Hollywood, and Santa Monica.) We were told there would be about a 20 to 30 minute wait unless we wanted to sit at the bar. Knowing how hungry we were we agreed to sit at the bar. And there weren’t even any distracting pictures on the wall to entertain us. Thus we made our way back to the small group of people waiting outside the restaurant. Yes, the restaurant is so small there is no room to wait inside. At least the host waited and mingled outside as well.

Finally it was our turn to be seated – at a rather small table next to kitchen entrance. I’m actually not complaining – just observing. When it was time to order I had to ask our server what he recommended as it was my first time at Umami. Given this was my inaugural trip he suggested I try the classic Umami Burger – I would have future trips to be more adventurous. Their namesake burger comes with roasted tomatoes and mushrooms, a Parmigiano frico (basically a little “cracker” of just grated cheese), and some of their house-made ketchup. Katrina got the Port & Stilton Burger with blue cheese and port-caramelized onions. Her side was a salad, mine was the side of fries. This was done to encourage bite-trading.

Overall, I thought the burgers were good. I may have liked hers more, but I was satisfied with my choice. I thought the signature burger was good, however, I didn’t feel I could taste all of the individual flavors as well – maybe it needed to be seasoned better? The meat was good; didn’t taste overly charbroiled, but had a little of that going on, and maybe medium beefiness. As time went on, I thought it tasted more and more like a pizza burger with the roasted tomato and shitake mushrooms and the ketchup. I really liked the ketchup. The ketchup was a major win for me. The pink of the meat seemed almost like pepperoni red-orange. A couple bites of my burger in the middle left me wondering if fennel was in the meat; the first bites did have a slight sweetness or warmth to them – like from spice. Maybe allspice-ish. Bread was good – slightly sweet and a little greasy, but not too fatty.

I liked Katrina’s burger, although she said she wished for more blue cheese. I agreed. The onions were super yummy though and overall I think her burger was better. She described some of her last bites as buttery. (Sorry for the super bad photo.)

Our fries were grossly undercooked; you could tell just by looking at them. It was kind of an abomination. They had decent flavor, but we had a really rough time getting over their undercooked state. Her salad was good – it reminded me of a certain candy that I can’t remember. A little grainy flavor not texture, fruity, and sweet. My first bite left me tasting a little honey. She thought it was good at first, but then started to taste more like potpourri toward the end. The service was good overall and the décor was nothing to write home about.

If memory serves me right, I’ve been equally or more impressed with other L.A. burgers. I think Henry’s Hat may be beefier. I think I like 25 Degrees better as a whole – it’s actually probably my favorite burger in L.A. right now, although I’ll be sure to conduct further research. Father’s Office and The Library Bar burgers aren’t slacking off either.

I know a return trip to Umami is in my future. How do I know this you ask? The Manly Burger. I have been told it is absolutely delicious. Beer-cheddar cheese, smoked salt onion strings, and bacon lardons. That sounds like pure manly deliciousness. Aaaand I’m hoping I can get a better batch of fries. Sheesh! And , of course, I’m still dreaming about the ketchup… Until next time, Umami…

Well, for one, I know we had potato salad, as two of my cousins and myself went over to our grandma’s on Saturday to assemble said salad. Grandma had the potatoes boiled, we were there for the chopping, mayonnaise-adding, seasoning, and – most importantly – tasting. Truth be told, the tasting part was actually pretty important and not just for my cousins’s and my benefit. You see, our family has some very passionate views on mayonnaise. Most of us like it – at least to some degree – but there are some of us who do not – who rather loathe it quite vehemently. Our grandma happens to be one of those people, thus she was not about to taste it to see what, if anything, it needed to reach potato salad perfection. That being said, there are very strict requirements for how to make the potato salad. Green peppers, red onions, celery, hard-boiled eggs, chopped pimentos, and mayonnaise are mandatory. My grandma’s potato salad was actually the content of my very first post, except that particular potato salad was for Mother’s Day. There was probably a ham and some other sort of salad. I know, I know – total foodie blasphemy.

So to try and detract attention from my horrible culinary sin let’s talk about the food I do remember. For as many Easters as I can remember back – so for the past 3-5 years – I’ve made an almond cake. The first year I made it for our family’s Easter dessert table, the year after that I may have brought it unsolicited (I’m just that excited about it), but this year I didn’t bring it – in part because I hadn’t yet finished it. I had to leave the house and it had just come out of the oven. It had to stay home and patiently await my return. I won’t lie to you – it wasn’t one of the prettiest cakes of all, but it was no Cake Wreck either. Just a little scruffy around the edges and, thanks to my oven and lack of turning it halfway through, a little darker on one side – but only very slightly! It was then dusted with powdered sugar – usually a step I’m not fond of in recipes for whatever reason, but one I’m coming around to, especially when it covers up little blemishes. My next order of business, naturally, was to have a slice of said almond cake. And, boy, was it good! Just like always. :) Aside from the prominent almond flavor thanks to almond paste – which I’ve since fallen in love with – one of my favorite parts about the cake is the addition of cornmeal to the batter. It provides a sort of graininess and extra crunch, if you will, that is just so satisfying to chew on. It’s not too light, not too heavy, with a lovely tender crumb. I like that it is a little heft to it, but definitely won’t weight you down. Its beautiful yellow color doesn’t hurt the experience either. I guess I should mention where I got the recipe from. It’s from Giada De Laurentiis’s first book, “Everyday Italian.” She says that it is an adaptation of an Il Fornaio recipe. Coincidentally, Il Fornaio was one of my favorite restaurants as a little girl. But that’s a whole other story for a whole other time. I cut down the cornmeal by half, however, because I wasn’t sure if I wanted that much crunch the first time I made it. I added extra cake flour to compensate. I haven’t changed it since.

Now onto my Easter dinner. Sure, sure, I’d already had the holiday feast earlier in the day, but, hey, can’t a girl be a little gluttonous? It was a holiday after all, and what are holidays for if not over-eating? Given the success of my first foray into Jamie Oliver’s recipes and given that it was Easter – which means lamb or ham and we’d already done the ham earlier in the day – I planned (yes, I was planning on being gluttonous a few days ahead of time) on making his Asparagus, Mint, and Lemon Risotto. I was so intrigued by this recipe – mint in a savory dish? Hmm, I wasn’t so sure about this. But it had definitely caught my attention. Plus, mint and asparagus just scream spring and, therefore, would be very appropriate for an Easter dinner. Having made a small lamb loin to accompany my first attempt at my grandma’s lentil soup only a few days prior, I decided to go with another small lamb loin. I marinated the lamb for about thirty minutes in some garlic, extra-virgin olive oil, fresh rosemary, salt, and pepper. Once the risotto was all but done I just cooked the lamb in a skillet, trying to make sure it got a decent color of brown and was cooked through. In the meantime, I started on the risotto. This was my first time ever attempting a true risotto. I got so much joy from making this dish. The cute cut up pieces of asparagus, the surprise of the mint, the fresh citrus zing from the lemon zest, and the final addition of the Parmigiano-Reggiano made this a dish I dreamt about and craved for days after. Truthfully, I don’t know why I haven’t yet made it again. That actually makes me kind of sad. Hopefully it will be remedied soon. But to anyone that is afraid of mint in savory dishes I highly recommend you try this. I’ll admit I was a skeptic – even after the revelation that was Cheat’s Homemade-Pappardelle with Quick Tomato Sauce – but Mr. Oliver did not disappoint. At all.

The lamb needed to declare its own (backwards) Italian heritage apparently.

Almond Cake
Adapted from “Everyday Italian” by Giada De Laurentiis

¼ cup fine yellow cornmeal
¾ cup cake flour
1 tsp. baking powder
½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
¼ cup almond paste, cut into small pieces
½ tsp. pure vanilla extract
1 ¼ cups confectioner’s sugar, plus more for dusting
4 large egg yolks
2 large eggs
¼ cup sour cream

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Butter and flour an 8-inch round cake pan.

Whisk together cornmeal, cake flour, and baking powder. Using a stand mixer with a paddle attachment, beat the butter and almond paste on high speed until smooth. Reduce speed to low and beat in vanilla extract. Gradually add 1 1/4 cups of confectioner’s sugar, beating until the mixture is light and fluffy. Increase speed to high and beat in egg yolks and whole eggs, one at a time. Reduce speed to medium and add sour cream and dry ingredients and mix until just incorporated.

Pour batter into prepared pan. Bake about 35 minutes, or until sides slightly come away from the pan. Transfer cake to wire rack and let cool, then dust additional confectioner’s sugar.

I followed Nigella’s recipe for Guinness Cake found in her book “Feast.” Instead of the spring form pan she calls for, I used a cupcake pan with liners. I’ll admit I was a little weary about the final products since this is a pretty wet batter and is supposed to yield a rather moist cake. There were no real problems with the cupcakes, although the ones from the darker pan did come out with little dimples in their centers. Not entirely sure why that was, although the cupcakes from that pan usually have a little more color than my other pan. I attribute that, again, to the darker color and finish on the pan. A couple of the cupcakes in the other tin suffered the same fate, although it wasn’t as pronounced.

See? Dimples.

They almost look like thumbprints, huh? Well, they’re not. Unless, of course, there are little stove gnomes hard at work messing with my mind.

