Mary Ladd

Another Helping of Incanto Whole Beast (Birthday) Dinner

Photo of Incanto Chef Chris Cosentino.

Oscar went whole hog for his birthday dinner. Here's the menu that Incanto Restaurant came up with.

Incanto mixed antipasto platter: all cured in house, and includes head cheese, mortadella, chunky pork pate, roasted garlic, mild peppers and house country style mustard. I liked the mortadella best because it was thinly sliced, and mild. Goal: taste and enjoy but save room for the main event.

Choice of wild greens with Zinfandel vinaigrette or Grilled Squid & watermelon with chilli and mint. There's nothing to complain about with the wild greens, which were fresh and nicely dressed. But the adventurous eaters were universally thrilled with the flavors, texture and heat of the squid salad. Who knew watermelon and squid made such a sweet heat blend of squishy, soft meets crunchy, sweet and savory? Perhaps it's the inclusion of jalapeno, purple onion and a vinaigrette made with vinegar, squid cooking liquid, and squid ink. The heat wasn't too scorching, but instead steady during chewing and a few seconds after swallowing.

Main Event: Whole roasted suckling pig with its "Nasty Bits" such as head, kidney, heart, trotters, and liver. The care and attention to caring for and cooking this animal showed in every juicy bite. It was succulent, meaty, and delicious, and I couldn't stop eating the reddish, crisp, strips of roasted skin. Incanto's young pig meat was more flavorful and marbled with fat than pork elsewhere.

Mainly the men ate parts of the pig head, including the snout. There weren't mucousy parts inside, as one guest wondered aloud. Oscar said it was more crisp than other parts he sampled and didn't appear grossed out. I tried some of the cheek meat. Tasty but the carved slices were more appealing because the only effort in eating a bite is lifting your fork.

As the feasting and partying continued, Oscar had an Arrested Development moment when he called out to fellow Chronicle scribe Joe Garofoli and asked, "Joe, do you want some head?" Pause. Guffaws and laughter. "There's gotta be a better way to say that."

Side dishes included: Creamy polenta with mascarpone and Roasted fennel with summer onions. Addictive stuff. The key to the fennel and onions seem to be the dressing and thin slices. Nice crunch and herbaceous, mellow earthy flavors.

Dessert choices were: Creme fraiche panna cotta with strawberries or Peach crostata with saffron gelato. Bonus sweet treat for all? Pig shaped cookies made with pork fat. The panna cotta was sweet, delicate, and fruity. Peach with saffron gelato was creamy-good-slightly-firm fruitiness, and it was my first time trying that flavor combination. The cookies? They looked like butter or gingerbread cookies and were not too sweet. Eating them was fun and interesting. It was unexpected surprises like the pork cookies that made the Incanto Whole Beast outing a more than fitting meal for our special celebration.

Big Changes, an Update

We are still thinking about opening a restaurant. For now, we are waiting for our friend Vicente to get back from Mexico. He is a smart attorney whose family owns Los Jarritos which is easily one of my favorite Mission restaurants. We are hoping Vicente can use his legal-restaurant knowledge to help us better understand a sixty page document we have that spells out many terms for our possible venture.

Then there's the issue of raising money. Some kind and hungry people have offered up funds to help get us started, but we need to also apply for a small business loan (loans?). I've called the phone number for leasing one appealing location, but it was already snatched up. The search for money and real estate continues....

Spooky Salmon Head

Damn, call me wimpy! I thought it was just ghosts, gangs, and terrorists that scare me. Now I can add fish heads to the list.

I got jumpy yesterday. What should've been an uneventful cooking-fish-in-the-kitchen routine left me a little shaky and in need of a Boont Amber beer. All due to a big old salmon head. We bought the ten pound local salmon from Mission Meat Market, where they kindly scaled and butterflied it, leaving the head and tail in place. My plan was to rinse and pat the fish dry, rub all over with olive oil, and liberally add salt and pepper. Next, stuff and cover with lemon slices and fennel, followed by wrapping tightly with sturdy aluminum foil. Into a five hundred degree oven for forty, make that nearly sixty minutes, and that's the making of a great salmon meal for the Litquake committee meeting at our place.

It first started to go wrong while I was washing the fish. The butcher loosened the head from the body slightly, so the head was hanging a little. Those fish eyes seeming to watch my every move. I tried to think about the other cooking steps and didn't return the gaze. Lifting the fish brought the salmon head even closer to my face. Abruptly, I said something like "Awwww!" and jiggled the fish back into the sink, wiping my hands on paper towels after. I'm not proud at this point, and hoped the fish was okay from all that moving action. Try again. I had to look at the fish to make sure it was getting a good rinse.

