Mary Ladd

Stop, Drop & Roll at Mamasake

The food version of "Stop, Drop & Roll" isn't for kindergarden fire drill practice. There is, however, fire to be found in the Stop Drop & Roll Maki at Mamasake, in The Village at Squaw Valley. It's an experience for potential fire eaters only. I started to get excited when my friend Amy C. told me about the hot roll this weekend. We were all staying at the Plumpjack Resort for my friend Jen's wedding.

"It's tuna with habaneros, jalapenos and habanero oil," Amy C. said, smiling at my enthusiasm, and pleas of "Oh, we have to go!" to Oscar. It also comes with fresno peppers and a cooling sunomono salad of cucumbers, vinegar, and black sesame seeds. The roll has rice on the outside, with healthy diced red habanero chunks. The waitress had the sushi chef "add some extra heat" for us. Good thing for the sunomono salad, because the roll's heat catches in the throat-probably from a sprinkling of feisty cayenne pepper and habanero oil. Eating the Stop, Drop & Roll didn't make my eyes fully water or tear, but I did have to chew and swallow slowly, to let the heat distribute. The roll could've been a little bit hotter, but the fatty sweetness of the tuna paired well with the three alarm ingredients.

Mamasake has a relaxed environment, with mellow reggae and rock tunes and a huge TV screen that divides the restaurant. We were eating a late lunch, but I read that Mamasake can get crowded with families, locals and travellers during dinner. There are beer ("Hemp Ale") and sake signs to take in while waiting. The waitstaff are friendly sporty types with punkish hairdos and tats.

Mamasake, The Village at Squaw
1850 Village South Road, Suite 52
Olympic Valley, CA 96146

Washington DC BEA Cooks & Books

BEA is the one place to figure out: who has a book coming out, which famous (or aspiring-to-be-famous) folks are peddling their thoughts and words on the book reading masses?  The Book Expo is a test of nerves-day and night schmoozing, party after party, late night dinners and endless boozing-the liquid that holds it all together. It sounds fun and exciting, and it is.

In the They Are Such Talented Southerners category: The Lee Bros.  cookbook promises the sort of smart food writing to be expected from New York Times' vets. They love Southern staples such as hominy, country ham, boiled peanuts, and artichoke relish. Their cooling, sweet mint juleps hit the spot at the Norton Woolly Mammoth fete.   

In the How Unexpected category: Tracey Ullman has a knitting book due in September. Gossip: she was ushered to the front of a Starbuck's (there's one every 2 blocks, showing even our nation's capitol is not immune to gross Starfucksification). Everyone in line started grumbling and mumbling, perhaps unaware that a Brit star was in their midst. She surprised them all by quickly buying drinks for the house. 

In the Good Dim Sum category: Tony Cheng's Seafood Restaurant, where on the weekend, the carts deliver wonderful BBQ pork, green beans, pork buns, and custardy eggplant. The dining room fills up with local Chinese families (a good sign of quality), along with young couples and tourists.  There are scores of photos of politicians (Bill Clinton in the center) and famous folks who have eaten there.

In the Don't Drink the Water category: D.C. local author Alan Cheuse warned us to stick to bottled water. There are high levels of lead and other scary elements in the D.C. water supply. Many restaurants we visited had small bottles of flat water, and seemed put out that we didn't want tap. They frowned or looked lost at the mention of Perrier or other bubbly.

In the Best Way to Feel Close to Lincoln Greasy Spoon category: 10th Street's Waffle Shop, across from the Ford Theater where Lincoln was shot, serves up reasonably priced breakfast all day. Meat sides include scrapple, ham, bacon, and sausage. The seats at the snaking counter are wooden and small, but the service will make you smile and probably laugh.

In the Old Guy Steals the Girl category: Turns out a famous 70 plus year old Literary Lion recently stole a girl forty years younger, at a book reading. The girlfriend had been partnered with an up and coming author who was in awe or Mr. Literary Lion (whose bushy eyebrows hardly make him a candidate for hunk-in-waiting). Mr. Literary Lion did the same thing fifty years ago to another author-who still holds a grudge. Note there's no food tie-in, but it's hopefully a fascinating bit. Any guesses?

BookExpo Beckons in Washington D.C.

I'll be away for a few days. We're heading to Washington D.C. for brunches, drinks, dinners, parties, and schmoozing at BookExpo America -bound to be a great time. The first BookExpo I attended was full of fascinating finds: costumed Harry Potter & Lord of the Rings characters, make up doyenne Bobbi Brown, Madeline Albright, Garfield feline cartoon creator Jim Davis (though tempted, I didn't say, "It's all about Me-Ow!"), and Bill Clinton. Anyone with good D.C. dining tips, please speak up!