While the little guys were cooling I whipped up some frosting. I followed Nigella’s suggestion for a cream cheese frosting, but I thought why not add a little more Guinness? I had another thought to add some Bailey’s instead of the Guinness, but since a Guinness was already open… I found myself having to add more than I thought of the stout to get a discernible flavor in the frosting, but my advice is start off with a teaspoon or two and adjust to desired taste and consistency. I think my frosting came out a little runnier than I had anticipated because of the additional Guinness, but I don’t think it was any worse for it. Actually, I was rather pleased with the frosting – beautifully cream in color and oh-so-glossy.

I couldn’t be bothered with properly applying frosting to all the cupcakes – or even one for that matter – before tasting, so a cupcake was lifted out of the tin and eagerly bitten into by yours truly. Very moist, pretty light, and provided an almost gooey-like (but totally cooked) satisfaction. The beer definitely came through and, to me, it lent slightly floral undertones to the cupcake. It had an almost flowery and yeasty scent from the Guinness. I always like to taste the cake in its pure state, the frosting in its pure state, and then the combination. So, finally, a sizeable dollop of frosting was plopped onto the cupcake with a bite out of it. Wonderfully squishy indulgence all around. Don’t forget, the frosting has cream in addition to the cream cheese. Creamy, dairy goodness.

I know that’s not the best photo technically, but I find something about it so appealing. I think I liked the way the frosting is slowly drooping down the bite mark just glistening there, inviting another bite…

I’ll confess I’m not gaga for cream cheese frosting – I don’t think I ever will be – but this was a good application. Grapefruit cupcakes with grapefruit cream cheese frosting also hit a happy spot. Maybe I’m a sucker for flavored cream cheese frostings. Being gaga for chocolate like I am, I think these would be good with a dark chocolate frosting too. Maybe chocolate cream cheese? Or chocolate Guinness? Experiments will have to be conducted.

And to give you an idea of the finished product…

I really think the posh paper towels I lined them up on make all the difference, don’t you? ;)

Recipe From “Feast” by Nigella Lawson

Cake:

1 cup Guinness
1 stick plus 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa
2 cups superfine sugar (I used regular sugar.)
3/4 cup sour cream
2 eggs
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

Frosting:

8 oz. cream cheese
1 1/4 cups confectioners’ sugar
1/2 cup heavy cream (I added a little Guinness to this.)

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Butter and/or line a 9-inch springform pan or 2 cupcake tins. (I got 19 cupcakes total.)

Pour the Guinness into a large wide saucepan, add the butter – in spoons or slices – and heat until the butter’s melted, at which time you should whisk in the cocoa and sugar. Beat the sour cream with the eggs and vanilla and then pour into the pan and finally whisk in the flour and baking soda.

Pour the cake batter into the greased and lined pan and bake for 45 minutes to an hour. (I started checking at about 40 minutes.) Leave to cool completely in the pan on a cooling rack, as it is quite a damp cake.

When the cake’s cold, sit on a flat platter or cake stand and get on with the frosting. Lightly whip the cream cheese until smooth, sift over the confectioners’ sugar and then beat them both together.

Add the cream and beat again until it makes a spreadable consistency. (I added the Guinness at this point.) Ice the top of the black cake so that it resembles the frothy top of the famous pint.

Enjoy!

We began with their red sangria (they also offer a white). Being ambitious we went ahead and decided to split a pitcher. Turns out that was a little too ambitious. I won’t be too ashamed to say we didn’t finish the whole pitcher. But, I will say, it was rather yummy. Actually, technically we began with their focaccia, which was also very yummy.While we were munching on the focaccia, sipping on the sangria, and taking in the atmosphere, I noted that I was impressed with the overall ambiance and I thought it would be a great place to go for a casual or slightly gussied-up night out with friends. Dates surrounded us on both sides, so I’ll venture to say it’d probably be a good date place too. Not all that intimate, but casual enough for the nervous and tapas for sharing.

Finally it was time to order. We went with four items – their house salad and three tapas. My choice was the plate of chilled mussels with a Spanish vinaigrette, she chose the salad, and we both agreed upon the tortilla espanola (this seemed almost imperative to me since we were having tapas, and I think it was a first for us both), and the roasted dates filled with Cambozola blue cheese and wrapped in prosciutto. I thought the salad was pretty standard with a decent vinaigrette.

I had high hopes for my mussels. I never really knew I liked mussels until I had them, caught the same day, at a family feast – “feast” really is the right way to describe the table spread , but after that meal I was sold. That story’ll be forthcoming – hopefully in the not so far future. Anyway, back to the beach – and the mussels. They weren’t bad…better than unforgettable. The vinaigrette had nice flavor and a nice tang, but the mussels tasted more fishy, if you will, than I was accustomed to. I hope this doesn’t mean I really don’t like mussels. I think maybe I wanted more of a less chunky vinaigrette.

Next, the dates. As in the fruit, not the four people surrounding us. The dates I also had high hopes for after my visit to Cafe Was. The dates made it 0 for 3. Sad. They were so small! And the cheese was almost nowhere to be found! I thought that was pretty unacceptable. As for the package as a whole – not bad, decent especially if you’ve never had blue cheese-stuffed dates before, but definitely not the best representation. Not to be too picky…okay, I’m being picky – but the presentation left something to be desired as well.

Okay, onto the tortilla espanola. Just knowing how I feel about egg dishes I wasn’t too crazy about the idea of this, although I thought since this was my first tapas experience I ought to try a classic. I like eggs, don’t get me wrong, but usually not for dinner. I’m usually one of those people who doesn’t like to eat cold pizza from the refrigerator for breakfast and who doesn’t like a good plate of eggs and potatoes for dinner. Call me crazy. However, for what it was supposed to be, I think I liked this dish best of all the tapas. Plus, it came with a decent side of aioli. I love aioli. A lot. Aioli makes almost anything worth eating. That definitely biased me towards this dish, I’m sure. By the way, the aioli was good. No complaints there.

You’d think at this point we’d be full. Well…we were. However, yes, there is a but, Nutella panna cotta was on the dessert menu. Nutella panna cotta. Now the first time I ever tasted panna cotta I fell in love with it. The first time I ever tasted Nutella I fell in love with it. I couldn’t say no. Plus, Marcona almonds and sea salt accompanied the panna cotta. Marcona almonds are totally Spanish and we had a totally Spanish-influenced dinner. It must be meant to be. The biggest problem with the Nutella panna cotta was that I had to share it, but that’s OK because the company was good. It was probably the best thing I ate that evening, although the focaccia was up there too – yes, I just gave free bread a shout out. :)

All in all, a pretty good experience, and I wouldn’t protest too much about going back. Especially if I were promised Nutella panna cotta.

Of all places, I first saw it on Joe Jonas’s Twitter. Don’t ask what I was doing there in the first place. Anyway, apparently he likes to cook, and, apparently, he likes Jamie Oliver. I noticed they had even tweeted back and forth. Of all the places. Clearly, this is going to be an interesting story, right?

I remember the photo of the recipe looking pretty appetizing – both on Joe’s Twitter feed and on Jamie’s Web site. Olive oil, crushed tomatoes (recipe calls for chopped tomatoes, I crushed a can of whole canned tomatoes with my hands), fresh basil, garlic, a red chili pepper, Parmesan cheese, and fresh pasta – not homemade, just fresh. Usually, recipes like this don’t appeal to me often because, hello!? I totally know what tomatoes and basil taste like together, right!? – and I’m not often in the mood for such a fresh sauce of tomatoes and basil. I love Caprese salad, I love dried basil in my tomato sauce – just never been huge on fresh tomato and basil pasta sauces. Of course, they’re good, but I don’t usually crave them, and I do usually bypass those recipes because I think to myself, well, I can totally do that, I don’t need a recipe. Also, as many who know me might be able to tell you, I’m not what you would call a stickler when it comes to following recipes. All of this being the case, I have no idea exactly what about this recipe so called out to me that I had to make it as soon as possible. But something definitely did. Maybe it was that I was so intrigued by the use of a chili pepper. It’s true, I definitely was intrigued by that. I must say, I even made special trips to two stores, on opposite sides of town mind you, to get that red chili pepper. (Admittedly it was very odd that the first store didn’t have any.)

Look at the chili pepper! It's so red! And shiny!

Home from the store, it was time to cook. All the ingredients were laid out on the cutting board and my pan was on the stove. I followed the recipe exactly. This is significant because that means I didn’t even add more garlic than the recipe called for. See? Like I said, significant. :) Probably unsurprisingly I was intoxicated by the scent of the vegetables and fresh basil hitting the hot olive oil-glossed pan. I would say that’s when I officially fell in love with Jamie Oliver, but, as I’ve learned sometimes the hard way, just because it smells heavenly as it’s cooking that doesn’t ensure the most heavenly end product. I was worried I may have burned the garlic a little, but it didn’t taste bitter. The house smelled amazing – I really think it must be the garlic in olive oil. Of course, it all goes back to the garlic. In the meantime, I cut the lasagne sheets into “pappardelle,” as instructed and cooked the fresh pasta.

The most heavenly end product!

