Mary Ladd

Split Pea Soup, Where Art Thou?

I bought a bag of green split peas last week at one of my favorite Middle Eastern markets. Split pea soup has been on my mind, and I was aching to make a batch at home. I usually follow the Joy of Cooking recipe, which includes carrots, celery, stock,  and some ham hocks.

Step one was to soak the split peas. I rinsed out a glass bowl and poured the peas in. Then turned on water and watched the bowl fill. Here came my ew, WTF moment. There were 12 or more bugs swimming around in the water. They were really moving. I turned off the water and muttered. Followed by sighs. The bag cost only $1.19 and would've made for three, maybe four meals. But no go. I had to drain the water back in the sink, and dump the bugs and peas in the trash.

I thought Safeway would be a safe option today. The bag I picked had peas that looked somehow brighter and greener. There were definitely no dust or bug elements to the naked eye. The clerk eyed my ham hocks (2 1/2 pounds, baby!) and asked what was I going to make. I told her the story of the bugs, complete with shrugs and cringes on my part. She looked concerned. "Well, bugs. They do happen. You have to watch out for holes. Lemme see. Are there holes in this bag?" We both started looking, and she added, "Two sets of eyes are better than one," and wouldn't you know, we found some tiny tears. "See? That's where they get in," she said.

"OK, I'll run and grab a better batch," I said. I almost started laughing as I pawed my way through almost fifteen bags of split peas. They all had at least one or two holes. Ugh. My visions of a soupy afternoon were crushed.

"Yeah, cancel the soup. No carrots. No ham hocks," I said. I knew I could make a white bean or other soup but it wouldn't be the same. I've built this soup up to be the best damn tastiest thing ever. Nothing can compete.

I was glad I had a bakery chocolate chip cookie and milk to cheer me up on my way home. It's 6:18 p.m. and I am still in denial that I have to come up with something else for dinner.

New Zealand Lamb, Before and After

It may make some queasy to see animals knowing they will eventually be killed for the sole purpose of eating. If that's you, stop reading now. Staying with relatives in Whitianga, New Zealand gave me the opportunity to watch and observe their sheep herd. They have almost a dozen lambs that are rotated every few days, from one paddock to the next. The timing is decided on how much greenery they have consumed on each square of the plot. While they are alive, the lamb's purpose is to eat and subsequently fertilize the land. There is only one lamb named Lucy that will be spared from ending up as dinner. She is much larger and decidedly more vocal and outgoing than the others, as if she knows it's her turf.

Talk about eating local. 50 miles? How 'bout 50 steps or less? We ate lamb a few times in the three weeks we were in New Zealand. My uncle Steven uses a BBQ rotisserie to cook the leg. I asked how he does the killing. He shoots the animal in the head first, and butchers it immediately after.

Enjoying lamb is a common "truly Kiwi" meal. The meat was tender, juicy, and not at all gamey. Served with mint sauce, salad, kumera and pumpkin, foraged mushrooms (by the family's 78 year old grand-Mum), potatoes, and other garden items. Definitely filling and tasty fare. One interesting note: Oscar was first asked to carve the lamb, but the duty went to me after Oscar admitted that was my "area of expertise." Touche.

Litquake Eats: Opening Night

Author Kevin Smokler said to me with a half way shrug and smile, "Once again, there's nothing for the Jews," as he watched guests eat pulled pork sandwiches at the Litquake Opening Night VIP after party. We were in the va-va-voom gorgeous red Lodge space at the Regency Center.

"Uh!" I countered, "There's some nice cheese platter stuff going on, too. But yes, you've got a point." While the pork may not have pleased Kevin (he did confess that pulled turkey would've made him happy), the rest of the party attendees were for the most part digging in. It was almost 11:30, and they must've been tired and hungry after a  night of performing. 

I watched groups huddle over the food, and was looking to see how people reacted while eating.  It may have seemed rude of me to dart around the room, looking at hands and faces to see reactions. I wasn't wearing a tell tale chef's coat or other service attire, so it wasn't obvious that I was the caterer.