Mexican Homemade Breakfast Memories

As an exchange student in Mexico, the host family's matriarch was on a mission to keep me well fed. She thought I was too thin, and used breakfast as a means to change that. I had some of the most filling and leisurely breakfasts at the family table, and would gossip in Spanish with my adopted Mom and fellow exchange student, Pat. It was usually the biggest and best meal of the day, although it sometimes made me lethargic although pleasantly dazed for hours.

The maid would make a huge feast each day of fresh papaya and mango, handmade tortillas that were slightly charred from the griddle, beans, avocado slices, scrambled eggs, and steak. Sides of bell peppers and jalapenos were always on hand. I ate slowly, and savored each bite.

Drinks were milk, freshly squeezed orange juice and hot chocolate. I loved looking at the cauldron of milky chocolate, which usually had a thin skin that the maid would skim regularly. The chocolate drink had hints of Cinnamon and sugar, and was creamy-fresh.

I was grateful for the wonderful meals, and made sure to say thanks to the maid and my host mother each day. It made me feel full and quite loved.

Chorizo and Menudo in San Diego

I have overindulged. The seduction took place over the course of several days in San Diego, hence the lack of Easter related posts or a Sopranos Saucy Sundays menu. I learned where to get some good grub in San Diego, along with the ins and outs of making and eatingMenudo. For me, the best souvenirs are usually food memories that fill the belly and warm the heart.

San Diego/Carlsbad highlights include:

Longest Prep Time/Most Anticipated Meal: Homemade menudo.  My Suegro meticulously cleaned and chopped thirty pounds of tripe from Rodeo's Market. He knew his audience would have no problems digging in to the finished product. The resulting soup was hot, garlicky, aromatic, and tasty. Because the tripe cooked overnight, it was papery and soft-no rubbery nubs here. The broth was orange/red, and supposed to be a bit greasy. I wish it had hominy, as some recipes call for, but Suegro has been making it his way for decades, so I won't argue. We ate the menudo with lime slices, fresh, warm tortillas, minced onion, cilantro, vinegary peppers, and hot sauce.

Drippiest Meal: Oscar's Chorizo Breakfast Burrito. The chorizo hangs behind the counter at Oscar's, and the cooks select a link and cook everything up fresh. Although it was wrapped in paper, the red orange chorizo oil soaked through. Be warned-you need a bowl or plate beneath you and plenty of napkins on hand. Oscar's has several San Diego locations.

Most Delicious Mall Food Find: Nordstrom Cafe's Mocha Banana Drink. Who knew? (I gave up on malls long ago, having wasted my youth away at Concord's Sunvalley Mall). The drink was thick, creamy, and tasted of real banana rather than cloying overly sweet syrups or flavorings. It was a real treat, rich enough to share. My sister in law swears, "they put half a banana in each one," and well, it shows. The cafe's line moves fast and there are cute cupcakes and baked goods to ogle.

Best Place to catch a brew and the sunset: Harbor Fish Cafe. It's ultra casual at this seaside fish shack. Their small batch house beer (or pink lemonade), clam chowder, and buttered sourdough toast taste great in the salty air.  Staff can be distracted, but are friendly and sweet. Fish and chips are in huge portions, and taste fresh.

NYC: Witching Hour Cookies

The West Village store clerk guessed (hoped?) we were up to some debauchery as he rang up our 12 pack and Le Petit Ecolier dark chocolate cookies. Chocolate. Beer. Dessert of Champions. His eyebrows went up as he asked Oscar, "Both these girls... they are with you?" We all giggled awkwardly in response.

A few minutes later, our host, Miss S, was "resting" (passing out) on her bed, in her cozy (small by our SF standards) West Village apartment. I put the beer away and opened the pack of cookies. Oscar and I sat on our own bed, in the dark, waiting to see if Miss S was out for the night. We nibbled away at the deep dark buttery chocolate cookies from Le Petit Ecolier. The thick chocolate is smooth, rich and balanced, without any offnotes. Having a cookie crumble and melt in my mouth just so was a sweet ending to a wonderful night in the city.

Days later, Miss S claimed to not like chocolate cookies, and insisted we pack them for the trip home. (She also mentioned not wanting to get fat.) Vacation memories continued as we nibbled the chocolate cookie treats while sitting on our faded couch back at home in SF. "They're so good," Oscar said, as we dabbed our mouths with napkins, and giggled at finally finishing the package. The "Little School Boy" is welcome to visit us anytime.

Watching My Father's Glory revs up the cooking & entertaining motor

Inspiration can come from unexpected places. It's easy to find some while watching the charming French 1991 film, My Father's Glory. The film offers a low cost way to feel French, a "mini vacation" of sorts. It takes place in turn of the century Provence, and is based on the writings and life of Marcel Pagnol. The film is stocked with scenes of French people cooking (okay, it's primarily the French women on this one), competitive hunting (guess who gets the guns?), eating and sharing.