So finally it was ready. So simple, yet so good. Amazingly good. It really surprised me. It tasted so quintessentially Italian –  good Italian – simple, fresh, and rustic. I could taste the tomatoes, the richness of the oil, the garlic, and faint hints of the red chili pepper that lent earthiness and freshness. There was no real heat from the chili. I did remove the seeds, so next time I will leave some, if not all, in. And the basil was awesome, too – so fresh. The Parmesan added a nice but subtle richness and nuttiness. I literally could taste all of the elements – all of the dimensions. This really impressed me actually. So yummy. And the flavor of the fresh “pappardelle” was eggy, doughy, and just plain yummy.

And that, kids, is the story of how I fell in love with Jamie Oliver. However, the story doesn’t actually end there. As it’s continued, you’ll see how my love and appreciation grew deeper and deeper and how I’ve come to the point where I can say, “In Jamie Oliver I trust.” This isn’t, of course, to say I’ll never find a recipe of his that I won’t be mad over, but I have a feeling that the hits are going to heavily outweigh the misses. So the moral of the story is this: if you haven’t yet acquainted yourself with Jamie Oliver, do it. Now. And here is the link to the recipe on his site just to make it super easy for you. Thank you, Jamie, for opening my eyes, pleasing my palate, and making me come down off my high tomato and basil horse.

Alejo’s is an Italian restaurant just past LAX in Westchester. I first heard about Alejo’s from a cousin. She told me they had the best bread and dipping sauce of minced garlic in olive oil. I was sold on that alone. Well, that and the family recommendation. I eventually made my way to Alejo’s maybe a year and a half or two years ago for the first time. I was really intent on trying their pink sauce, as I’d heard it was really good. I also, however, wanted meat sauce. I asked for pink sauce with meat in it. I was easily accommodated. I added a little of the garlic and olive oil mixture to my pasta which easily enhanced the dish – surprise, surprise, I like extra garlic. The second time I found myself at Alejo’s was last spring. It was a nice occasion indeed – a family dinner. I’m not entirely sure what prompted it, but we ended up with a good-sized table. I love few things more than sitting around a table sharing a meal with people I love. Not like I talk about that a lot or anything. So especially after that meal, Alejo’s has conjured up a familial connection for me.

Since Alejo’s is near El Segundo and the airport, which isn’t exactly what you would call “close” to me (although comfortably close enough when traveling), I thought I should take advantage of its proximity and order some take-out. Apparently, the Olympics inspire to-go orders in my world.

Anyway, back to the story. When I walked into Alejo’s that night I felt calm and comfortable and it came off as quintessentially “L.A.” in there (beachside neighborhood vibe included). I loved it. I felt kind of like I was home. See, all that backstory was leading up to something. ;) I walked up to the bar/counter and tried to explain the pink sauce/meat sauce spaghetti I desired. I got a strange look from the lady taking my order and she wanted to make very sure that I had ordered this before because it’s not on the menu and, apparently, other people had asked for it and then not liked it. I assured her I knew what I was getting into. I happily sat at the bar taking in the atmosphere and waiting for my order. After a few minutes had passed the telephone rang and the woman answered. She was taking another take-out order. I heard her ask the person on the line if they had it before and if they were sure that’s what they wanted because some people will order it and not like it. I smiled to myself and wondered if they had ordered the same thing as me. Once she hung up the phone she looked at me, smiling. She said the person on the phone had just ordered the same thing as me and commented it was funny because it’s not an order they receive often. Laughing, she said, “That wasn’t your boyfriend, was it?” Amused, I said no, but was intrigued as to who this “Mystery Pink Sauce Man” was. My order was ready before he came in, so I never got to see him – he remains a mystery.

And now without further adieu, I give you Alejo’s  off-the-menu pink meat sauce. One order lasted me about 5 meals. The bread, however, didn’t last that long.

I placed my take-out order: an order of poutine and a beef and lamb gyro plate. The poutine came slightly different than it would have in the restaurant – the fries and cheese were kept separate from the gravy. I couldn’t begrudge them for trying to keep my fries from getting too soggy. The cheese was creamy and had a very slight tang to it. The gravy had a very concentrated meaty, gravy flavor. The meat was very flavorful, although it all looked and tasted the same, leading me to believe that maybe beef and lamb had been combined and cooked into some sort of loaf and then sliced. It was very savory and my guess would be there was some combination of parsley, maybe basil, and garlic amongst other flavoring agents. The rice seemed to be pretty standard saffron rice with peas and carrots, and the tzatziki was very tasty and sufficiently garlicky for me. Tomato slices, slices of white onion, and feta topped with oregano, to which I added fresh chopped parsley, accompanied the dish.

I was happy to find a restaurant serving Greek food that wasn’t a fast food joint. A beloved, albeit not spectacularly tasty in all its endeavors, local Greek restaurant closed earlier this year leaving a gap in for Greek food in our general neck of the woods. Redondo Beach Café also advertises itself as a sports café with an emphasis on hockey.

I am usually a fan of French onion soup. I found myself strongly compelled to make French onion soup on Ash Wednesday, February 17. The reason: I had just seen The Amateur Gourmet’s post about said soup. As a side note, for the opening ceremonies I made potato leek soup with bacon. ‘Twasn’t bad, but wasn’t quite up to par either. Interestingly, I think I would actually forgo the bacon next time. But I digress.

Coming home from an Ash Wednesday Mass and after having dropped my grandma off, I journeyed to the store to pick up supplies. I was a little incredulous of the recipe, a Les Halles recipe as posted on Chow, as it called for chicken stock in lieu of beef stock. Aren’t the two main components of French onion soup onions and beef stock? I was, however, rather intrigued by the use of port and balsamic vinegar. And bacon. I must confess though, I left out the bacon. Why? Well, it was Ash Wednesday after all and many years of Catholic school, and the recent Mass, that Catholic guilt was racking up. ;) In support of going meatless, I also opted for vegetable stock instead of the called for chicken stock.  In the spirit of full disclosure, that was one of the first times in awhile that I actually adhered to the no meat rule. In the spirit of innovation and my almost flawless record of not following recipes, leaving out the meat wasn’t my only “innovation.” Truth be told, I think I was mostly just intrigued by the idea of a vegetarian French onion soup. This will be discussed more below.

So, first things first. Carmelize the onions. This called for butter and sliced onions. I cried like a baby to get those sliced onions. I always do. I’ve tried the sharp knife (although to be fair, I probably should go get it professionally sharpened), near an open flame, and using refrigerated onions. Nothing seems to hold back the waterworks. I remember answering a phone call one time while cutting onions to have the person on the line ask, in a very concerned tone, what was wrong. Nothing, I replied, I’m just cutting onions. I feel like this fact makes me somewhat of a kitchen wuss. If it helps, I don’t stop…usually. I do often have to take breaks from the raw root vegetable though.

I don’t know if my onions ever got as brown as they were supposed to get in this first step, but after about 1 hour (recipe says this should only take about 20 minutes) I decided it was time to add the port and balsamic vinegar. (Any tips??)

Then it was time for the thyme. I know, I know…but I kind of just had to do it! Lastly, the requisite bread and cheese topper was assembled and placed on the bowl of soup all ready for the broiler. I used white cheddar, in lieu of the classic Gruyere, which I was a bit incredulous of, since no Gruyere was to be found in my fridge that evening. A little garlic powder and butter accompanied the bread as well. Since I didn’t add fresh garlic in the soup (I KNOW, right!?!?), you know I had to find some way to incorporate it. But don’t fret, there will be another batch, and you know garlic will make its way into that batch. :D

And there it is! I must add, it smelled divine. I thoroughly enjoyed that I was able to have a perfectly lovely and satisfying vegetarian French onion soup. To be honest, it always seemed so peculiar to me that French onion soup wasn’t vegetarian. I mean a vegetable is the star ingredient and the soup’s namesake. Doesn’t that somehow require the soup be vegetarian? Yes, I realize the contradiction that statement poses to my earlier comment about French onion soup requiring beef stock. It’s a complicated world we live in.

It was sweet (maybe slightly too much for my taste), savory, tart (I originally described it as vinegary – this was a good thing), and rich (almost had a creamy taste) – all the things a good French onion soup should be, in my humble opinion. The white cheddar went surprisingly well (at least to me) with the soup. It was so satisfying, each spoonful left me wanting another. So much so that I even ate the leftover soup for the next few days – in a row. That was huge for me, as I’m not the biggest leftovers person. I was actually sad when the soup was all gone – I saved a bite or two, literally, so I could compare it to the next batch I knew must be imminent. In fact, I was such a fan of this soup that I chased my friend Paloma around the house with a spoonful trying to convince her to at least try it; she says she’s not a fan of onions, but she eventually started to come around with garlic, so I’m holding out hope. ;) Just writing this is making my mouth water for that soup. I miss it. I really, really do.

As it turned out, I didn’t make French Onion Soup again for awhile, but when I did I used a combination of a Julia Child recipe and another that is slipping my mind. I was intrigued by the use of water instead of stock (apparently that suggestion was in one of the recipes). I thought that would provide a deeper, richer onion flavor. I found the soup to be lacking some depth, however, using that method. It was oniony, but, dare I say, somewhat bland – just lacking in some regard. I ended up adding balsamic vinegar and port to my bowl. Sometimes innovation doesn’t work out so well after all.