The signs they gave off were most pleasing. Seeing sighs, licked lips, and smiles put me more at ease. Catering should never be a relaxing venture, but it is oddly fun to me. I signed on to do the catering at the last minute because I care about Litquake as a cause, but I did have at least one ulterior motive. I wanted to see the Opening Night performers and VIPs eat my food. It's really our food-Oscar deserves the biggest of shout outs for helping me shop and be otherwise strong and supportive. By strong I mean yes, he was putting away catering tables and gear at the end of the night.

Food and supplies cost a total of $203.43 . Because I had a Cala/Bell Market gift certificate, the actual funds spent came to: $178.43. What was my labor cost, you ask? Wouldn't you like to know.

Where the Girls Are: Buona Vita Trattoria

Buona Vita in Hermosa Beach is perfectly suited for raucous celebrations. Party tunes like Celebrate by Kool & the Gang and ABBA's Dancing Queen blare at times. This is NOT the place for a soothing, romantic dinner on a Saturday night. However, you will likely have fun if you and yours pick Buona Vita for dinner on a birthday, reunion, or girls/guys night out.

I visited recently for a bachelorette/girls weekend away dinner. (Further names and pictures withheld to protect the guilty those present). We ate pasta, pizza, and other Italian fare washed down with wine purchased from a nearby liquor store. The only mishap that seemed to happen was when our server, a charming, feisty, and sometimes rushed (she appeared to be the only server for the whole place) Italian gal, sent and served a bottle of our store bought bubbly to another table. That bubbly was going to be part of a toast to the bride-to-be, but we made do. Our server offered to make up for it by replacing the bottle with one of Buona Vita's. It wasn't bubbly, but we kept the party going by drinking the red wine with desserts of cannoli and tiramisu.

Yes, we drank out of and adorned ourselves with penis straws. The straws seem to be a popular item for bachelorette parties in California, Tahoe, and Vegas. I have seen them used a handful of times among my friends, as well as when I am out and about on a Saturday night. The bride-to-be wore a shirt that read 'I Heart Sausages,' which can definitely be interpreted in more ways than one. Some of us danced on chairs and stood up to clap and sing along (off-key, in my case) to the music. Lights flashed and there was of course a disco ball in the center of the room.

I fully understood why the maid of honor picked the restaurant when the bill arrived. Yes, it's a bit of a hassle to buy and bring your own wine (especially if Hermosa Beach is not your home base), but the savings definitely add up. We each owed a mere twenty two dollars, which covered the cost of Ms. Bridey's dinner, too. That can be considered a bargain for such filling, tasty food in a semi-crazed, all-fun environment.

Cheers to Buona Vita, for making Ms. Bridey and all her friends full, tipsy, and happy. We'd need the starchy energy for guzzling shots, taking rides on a mechanical bull and playing "Pin the Penis on the Hottie" -- think adult "Pin the Tail on the Donkey"-- game, much later in the evening/early morning hours.

Buona Vita Trattoria & Pizzeria (other locations in Park City and Puerta Vallarta)

439 Pier Avenue

Hermosa Beach, CA 90254

Telephone: 310-379-7626, Fax: 310-362-8487

Email: [email protected]

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.

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.

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. 

   

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.

 

Polenta, Garlicky Red Sauce, Mozzarella

I wanted to use up some Kinder's chicken parmesan sausages. Since the weather has finally cooled down, making and eating pasta with the sausages or something along those lines was appealing. I was looking to create a dinner that was quick (I was already hungry), filling, hearty and flavorful.

A tube of instant polenta caught my eye as I shopped. Mmmm, it had been so long! I used to gorge on polenta with mushrooms at Rex Cafe in Russian Hill in my boozy girl days, where I learned that polenta was a great way to start a long Saturday night. The simple dinner would be chianti, sausage, polenta, chunky red sauce, fresh mozzarella. Sadly, the sausages had a weird smell and creamy white slime. Oscar thought they were maybe okay, but why chance it even if it makes me sad to throw away six dollars worth of delectable meat? Into the trash they went, along with me unkindly grumbling that I wasn't going to buy sausages anymore (!!) if they wouldn't get eaten, with a saucy add on that "I hate throwing away food!" Hunger is my only defense on that outburst.