That fish head spooked me again as I was placing it in a hotel pan that was lined with foil and had the cedar plank on the bottom. The fish was too long for the pan, and was supposed to snuggle and lay flat to cook properly. Time to improvise by letting the fish head stick slightly up and out from the pan, resting over the edge. I figured it would still cook and any juices could drip into the two layers of foil I was about to add.

It's hard to foil a fish head when trying to not touch or look at the head. The foil touched the fish in a way that made it feel alive to my hands. All of the sudden, I had a flash back to what my parents call the "Cow Palace Fish Day" when the fish I had caught from a kiddie pool roared back to life minutes later as I proudly carried it in a clear plastic bag. I screamed and shrieked so much, people suspected my parents were kidnappers or doing something otherwise awful to me. The salmon fish head on my counter again made me do another cry of "Awwwww!" and nervously move my hands away from the fish.

Thank goodness the clock saved me. I didn't have time to be scared and squeamish and needed to get the fish in the oven (stat!) so it would be cooked in time for the Litquake guests. I tried to be nimble as I finished wrapping the tilted fish head in foil. Whew. It finally made it into the oven and seemed to be a hit. It was exciting to see the fish when it was done, because it smelled and looked incredibly tasty. The butcher told me the head would easily come right off after cooking, and he was correct. I did a wasteful stupid thing with the head. Instead of saving it to use for some other dish, I threw it out. I guess I need to do more salmon head exercises to get over this mental block.

New Blog Name: Jalapeno Girl

I've been debating changing the blog name for awhile. Just cause. Match the URL to my online nickname. Looking at the new design at Becks & Posh (one of the bloggers I met at yesterday's bountiful Bay Area Food Bloggers Picnic) helped me decide to do it. So, it's official. Mary Ladd's Food Finds tonight morphs into Jalapeno Girl.

Incanto Whole Beast Birthday Dinner

Happy Birthday, Oscar! We ate a whole roasted suckling pig at Incanto to celebrate, and shared it all with sixteen brave friends and family members. More meaty updates coming soon. 

   

Catering Basics, Part II

Load in is when a fully stocked truck, van or other vehicle pulls up and is ready to unload. This happens hours or even the day before an event. In the case of BOOKED, load in was supposed to start at 2 p.m. There were delays because the linen rental company had some staff "issues," as in, people simply didn't show up for work and we had to pick up and deliver the linens ourselves. A huge hassle and stresser for Event Manage Christie Ward, for sure. But glitches like this are common to catering. Remember, the human factor can wreak havoc on the best of plans.

Load in is guaranteed to work your body, because you are lifting, pushing, and moving. Load in items can include: stacks of chairs, unassembled tables, kits (filled with knives, supplies, decorations, etc.), linens, wine, auction items, staff clothing like chef's jackets, non-alcoholic beverages, and more. These things are put on a hand cart that is pushed by one or more people. Sometimes the hand cart wheels do not turn easily, but the Green Room carts were fine. If there are stairs, as was the case for BOOKED, then elevator coordination and long waits may happen. There were two elevators to use on Monday, but we were sharing them with all the folks who work in the building. It's not like you can kick someone out of the elevator, but sometimes a big smile punctuated with grunts and sighs may do the trick. Perhaps they saw the sweat dripping off my face and figured they'd rather not be in the same elevator. Hey, whatever works! Load in nightmares are: traffic, broken or no elevators, glass broken en route, and even missing items that are back in a warehouse in the East Bay... all things I've witnessed, but not at BOOKED, thankfully! 

Skip ahead to Load Out, arguably the hardest part of the event for me. Given the chance to leave a catering event after already working six or eight hours, I would leave. I was commmitted and, ahem BOOKED, so I stayed the course. It's brutal work. Long catering days equal overtime pay but be sure to calculate how many hours or days it may take for your body to recover.

Load out is after the guests have left, everything that was set up has been taken apart or down. Candles and decorations must be matched to their carrying cases, which is usually a headache if there are varying sizes and the storage boxes aren't all in one place. Maddening! Linens go into their huge laundry bags. Chairs are stacked and pushed. Tables are broken down and rolled or carried. At BOOKED, there were a few of us who stayed til the bitter end. There were probably at least ten elevator trips to get everything out of the building. One volunteer/writer did an awesome job of organizing the load out truck so that things wouldn't break, smash, or fall. I got extremely spacey toward the end of load out. Jack and Oscar were nibbling on Miette chocolate cookies but I passed. I was tired and hadn't eaten in almost ten hours (yes, that's rare but this was hard work!). Drinking water helped but all I wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep, which I was glad to do almost an hour later.