I hope to revisit you soon, French onion soup. For now, au revoir!

Well, about a week or so before I left it dawned on me that I know quite a few people who either live in or frequently visit S.F. I was already perusing Yelp obsessively, so why not tap into real people for recommendations, too? Throughout my research I soon came across the Ferry Building. People seemed to love the Ferry Building and all of its artisan food shops. I was intrigued, very intrigued. So a night or two before I left some of my friends got a late night e-mail proclaiming my uncontainable excitement for the Ferry Building. I may or may not have compared myself to a kid on Christmas Eve in anticipation of Christmas morning. Hey guys just be happy it wasn’t a late night phone call! ;) Tuesdays and Saturdays a farmers’ market is set up at the Ferry Building in addition to all the permanent stores inside. I knew where I was going to be Saturday morning; it was non-negotiable. I even had dreams of visiting the Ferry Building twice while in S.F.

So onto the events of the weekend. Friday night a friend picked me up and off we went to Sunflower Vietnamese Restaurant in the Mission area.  It was crowded when we walked in, and we had a short wait. However, people waiting is usually a good sign. I also noticed a Yelp sticker in the window. I don’t regard Yelp as the Quality Bible, but the sticker’s presence was noted and filed in the right place. We were seated at a corner table in the very back of the restaurant next to another group. I thought the restaurant had a nice, cozy atmosphere. I liked it. I got the vermicelli bowl with five spice chicken and Imperial rolls – deep fried rice paper rolls filled with pork, taro, and other veggies. The chicken was good and had a nice warmth from the five-spice blend. The Imperial rolls were very tasty as well. Again, I have to start taking notes so I can be a more detailed blogger. ;) My friend got the vegetarian vermicelli bowl. He pretty much cleaned out the bowl. I think that means he liked it. I did, however, manage to successfully solicit a bite of tofu. It, too, was tasty. Sadly, my bowl looked like it had barely been touched. I, for some reason, was rather full. I attribute it to the fact that I did pretty much nothing but sit all day thanks to a three-hour delay out of LAX. Low clouds in S.F. Likely story, eh? Well, my lack of appetite at dinner didn’t stop me from bringing my food back to the hotel with me. After dinner we went to a bar where I was introduced to Tumner Pilsner. I became a fan. Once back in my room, I noticed my appetite had resurfaced (another likely story, eh?) and the leftover chicken and Imperial rolls were the perfect solution. I had a vegetarian Imperial roll in there, too, which was just as tasty. :) This worked out splendidly as I had no fridge in my room. :)

Vermicelli bowl with five spice chicken and Imperial rolls.

Then Saturday morning came. As it became evident that my original plan of breakfast or brunch at the Ferry Building wasn’t going to materialize (I was running late, and knew I would get to visit later in the day.), I very happily looked forward to Froot Loops and sourdough toast, coffee included. What? It’s a childhood classic. Anyway, moving on.

A friend picked me up at my hotel around noon, and we set off for the Ferry Building in the rain – which had just started. Thankfully by the time we had parked – in the most convoluted parking garage ever mind you – and emerged from the lot the sun was beginning to shine through the clouds and bits of blue were poking through. We were welcomed by a great view of the Bay Bridge and Treasure Island – I was very amused that there is actually a place called Treasure Island. Win.

The building was very pretty inside and out. My friend, a graphic designer, mentioned she was very fascinated and impressed by the interior. We walked into a busy, crowded, and relatively fast-paced environment with lots of people standing around, chatting, and perusing all the shops’ offerings (one of which had food-related antiques). Olive oil brought us into our first shop, the Stonehouse California Olive Oil Company. They had free samples lined up with pieces of bread available for dipping. My friend actually spotted this before I did and wasted no time digging in. I followed suit – after all I was here to eat, right? I sampled the Arbequina olive oil, which I thought had a slight grassy flavor and was full-bodied. Very yummy indeed. I always feel bad taking a lot of free samples, so I didn’t try the others. Had I, I would have been very interested in trying the blood orange olive oil.

After that I just about walked smack dab into Boccalone. Okay, I realize how that might sound like I just walked into the store, but I more meant that as “I almost walked into a wall,” sort of thing. I was excited. We walked in (it’s a very small store, more like a storefront), looked at a few things, and then left. It wasn’t time for the meat cone just yet. Yes, meat cone. After walking past some very large (and a very large variety of) mushrooms at Far West Fungi and the outdoors farmers’ market we decided it was time for lunch.

Look at the giant mushrooms!

Well, what d’ya know? One of the recommendations I received was at the Ferry Building – Taylor’s Automatic Refersher. Supposed to have pretty decent burgers and sweet potato fries, according to my source. So my friend and I ventured in – I was excited because they serve Niman Ranch beef – and ordered. It was pretty cool inside. You order and pick up your food at a counter. Large, high tables were set up with stools for dining inside and the outdoor patio had wood tables. As the sun had shone through we opted to dine outdoors. I ordered the cheeseburger and fries, my friend ordered the grilled cheese with garlic fries. As soon as she saw garlic fries, she was sold. Although garlic is pretty much one of my favorite things ever, I just wanted to try the normal fries; taste the purity that is a French fry from Taylor’s Automatic Refresher. Plus, I was planning on stealing a garlic fry anyway. ;) Aaaand here’s lunch…

Griled cheese, garlic fries, cheeseburger, and regular fries.

I described the burger as a well done classic (No, not well-done meat! Never!). The beef was good, cooked just right – oh! it was so nice and juicy! – the bun was very tasty, the cheese was good and gooey, and the sauce and vegetables were pretty standard. I took the veggies off later anyway. I’m not a big fan of veggies on a burger unless they’re onions – raw, grilled, whatever. Sometimes the lettuce can stay, but the tomato usually has to go. If it’s a “gourmet” burger, the toppings get to stay because they’re generally part of the whole experience. Okay, moving on from my burger idiosyncrasies. My friend said she thoroughly enjoyed her grilled cheese – and the garlic fries. The fries were average, and the garlic fries – which, of course, I had to taste – tasted like average garlic fries – that’s a good thing. I liked Taylor’s because they did classic American comfort food – and they did it well. I would return if I was looking for a good grilled cheese or classic burger. (I’d probably say the same about the cheeseburger at Henry’s Hat in L.A.) Gourmet? I’d go somewhere else (although the meat quality was great), but nothing’s ever wrong with the classics. Hello? Froot Loops. ;)

So pretty full at this point, but do you know what time it was? Time for a meat cone and coffee from Blue Bottle. Yep, I know it’s a hard job, but gotta forge ahead. I won’t lie though – I wasn’t entirely looking forward to it, if only because I knew my stomach was going to threaten to explode its contents if I kept treating it like this. So without further adieu – Boccalone Salumeria. Finally. Tasty salted pig parts reads their motto. Seriously, what’s not to love about that? I happily went up to the cashier and placed my order for a meat cone with a large smile on my face. I had read that they also carry guanciale, which I’ve read is supposed to be the true pork ingredient in dishes such as pasta all’amatriciana and spaghetti alla carbonara – not pancetta (which I heart, but that’s a whole other story). I was tempted to buy some, but I wasn’t sure how well it would hold up. The man I spoke with told me that products like guanciale or pancetta would be totally fine unrefrigerated for a few days, as they were uncooked, cured, and very fatty. Interesting. I still didn’t buy any. I’m still undecided as to whether or not I regret that decision. I’ll keep you updated. I do regret, however, not asking the man what exactly I was eating – maybe he told me and I just forgot. He probably told me. Again, start taking notes, start taking notes. Anyway, you are presented with a trio of meats: a salami, ham, and something that resembled mortadella – and may well have been a really, really good mortadella. The ham was my least favorite as it tasted – and I hope I’m not chastised too harshly for saying this – kind of like normal good-quality ham. The mortadella was peppery, and the pistachios went very well with the meat’s flavorings. I feel like it had a sweetness to it. The salami was a little saltier, but also seemed to have a slight sweetness to it. I so wish I could remember more. I was trying to decide if maybe clove or allspice was somewhere in there. Definitely some tasty salted pig parts. Boccalone win.

Cone o' meat!

So what goes best with meat cones? Why coffee, of course! Yeah, I wasn’t too sure about that either, but that was next on my food quest, so it had to be conquered. I was very intrigued by all the Yelp reviews mentioning the New Orleans-style iced coffee. I’m not the biggest fan of iced coffee, and it was San Francisco in January. But the burger and meat cone had been undeniably filling and warm coffee can fill you up in that spreading warmth through your body way, so iced coffee was starting to sound not too bad at this point. There was quite a line at Blue Bottle – and it moved pretty slowly. :\ But we waited patiently. Plus, I didn’t mind the thought of a small break before putting anything else in my mouth. The coffee smelled very good, people seemed happy, and I noticed they serve affogato with Humphry Slocombe’s Tahitian Vanilla. Win. Too bad I wasn’t there for dessert. I ended up going with the masses and ordering the New Orleans-style iced coffee. It sounded interesting, I wanted to know why it was “New Orleans-style,” (I assumed chicory was in there somewhere.) a cold drink – of just about any kind – sounded better than hot coffee at that point, and if I became that desperate, I could always order some beans or have a friend pick some up for me. The first two or three sips were good, very good, but my mind wasn’t blown. Enter the following sips. Okay, okay, my mind still wasn’t blown, per se, but I took a whole different kind of liking to the coffee drink. There was a subtle sweetness and the unique flavor of the coffee and chicory really started to come through. Overall, I can definitely see why some people swear by this drink – and could see myself becoming addicted if I lived near a Blue Bottle, or chose to buy all of the ingredients and equipment to make them at home. I won’t lie – when going to get my first coffee drink upon coming home, I thought to myself, “Oh, how I wish I could have Blue Bottle.” Seriously. Ah, well. Guess I’ll just have to travel the 357 (approximately ;)) miles soon, eh?