Laying in bed watching the pretty, busty French mama spread butter on bread for young Marcel made me want to make or share more food for my family and friends, stat. A dinner party idea began to form vaguely in the back of my mind. Although I was full from dinner, my mouth watered throughout the film. I recited French words back to the screen, paying attention to pronunciation. My pulse quickened at the mention of the ortolan songbird, which is now a forbidden delicacy in France. Ortolan is something I've always wanted to try. "Mmmmm," I murmured, thinking the adult Marcel knew he had it good as a kid.   

My Father's Glory relaxes the spirit with its sentimentality and family depictions. I came away renewed, and excited to crank out some decent home meals because of it. Thanksgiving didn't seem so much like a chore list but more of an exciting undertaking. There were some successes, too. I thought of the film's warmth as I took my time while feeding and caring for a friends' cat (no, I wasn't thinking about eating him). The film helped me decide to later make some good meals: buttery poached eggs one morning, pumpkin curry for dinner, and a grand Naples style feast for a few friends on Friday. For that, I have the makers of My Father's Glory to thank.

Half Moon Bay Pumpkin Festival

I'm anticipating eating and drinking: pumpkin pie, pumpkin ice cream, linguica on a roll with onions and mustard, beer, and whatever else looks good while we're there Sunday. The pumpkin festival is a stopping point for all things pumpkin, with pumpkin cooked and baked every which way, pumpkin carvings, a parade displaying this year's biggest and best pumpkins. Pumpkin crafts and other street fair gear like decorative statues, soaps, olive oil, hats, clothes, and everything in between are available.

My parents took me to my first pumpkin festival in Half Moon Bay when I was a toddler. They said I squealed with delight, and ran around the fields of pumpkin at every chance. Thus began my pumpkin love. In college, the pumpkin love continued when a classmate named Brandon Moglen invited me to carve pumpkins with him, and planted a kiss after we finished with the pumpkins. Brandon must have guessed I am something of a pumpkin nerd.

One recent year, my Dad and I snuck into the area where the 1100 plus pound pumpkin was stored on the back of a big rig truck. Its proud owner was standing by, and allowed us to take pics with his pumpkin when I enthusiastically proclaimed, "We're pumpkin groupies!" Oscar and my Mom were somewhat embarrassed by our bold treachery, but Dad and I shrugged as we mugged for the cameras. I hope to sneak a similar pumpkin picture with Oscar on Sunday. Now wouldn't that make the best holiday card? I won't buy or wear a pumpkin beanie hat out of respect for Oscar, who finds them very un-sexy. Pumpkin temptation comes in many forms.

Loulou's Griddle in the Middle-sunny charm on Monterey's Wharf #2

It's a good idea to consult with the craigslist food forum. They pointed me to a Monterey breakfast spot for a recent weekend trip. Loulou's Griddle in the Middle is perched on a working pier, and is sunny and cozy, with ships and people bustling around. Loulou's is a straightforward, cheery breakfast-only spot.

There's a theme of eight going on in the tiny sunny yellow building, with eight seats at the counter, four booths and four outdoor tables-may be not on purpose, but interesting, still. The eight plus eight seats receive food on dishes that are yellow or red, with a few black and white checkerboard plates thrown in for good measure.

We sat at a booth, and I was glad I had sunglasses to wear because the sun shined directly on me. It took a few minutes to get coffee and menus. The coffee cups are red and large, so that helped me get my caffeine groove on. I watched a local family eat at a booth near us, and a local sailor drink Anchor Steam out of a coffee mug while looking out at the pier. Other locals made small talk with the twenty something female cook, who was heralded as "manager, cook, operator, Miss Everything" by one admirer. She handled chatter and multiple food orders with ease and charm.

I recommend ordering the crab cake special, which comes with two eggs. Sadly, you really can't order the eggs fixed "any way" as the menu states. Our waitress stopped me cold when I asked for poached eggs, "We don't poach. Only over easy, medium or hard with the crab." Part of me wanted to grab the menu and show her why I thought I could order poached, but I just wanted breakfast, damnit, and over easy would be second best. The menu goes on and on about how great Loulou's potatoes are, and they were nicely browned and seasoned. Two problems: there was a slick of too much oil, and the serving size was three bites at most.

Loulou's overall character over ride these minor food quibbles. The food was fresh and tasted good. When I finished eating, I wasn't overly full-so maybe the potato portion was just right? Maybe other breakfast places serve up too much food, that I happily eat up? Future research is needed to explore these burning questions.

Manresa Restaurant "What will I order?" game continues

What's worse? Cracking a tooth before or during a meal at Manresa Restaurant? Probably during, since you can't finish the meal and have to pay for it, anyway. Why debate such pain?