I considered layering everything and baking it, faux lasagna style but my stomach rumbling warned me that'd take  too damn long. I cooked the tomato sauce (onion, garlic, tomato, wine, bay leaf, basil) and sliced the polenta. We began to get excited, "It smells so wonderful!" Oscar said. Using the biggest cast iron skillet we have, I got it hot and oiled. I put one polenta disk in the center. The skillet wasn't quite ready. I didn't let it get quite hot enough, because later the polenta was sticking when flipped. Frustrating but lesson learned: get it hot!

My favorite part? Seeing the mozzarella melt into the sauce, and hang from my spoon as I ate. I had added the mozz to the top of the tomato sauce while I cooked the polenta, and kept the sauce on medium low. Everything tasted great, but I felt a little guilty about not having any sort of green vegetable in the meal. Tasty add in possibilities: sauteed spinach, kale, or mushrooms, eggplant, zucchini or artichoke hearts. Dish yield was 3-4 ample portions, and Oscar has dibs on today's lunch leftovers.

Kiji Hot Stuffed Jalapenos

Finding a new restaurant in one's 'hood can be exciting. New place. New food. New possibilities for dining and hanging out. I've been admiring Kiji Sushi Bar and Cuisine on Guerrero ever since it opened. Something about the clean decor highlighted by red lamps speaks to me.

Had I known they have jalapenos on the menu, we would've visited sooner. Paired with an $8 Happy Hour sake sampler, it was a wonderful way to while away the evening. We also enjoyed items like: potato croquettes ($4.95), Albacore Tataki ($12) and a lovely dish of Red White Tuna Poki  ($12.95) stacked in an artful, appealing way. The chef does a good job at presenting food in an unexpected way.

The Stuffed Jalapenos are an appetizer, and cost $4.95. Kiji's sushi chefs take two large green jalapenos sliced lengthwise and stuff with a spicy tuna mix.  Oscar nibbled on one and left me with three halves.  I had to watch out for the heat levels to increase while chewing. The back of my throat seemed to incur the most fire. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the hottest, the Stuffed Jalapenos rank a 6 1/2. One quibble: the tuna seemed a little on the dry side.

Kiji Sushi Bar and Cuisine
1009 Guerrero Street, SF.
T: 415.282.0400

Local Meal with Michael Pollan tonight

Tonight will be a first. A cross-the-Bay (bridge) roadtrip with my friend and fellow food blogger Tea to Danville's Rakestraw Books, where Michael Pollan will discuss his latest, The Omnivore's Dilemma: The Natural History of Four Meals. His New York Times excerpt a few months ago about slaying a boar in the wine country was interesting and intriguing, because it gave insight into learning to hunt, and the squeamish range of feelings hunting can bring. Do meals become more meaningful when you are aware of a creature's lifespan? Most definitely.

Dinner with local ingredients will be served, and the menu includes a rather sweet ending: orange scented panna cotta with a berry compote. Tea jokes that she is worried Pollan will think she's stalking him, since she's already been to one of his readings for this book. I may bring up that I heard that Pollan's recent meal in Washington D.C. cooked by Chef Nora Pouillon in her home was delicious, fun and wonderful. Either way, tonight will be a fun adventure, as I rarely venture to Danville, yet it's a cultured burb that offers interesting (if pricey) shops and restaurants. I'll report back soon.

Pyramide Valencay Grilled Cheese Sandwich

I had spent the day fantasizing about making some brussel sprouts or fava beans. They're on my mind from a weekend of food related chat and produce ogling in Lake Tahoe.  Eating some tasty brussel sprouts at Chef Johnny Almamilla's Mar y Lago kept the veggie passion burning (more on the Mar y Lago meal soon).