New Orleans-style iced coffee. Refreshing indeed.

By this point I think I probably was actually waddling. On my list for the day I also had Ghiradelli chocolate ice cream and Humphry Slocombe ice cream. Oh! And an Irish coffee from Buena Vista Café (another recommendation). But like I said, I was waddling, so I thought a break might be prudent. My friend and I headed off to the great Golden Gate Bridge. I couldn’t remember having been there before – whether or not I have been is still unverified at this point. The views were absolutely amazing. My friend then had me follow her – to a bridge that goes under the Marin County side of the Bridge. Very cool as you can see the structure of the bridge. Yet totally terrifying as you can feel – and hear – all of the cars literally speeding above you.

Okay, break was over (short, I know). I now had a critical decision to make. Ghiradelli, Humphry, or both? Well, actually, I made this decision before we even left the Ferry Building, but I feel it goes best in the story here. I had to go with Humphry. Ghiradelli will always hold a special place in my heart. Always. But I’ve been there numerous times, and I’ve never been to Humphry Slocombe’s. And I was told by my friend, The Geeky Gourmand, that I might be “keeled” if I didn’t try it. Humphry clearly had to be my guy that day. So back over the bridge and on to Humphry’s we went. I no longer felt like I wanted to explode, so we were already off to a good start. The unique ice cream shop brought me back to the Mission district of S.F. It was located in a mixed residential/local business area. It’s a very modern looking establishment and has about three cute tables with chairs outside. There is some counter seating inside as well.

So I had heard much about their Secret Breakfast flavor, which is corn flakes and bourbon. Clearly, I was going to have to at least sample that one, so sample I did. I was hoping for a more unique flavor; to be a little more surprised. However, it had a nice, but not overpowering sweetness to it and, well, tasted like corn flakes and bourbon – and cream. I’d also read a lot about their Blue Bottle Vietnamese coffee flavored ice cream. It’s seeming there is some kind of Blue Bottle-Humphry Slocombe affiliation going on. Reviews of Humphry’s Blue Bottle ice cream were actually what led me to Blue Bottle coffee. People were saying it tasted just like the coffee, which was some of the best coffee. Taste number two went to the Blue Bottle Vietnamese. Yes, it was one of the best coffee ice creams I’ve ever tasted. Very rich and full-flavored. What coffee ice cream should be. There were a variety of flavors I wanted to try, but as I said earlier, I do feel kinda bad taking a lot of free samples. I already felt I was pushing my luck, but I went ahead and asked for a third taste. I should note that I was definitely not the only one asking for multiple tastings. Anyway, back to the ice creams. Salted licorice. That one sounded unquestionably unique – and I love licorice. And salted things as a general rule. At first taste, it tasted like very, very salty licorice. I wasn’t so sure about this. But then came the aftertaste. Usually “aftertaste” isn’t a term of endearment when it comes to foodstuffs, but this time I’m definitely using it as such. The saltiness was wonderfully tempered by the creaminess of the ice cream and the sweet and warm licorice flavor. Now, dear readers, you might be wondering – what did I actually order? That would be the ancho chocolate. For the record, I also sampled it. :D Before I ever looked at their online menu, much less got to their store, I pretty much knew I’d be ordering chocolate ice cream. Chocolate is not only my standby, but my favorite. It’s the constant by which all ice creams and gelatos are judged – precisely because chocolate is my favorite. Now I should probably admit that I will stray from pure chocolate – but usually only if it’s not available. And Humphry did not offer pure chocolate, at least not when I was there. I was a fan of the ancho chocolate. It had a good rich, chocolatey flavor. However, while I was eating my kid’s scoop at an outside table people-watching with my friend I started to detect the subtleties of the ice cream. It had a slight smokey undertone and every once in a bite I would notice very mild heat at the end of a spoonful. This was definitely some good chocolate ice cream – definitely worth the price of forgoing Ghiradelli. Sorry, G Square, I will be back another time, and you will always have a place in my heart – I promise! I now accepted that my afternoon o’ food was over – soon enough my night o’ food would begin. :) (Photos of ice cream forthcoming, I promise. :))

My friend and I couldn’t decide where to go come dinnertime. I’d gotten a few recommendations from family and friends, we’d gotten some more recommendations from the woman at the front desk, but nothing was screaming out at us. For the record, the woman at the front desk recommended Sears, which is right next door to the hotel. And, no, not the department store. ;) She said most people love it for breakfast, but she actually thinks their dinner is better. Duly noted. So back to our dinner dilemma.

My friend and I decided to just start walking down Powell and see what we could find. A couple blocks down from the hotel we came across an Italian restaurant inside a hotel. Italian had sounded yummy from the get-go. Okay, we found our dinner establishment – Kuleto’s in the Villa Florence Hotel.  We had the option to sit at a bar overlooking the kitchen. Done! We both hungrily perused the menu, happy at our prospects. They were also offering a prix fixe menu with some of the proceeds going towards relief for the Haiti earthquake. We decided on that and ordered an additional appetizer to share. The first course was a quail terrine with Dijon aioli, lightly dressed mixed greens, and toasted bread. I wasn’t so sure about the terrine. The last time I had pate, I wasn’t the biggest fan – but I also suspected it may not have been the best pate to sample as a first-timer. This quail terrine I liked. It was pretty firm, but still pretty spreadable, and had a nice, faint tang to it. The aioli was good and had a nice, creamy consistency. And for those of you that have been out aioli-ing with me you know how I kvetch about a large portion of “aiolis” not actually being aioli. Anyway, I digress. So the aioli was good in case you were wondering. ;) As were the mixed greens. All together, the flavors melded together nicely.

Onto our second appetizer – bruschetta. O.M.G. So tasty. This came with roasted and marinated red peppers, burrata, and arugula. Then some extra-virgin olive oil was drizzled over the cheese, and it was seasoned with salt and pepper. The burrata was so good. I wish I could just take up a whole post talking about it. Well, I probably could do a post on burrata. Hmm… So creamy and buttery and just delicious. If you like fresh mozzarella and are wondering what you’ll think of burrata, the answer is – you’ll probably heart it. A lot. I remember the first time I had burrata. I wasn’t so sure about it. It is one of the most disgusting looking cheeses, in my humble opinion, of course (that is, when it still has its outer “shell” – which is not so much a shell as an outer layer of less gooey cheese). It’s so gooey and wet and squishy. But then I tasted it. And then I knew. I knew the glory that is burrata. And it was just heaven with the olive oil and salt and pepper. Simple, fresh food at its best. The dish as a whole was good, each component separately tasty, yet they all went together really well. Usually I prefer tomatoes on my bruschetta – I’m a bit of a traditionalist like that – but roasted red peppers are never bad in my book either. The arugula was peppery and slightly bitter, as it should be, but complimented nicely by the vinaigrette.

Our main dish was steak pizzaiolo. We had it cooked medium, and it was medium – very thankful about that. : ) I hate getting overcooked meat, and I’m so over well-done – says the girl who used to flinch at any trace of pink in her In-N-Out burgers. Oh, how I’ve grown. ;) The sauce was good and had a nice tang, but I felt the black olives were a little out of place. That surprised me, and made me kinda sad, as I love olives, and was very much looking forward to them. The polenta served alongside was alright, but then again I’m not the biggest polenta fan. I felt it had a good consistency, but was somewhat bland. Truth be told, I think I enjoyed the appetizers more than the main course. C’est la vie!

Dessert was a flourless chocolate cake with vanilla bean ice cream and espresso crème anglaise. While I love chocolate, I usually miss the flour in flourless chocolate cake, and have found it sometimes too rich. Weird, I know. This cake was as expected, but had a good chocolate flavor, and the hint of espresso was nice – and the ice cream was scrum-diddly-umptious. Seriously. Sometimes, as much as I love chocolate, good vanilla ice cream can steal the show. Just don’t tell chocolate! ;) All in all, I was impressed with Kuleto’s and would offer a good recommendation if asked about them. It’s San Francisco – I’m sure there are a ton of other really good Italian restaurants – which I’d love to try, too – but this one didn’t disappoint.