Oscar and I scored a reservation Manresa. It's a South Bay/Silicon Valley French-Spanish restaurant heralded for its "innovative" cuisine. It's a French Laundry wannabe of sorts. After we made our reservation, we went to the Manresa website: to play a favorite game, "What will I order?" Crispy Pig's foot caught my eye, and we both wanted the twice cooked duck foie gras... until we realized it's served chilled. OK, Japanese Fluke served sashimi style "will have to do," I said. Delicious decisions followed as we looked at the computer screen in our Mission apartment. Who can resist a pancetta wrapped saddle of rabbit, or a roast venison saddle with foie gras flan? We can't.

"What will I order?" never became a reality at Manresa the next night. While I was swimming in our hotel pool, Oscar ate a teeny tiny hard Italian candy followed by a deadly Nature Valley granola bar. He cracked a tooth. Surprisingly, this didn't cause him a lot of pain because (we found out later) the tooth nerve was dead. Once I got back from my swim, he was on the phone with his work, trying to track down a Los Gatos dentist.

I hope Manresa believed me when I called to cancel. My voice was tired and flat as I explained Oscar's situation to the host. I was sad to cancel, but felt terrible for my husband. Poor thing-he ended up having the tooth extracted an hour later. Blood flew, and the dentist was surprised Oscar wasn't in more pain. We spent $600 on the extraction, around $350 more than Manresa would've cost.

When we returned from the dentist and Walgreen's, I was starving. I ordered a half bottle of Newton wine an a filet from room service that turned out to be juicy and tasty. Oscar was in a Vicodin haze and ordered to silence by the dentist. He managed to eat some butternut squash ravioli and cream of leek soup. Things definitely didn't turn out as planned (oh champagne and foie gras, where art thou?). I'd rather be taking care of my husband in a hotel room than swooning over some gorgeous food. But the truth is I love my husband and food both, in different ways. I'll just keep checking the Manresa website to play, "What will I order?"

Seattle's Tamarind Tree-a Vietnamese lesson in eating beef

Getting my extended family to visit Tamarind Tree in a strip mall on a recent trip to Seattle took some coaching. "Look, the New York Times wrote them up. It's one of two restaurants they care about!" Blank stares. They read mariners journals and classic car magazines, not the New York Times. Dad, my uncle Don (Dad's brother) and cousin Cory are not adventurous eaters-more of the "meat and potatoes" type. Using the beef to my advantage, I sold them on the beef tasting menu, only $16.95 for 2 people-"what a steal!"

The restaurant is in the International district of Seattle and doesn't look like much from the outside. There were a lot of people milling about, so I went into full drill sarge mode, marching my way to the host stand. "Are you with the group outside?" the waiter asked patiently. "No," I smiled, sticking my ample chest out and rubbing my belly. "But we are REALLY hungry," I giggled. "Okay, um. Let me see," he promised. He came back a few minutes later and said, "Alright, we are ready for you." I'd like to think my flirting skills helped nab a table. The place was full by the time we ordered, and it felt good to beat the crowd.

Six of us decided to go for the meat tasting menu. Cousin Cory is a growing teen, cautious of all things ethnic. No surprise he went for shared appetizers and the Vietnamese equivalent of a mixed grill plate. My aunt wanted separate checks, so their order came out a little slower than ours. My Dad kept looking at me for guidance on how to eat and dip the appetizers. All went well. It helped that we were in such a beautiful setting-water fall, beige painted walls, glazed ceramic plates, soothing music, oh la la!

The big slip up came with our second course. It was a small plate of thinly sliced beef. Raw beef. We began spooning up the beef and eating it with the sliced cucumber, carrot and dipping sauce. We had nearly finished the dish, when our waiter ran over with a surprised look, and said in a shaking voice, "No! No! You are supposed to dip this-" pointing to a plate of newly arrived rice paper, "in the water," also newly arrived. "That is raw. Raw beef." he added, with an angry scowl to our busboy. "You make rolls with paper," he commanded us. My husband shrugged, "It's just like tartare. Or sashimi. No big deal." Good thing Oscar is definitely not afraid of culinary adventures.

There was barely enough beef left for us to make a roll with. My aunt and uncle were laughing and guffawing while we meekly finished our course. Uncle Don said, "Hey, I hope you guys don't get sick or anything. Man, we can't take you anywhere." (This from a man who once sent a holiday card of himself, sitting on the toilet, with a caption, "Hope everything comes out okay in 1982.") We finished the rest of our beef-a-riffic meal without any further slips. "I thought she knew what to do," said my Dad, with a laugh and a shrug. I hope we can get more beef and practice at the Tamarind Tree the next time we are in Seattle. Sigh-if only there was one in SF!