Reality check. Bad news messes up menu ideas, pronto. Towards the end of my workday, I was told some upsetting information, which altered the night's meal plan dramatically. Eating a healthy green salad or artichokes with lentils didn't excite me one bit. No. I craved ooey, gooey, cheesy greatness in the form of a Pyramid Valencay grilled cheese sandwich ($16.50 for nearly 11 ounces).

According to the Le Village website, "this cheese from the region of 'Berry' was originally shaped like a perfect pyramid. On his return from the disastrous campaign of Egypt, Napoleon stopped at the castle of Valencay and seeing the cheese that reminded him of the Egyptian pyramids, drew his sword and chopped off the top. When making a Valencay, the drained curd is cast in a mold. When removed, it is covered with salted charcoal ashes, and ripened in a well-ventilated room at 80% humidity."

The cheese has been nestled in the fridge ever since I went to the Made in France Le Village warehouse sale and blew almost four hundred dollars. We are trying to work our way through all the duck, cheeses, and pate. Strong cheese and cured meat smells escape when the door is open. The Pyramid Valencay is the likely cheese culprit. When I pulled away the wax paper, I noticed white mold spots on the bottom. I sliced all the charcoal ash off, and tasted some. It was firm, tart, creamy, and had a mildly pungent aftertaste. This was going to be goooood.

I pulled a small cast iron skillet out of the oven. Turned on the flame. I like to use butter or extra virgin olive oil when making a grill cheese sandwich. There's something about the way the oil seeps into the bread that makes it taste wonderful. After a swirl of oil, I put a slice of wheat bread down. Then I layered thin sheets of cheese, on top of each other, and topped it with another slice of bread. As soon as I smelled the bread browning, I drizzled more oil on the top slice of bread, then flipped it. Depending on the cheese, I sometimes cover the skillet with another skillet or lid, so the cheese can melt. I didn't cover this time, and noticed the cheese wasn't fully melted. Into the microwave the sandwich went, for twenty seconds.

I savored the bubbly, scrumptious slice of heaven. Some cider or Sancerre would've tasted good, and complemented the cheese's tart pungency. Making and then eating the grilled cheese comforted me, and calmed me down. Nothing can be that bad, when your belly is full of good food, right?

Sopranos Saucy Sundays-Ribeye Steak with Berry Cobbler

This week's Sopranos meal isn't Italian focused. Due to Tahoe travel, we ate a mixed grill of Atomic Hot sausages (1/2 of a hot for me, mild for others), chicken and steak, baked beans and sourdough bread.  Chipotle BBQ sauce was Oscar's contribution. Dipping bread in the bbq sauce and meat juices was mellow and delish. We washed it all down with light and fruity Anchor Steam Summer brew, which tasted and felt like the lightest part of the meal. Green beans, brussel sprouts, or a simple salad would've been lovely, but sometimes that's not an option at Casa Super Carnivores (my parents).

Restraint was needed, to save room for some Ikeda Marionberry cobbler with vanilla ice cream. There has to be at least a stick or two of butter in the purple fruit cobbler. It turns out sweet, tart, with a sugary crunch that is delectable. Just like homemade, and from scratch.

Watching Artie cook rabbit was my favorite part of this week's show, since it was obvious he was getting inspiration and solace from cooking the way his grandfather did. It looked wonderful, and my mind turned to rabbit with mustard or vanilla sauce, which I learned how to make from Chef Herve LeBiavant at the California Culinary Academy. Rabbit usually tastes slightly sweet and rather delicate, hence the advantage of light sauce.

Sopranos Saucy Sundays-Orecchiette in a Chunky Tomato Garbanzo Sauce

"Orecchiette? They are shaped like little ears," I would say as I held my palms up near my own ears (not touching-that's gross!), to demonstrate. So it went on an almost nightly basis as I waited tables at A. Sabella's restaurant, a family run place on Fisherman's Wharf. Orecchiette are indeed shaped like little ears, and have a clingability that works great with chunky, meaty sauces. I wanted to re-try a garbanzo-tomato sauce, and had everything except fresh herbs.

