Sweet & Spicy Jumbo Shrimp New Year's Bonanza

Made a seven seafood Italian New Years feast, but it was scaled down for human consumption. I've gotten pretty good at portioning so that two people can eat most everything instead of having nine weeks of leftovers. So, a quick overview, highlighting the shrimp glaze.

Ceviche with habanero
Lobster bisque
Kumamoto oysters with julienned cilantro, horseradish and pico de gallo
Pan seared mahi-mahi
Bacon wrapped scallops
Hot 'n' sweet shrimp
Mussels in cream sauce

The best tasting thing by far was the glazed shrimp:

3 tablespoons Maple syrup
pinch of chopped cilantro
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 or two dashes of red pepper flakes
dash of finely diced or powdered ginger
1 tablespoon apricot jam

Mix it all and heat for 30 seconds in the nuker to marry the flavors. Char the shrimp and plate up with the glaze.

The Creeping Success of Souffle

Wow. I was walking through Bed Bath and Beyond yesterday and right there in front of me, like the Lady of the Lake (a tart handing out swords as a form of representative government), was a Kitchenaid 300W mixer on the clearance rack. To keep with the insipid Arthurian theme, it shone like the Grail as if upon it the light of God was revealed. I turned it around. $99!! Ok, settle down, see if anyone is watching me palpitate over this machine.

I grabbed it, blew the dust off and moved it to a lower shelf so I could get a closer look. Couple of scoffs, no big deal. Dust could be cleaned off. I don't need a manual to know how to run one of these, so that's not a big deal. It has a whisk attachment, but the label said it was missing parts, so I needed to determine what I was missing. I went over to the mixer section and found a similar floor model, intact I assume.

It had a mixing paddle in the bowl! Ok, how do I strategize this...do I take it and put it in the other bowl and make no reference to it? Am I forthcoming and tell them this paddle was from another floor model? "Well, that's why its clearance, innit? Don't suppose we'd go slashing prices in half if it had the mixing paddle. Guess now I can charge you full price, if you don't mind not getting a box and the manual and wrapping materials."

I decided to play it straight. I told the guy at the register I found the paddle in another floor model, and before I could finish my explanation -this is LA, after all- he waved it off with a who cares? I don't get paid enough to care. I liked his thinking.

So I walked out of there with a cool Kitchenaid for just over a hundred bucks. Of course, the first thing I do is go online to see if I got ripped because it's discontinued, or so unsafe people were getting their arms torn off, or improper use opened the 7th Seal, or something else just as apocalyptic. No! I got a good deal and, yes, half the cost.

Today I'm going to get a grinder attachment and sausage tube. The only hardship will be finding a local supplier of casing, but I could always track down a reputable moyel [insert rimshot here].
Last night I finally made a competent souffle because the mixer was able to beat nice stiff peaks with the egg whites. Previous manual attempts have all fallen, although they tasted good.

Bacon & Cheese souffle - for 2

3 tablespoons of gruyere, shredded
3 eggs - separated
nutmeg
salt/pepper
1 1/4 cup milk
3 tablespoons flour
1 quarter onion
1 tablespoon shallot
2 cloves
1 bay leaf
3 tablespoons butter
2 1 cup serving ramakins
2 strips bacon

Preheat oven to 375, liberally butter the ramakins.

First, make a thick sauce bechemel. Spike the bay leaf with the two clove spikes (not garlic, actual clove) onto the quarter onion. Place the onion in the milk and lightly simmer for about 10-15 minutes. Stir, make sure the milk doesn't scald. Remove from heat and strain the milk. Begin a roux with the four and butter. Make it blonde, cooking about 5 minutes. Remove from heat, let cool for a minute or two. Slowly add the milk, bringing it back onto the heat. Add a little at a time at first to avoid lumps. Simmer for 2-3 minutes. Salt/Pepper to taste.

Fry up the bacon and remove. Use the bacon grease to sautee the finely chopped shallots. Pour out 1/2 the bechemel in to another bowl. Add the shredded gruyere, three egg yolks, crumbled bacon and shallots. Add a pinch of salt.

Beat your eggs until you have stiff peaks, but not to meringue stage. Fold 1/4 into the mix. Follow the rest. This is important to be done carefully, the eggs will provide the lift needed. Carefully spoon into the ramakins.

You can cook in one of two ways. You can make a ban-marie using a pan with 1/2-1 inch sides. Fill it halfway with water and place the ramakins in the water. This method provides even cooking. You can also be reckless like me use tray and pray. Put them on a tray, put the tray in the oven.

Bake until risen, brown and the center set up, about 30 minutes, but cooking times will vary. Remove from the oven and hope it stays in the upright position. Eat straight, or you can make a complimentary sauce. I didn't make one, but a cheese sauce might not be bad, you can melt cheese and mix with cream in the microwave or on stovetop, if you like.

Espresso and the Bean

Hi there! Someone earlier posted a question about where to get the best espresso in Los Angeles. First, if you posit a question via the comment box, please leave a return email, if you don't fill in the address box it comes to me as 'anonymous'. The other way is to email me directly at sewasser [at] gmail.com (sub the @ for [at], of course).

The best espresso is at my house, of course. The only coffee machine I own is a DeLonghi espresso maker, and for the $149 discounted price from $299 (as I recall) it is a bargain compared to higher end Saeco or Francis Francis models. Prices for espresso makers are traditionally insane. Outside of the ego factor, I could never justify paying more than $300 for one, and even that is outrageous. Some models enter the $900-$1500 strata, which means you should really open up a Starbucks in your kitchen to break even.