After dinner we had covered. We’d decided that Bourbon and Branch would be our destination. My cousin raved about it, and my friend’s sister, who lives in the city, listed it as one of her favorites. My friend was also super excited about it, as they require a secret password to get in and there was reportedly no real sign out front – all there to reinforce their speakeasy vibe. Their Web site (yes, I do recognize the irony here of a speakeasy having a Web site) even asks that you “speak easy” while inside. Reservations are required…for the main bar. Located inside the bar there is yet another bar completely closed off from the seating area. It’s the bar for those without reservations. It offers a limited drink list and very sparse seating – but it’s a ticket in if you don’t have a reservation. My friend and I weren’t able to get a reservation, so we planned on going to the smaller bar, fondly known as the Library. I personally thought the “secret” password (it’s listed on the Web site for the Library, or you’re given one for the evening with your reservation) and list of rules (no cameras among them) all seemed a little cheesy (I am in the distinct minority amongst my friends.). BUT…we have historical speakeasy vibe, handcrafted cocktails (supposedly some awesome gin-based ones – huzzah!), and a room known as the Library that’s lined with books. How could I not go here!?

We walked over after dinner, and as it’s in the Tenderloin, we were careful. Much to our great surprise we spotted a line at the corner where the bar was supposed to be. A speakeasy with a very visible line? I would think not! But then I would be wrong. We got in line without much hope. Too many people seemed to know about it, it was Saturday night – we thought we’d just wait a few minutes and leave. Within ten minutes we were being ushered inside. The woman asked the couple in front of us if they had a password, and they gave her the password for the Library. She then asked us if we were there for the same password. Very discreetly we answered in the affirmative. A group of about six of us followed the woman through the main bar area (very nice, definitely want to get reservations for my next trip to S.F.; dark, historical ambiance, low lights – very cool) to an open door that I noticed upon passing through it was the “famed” wall door – a section of the wall lined with books opens up as a secret door and lands you in the Library. The Library was quite small and quite crowded – as Yelp had told us it would be. Many patrons were dressed in period or period-inspired attire (mostly period-inspired), but there was by no means a dress code. Although I do think it would be fun to get a little dressed up and go there – maybe after-theater drinks perhaps? It made up for its size and people count by literally having walls lined with books (many legal texts!), low lighting, appropriate music, candles everywhere (candles even lined a stairway – this seemed somewhat dangerous to me, but just go with it I guess!), and barrels as “tables.” Totally loved the ambiance. Similar vibe to The Edison in downtown L.A., but they each definitely have their own personalities.

So onto the drinks! I’d heard a lot about their cucumber gimlet – with gin, of course! – and I was intrigued. I had a cucumber gin drink at The Village Idiot in L.A. that had gone over well, so I was eager to try another like-minded drink. Unfortunately, the bartender thought I’d ordered a pomegranate ginger martini with gin. Fortunately, it was incredibly tasty. :) It had pomegranate juice, gin, ginger, sparkling wine, and a twist of lime. I’m sure there were some other ingredients, but I can’t recall. My friend got the French 75. All I can remember about that drink is that it was made with sparkling wine. She said she really liked it. :) I would definitely recommend the Bourbon and Branch – and I bet it’s even better when you can peruse their full menu of drinks and sit in a nice booth. The drinks were very good and well-made. Worth a trip if you want to splurge a little on a good cocktail. :) Also, don’t be deterred by a wait if you’re ever confronted with one there. Everyone was very nice, and it moved fast. :) No photos because I was too much of a wuss to try. Maybe next time! ;)

My second and final morning in the city I forwent the classic Froot Loops and sourdough toast (although, in all seriousness, what’s better than sourdough bread?) for breakfast out. A friend and I went to Honey, Honey Crepery (how cute is the name!?). This sounded good to me as I have a soft spot in my heart for a crepe café near my house, and crepe cafes seem to be popping up everywhere now, so I was interested to try a new one. Plus it was neighborhood-y, so that was an added plus. I ordered the Challah French toast and my friend ordered the oatmeal. No crepes here. :P Truth be told, that little crepe place by my house? Don’t normally get the crepes; usually go with the French toast for breakfast. While we waited for our food – and I hugged my coffee mug – my friend brought us glasses of their complimentary cucumber water. That seemed so “San Francisco” to me. Well, so “California” really. I was new to cucumber water. And? I liked it. A lot. I’m not big on just water – maybe unless it’s iced and I’m hot. Flavored water, however, even if it’s just lemon or lime – which are two of my favorite water flavorings – is a win in my book. It was very fresh and clean tasting. Then our food arrived. I don’t think I’ve ever really had bad French toast – it was what I wanted and that made me happy. :) My friend seemed to enjoy his oatmeal, which I didn’t manage to steal a taste of. ;) But that’s okay, the oatmeal looked yummy enough that it has since inspired me to want to make some. I’m hoping for an Alton Brown recipe. An Alton Brown “Good Eats” recipe preferably. :)

After breakfast we spent about two hours walking around the city. This was much welcomed after my weekend o’ eating. However, on our walk we came across a chocolate factory – a chocolate factory that heralded itself as the only chocolate factory in production in San Francisco. I can’t imagine why they would try to make that so obvious. *Cough* Ghiradelli *cough*. The factory’s shop was cute and modern – and looked like it was built on an old pier inherently giving it some points. Didn’t try any of the chocolate, although it smelled good – I couldn’t bring myself to completely cheat on Ghiradelli that weekend – and it had a pretty awesome “street sign.” (Photo included.)

Finally, it was time for me to return to the City of Angels. I wasn’t all sad though, as I had my grandma’s birthday dinner to look forward to upon arrival at LAX at Fleming’s. That might have to be another post though. And just to make sure I did do everything in my power to remain full for the majority of the weekend, I had some garlic fries from the Gordon Biersch inside the airport. No beer though; I can get that down here. The garlic fries taste just like they do at Dodger Stadium – so I can get those down here, too. Take that for what you will. :P

San Francisco showed me a great weekend, and I loved how close it was – perfect for a weekend getaway “in the city,” since doing that in L.A., as much as I love it, wouldn’t provide quite the same “city” atmosphere. Plus, S.F. is just pretty awesome on its own. :) Since I’ve been recording my food and drink stories in S.F., I would probably be remiss not to mention that the bathroom in my hotel room had a bottle opener right next to the toilet. Yes, seriously. Do with that what you will. By the way, it was definitely a totally suitable hotel. I would stay there again, bottle opener or no bottle opener in the john.

I left my fork in San Francisco (last song reference, I promise!) – with all the places left untasted there was just no other choice. ;)

Every Christmas for as long as I can remember – seriously, I mean going back to tot days – one of my aunts has made a cookie platter. There were always these lovely chocolate confections that I adored. Basically, it was like a chocolate candy bar filled with flavored marshmallows (neon, pastel marshmallows to be exact – not entirely sure of their flavor other than faint citrus) topped with coconut. I LOVED these things. So last year, or the year before, I finally decided to ask her what they were, how to make them, etc. She told me they were called church stained glass windows and they were SUPER easy to make. Were they? She said you melt chocolate and butter, fold in the marshmallows, put the coconut on a piece of parchment or wax paper, form a log – wait, I thought this was supposed to be easy? – and roll the log up in the coconut-dusted parchment paper. Hmm…this wasn’t sounding too easy. Especially that rolling part. So I checked out some recipes online. Same method. Hmm…

So I finally decided to go for it. And here it is…

Really? This is supposed to work?

Are you sure?

You're positive about this, you say?

Whoa, this actually seems to be working.

Huh. Look at that. Now it's time for the fridge.

Messy, but still looks promising.

Huzzah! I think it worked!

It did, it did!!

And that’s the story of the church stained glass windows. :D Now time to nom on them – even in all of their log-form glory haha. :D Oh! I should mention – I actually thought they tasted more like my aunt’s – and better, too – after a day or two. Just food for thought. :)

I had so much fun preparing dinner. Once again, as with the turkey, I noticed a sense of comfort in preparing the braciola. It surprised me how while I thought I was under a bit of a time crunch, I mostly just felt calm and happy and concentrated on getting it done.

Stuffed and browning in the pan :)

Gettin' all nice and browned, time to add the wine!

The sauces. Oh, the sauces. The red sauce, my great-grandma’s spaghetti sauce, turned out as perfect as I could have hoped for. Usually it doesn’t come out just right, but she must have been there with me that night because, boy, did it remind me of eating spaghetti, sprinkled with Kraft grated Parmesan cheese of course, at her kitchen table for lunch. The pesto. Okay, so the pesto recipe that I think I’ve deemed my favorite is the one my dad makes. It’s a Marcella Hazan recipe. It’s a blender pesto, uses extra-virgin olive oil and butter and two cheeses – one of them is Pecornio Romano, which I adore – and I bet you all can guess as to the other cheese – Parmigiano Reggiano. I just love the ingredient list of this pesto. Anyway, no, you don’t put everything into the blender and spin her around. I’ve done this and it produces quite a yummy pesto, but if you follow the recipe exactly – something I’ll admit I don’t do all too often – it comes out even better. No wonder I always think it turns out better when my dad makes it.  The trick is to stir in the cheeses and butter after the rest of the pesto is blended together. I didn’t think it could make that much of a difference, but oh, yes, it does. Trust me here. I’m usually the one thinking shortcuts aren’t noticeable, especially when I’m in a hurry, but this is definitely worth those extra few seconds – and definitely noticeable. The gorgonzola sauce. I was thinking okay, it’s a cream sauce. Flour, butter, milk or cream, the cheese, and seasonings. Half-and-half, cheese, and salt. That’s it. How easy is that. But so super good. The aromas of the individual ingredients and of the final products were totally satisfying and all the three sauces were incredibly moan-worthy.