Getting ready for the Sopranos, we wondered: how Tony's compadres would react to his recovery.. who would gun for the Number One position? Would the annoying dream sequences end? How would A.J. behave (or not)? Would Christopher's movie plan fly? Did Tony really want to invest in the film? Let the viewing begin.

Orecchiette in a Chunky Tomato Garbanzo Sauce
Heat olive oil in a pot. Add one finely chopped onion and cook til translucent. Add five minced garlic cloves. Cook and stir often for about two minutes. Add five large carrots cut into small dice, with one bay leaf. Cook for five minutes on medium high, until carrots begin to soften. Pour two 28 ounce cans of whole tomatoes (fire roasted add a nice smokiness), one 28 ounce drained can of garbanzo beans, and 1 1/2 Tablespoons balsamic vinegar. Stir, gently breaking up the tomatoes. Simmer uncovered for twenty minutes.

Cook one box orecchiette in boiling salted water for eleven minutes. The pasta clings, so it's important to stir every few minutes.

Add 1 large handful of roughly chopped basil. Fresh thyme adds a great peppery note, so add  some if you can find it. A dash of Tabasco will keep the heat lovers happy.

Drain the pasta. Toss with the sauce. Remove bay leaf. Serve in warmed bowls. Top with fresh shavings of Parmesan.

Catering Tale of Woe-No Garlic! Look-A Naked Man!

Catering gigs almost guarantee surprises. The ever changing menus and locations, weather, traffic, guests, hosts, and varying personalities mean change can happen quickly, and often. Booze ups the change factor exponentially.

I was hired by a couple that runs a food related outpost in SF. They were hosting a champagne dinner for 12 at their home in Pacific Heights. My fellow cooking school alum, RF, agreed to help out. Mrs. EW (Euro Wife) didn't have a firm game plan, and was running behind when we arrived. I had tried to get her to map out the prep list and menu on the phone a few days before the event, but she rambled on about how she was thrilled to prepare sturgeon, one of her best dishes.

While RF ironed beautiful family linens in the dining room, I helped make blinis on a griddle. It was frustrating because the first few mini pancakes were gloppy. Once I got the hang of it and adjusted the heat, the blinis stacked up. It was wonderful to sample a blini with thick and creamy creme fraiche and California caviar. I could fill up on that, easily, but stuck to work.

The closer to guest arrival time it got, the more frantic Mrs. EW became. We talked her into going upstairs to get ready, so we could continue cooking. As RF and I began cooking minced garlic, we heard some yelling from Mr. EH (Euro Husband), coming from upstairs. Mrs. EW ran into the kitchen, all wide eyed and crazy looking.

"Oh, no!" she said. "You can't cook garlic, you can't... _________ can not stand the smell of garlic, absolutely can't take it. No, no, noooooooooooooh," _______ being her husband, who came in the kitchen and began yelling about the garlic, fanning his arms as he spoke. He was natty in a blue blazer and dress shirt, with expensive looking loafers. We turned off the burner and stopped cooking. He walked to the doors and allowed cold blasts of air to "Clean that smell out of here!" RF and I shrugged and looked at each other, shivering. I wondered but did not say to Mrs. EW, "OK, why did you have garlic for us to prep, if we can't cook it?"

The fun continued when the guests arrived and began drinking champagne. We were offered small tastes. There was a champagne producer, who explained the flavor profile of each bubbly course. He was a man of short stature, with glasses and a blue beret. A wee bit pompous, and always puffing his chest out as he spoke. His female companion was a good five inches taller, thin, with a hippie-lady vibe & matter of dress.

During one of the courses, an opera singer from Russia performed, with a piano player. That was surreal and beautiful to listen to. She came into the kitchen later, and asked if I knew where the toilet paper in the bathroom was. I didn't. She said there wasn't any in the bathroom. I went and whispered to Mrs. EW, who told me with a slight roll of the eyes that the extra rolls were under the toilet. I went into the bathroom after the Opera Singer had left, and there was blood blotches on the toilet and sink. Ewwwwww. I cleaned it up, shuddering and wishing for a Hazmat suit the whole time.