I know I'm side stepping the question for the moment, but let's go over what you should look for in an espresso maker at home, and if it imparts some valuable information, maybe the question of where in LA to get it might be obviated.

Espresso is ground much finer than regular coffee, and compacted into a vessel that has tiny holes in the bottom that allows the water to flow through, but not the grounds. It locks into the machine and water is forced through.

There are two types of delivery systems found in espresso machines: steam powered and pump powered. Steam powered machines are the cheaper of the two, usually ranging under $100. Steam is inferior to pump because the temperature of the water is much hotter than needed to extract the flavor from the powder. The water has to hit around 200 degrees to turn to steam, and therefore build up enough pressure. By that point, it is so hot, the grounds get scorched and take on a burnt taste. Your best alternative is spend the few extra bucks to get a pump system.

Steam is honestly fading away because pump systems are becoming cheaper. Pretty soon the only place you'll even see steam systems offered is the middle-American shelves of Wal-Mart and Target.

The pump is standard in all professional units, and has really obscured sales of consumer grade models. A heating element raises the tempature of the water to the right temperature and the pump forces the water through the grounds. This produces a smooth extraction, and the coveted crema on top, that thin layer of froth that contrasts nicely with the sharp taste of the espresso. Both types of units usually have a steam stem with which to froth milk for cappuccino. As I remarked earlier, a pump system can start at a modest $100 and shoot way up to a punitive $3000 or more.

There are new pump systems that use a pod. Nespresso is an example of a pod device. It is a regular looking espresso machine, but instead of grinding and packing your own grounds, you buy pre-packaged espresso (or other flavors) that comes in little foil-sealed cups (the pod). You place a pod in the chamber, pull down on the lever and that unseals and locks in the grounds for extraction.

It certainly takes some of the labor and portioning out of the equation, as well as probably having some additives to ensure nice crema. It is also incredibly expensive to operate. When you do the math, each pod ends up costing about 45 cents. This is exponentially more expensive that buying a pound of beans and grinding it yourself. Unless you have no time and tons of money, go with a traditional pump, as humans have been getting away with that old method for hundreds of years without the need for dumbed-down pods.

My basic prima facie answer is make it yourself. It is vastly cheaper than going to a coffee shop and paying $2. A note about espresso. Use espresso roast beans if you make it yourself. This might seem obvious, but sometimes people experiment and experiements can go horribly awry. The more you roast a bean, you see, the darker it gets, the more oil is extracted and the less caffeine will be in the bean. Espresso actually has much less caffeine than a regular cup of coffee (volume adjusted) because the caffeine is cooked off in the roasting process. A French or Columbian roast, while dark, is still more heavily concentrated in flavor and caffeine.

Using an non-espresso roast bean will result in a cup of espresso that has a distinctive sour flavor, it will taste thin, crowned with no crema, and it will be loaded with caffeine. Sounds more like Red Bull than espresso. Remeber, get the right bean.

So, to answer the question of where I like to get my espresso. First of all, since all commercial espresso makers work in the same way, it is hard to differentiate between cups of straight espresso, so my judgement would be based on the atmosphere. If you're looking for a writer's scene...a real writer's scene, not wannabes at the Starbucks, then you have Aroma Cafe on Tujunga Blvd. in Studio City. It is just down the street from Vitello's, where Robert Blake killed his wife. It is adjoined to a bookstore, and shares a common outdoor area so patrons of both businesses can commingle.

This is where you will find writers poderously sweat over their next line, or torment themselves re-writing a bad piece of dialog. The outdoor atmosphere is relaxing, although it plays host to more than its fair share of smokers. One of the best features of Aroma is the menu. Unlike other coffee shops, they have an abundance of lunch foods including soups, salads and hearty sandwiches. If you're in the valley or even if you're willing to drive, this is a perfect place to spend an extended period of time...so you'll blow through many espressos if that is what you are there for.

For me, it was a cool place for an aging computer geek because I ran into William Shatner at the counter one Sunday morning. We traded a few quips, I kissed his ass respectfully and went our separate ways. I only mention that because in seven years in Los Angeles, he was one of the few on my short list that I would actually be intrigued to meet, so there you go.

Casbah Cafe at Sunset Junction is another nice middle-eastern inspired coffee shop that offers comfortable surroundings, ecclectic clothing and accessories, and a small menu of offbeat items. Stuffed pita sandwiches are the specialty.

Anastasia's Asylum on Wilshire Blvd in Santa Monica is a quiet bohemian space -aren't they all- that is not overcrowded and has comfortable seats to kick back.

There is an interesting phenomena that happens when you become successful, people simultaneously love and hate you. L.A. is the city where the people probably have more affectations than anywhere else in the visible universe, and it manifests itself by everybody doing something, yet they deny doing it. Like masturbation. Everyone scowls at the utterance of Starbuck's, yet everyone goes there. Like Microsoft.

There is nothing wrong with Starbucks or any other chain like Seattle's Best or Peete's Coffee. If all you're looking for is a good (albeit overpriced) demitasse of espresso, these ubiquitous places are just fine. Most usually have the extra benefit of free wireless internet, which is still a bit spotty in owner-run shops.