Spaghetti sauce bubbling away. :)

Pesto! (Yes, it was that exciting.)

The beautiful gorgonzola.

Parmigiano being stirred into the gorgonzola sauce.

And then dinner was ready – complete with salad prepared by Paloma – very awesome salad, mind you. :D Sadly, I have no photos of the salad.

Sliced braciola, ready for nomming. :) Could have been a little pinker though...

And my plate. Please note the fancy silverware – only the best for my friends! It should also be noted that everyone loved the gnocchi – it was rather tasty! Next endeavor: homemade gnocchi. Okay, well, I have made gnocchi before, but it needs to be done again – mostly because I still have a lot to learn about making gnocchi.

Yes, there were all kinds of yummy, sweet Christmas goodies, but the dessert star of the night was coming courtesy a friend. My friend Katrina brought pumpkin cheesecake. I’ve been hearing about this for the past few years and I had gotten rather irate that I had yet to have any, so she offered to make some for our Christmas gathering. Win. And it totally lived up to its hype, too. Uber win. Katrina’s famous pumpkin cheesecake has an open invitation to my house. And I guess Katrina, too. ;)

Super yummy and festive! :)

I also popped chocolate gingerbread in the oven. It’s been yet another Christmas tradition for me over the past few years. It usually gets made Christmas Eve, in the wee Santa Claus hours of Christmas Eve, and every once in awhile on Christmas Day. So far, though, that’s been all for me in the festive week after Christmas. Christmas baking is so personally beneficial.

Not the best photo, but super tasty. :)

Drink wise, we had two lovely bottles of wine brought by two friends, and we decided to mix champagne with cranberry juice.

Again, one of the nice things about cooking now isn’t that maybe some of the food tastes better – I don’t really think it does over all – but the confidence of knowing what you’re doing – just having that knowledge from having done it before. Knowing when to improvise, knowing when to follow a recipe (cough, pesto, cough), knowing when you want to improvise as you have in the past. It was overall a good experience. :)

One thing I learned during the Christmas cooking and baking stretch this year is this – burns, paper cuts, and other minor cuts hurt. Especially when you put pressure on them, accidentally hit them against something, stretch them or move them the wrong way, etc. Even typing isn’t free of mild, very mild, pain. Ah, well. That being said, I think they were probably worth it. :)

This Christmas, as is usual now, I was requested to bring “the” green beans. In case you are new, “the” green beans are green beans with bacon and garlic. Bacon. Garlic. What more do you need? ;) Oh, well, I guess the green beans, but I could probably just eat the bacon and garlic. The green beans just give the illusion that you’re eating something good for you. ;) Well, “the” green beans are good for you – good for your soul. Maybe just not the arteries so much – which is why they’re special occassion beans. Okay, I digress – as usual. So, we had me on the beans, my grandma was making a pork loin roast stuffed with cloves, yes, cloves, of garlic and roasted potatoes – as usual – and my aunt was making candied yams (sweet potatoes) and a ham, while another aunt was making a salad. My ham and yam aunt also brought some baked beans. O.M.G. were these baked beans yummy. So sweet, savory, and spicy. They had a lovely warmth and smokiness to them. Turns out the smokiness came from chipotle peppers in adobo, no meat. Nice touch. They were, however, just a tad spicy, BUT super, super yummy. She said they were a recipe from the Yard House.

My (not so full anymore) plate. :)

After our main feast, of course, the dessert feast took place. I don’t even know if I can remember everything that was on the table. Yes, we had a whole dessert table. Well, we usually do, so nothing too new about that. I brought the biscotti and fudge, there were more biscotti, a variety of other cookies, a chocolate cake I think, maybe some pie? And one of my aunts, who always brings a cookie platter, did so again. It truly wouldn’t be Christmas without her cookie plate. And for the past few years, she’s been giving out little “goodie bags” filled with her goodies. I LOVE it. Church stained glass windows – chocolate, marshmallows, and coconut, seven layer bars, and these chocolate peanut butter bar things are my favorites. I’ve resolved to learn how to make the first two, and this year I finally did made the church stained glass windows – but that’s another post. :P

My favorite part of Christmas this year – aside, of course, from being with my family :) – was when I asked my aunt who made the wonderful baked beans if I could take the leftovers home and she then asked if she could take my green beans home. Bean exchange = yay! :D She then sent me the recipe – and I wasn’t the only one. I’ve yet to make them, but it will have to happen soon.

First batch - what the fudge should look like while cooking.

And the finished product! First successful batch of fudge for Christmas 2009.

Once my dad and I finally got our tree we decorated it to A Very Special Christmas, as I’ve insisted upon for the past few years, and looks just like it always does. I also made sure to have a bite of fudge as I was decorating and listening to Christmas music. It’s what you do at a tree-trimming party. As I bit into the fudge, again, I was struck at how tasty it was. Every day I’ve had fudge, it never ceases to amaze me how tasty it is. And I never cease to think of my mama. :) My dad also had all the strudel ingredients sprawled across the counter. It’ just like seeing all the pie ingredients out for Thanksgiving. I’ve still yet to make strudel. One can only hope that will be amended soon. :)

Fast forward to the Tuesday before Christmas. ‘Twas time to make more fudge, as the first batch only had about, oh, a piece or so left of it. I was a little worried I had cooked the sugar and marshmallow mixture too long again, but I was mostly concerned that it was too soft. I tasted it that night and it didn’t taste just right. I had ruined yet another batch of fudge in the meantime – but I was smart and hadn’t added the chocolate because I could tell the sugar and marshmallow mixture was too caramelized. So onto a third batch for two nights. I was more confident in this batch – until I poured into a dish to set up. Did I overcook it again?! Well, the next morning would hold the truth. The next morning came and I decided that that first batch from Tuesday night – a big batch – was, in fact, probably the best of the three and the best of the two that had had the privilege of setting up. So there you have it – that second batch was the winner. And I’ve even gotten into to it today, a few days later, and been just as pleased with it as I was my very first batch. Who’d a thunk?

Then the Wednesday before Christmas was the infamous rostule day. :)

Come Christmas Eve, while I finally had the fudge under control, I had yet to do the biscotti or chocolate gingerbread. And I still kind of wanted to do the cranberry tart like I had last year.

Christmas Eve proved rather busy but productive for me. For one, I had to do my Christmas shopping. :\ Following that, lunch was to be had, and then off to my aunt and uncle’s house with my grandma in tow. This didn’t include the aforementioned cooking or the present-wrapping. As it turned out, come time to get ready for Christmas Eve at my aunt’s and uncle’s the cooking, er, baking wasn’t quite done. Not quite ideal. However, the biscotti were well on their way – they had even gone through their first bake. I feel like maybe I say this too much, but it really isn’t Christmas without…what’s it going to be this time, people? ;) It really isn’t Christmas without the biscotti. Also, fun fact: a 325 degree oven is H-O-T! Burned the top of my middle finger whilst taking the biscotti out of the oven Useful tip: take note of how close the top rack in the oven is to the top of the oven. Just saying is all.

The li'l guys all lined up out of the oven. :)

Making fudge, biscotti, rostule, and watching my dad make apple strudel (and usually bacalar – this year my aunt made it) truly signify the beginning of the season for me. It really just wouldn’t be Christmas without those things. Clearly I’m not giving these Christmas traditions enough of the spotlight. I must stop expecting to be able to cram them all into one post, so look for the true spotlights of each Christmas culinary concoction (Yay for alliteration! It’s late, I’m tired, deal with it. :P)

So today was, in fact, one of those days. Woke up late and felt like I was running late pretty much the whole day – if anyone wants to get snarky here, hush please. ;) On the menu today was fudge, as I felt last night’s second, yes, second, batch didn’t turn out just right, biscotti, as I was too lazy last night, and rostule at my grandma’s house with two of my cousins. Then a get-together with some “back-in-the-day”people. :) Somewhere in there I also had to go Christmas shopping and just run some general errands.

Well, it was clear that no foodstuffs were getting made before I headed over to my grandma’s as I woke up much later than planned. When I got to my grandma’s one of the first things I noticed was that she had put out the Hershy’s kisses. Christmas was officially here.

Next, I noticed she had all of the equipment and ingredients already laid out and ready to go. Nothing too unusual about that. Once my cousins arrived we were put to work and Grandma was going to leave us to it – or so she said.

We convened to make rostule, also known as hrstule or krostule. It’s basically fried dough with powdered sugar on it. How bad can that be, right? A little more specifically, it’s a Croatian fried pastry. You make a pretty sticky dough and then you’re supposed to roll it out to a paper-thin consistency, cut it into strips – usually with a pretty edge, and then fry the strips in Crisco. Once the rostule are golden brown and have a crispness to them, you take them out of the Crisco and let them cool slightly before dusting them with powdered sugar. They are very tasty, mind you. The first time I attempted them, I think two years ago, I was told they were too thick and not crispy enough – but still tasty. Apparently, it’s best to make them with others and to form a sort of assembly line.