Litquake Catering Basics, Part I

Catering always makes me feel like I've been run over by a car, stomped by Hulk Hogan and crew, or worse. I put in nearly ten hours catering for yesterday's BOOKED Litquake fundraiser. This is not a complaint. I'm glad to do it but my body is aching today. Catering aches are inevitable. It's usually a "how long will it last" kinda thing, and one day of aches is much better than three days. The aches come from running, lifting, pulling, carrying, pushing (carts, not people), and walking. Maybe the biggest secret of catering is how to appear calm and composed when you are actually a sweaty, out of breath nightmare.

It was amusing to have Oscar and Jack Boulware helping us yesterday, because they have both never done catering. There were other nice volunteers with I'm guessing the same lack of catering experience, but I know Oscar and Jack the best. Questions and confusion came up on things that to me seem like catering basics. Here is a breakdown of these basics and how they applied to BOOKED:

Loving the Linens: Linens usually include some synthetic fabric, making them easy to clean, and durable. They are delivered and placed on a moving coat rack that is assembled AFTER it comes off the catering truck. The linens are wrapped to look like what you pick up at the dry cleaner, but are labeled in some fashion so that you know what size and if it's for a round table or not. I noticed yesterday that folks were untying the bottom knot of each plastic bag, and taking the linen out, and then piling the plastic on the floor in a huge pile. "Wrong! Wasting Time!!" I thought. I explained it's better to rip the top of the plastic covering, gently pull the linen off the hanger, and leave the hanger and plastic hanging up together. With the hangers facing the same direction (okay you don't have to and it sounds anal but it makes life easier when you can grab those hangers in one batch rather than twising and turning them.) At the end of the event, linen bags are brought out and the dirty linens get stuffed in there. Then you can get rid of all that plastic, directly in a huge bin outside. You don't want to take the plastic with you on the catering truck.

Ready, Set, Fluff that Table: I never knew I'd be such a good fluffer. Gawd, keep your mind out of the gutter, I'm not talking about a porn fluffer! Fluffing in catering is what you do after a round table has its linen evenly placed, so the linen touches the ground on all sides. Check and adjust the seams for each table, so they all run in the same direction. It's okay if there is excess fabric at the bottom of the table, because you will fluff it enough to look like those eighties skirts I so love. Rather than pull the fabric under the table legs (a terrible no-no I corrected yesterday), it needs to be tucked and adjusted so that it becomes fluffy.

Chairs need to be at least three inches away from the fluff, to look appealing and ready to sit in. Do not smash the chairs into the fluff. If it is a small table for four, consider turning the chairs at a slight angle. Last night, I thought I had all the tables properly fluffed until a good twenty minutes into the event, when I screeched silently to myself and went into motion. The fabric of the highly offensive table was lying on the floor, looking limp. It was also sticking out from the other side of the table, and an easy target for pedestrians to step on. I took care of that in less than a minute. Fluffing takes bending and tucking, working your way all around the table. Stand eight to ten feet back from the table to make sure it looks fluffed and beautiful. Ah, now that's much better.

Catering Basics, Part II coming soon....

Booked Litquake Party the food, oh the food!

The BOOKED Litquake party is almost here! On Monday night at the always gorgeous Green Room, I can't wait to try some of the heirloom tomato BLTs, cheeses and more. There will be mini sliders from Mimi Morgan, and some other savory noshes from the SF and Oakland Paragons courtesy of Chefs Josh Ladd (my brother, yes) and Spencer Omeara. Jardiniere and newbie Poleng will also bring goodies. Since I'm helping with Litquake this year, I probably won't imbibe too heavily (is two too much?), but there will be lots of good wine, beer, Philz Coffee, and of course non-alcoholic drinks to enjoy.

My friend Amy "The Great" Alamar called last night wondering what to wear, which is a question I've been pondering. The invite calls for Literati attire, which I think means thrift store/noir/vintage. That's easy, since I primarily shop at thrift stores, Marshall's, Ross and Target. Bling is another option, but it's out of reach. Mom's holdin' out on me, still, because I lost some family jewelry in junior high and "borrowed" while in college without asking. Oscar recommended I go with a tried and true black ensemble but that doesn't thrill the way a... python dress does! I tried it on at home last night with some faux animal sandals and it felt so right. Wearing the python baby means I can be comfortable running around taking care of whatever Christie Ward, Jack Boulware, Jane Ganahl, Liam Passmore, or literati Amy Tan, Peter Coyote, Tobias Wolff, Robert Mailer Anderson, Beth Lisick, Bharati Mukherjee, Mary Roach, Michelle Tea, ZZ Packer need. Yes, they will all be there. So should you.