Loch Tahoe

Hey everyone! My dispatches will be minimalist as we are in Tahoe and have limited wireless capability. Any time I go wardriving for a signal, I'll post my latest impressions of this wonderland. Arrived last night after a 11 hour drive to find a significant backup on the 50...one lane...10 miles..two additional hours.

Spent some time just across the state line in Nevada doing what else, eating and gambling. Two of my many fine vices I won't list for you here. We ate at Cabo Wavo, the sister restaurant to Sammy Hagar's joint down in Mexico and my qualified opinion is this should be the last. Stiff drinks offset by mediocre food, and the decor was more like a casino buffet than an approximation of tropical Mexico. Except the bad attempt at imitating the Hooter's girls by dressing them in bikinis. This is a ski resort, so you'll be hard pressed to find chicks a) willing and b) with physiques that get the most out of a bare thread of fabric.

When I say cheesy, I refer to everything. From the same, constant three videos of Sammy playing on projection TVs, to the bastardized Mexican fondue. The food was painfully mediocre. I choked a few bites of my cheeseburger before giving up.

Sammy isn't all that huge of a rock star, so to make himself the centerpiece and ignore Van Halen in its entirety is dumb. He has a Solomon's choice. Acknowledge his career with Van Halen and churn up all true resentment from real fans who hated him as a replacement for David Lee Roth, or ignore Van Halen and the thought is still lingering in the back of someone's mind, only now you've relegated the customers to hearing the only solo hit he ever had, I Can't Drive 55, which also shares the honor of Worst Song in Rock History.

Among the kitchy chain restaraunts, go to Hard Rock Cafe, if you have to have crazy crap on the walls and mediocre, non-referential food like Chuck Berry Lasagna.

Latkes and Spielkis at Yale

The three most identifiable icons of Judism are Jackie Mason, Jerry Seinfeld, and potato latkes. With Chanukkah rapidly approaching like a renegade dreidel mutated by a chemical spill, it is imperative that assimilated Jews and progressive Christians know how to make a competent latke. Latkes are potato pancakes that share similarities with other European style pancakes, except Latkes have religious significance.

Chanukkah celebrates the rededication of the Jewish Temple after its desecration by Antiochus. Judah Macabee led the revolt against Antiochus' forces to end their oppressive rule of the Jews, and retake the Temple. It is a war rememberance holiday, essentially.

It also celebrates a miracle. The first order of business was to re-light the eternal flame, which is present in every Jewish Temple. They found only enough oil for one night, but the flame lasted for eight nights, enough time to make more oil. It is considered a miracle the oil lasted eight nights, which is why Chanukkah is called "The Festival of Light." It is actually a minor holiday that has taken on greater significance due to its proximity to Christmas.

The making of latkes is tied in with Chanukkah because of the oil that is used to fry them. The oil is representative of the Eternal Light, but it should be more associated with Eternal Fat. When frying, it is important to heat the oil to the proper temperature, so the latkas don't absorb the oil, hence making them greasy, fattening, soggy potato pucks.

You will need:

4 large russet potatoes
1 large yellow onion
2 eggs
1/4 cup mazoh meal (or bread crumbs if you will)
salt and pepper
vegetable oil.

Grate the potato using medium grate size into a strainer, the strainer should be over a bowl. This will allow the starch to drip out. Medium grate the onion into the same bowl. Squeeze as much liquid out as possible. Transfer to a dry bowl and mix in the eggs, mazoh meal (or breadcrumbs) into a bowl. Salt and pepper to taste.

Use a large, high rimmed skillet, and fill up to 1/4 inch with vegetable oil. The temperature should be hot enough to fry and prevent the latke from absorbing the oil, but not so hot it burns the outside before cooking the inside. Like the pancake, you might want to do just one first, so you can adjust the burn.

Drain them on some paper towels. Serve with either apple sauce or sugar or sour cream or jam or honey or all of it. Tradition specified apple sauce, but hey, we're assimilated, aren't we?

Finally, jog for 1/2 hour.

Taix: A Bit of French Countryside, Tex

I recently wrote in another article about the idea of upscaling peasant food, and how many culinary representations reflecting a country of origin, has in some manner evolved to their version of haute cuisine. In America, we have allowed the French masters to convince us that haute cuisine only refers to French food. In the strictest definition, this is true. It is a French phrase, and refers to a specific style of preparation and presentation.

Taix is a modest restaurant in an unassuming location that serves French country food, which means there is no foie gras or osetra filled eggs here. Taix started in 1927 at the Champ d'Or Hotel in Los Angeles' French quarter downtown (don'tcha know), and has resided at its location on Sunset in Echo Park since 1962. I've passed it a million times on the way home, and never gave it a second thought. Since, lately, I've been hitting French Bistros, I figured I'd give this place a try.

The plain exterior belies a cozy courtyard hidden beyond the outside doors. The area is quite expansive, hosting a few banquet rooms, a lounge area, buffet room and regular dining room. It definitely has an old world French look and feel. I can't say if that is good or bad, because, depending on what angle you sit, it feels like a museum or mausoleum.

It also felt like a mausoleum because it took about 25 minutes for our server to acknowledge us. Uh oh. They knew we were there because we got bread and water. But this isn't the Bastille, and I'm not a prisoner, and I have higher expectations from a French restaraunt.

Contrition, however, was swift and resolute. No, we didn't get anything comped, but we did enjoy the requisite French snivelling juxtaposed with a proper expression of disdain. The French perfected diplomacy in all its caculated deliberation, and simultaneously its underhanded counterpart, duplicity.