The topper of the sturgeon-caviar-champagne catering gig was finding a pic of Mr. EH, who always dresses conservatively. In the aged early 1980s era pic pasted to a kitchen cabinet, he has nothing on except a smile. He's standing in the same kitchen we were. RF and I kept giggling to each other and pointing at the picture. What do his two daughters think of that pic?

At the end of the night, Mr. EH brought one of the double magnums of bubbly in, and tilted it back, back, back to his mouth, guzzling the rest of it as we watched, mouths agape. We left before he could strip down and yell about "No Garlic!" After all that, Mrs. EW didn't even tip or offer leftover champagne to us.

Sopranos Saucy Sundays-Tagliatelle with Porcini, Bacon, & Peas in a Cream Sauce

It's been tomato overload lately-Pizza Chicago on Friday, a decadent slice of stuffed Patxi's pizza for lunch on Sunday. Eating all that red saucy stuff put the kibosh on plans for osso bucco (veal shanks in a tomato sauce) for this week's edition of Saucy Sundays at Casa VillaLadd. Carbonara sounded interesting, but we opted for a faux carbonara, without the egg.

Using porcini mushrooms was a treat, but any mushrooms will do if you're on a budget. Be sure to cook them in good butter or olive oil. The bacon was from Drewes Meats, and added warm smoky notes that played off the peas' sweetness. Tagliatelle came in a store packet, and cost almost $4, with promises of "like Momma used to make." I liked that I didn't have to chop and prep a lot of ingredients for this meal, since we were zombies from running around and adjusting to the springing forward of the clocks.

Homemade garlicky bread upped the pungent factor, causing pleasure inducing licks.

TAGLIATELLI COOKING INSTRUCTIONS:
Half an hour before cooking, place 2 ounces of dried porcinis in 1 cup water.

Cook 1 pound bacon in cast iron skillet, in batches. Dry cooked bacon on a plate with paper towels. When cool, cut into 1/2 inch pieces. Pour out some of the bacon fat, and use 1/8 cup (or more) to cook the porcinis.

While the bacon cooks, put the water on for pasta. Insider tip: the water warms up much quicker when a lid is on the pot.

Microwave one pound of peas with 1/2 cup water, covered, for 3-5 minutes, checking for doneness. Cover to keep warm.

Check mushrooms. If soft, squeeze gently and chop up. Reserve 1/3 cup of the mushroom water. Cook the mushrooms for three minutes in warm bacon fat.

In a small pan, pour one cup heavy cream, to cook at medium heat. Don't let it burn, overflow or bubble too rapidly. Grate 1/2 cup parmesan cheese. Chop finely 1/2 cup fresh Italian parsley. You can use less if you like, but it adds nice texture and flavor to the completed dish.

Egg noodles cook quickly, and become velvety and limp when done. Drain the pasta. Combine the bacon, mushrooms, reserved mushroom water, peas, parmesan, cream, and parsley. Stir. Serve immediately with garlic or other bread. You'll want bread to sop up the extra sauce.

Cowboy Steak from Drewes Meats

I hoped to have reports from another Habanero Hamburger outing, but a Prince of Wales Pub trip was postponed. Cravings for red meat were strong this week, so I stopped by Drewes Meats on Church Street. I was easily seduced by the gorgeous red color and thickness of a Cowboy Steak. Research confirmed the butcher's report on what exactly a cowboy steak is: bone in ribeye, big enough for two.

The Cowboy Steak seemed like a natural center to a meal, so I went for a simple side dish of garlicky mushrooms, asparagus and baby carrots. There was some difficulty getting all the tough ends off the asparagus, and we felt the spears were too skinny.