Cobbler Complaint

Don't get the cobbler at Highpockety Ox Restaurant in Boonville. Unless you enjoy disappointment. They break the rules and serve it cold, from the fridge. The fruit on a recent tasting was more like poached peaches that were far too firm. It was all wrong, wrong, wrong. The cold temperature and texture made me grumpy, and I only had a few bites. I asked the bartender (our server) if they always served the cobbler cold and he said, "Yes." Heresy!

Cobbler should usually offer warm, fruity, homey sweetness. It is a baked, deep dish fruit concoction with a biscuit or crust topping, sometimes sprinkled with sugar, and served with vanilla ice cream or creme fraiche. The best part of a cobbler is the melded flavors and textures of warm fruit mixed with the dough. Berry cobblers can be especially nice to look at, because the fruit seeps into the dough in varying shades of red, pink, and purple. Although this week is busy, the cobbler cold experience is in my thoughts. I am determined to make a peach cobbler at home soon, so I can taste one that is correctly made.

Going to Boonville

We're leaving for a long weekend in Boonville. I hope to return with stories of eating wild boar, walking around an apple orchard and of course sampling beer, wine and food. We will be guests of a San Francisco author and his family, and there is at least one other couple going. Our host has already bagged two boars this summer, so I may not get a chance to have my own Michael Pollan type experience of helping butcher and cook one. Here's hoping....

Torta Cubana

There was a bump in my belly and it's all my fault....

Had I known the giant sandwiches from That's It Torta were each going to be bigger than my outstrethed hand and cost $10 each, I would've ordered just one to share. I was hungry, hot, and dazed and stumbled on the idea of a torta dinner for two while leaving Walgreen's on Mission at 23rd Street. I learned an important lesson, too late: ask how big a torta cubana is before ordering. Tortas can come in different sizes, depending on bread size and type.

Since Oscar's grandmother is Cuban, I figured he'd enjoy the Cuban version of a torta and that it would probably be familiar. We'd already heard great things about the store's torta cubana from a beefy looking bartender at the simply titled BAR next door (if you live in the Mission, you've probably seen BAR's red on black sign). Turns out the torta cubana is at least two meals in one- a huge monster, weighed down with a delicious mix of: pickled jalapeno, grilled onion, tomato, avocado slices, lettuce, two fried eggs, bacon, mayo, queso, sliced ham & chicken, Mexican chorizo, shredded chicken and pork, refried beans, and cubed ham.

The best part about That's It Torta is pulling up a stool and watching the senora work her magic.  Her food prep area takes up 1/4 of a liquor store, where folks of all ages stream in and out buying Lotto tickets, sodas, candy, and Spanish magazines. One wondered aloud in Spanish if Castro was dead yet. No? Shrugs and sighs all around. Sweet and savory meat smells filled the air as each layer was prepared. Much of the chorizo's fat drained away on the hot griddle. I sipped a bottle of water while I waited, since I had a grumbling stomach and sudden hunger headache. I should've guessed that hunger would soon be easily obliterated by one torta.

We were in for too much food. She cracked four eggs and continued working. Gulp. Oscar didn't know I was bringing these babies home-I hoped he hadn't dug into his favorite meal: a gourmet peanut butter & jelly sandwich! Although there are many ingredients, the senora is a pro at keeping it all stacked up just so as she works. Carrying the tortas home, it felt like five pounds worth of food. Eating the torta cubana turned out to be a drippy, juicy, meaty, heavy affair, but a happy and satisfying effort. A four or five napkin minimum is required, as well as a plate to eat over. Using a fork and a knife helps when you first dig in, but it's fun to hold the torta up to bite once you are able to. The torta cubana tasted out of this world served cold for lunch the next day, with hot, strong coffee. I strolled around the block to decrease the fullness of my belly, which barely helped.

There are many other sandwich and breakfast options at That's It Torta. I can't wait to work through the menu, and eat a torta at the counter while watching the Mission world go by. Make sure you have ample room in your belly. This may very well be the biggest sandwich in the City.

That's It Torta, Mission at 23rd.

 

Benicia High Lunch

Attending a recent high school reunion got me thinking about what I ate during those years. At home, we had fettucini alfredo, roast chicken, BBQ and other comfort food, all from scratch. But lunch was another world. Mind you, I wasn't obsessed with food in those days. My focus was on dorky endeavors: Key Club meetings, modern rock, canned food drives, crushes (never coming to fruition), band colorguard practice, newspaper writing, and ample quantities of sleep.