I corrected the waiter who had mistakingly brought me red wine. It was with a noticable dose of smarm that, following a very contorted look, I was informed they didn't serve Chimay Red.

"Eh? We don't have Chimay." Fine, a French restaurant that forsakes Chimay, Fischer and Kronenberg 1664 for Michelob, Budweiser and Heineken. Ok, things are shaping down to be a crappy experience. But wait, behind the French Smarm is some American Charm, and he starts to banter with us and talk about the menu and the fine offerings...He was an older guy, so I figured he's been doing this a while, I'd let the other stuff slide.

The food was pretty good, nothing spectacular, and really didn't look traditionally French. We ordered the Mazoh Ball soup, and got the weinerschnitzel. I'm kidding, but we did start with calamari and split pea soup. They leave the bowl of soup and the ladle with you, so you can have an endless bowl. Like Olive Garden!

For my entree I got the trout with lemon, butter, caper sauce. It came with haricort vert, naturally, and steamed carrots, naturally. My wife got sirloin steak with pesto butter. Like Sizzler! Both dishes were competent, but nothing spectacular. I say that without criticism...I didn't expect outlandish food because the food was reasonably priced, and they don't present themselves as fine dining.

The space is comfortable, if a bit outdated. The staff has attitude, but I think in a forgivable, good way. They have a straightforward menu so older people won't get confused, and dates won't take a million years figuring out how to spend your money while acting engaged and thrifty. The food is pretty good, and that's exactly my expectation. So, I guess it's with ambivalence that I sort of endorse this restaurant.

My Dinner Experiment

Tonight, I will be making a spinach & mushroom lasagna. I will be making this with no reference to execution or ingredients...it will be all my own. Quite frightening, because I am entertaining tonight, so it could turn out to be a unequivocal disaster.

No so! Follows is my deconstruction of what I prepared, since I typically wing recipes.

1 double stick of chevre (you know the 2" tube, get the 4" tube)
3 tablespoons cottage cheese
2 bunches of spinach
1 bunch basil
3 portabello mushrooms
gruyere
cream
lasagna noodles
butter

Butter your casserole (9"x9") liberally. Boil your noodles ahead of time. In standard tomato sauce lasagna, you do not need to boil the noodles, they will soften because of the moisture in the mix. This mix is drier, so you do have to par or fully boil the noodles.

Cut the mushrooms into 1" slices and sautee in butter. When they are through sauteeing, add the cleaned, destemmed spinach to the pan. Don't worry if it looks like too much, the spinach will wilt down to nothing. Pull off the heat and drain well.

In a bowl, cream the cevre, then mix in the cottage cheese, three yolks, 1/2 cup cream. Julienne the basil and add that to the mix along with salt and pepper to taste. The filling should have a smooth, semi-loose mixture that doesn't fall readily off a spoon.

Put noodles on the bottom of the pan. Regular lasagna uses sauce on the bottom, but we buttered liberally. Alternate layers of noodles and sauce, adding the spinach and mushroom as a topping for each sauce layer before adding the next noodle layer.

Top off with last of the sauce, and shred a ton of gruyere on top. Bake covered at 350 for 20 minutes. Remove top and bake until top is browned. Since the noodles are already cooked, all you are really doing is marrying the flavor and cooking the egg.

Serve and eat. This is a high-calorie, yet vegetarian dish, proving not all vegetarian food is necessarily light or good for you. Hell, mushroom pizza is vegetarian.

My Favorite Grocery Store

I abhor the marketing philosophy of Whole Foods. It has convinced me that 'organic' is Sumerian for '40% markup.' I don't want organic products, I don't need organic products. I want my produce free of parasites, aphids and insects, and therefore insist on the use of pesticides. I have never bought into the notion that eating a bug is healthier than eating some residual pesticide. I also do not believe that infestation can be averted by any natural deterrent to effectively kill, hypnotize, or otherwise convince insects with disuassive argument.

When I lived in Virginia, my house backed up to a forest. My father used to say 'Spiders are our friends, they control the insect population." I like spiders, and don't mind them in my house, but I never found that a spider contributed a single iota in the reduction of the insect population that overran my house. I'm sure it made an infinitesimal dent. So much for natural deterrent.

Whole Foods thinks otherwise. They have created an enormous industry using the brilliant but cynical marketing message that death fearing, guilt ridden, hippies can enjoy eternal life and save the planet if they pay the vig. Sarong enveloped, unshaven women float around the natural beeswax shampoo aisle in an alpha REM trance hoping to find the jar of royal jelly that will restore their wiry mane to the youthful luster it had back in the '72 Appalachian Rainbow Gathering. Vacuous men stroke their unkempt beards mulling over the sixteen varieties of milk, none of which come from an animal.

I have found natural food freaks, like vegetarians, come in two categories: unsubstantiated assumptive health theorists, and politically motivated consumers. The first group are people who believe every wild claim of the natural food and holistic health industry. Given no proof, record of unbiased clinical study, or FDA oversight, they will eat pills made out of herbs and other naturally occuring chemicals with the belief it is better for them than a tested drug. Real drugs, after all, are bad because drug manufacturers are greedy and the government is similarly evil. They believe, with little thought to the contrary, that foods marketed as 'healthy' are, indeed, healthy as they claim. And they will accept no contradictory opinion about the matter. This, despite the fact that numerous creators of herbal remedies have been fined or jailed for fraudulent and misleading claims, including the deadly result of wonderous fen-fen.