Anyway, back to Grandma and cousins. First, Grandma delegated specific tasks to each of us (there were 3 of us today). Then we had to decide if we were going to use bourbon, as we did last year, or anise extract. Grandma was in favor of anise, so anise we used. Then we had her check the dough as we were rolling it out. Strips were too small, should be bigger. Okay. But we were kind of low on dough. Then we had to make sure they were thick enough because, you know, they’re just not as good if they’re too thin. Then once they were all out of the fryer Grandma suggested that maybe we should have cooked them a little longer because they could be a little crispier. Also, it was noted that there weren’t that many of them. Should we make more? We decided not after some deliberation. Finally, it was time to dust them with the powdered sugar. Grandma had a large cardboard box out and lined with wax paper to hold the finished rostule. We thought why not just put them in there and then add the powdered sugar. We thought wrong. If we did that, too much sugar would be at the bottom of the box, so we were told. So we moved to the cutting board. That was more acceptable. We ended our 2009 rostule-making-a-thon by moving them to a smaller container because, again, we didn’t have as many as last year. That’s what we get for making them thicker. Ah, well. Such is life.

After doing the dishes, we all retreated to the living room. And talked about alcohol. Grandma told us about Pink Ladies and Grasshoppers. And we learned that one of her favorites is Malibu and orange juice. One of my other cousins gave her that for the first time. We were all also very much in favor of mojitos. Oh Christmas!

As I left, I noticed you could easily smell the rostule in the air – and on my clothes. Just like last year.

Our effort:

I think I’d be remiss not to mention that Grandma also had a pot of freshly made spaghetti sauce cooling on the stove in one of her oldest pots, and I had some of my aunt’s burek, a meat pita, for lunch. Nice. And two additional batches of fudge were made. As it turns out, last night’s second batch may actually be a good batch… Whoops haha. Biscotti must wait for tomorrow, but it will definitely not be forgotten. It wouldn’t be Christmas without it.

Last night's second batch.

Chocolate for fudge-making today. :)

See, the whole fudge-making process just wasn’t going so well. :\ So then we had to have some eggnog. My recipe book also fell on the floor spilling recipes. :\

There’s eggnog in the mug, I swear! (That rum is also really tasty, at least imho.)

But the day overall was a success. I discovered yesterday’s fudge will more than do, had my first cup of the seasonal and requisite eggnog, my grandma put out the Hershey’s kisses, my clothes smell like rostule, cooking was criticized, lovingly, of course, and I sat around the living room exchanging drink recipes with my family; yes, Christmas is officially here.

So, yes, I did have my Domino’s pizza and cheesy breadsticks (OMFG are those good!), but I also decided to get a little more creative. Hows ’bouts a spaghetti sandwich? I thought about it and that must be one of the ultimate comfort foods. Regular old white bread, butter, and spaghetti with red sauce. I remember my dad telling me of getting these as a kid. Sounds good to me. So I broke out my white bread (sadly no Wonder, or my favorite as a little kiddo, Weber), but white bread nonetheless. And why not put a little garlic powder on those buttered (and toasted as it was a rainy day and I also thought it would help with soaking up the sauced pasta) pieces of bread. Spaghetti and garlic bread – pretty good representation of comfort food me thinks. Nothing too pretty or polished or gourmet, but definitely, and most importantly, super tasty and comforting – and quick; just what finals week requires.

That was Friday afternoon. Come Saturday night I was a bit tired of the Domino’s and I had a random craving for latkes and sour cream – although I’d never had honest-to-goodness latkes – and to cook. This would prove interesting in trying to make them, but make them I did. Or at least the closest thing to good latkes I could do at the time. I expected them to taste more like hash brown cakes, but they did not. That actually made me happy because more often than not I have a weird aversion to breakfast for dinner. I thought they were rather tasty alone and with the sour cream. They also went rather well with ‘Saturday Night Live;’ and in case you’re interested, Taylor Lautner a.k.a. Jacob hosted.

Yes, some of them got a little burned.

When I called everyone into the kitchen last night to make their way through the spread buffet-style I stood behind them all and a smile spread across my face. It made me happy to see everyone gathered excitedly around the food filling their plates, chatting amongst themselves – and, thankfully, they all kept their pants on – as beautiful as they all may be. ;) Looking at the scene I thought to myself that this was the whole point of having people over, cooking copious amounts of food, dirtying an unimaginable amount of dishes, stressing out for days beforehand, and working on your feet for what seems like never-ending hours. It’s what makes Thanksgiving worth it – having everyone crowded in the kitchen; happy and excited.

On that note – another favorite moment was when it came time to carve the turkey. I’m not a master carver, so I’m not going to lie – I did kind of want some help. One of my friends turned out to be quite the master carver herself. I commented while her and I were whacking away at the bird, at different times of course, that how funny is it that when it’s turkey carving time everyone found their way into the kitchen. It was like so primal, we had community, a connection. It brought us all together. To be fair, throughout much of the cooking process the kitchen was full with everyone circling the food. Many a hand had to be shooed away – including mine.

Cooking your first Thanksgiving is a very special thing. I was very excited to be a main player for the first time two years ago, and the first time I hosted Thanksgiving Continued for friends, which was last year, was also very special.

All buttered up.

Gettin' all tanned up.

Caramelized onion and sage cornbread dressing; scrumptious. Cranberry sauce cooking.

Birds!

Gorgeous. Or at least so I thought.

All carved up.

Think it's the whole spread. Cranberry sauce, my grandma's stuffing, sweet potatoes, gravy, cornbread dressing, "the" green beans, and the roasted potatoes.

Full plate.

Pecan pie. Although the recipe was also Emeril's, my dad's was better. :)

To my complete surprise (although it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise if I had any brains to look up the address) I discovered it was located in the Sunset and Vine complex, next to the Borders. Who knew? I should have, as I’ve been right on that corner enough this past year. Ah, well.

When we walked in I was surprised at how small the interior was. The place is pretty spread out though – which is kind of neat. It really does kind of feel like you’re walking into a house. The bar is off to the right; nice, elegant, and dark. The main dining area has a piano, or as it was Forty Deuce night that night, a drum set, in the middle that revolves. Tables and chair kind of circle the centerpiece. Then, up a few stairs, additional seating lines two sides of the room, which is where we sat. You have a nice view looking down, and I imagine it provides a little more privacy. Before being seated, however, we all took to the bar. And my cousin had her “first” drink. ;) She had a gin and tonic. Good, solid choice. I followed suit.

Now onto the eating portion of the evening. My relatives raved quite a bit about the bacon-wrapped, blue-cheese stuffed dates. They did not disappoint. Nor did bacon off my aunt’s salad – which may or may not have been maple-glazed, but was very, very good bacon nonetheless. I think she took pity on me, as I was the only diner at the table not to have ordered a first course. The birthday girl got their soup of the day, which happened to be pumpkin bisque. I now need to find a superb recipe for pumpkin bisque. Seriously. I’m not kidding here. It was perfectly creamy and smooth and its taste was reminiscent of canonical pumpkin pie, yet it wasn’t too sweet and had other flavors. I guess my lack of detail here is what I get for writing about it two months later. Two months minus one day actually. Anyway. We also split the what I believe was a carpaccio dish, but I can’t remember and the only raw steak appetizer on their current menu is steak tartare. That comes with olive tapenade, and I don’t remember olives in the dish I had, so that’s why I’m hesitant to say the table shared that. Either way, I did enjoy the raw beef appetizer. I feel like maybe it had horseradish…? Okay, I really have to start taking notes and/or writing closer to the eating. Bad food blogging practices! Ah, well. There will be a next time. ;)

Bacon-wrapped date

Then our entrees came. The birthday girl got salmon, my aunt and uncle got steaks – which they say are always good, and my other cousin got the scallops – I was debating between those and what I did actually order – the duck confit. Sadly, I only tried the scallops and the duck confit, so I can’t attest to the other dishes, although I heard no complaints. :) The scallops were cooked perfectly. Those are definitely a strong contender for my next visit. They’re served with lobster tail Yukon gold mash and pork lardons. Definitely a contender for next time. Now for the duck confit. I was a little apprehensive truth be told. I wasn’t too impressed the first time I tasted duck confit, nor when I made duck for Obama’s inauguration (part of the Lincoln-inspired menu). But duck is something somewhat different for me. I’ve tasted it at least a few other times, but hadn’t had much of a chance to really savor it. I like trying new things, even want to pride myself on being willing to try new things, especially food-wise, so I had to go for it. So? I liked it. I really did. Especially the somewhat crispy skin. The flavor wasn’t too strong. Now I don’t know if that should be seen as a good thing or a bad thing for duck or duck confit, specifically. I felt there was a tangyness to it, which I liked. The berry gastrique was a great complement to not only the meat, but the whole entree. I wish there had been more. I also especially enjoyed the watercress salad on the side, and thought the forbidden black rice was good, although I’m not the biggest rice fan. If my memory serves me right, the whole dish had a good balance of flavors that all went really well together.

Duck confit

The meal ended with housemade beignets being brought out in honor of the birthday girl. I think they came with a chocolate sauce and vanilla ice cream. Again, write closer to eating, write closer to eating, write closer to eating. Either way, I wasn’t overly impressed with the dessert; it was probably my least favorite and least memorable aspect of the meal – not to say it was bad, just not something to write home about. Ha. Ha.

I’m glad I was able to finally dine at Cafe Was, and very glad that I was able to celebrate my cousin’s birthday. Food and family just go together. :)