Because a cafeteria lunch cost $1.50, my Mom gave me two dollars a day allowance. Those high school lunches were greasy and institutional: pizza sandwich (my favorite), deep fried chicken fingers, tater tots, and no vegetables that I can remember. Grease spots were visible on the plates, and I usually had no trouble eating my way through a cafeteria lunch. They never provoked any swoons from anyone.

There were a few other lunch options besides waiting in line and eating on campus. I'd usually take a bag lunch one or two days a week. It's easier to appreciate how nice Mom was now. She'd pack us nutritious and filling grub: peanut butter or meat sandwiches, fruit, and the occasional cookie. Most kids I knew packed their own lunch occasionally, and were allowed to grub on sodas, chips, and candy. Yes, Mom's lunches were good for me, but usually screamed "hippie granola fare" to the casual observer. As a skinny, pimply, tall gal, I wanted as little attention as possible.

I went off campus for lunch at every chance. It wasn't just what the seniors did, it was pure teenage freedom: an hour in a car with friends to blast music, gossip, and laugh. My posse was also on limited budgets, so we sought out favorites to fill up on the cheap. There were a handful of fast food places that were swarmed by kids because they offered the most food, quickly made, for the lowest price. Healthy, balanced meals were the furthest thing from my mind.

Below, what I ate then and the adult version I eat today. It's hard to believe this was the fuel for all my teen activities.

Little Caesar's Crazy Bread: Carb filler only a skinny teen could love! Crazy Bread is a hot, huge bag of warm toasty long bread sticks with faux butter and garlic flavors. I loved dipping the crazy bread in the accompanying chunky pizza sauce, and licking my buttery fingers. It made the car smell like a bakery, and filled me up so much I would be in a daze for fifth period. We got mad our senior year, because Little Caesar's started charging more for less bread, but would just order an extra bag. Today's version: thick crust pizza from Zachary's. No skimping on good stuff with Zachary's, and it has meat and cheese!

"Taco Hell" Bean Burritos with cheese, hold the onions: this was the best bargain around since two bean burritos could be had for the bargain basement price of ninety-nine cents. Garnishment: two squeezes of lame, weak hot sauce from those annoying, sometimes mysteriously sticky (germ alert!) plastic packets. No wonder those beans tasted so good: our friend who worked there told us they cut the beans with almost half lard. Today's version: super veggie burrito from Taqueria San Jose, which comes with beans, avocado, tomato, sour cream, cheese, and rice optional. What a burrito should be. When I make beans at home, I like to use cumin, garlic, coriander, cayenne, and onion for good flavor.

Subway Roast Beef sandwich: we'd use coupons and split a 12" sub with the works. My favorite part was watching them put the finishing touch of oil, vinegar, salt and pepper on. Sometimes, it came with a brownie, chips and drink. I'd usually give my friend the soda and chips as long as I could have some of that brownie. Today's version: meat subs from Lucca Ravioli, with all meat, a little cheese, and soft, fresh bread.

What did you eat in high school? Did you pack your lunch (or have a sweet family member who did it for you)? Do you now eat adult versions of those same meals?

Big Changes?

I have a meeting next Monday. It may be the second step towards Oscar and me opening our own food joint. Step one was filling out a confidential application with bank account and social security numbers, and a personal statement. The personal statement was a breeze, but writing out financial information was a drain. I thought they'd laugh, and throw out the application after seeing my debt. But it is mostly student loan related and we both have good credit. Still, the only asset I could think of was our 97 Ford Thunderbird ("Godzooky" is the name), which is worth well under ten thousand dollars and was bought via craigslist.

I am willing to work long hours as a manager if it means I get to be boss and, in theory, make money. I imagine that adrenaline rush I have had at other restaurants/catering jobs may be better and perhaps more intense if the names on the papers are ours. A wee bit of vanity is at work here, because I love the physicality of restaurant work and of course how lean and trim my body gets. Also, it can be challenging and fun dealing with all kinds of people for work. Getting them good, satisfying food is the over-arching goal to it all.

The Valencia corridor in the Mission between 16th and 24th Street is my location of choice, but we'll see if anything's available and affordable in those blocks. Oscar said we can even live upstairs or next door if we find the right spot, which could make things easier but perhaps too close for me to relax on the rare day off. Ever since I came up with this idea a few weeks ago, I get excited and dreamy just thinking about it. I've told a few people about it: close friends and a fellow party goer at the beer can chicken potluck. It seems to stir enthusiasm. Part of the reason why I went to cooking school is to learn more about food while hopefully figuring out a way to make a living by being around it in some way. The negotiating and learning are on a roll, and we'll see if there are big changes in store.