Even more insufferable is the political contingent. They vehemently adhere to the shrill, proselytizing, meat-is-murder doctrine. This intrusive cartel will demand that you not eat the things you want to, because you are either killing the planet, killing an animal, overharvesting fish, depleting the whole...jesus, I don't know, they just hate everything about you. They feel eating, well, anything will bring about the wholesale destruction of the human race and by extension, Earth itself.

...and yet, the Whole Foods in Glendale is my favorite grocery store. They have, by far, the most superlative seafood, meat, cheese and baked goods of any store in the city, including other Whole Foods. When I buy colossal shrimp, I ignore the feely-good sign declaring they are free-water shrimp, coddled and nurtured until they are netted. I don't bother with the chicken propaganda on how each and every hen is hand massaged and bathed by a licensed practitioner. I don't read the little placard next to the parmesian reggiano that details for me the halcyon life of Italian cows. I buy my f'ing food and get the hell out.

I also ignore 70% of the store's offerings. I have no use for brown anything. I'm not sure when brown became synonymous with healthy, but every flipping product is brown. Brown rice, brown grain, brown eggs...everything is brown except potatoes. They're purple, red and white!

They have an extensive offering of seafood, fresh fillets glistening from the halogen pinlights. Halibut, Scottish salmon, tilapia, several kinds of pacific oysters, Australian lobster tail, Indian candy are just a few adorning the case. The quality is on par with Santa Monica Seafood. They even have 6oz packaged crabmeat. Last week, I bought steamed jumbo male blue crab. You know how much I love blue crab!

Furthermore, I can buy goat for stewing. They even have a steady supply of buffalo steaks and ground meat. They have frozed ostrich meat, which is a fantastic light red meat. They have a cheese department that rivals many cheese stores. I truly love many of the specialty items they carry, and they all fall under the 'perishable' category. There is not one item except truffle oil, that I have bought off the shelf there. I buy nothing packaged, I buy no soy products.

As much as I hate to admit it, this ONE Whole Foods has my shopping dollar. It is not close either, it takes about 20 minutes to get there, but I am vehemently in favor of buying fresh food every day. Tonight, I will go over and get food, since I am entertaining tomorrow. I will let you know what I bought and what I made at that time. Until then, patronize Whole Foods for the right reason: top quality food. Screw the politics.

Ceviche My Way

Made some ceviche this weekend, hoping not to poison my friends. It was nontoxic! Also, the most pleasing and satisfying part of that is how cheap it is to make it yourself. Second to that, but no less appealing, is freshness. I don't know how long ceviche has been hanging around some grade B restaurant. Maybe this morning, maybe last week. Who knows? Do you know? I don't know. They could bleach it and serve it for three months. Craggy, grey, rotten stalagmites of carrion. Like Elizabeth Taylor. Do you want to eat Elizabeth Taylor? I don't want to eat Elizabeth Taylor. I will issue this edict -or fatwah, if you will- that Gastrologica's official position is to never advocate eating Elizabeth Taylor, Ruth Buzzy or Abe Vigoda, ad infinitum.

Cheviche is so simple, even Paris Hilton could make it...if she got off her back long enough. Most people are frightened beyond rational comprehension to eat it, let alone make it. Ceviche, that is. The fish is cooked by acid rather than heat. Do you remember the scene in Logan's Run where the Hover Segway sprayed vapor on the corpse, and it dissolved in a really low budget way? That's absolute proof that acid is just as effective as heat to cook things.

That doesn't mean I think lime juice and rib roast would marry well, but fish is the perfect protein, and not just any old fish. The best fish to use is a firm, white meat fish. Pacific Snapper is the standard, but halibut and cod could be substituted.

Ceviche is by no means raw fish, so it shouldn't be viewed as such. The acid from limes and lemons creates an inhospitable environment to virulent parasites, like Gloria Alred. Ceviche is really only good for a day or two, I never eat cheviche that is older than two days. So, with that fanfare, here are the simple ingredients for this dish:

Tomato
Onion
Cilantro
3 limes
1 lemon
filet of pacific snapper
salt
pepper

Cut the tomato, onion and fish into a medium dice. Shape and consistency really matter because this is such a vivid dish of contrasts. Juice all the fruits into a bowl, and toss in what you diced. Salt and pepper to taste. Finally, rough chop the cilantro and add.

The ceviche should marinade about six hours before serving. I'm not very squeamish about raw food, so I take an immediate taste after mixing to adjust the flavor. Everything will develop over time, so you want to get the balance right in the beginning of the process. To add a bit of excitement, I will brunoise a habanero and sprinkle that in, excepting the pith and seeds. Again, the marinade will mellow even that.

For another nice twist, you can tiki it up by adding coconut milk. Fan slices of avocado in overlapping leaves around a martini glass, spoon in the ceviche and garnesh with a lime wedge.

What would you drink with this? A fruity sangria, of course.

1 bottle of cheap red wine, Two Buck Chuck is good.
1 orange
1 apple
rum
ginger ale
sugar
orange juice

Dean Martin would have loved this as a morning pick-me-up. Into a standard pitcher, empty the wine, add enough OJ and ginger ale to bring it about an inch or two from the top. Add the sliced oranges and apples, 1/2 cup sugar and a couple splashes of rum.

If you aren't a fruity wine drinker, any light Mexican beer will pair well. I would even suggest a Singha or Tsintao, since Asian beers pair very well with seafood.