Searches on the craigslist Food Forum (foodfo) recommended grilling the Cowboy Steak. If only! We have garbage cans on our "deck" and it barely fits one person without the cans. Liberal doses of salt, pepper, in a buttered hot cast iron skillet started the cooking off right in our kitchen. Our place started to smell heavenly of meat, butter and a little garlic. (The smells lingered the entire night, even hours after eating). The meat was marbled, and had a rich mouth feel and smooth beefy taste. I got a little randy and gnawed beef off the bone-it was that good.

Next time I'll serve the Cowboy Steak with cowboy beans and potatoes, with maybe some veggies. Cowboy Steak is a filling and satisfying way to get some meat.

Cowboy Steak image courtesy of Amazon.com.

Sopranos Saucy Sundays-the price goes up

Let's dish: don't think of pasta as peasant food. Not at these prices. How can it be peasant food, when you pay a princely sum to cook it up, as we recently did for our Sopranos Sunday viewing? You can pay $7 and up for artisan pasta, for instance.

Our ingredients this week came from Market Hall, in Oakland's Rockridge district. While shopping, we ran into Jane Goodman, who reported husband Tim (the Chron's TV Critic) was home resting from his Friday radio stint on KFOG. I'm sure Tim and Oscar will gossip about all that during lunch today, which is their standing Monday lunch.

Here's the Market Hall price breakdown: 1 buffalo mozzarella ball, $5. 2 bags rigatoni, $12. 1/2 lb. Parmesan Reggiano (the good stuff!), $7. Two Spicy Italian Sausages (close to 1 pound), $7. The smell of the sausages cooking up was wonderful-spicy, meaty, with a strong fennel note. Partnered with the other ingredients, it gave the rigatoni zesty flavors. Organic carrots (one bunch), $2. Basil,  $3.  Watching Tony come out of a coma, which hopefully means no more long dream sequences: worth every penny.

Sopranos Upcoming Dish: Rigatoni with Sausage

No guessing games for next week's Sopranos viewing. We're going to continue our exploration of meaty Italian dishes, and try some rigatoni with spicy sausage. There's even chat of tiramisu. I can't wait. Sadly, my belly is starting to look like Tony's (minus the huge wound) rather than the sexy wives and exotic dancers.  My chances at the Bada Bing were a pipedream, anyway.

RIGATONI:

1 pound rigatoni

1/2 pound spicy Italian sausage, casing removed
4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
3 cups prepared marinara sauce
1 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper
1/2 cup grated mozzarella cheese
4 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
2 teaspoons chopped fresh Italian parsley
Extra-virgin olive oil

Cook rigatoni in large pot of boiling salted water until just tender but still firm to bite, stirring occasionally. Drain pasta.

Meanwhile, preheat broiler. Cook sausage in heavy large pot over medium-high heat until no longer pink, stirring frequently and breaking up with back of wooden spoon. Add garlic and sauté until soft, about 2 minutes. Drain off excess oil and return pot to medium-high heat. Stir in marinara sauce and crushed red pepper, then pasta. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Put pasta in a glass baking dish. Sprinkle mozzarella and Parmesan over. Place in broiler until cheese melts and begins to brown, watching closely to prevent burning, about 1 1/2 minutes. Sprinkle rigatoni with parsley, drizzle with olive oil, and serve.

Sopranos Pick: Antipasto Platter for 2

We didn't have a lot of time to make a huge feast for this week's Sopranos viewing party for two. No problem. Getting the ingredients for an antipasto platter solved that. To do this, pick up nearly everything at Lucca on Valencia Street. The helpful (and cute) counter staff sliced up some thin slices of soppressetta and mortadella. Oscar had to have some sliced provolone, while I fell hard and fast for Lucca's creamy, fresh mozzarella balls. Oil cured olives, crusty italian rolls and artichoke hearts rounded out the bill.

The soppressetta was garlicky and robust, with a bit of a peppery bite. Having mozzarella mellowed things since it's so mild, with a strong note of fresh dairy sweetness. Dipping bread in extra virgin olive oil adds to the extravagant feel of our peasant picnic.

Now, if only someone could explain Tony's dream sequences....