Fassica

As a rule, holes-in-the-wall (or is it hole-in-the-walls) have the best food. Lacking the pretention of a more elegant restaurant, they also lack the uptick in price. Generally, Ethiopian restaurants skirt around this issue, as there are only a couple that shoot for the upscale image, most of them target their local population. Fassica is actually in Culver City on the corner of Washington and Motor. You would drive right by it if you picked lint off your shoulder. They actually have a fairly extensive menu, and even featured some dishes I have not seen in the other Fairfax restaurants.

I had to flip the menu to the back cover to see the list of specials, otherwise I would have never seen the combinations. I was immediately drawn to the Fassima combo, which is a liberal helping of Kitfo (Lean Beef), Doro Wot (Chicken Stew), Alicha Fit-Fit (Lamb) Yebere Siga Tibs (Beef), Yemisir Kik Wot (Split lentil Stew), Atkilit Alicha (Cabbage Stew), Gomen Wot (Collard Greens), Yeater Kik Alicha (Split-pea Stew).

Kitfo, for the uninitiated, is the national dish of Ethiopia, and is raw beef. I love it. Simple, not as elaborate as tartare, it is a fresh helping of chopped raw beef with dried cottage cheese curds. The beef is moist and flavorful, and the cheese is incredibly mild, so it just adds a bit of contrasting texture to the mixture.

Calling the dishes 'stew' is a bit misleading, although it probably refers to the cooking method than the actual dish. The meat is stewed, and served in a thick sauce of berbere for chicken and beef (brown sauce with peppers, but not really hot) or a golden semi-sweet sauce for the lamb.

For those unfamiliar with the dining customs of Ethiopia, food is served on a communal plate of injera, a fermented, pancake like bread resembling a huge buckwheat pancake. It is made of a flour called Tef, nearly impossible to get here in the US. It has a slight sour flavor, and is spongy and resilient. You tear a piece off and roll your food in it. It is your food as it is your utensil. I was admittedly skeptical about Fassica, because when we sat at our table, they had silverware on them. Actually, I did need to use the fork for the salad.

The flavors of the dish were deep and reminiscent of higher-scale restaurants like Nyala or Rosalind's. In fact, the kitfo and berbere may have surpassed the richness of flavors I have experienced in other Ethiopian restaurants. Good going!

As always, I cannot finish the food. The average dish feels at least two pounds heavy, even before wrapping in injera. If it is not too soggy, the part of the injera that was hosting the food is the most flavorful, having absorbed all the juices from what was sitting upon it.

Amdended: The atmosphere is hole-in-the-wall-ish and the staff is friendly and personable.

The Brittle Battle

Yes, I perfected the recipe. As I suspected there was a higher sugar content in the maple syrup than corn syrup. Once I used Corn Syrup and boiled to a proper 310 degrees, it produced a tastful, brittle that snapped off the whole and crunched properly al dente with out sticking to the dente.

Brutal Brittle

Made my first peanut brittle last night, on a whim. Being flip about making candy probably isn't the best way of going about it, but I had all the ingredients, so I figured what the hell. Brittle is amazingly simple, but some I learned some very important lessons. First, the ingredients:

2 cups sugar
1 cup corn syrup (I subbed maple syrup)
dash vanilla
tiny dash of salt
baking soda
couple fistfulls of spanish peanuts, uncooked. I used mixed, roasted, salted nuts from a can
1 cup water
2 tablespoons of butter

You've all been warned before about making candy and melting sugar, but I would be remiss if I didn't remind you again. Use either a candy thermometer or a digital remote thermometer to precisely gauge the temperature of the syrup as it is boiling. There are two things about making candy, one is that you should wear a blast shield and steel gauntlets because molten sugar is hotter than the surface of the sun. It is also like cooking with napalm, once it gets on you, it will not come off until it has burned all the way through, fallen to the ground, and burned through the tile. Secondly, watch the thermometer as you stir with careful vigilence. Sugar has interesting molecular properties that change irrevocably once you hit certain temperatures, and those temperatures are not that far apart from each other.

Here is a short primer on the stages of heated sugar, and the accompanying properties:

Thread Stage
230-235 degrees F
Basically syrup, will not solidify, use for sugary syrup.

Soft-Ball Stage
235-250 degrees F
Indicative of fudge, pralines and fondant. Sugar becomes a soft, flexible ball

Firm-Ball Stage
245-250 degrees F
Caramel.

Hard-Ball Stage
250-265 degrees F
Nougat, marshmallows, gummies and rock candy.

Soft-Crack Stage
270-290 degrees F
Saltwater taffy and butterscotch.

Hard-Crack Stage
300-310 degrees F
Brittle, toffee and lollipops.

After you reach the hard crack stage, which is nearly 99% melted sugar and 1% water, you reach the stage of caramelizing the 100% sugar. There are three stages: Clear liquid, brown liquid and burnt sugar. They hit at 320, 338, and 350 degrees respectively. Brown liquid is most common, and used as dessert decortion or candy coating. Burnt sugar can be used, but if it goes over 350, it will be just that, actual burnt sugar which will be bitter and useless. Clearly, these are bone-charring temperatures so use extreme caution when stirring.

To make the brittle, begin by pouring the sugar and syrup and water into a heavy bottom 3 quart pot. Stir well until the sugar is dissolved. Dash the vanilla and salt in. The corn syrup helps stabilize the sugar so it doesn't re-crystalize during cooking. If crystals form on the side of the pot, you can brush it down with hot water. Keep stirring and boiling until the mixture hits 250 degrees. At this point, add the peanuts. Keep boiling until the temperature reaches 310, then immediately pull off the heat and vigorously stir in the butter, melting it completely, then the baking soda. The baking soda reacts to infuse the mixture with co2. When it has frothed a bit, turn out into well buttered or non stick pans. Spread thin and let cool. If you want, you can later paint melted chocolate on it for an added treat.

So it is that easy. Unfortunately, the recipe I was using only called for boiling until 290, which meant it was brittle when you started chewing, but started sticking to the teeth in a matter of a few seconds. Also, nowhere did anybody specify how long it would take to raise sugar to 310 degrees. It takes a while. The boiling mixture quickly reaches 235 degrees, then slows down dramatically. I thought I was doing something wrong, but it won't start going up in temperature until enough of the water has boiled off, so don't fret. I remember it took 20-30 minutes to get that hot, and remember to stir constantly.

Sell This House

My revisionist historical recount of taping "Sell This House" at our property.

As most of you don't know, since this is a food related blog, we are selling our house, but it hasn't moved quickly since August. No surprise. Prices are exhorbitant and people are jittery about a fictional bubble that will combust, leaving home prices descimated in a vast holocaust of precipitous devaluation. That's where shows like Sell This House come in. They make improvements and re-stage your house to help sell it, giving it a more desirable look and feel to the buying public. They taped over three days starting on Friday.

Friday, December 2:
It was about 8:50, and I was particularly startled, even knowing they would have a punctual arrival at 9. Having just stepped out of the shower and shaved, I was walking through my living room with toilet paper on my cuts when the production crew shows up. One by one, the procession filed through my front door, like an army of ants streaming in to conquer with all manner of video recording equipment, audio mixing boards, cameras, lighting towers…but the first thing I noticed they offloaded was bottled water. I love LA.

They were very cordial and friendly, hurrying to get set up and everything firmly established. I was adjunct at this moment, really only getting in the way as I stumbled through a den of cables, obstacles of cases, boxes of tapes, lighting apparati, everything but major surgical instrumentation.

After showing them around for a few minutes (which was superfluous, since they had already seen interior shots I sent them a couple of weeks ago), I had to vacate for a few minutes so they could do an unfettered tour and taping of the house. This is where I am right now, outside, writing down these impressions on the motor of my automatic driveway gate. It is starting to sprinkle.


Fast Forward
It is now two days later, and I am going to recap what happened. It was a seriously busy weekend, and I didn’t have much of a chance to write or think or pretty much anything but the job(s) at hand. The taping and housework wasn’t that bad at all, but I had to do a phone system upgrade at work, so that took a certain amount of time. Neither job, in and of itself, was vexing or Herculean, but combined they were taxing. There is nothing interesting about the phone upgrade, so I’ll focus mainly on the fun and tribulations of the show.

In all honesty, it was an easy, congenial process. The crew:
Lee, Executive Producer, in the most laid back fashion
Susan, Producer, facilitator, all around cool chick and nice person - with fascinating stories about the inner mechanics of the Playboy mansion.
Troy, Cameraman/ surrogate talent
Esther, Camerawoman, sage counselor
Nick, Audio technician and calming influence
Christine (I hope I have her name right, sorry if I don’t), Producer, facilitator and caterer
The talent:
Tanya, Host
Roger, Designer and Host



It’s funny to see the dynamic when a group of people are hanging around in someone else's house. Although the crew switches out people depending on who is available to travel, the core constituents remain the same. Of course, we're comfortable in our own house, there's just a crew working in and on it. It must be surreal for them, even after doing this for a few years, because I go to a company building for my work, not stay the majority of the day in someone else's living space for three days, and trying to make myself comfortable there.

In this case, choosing our house was mutually beneficial. Those local to LA got a break from lugging their equipment and spending four days in Moosejaw, Saskachewan. We didn't require a huge budget either, because most of the house is in good condition (at least, structurally...just cluttered). And of course, we get advice from an expert designer and residual promotion from the show. A certain percentage of viewers will be in LA, and may get interested.



Much of Friday was setting up cameras for the initial open house, where they get people's reactions to the space. It should be no shock to anyone reading this that they are instructed to over-dramaticize what they don't like about the house. Honestly, the back rooms were all shitty, which is why I couldn't wait to have someone re-design them. Their reactions, and the obvious observation of the crew and Roger, were that we sunk all our efforts into the living room and foyer, and completely neglected everything else. True, true.

We taped the intro and a quick tour with Tanya, and later reacted to the comments about the house. Also instructed not to make up anything, but talk honestly about how we felt about the comments, increased drama implied. So I had some fun with being irritated and put off by what these people are saying about our 'precious house'. The honest truth is, we're selling it, so I couldn't have loved it that much.



I've worked in television and radio before, so none of this was new to me, but Nayan was a bit nervous about the whole process. She handled it pretty well, and Chris had a blast cutting up on and off camera. I did the bulk of talking because if you know me, it would be more than obvious I am the one to handle that job. I've got no problem yammering on about shit. In fact, I think they had to try very hard to pare down what I was saying, because left unchecked, I would give a lengthy soliloqy.

Saturday, I was working on the phones, but got back home in time to see the progress. Nayan and Chris had to fly without me, and I chipped in between watching USC destroy UCLA. I care about neither team. Saturday wrapped up around four, and the only other thing we had to accomplish was move some furniture into another room.

Sunday, the cast and crew arrived promptly at 9. We taped some comments about the one room, and started work on the master bedroom. We finished up, taped the conclusion and left for the final open house. We didn't really have to leave, but it was good to get out of the house for an hour or two.

This, I know, has been a lengthy and probably boring recount of what happened. I know you are waiting to hear the prurient details of what a bitch Tanya is, or how Roger knocked over an expensive statue and refused to pay for it, or a camera guy putting a camera through our window. Fortunately, nothing like that happened. They were very professional and genuinely nice and courteous. They also took pride in their work on and off camera, and the job they did on the house. Sure, there's some touchup paint here and there, but nothing major. Did we discuss salacious things when the camera was off? Yeah, there was one conversation that spilled over to a couple of days involving Playboy, but what else would you expect from Playboy. Seriously.



Well, I have to tie this into food, or this article would be a complete non sequitor. Although the crew purchased quite a buffet, I wanted to entertain, so I made a few dishes for Sunday lunch. Two quiches, a plate of mini crab cakes with chipotle remoulade, and orange crock pot pork. I've previously given my recipes for crab cakes and orange pork. Personally, I felt the crab cakes were a bit salty, the pork was still a bit tough and the quiche wasn't nearly salted enough and a bit cold. Everyone said they liked it, but I will always be my own worst critic.

Quiche is something I haven't yet discussed, so quickly:

4 eggs
cup of cream
onion
bacon
gruyere
pie crusts
salt & pepper
nutmeg

Beat the eggs and cream together to form a thick base. Finely chop 1/4 onion and add it to the bowl. Cook off and crisp 5 bacon strips. Crumble into the mix. Shred 1 cup gruyere and add to the mix. Salt and pepper to taste (go on, it's only samonella), add pinch of nutmeg. Pour all into a pie shell and bake at 375 for 25 minutes. It is done when a knife comes out try and the top is slightly browned. Let stand for 5 minutes.


Well, that about wraps it up. I have some pictures at home I'll post here, but only the flattering ones. We had a great time and it wasn't as backbreaking as I thought it would be. I had visions of an insensitive crew stampeding throughout my house, setting us up on camera as the rube family from the backwaters of Hell, leaving flotsam and destruction in their wake. In fact, it was professional, easy, and the crew really helped out on performing the majority of the work, my role was minimal. The show is tentatively expected to air around February, so I'll give exact dates when I find out.

Foie Gras Sources

The unfortunate barometer of true hypocrisy is the craving for, and consumption of, foie gras. It is produced in a cruel, insensitive manner that would contravene many of the Geneva convention restrictions on the treatment of humans, let alone animals. Yet, if you're like me, you would saw off your own arm and leg with a broken credit card to pay for a thick slice of this delictable duck liver. Foie gras is associated with the gross excesses of humanity where, given an unfettered and anarchical desire for the most opulent and expensive food too prohibitive for eating by middle-income people, bred a practice of overstuffing defensless animals, and became acceptable by polite society. Leave it to the French to figure this one out.

Foie gras is produced by force-feeding a corn-mash mixture to a duck in obscene quantities. The result is a fattened liver that comprises about 2/3 the duck's overall weight. Far larger than an normal liver of a duck that size. Also, far more rich, creamy, smooth and flavorful. For, although foie gras is an unspeakable autrocity against a cuddly duck, it is one of the most desired and expensive food on any given menu. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not making a political statement, I'm just acknowledging my own shameful love of this exquisite treat. I do feel bad at how it is made, but it will be produced whether I eat it or not...and I eat so very little of it, relatively speaking.

If you experience the same shadenfreude I do, then follow me. Watch your head. It's just a little farther down. Here, take this ladder down the access shaft. I know, it's dark, use a flare. Don't let it get too near the pipes, that's compressed ammonia. Here, in this thermoelectric junction closet. Ok, don't tell anyone...I can hook you up with some retail foie gras.

SHHHHHH. Keep your sqealing down. I know, man. I was jonsing when I rolled into town, but a dude told me about a guy who could score some quality stuff. If you really want to know, there are a few people I can send you to.

If you have a trust fund, or just embezzeled millions of dollars from Barclay's bank, Dartagnan.com is the online source of quality gourmet foods, including primo fois gras. They have premium prices and only ship FedEx overnight because of the perishibility of most of their food, so tack on $35 to every order.

Locally, my favorite connection is Monsieur Marcel in the Fairfax Farmer's Market. Located in some corner somewhere in the Market that I've never learned my way around, even with GPS, Mr. Marcel offers great French staples, and they also have bloc foie gras you can buy, minimum of 1/4 lb, I believe. It will run you $25-$30...not bad for a full quarter pound.

Bristol Farms on Beverly in Beverly Hills also stocks shrink wrap lobes, but they will cut it for you, any size the last time I checked.

Finally, Surfas is the one-stop chef spot to get any restaurant related items, and it also carries a quite substantial food and spice section. Among these in the freezer is lobes and slices of foie gras. I wasn't even aware foie gras could be frozen, but apparently it can. A lobe goes for about $75, the slices are about $60.

I suppose one day I will stop eating it out of protest, or guilt, like I gave up smoking pot because it contributed to the murder of women and children, or masturbation because every time I did, God killed a little kitten. But...then again, maybe I'll have just one more slice with pear compote on a brioche toast point, just to get me through the night.