…said T.E. Lawrence, picking up his fork.

Spring hasn’t been sure what it wants to be this year in Southern California. Rainy for a few days, and then hot as blazes in the nineties. When I had the chance to get out to the desert recently I had hoped I was going to win the weather lotto for the weekend.

But I did, and with A Girl in tow, camped out at the Sagewater Spa in Desert Hot Springs California. It is a great place. Not much to do, and that is the point. Hop into the mineral pools until your skin wrinkles up, then get out and drink the beverage of your choice in the sun. Hop back into the pools. Rinse. Repeat.

It is also very tiny. Like seven rooms? Everyone very respectful of one another. Folks watching the sunset. Talking about the water. What they left behind in towns far flung away.

There is however a food problem. Well, one if you can’t fend for yourself a little bit. No room service, but there are little kitchenettes and refrigerators inside each room, and little ovens as well.

We had decided to stay camped out at the hotel. So we packed provisions at a little local grocery chain called Jensens. We got fruits and local dates and stuff for salads and breakfasts, but the big revelation was the burgers we got for the grill the hotel has.

Such a burger.

This is a food blog right?

Anyway, yeah, it is great. The Signature Patties at Jensens. We were told that they had beef, pork, veal, applewood bacon and seasonings. I’ll tell you they were great. So great they mail order the stuff. So great that I am even debating about mail ordered the stuff now. Like, I am regretting what amazing stuff I had for dinner just now for these things.

But the pool always called. And there was always the book I brought to read. But more on that when we talk next.

So I guess the stuff they say about trips to the desert is true. Know where you are going. Be well supplied. Tell a friend where you are going. Consider this me telling you where I will go again.

Succulent

It is the weekend, and The Girl’s cousins are in town. They want to do the Sideways thing. Even with spots of hard rain and occasional hail on the forecast. We oblige. A giant SUV rented, we go a tasting. Up two hours from L.A. to Santa Barbara.

The big revelation wasn’t anything liquid. Nope. It was instead a little café in Solvang called Succulent.

It is little. Tiny even. Maybe room for a few tables. With 7 other people in tow besides myself, we took over basically the back half of the restaurant. We warned the owners that we were going to be “that table” today.

Sucking back on freshly made lemonade (including a prickly pear one) we waited our food. And when it did, there was a mixture of happy discovery and appreciation for what laid out before us. Open faced meatloaf sandwiches on cornbread with house made bacon and tomato jam. Charcuterie plates. Braised shortribs on cabbage jalapeno slaw with fresh mustard. Roasted root vegetables on greens with Humboldt goat cheese. All great stuff.

It is also the little things about this place that they don’t have to do, but do make it such a better restaurant. Check out the little salt bar in front of the day’s specials.

I will spare you tales of debauchery in vineyards, but instead encourage you to get to Succulent. I know I will be back again.

The Morning Joe: Dallmayr Prodomo

I have to tell you about what I have been drinking in the morning as of late. It is Dallmayr Prodomo Whole Bean. Out of the bag, it has a caramel laden smell, which with a bit of cream and a light touch of sugar once brewed as a drip, is only magnified.

 

Dallmayr is an iconic place. Since its founding hundreds of years ago as perhaps the most archetypal upscale delicatessen in Munich, it has fed the likes of royalty, and weathered wars and tough economic times, all the while remaining quite literally as a taste setter for Europe. And while Nestle is a minority owner now, the majority of the store, and the coffee business, are owned by the same family since the 1800’s.

But the best thing about the coffee besides the taste, is that I have been able to find it from importers in the US for anywhere from $10-15 for a 500g (approx 1.1lbs) bag.

Search it out.  

 

__________________________________________________________________________

For more info:

http://www.dallmayr.com/

 

 

Debbie Harrys

I am increasingly in appreciation of lavender. We take it for granted perhaps; it is a color more than an ingredient, a scent more than a taste. It is the stuff in the soap in your kitchen, it fills fields in California, France, and the plant is used for borders and fill for parkways, orchards.

But for all that, you can cook with the stuff.

If you grow it in a pot, or see it in a market, or ask to “borrow” some from your neighbor, I’d like you to try a recipe out I call Debbie Harrys.

Really it is just a slight tweak on a good Blondie recipe, which has a profound and delicious change in taste.

There are a lot of recipes out there for Blondies out there, and a lot of them seemed like the real thing, only to find that there is little things wrong with them. Too cakey perhaps, too dry, etc.

So I recommend this recipe up on the Food Network website. But here is where the tweaks start to come in. First, I only put in only white chocolate chips. Second, right before I place the batter in the pan, I slowly add 2 tablespoons of lavender flowers in. I add them in thirds stirring each well in to incorporate. You are using only the purple flowers here, no leaves, no stems.

So what do I get if I bake this you ask? Well it chewy and there is the sweetness of the white chocolate chips, but then there is the amazing mouthfeel experience from the lavender. Coating, dare I say perfuming every bite.

So they are not Blondies, they are a little punk from all that flavor, and those flecks of purple. Debbie Harrys.

 

 

Talking Izakaya with Mark Robinson

It is New Year’s Day, and I am in Little Tokyo in Los Angeles. Actors and ex-pats are lined up for mochi. Or watching taiko. Families are huddled around one another eating okonomiyaki.

Past the statue of the Challenger on Astronaut E Onizuka St, stands the Japanese bookstore Kinokuniya, and on this New Year’s Day, it is packed.

Making my way over to the cooking section I find I linger on one book, Izakaya by Mark Robinson. I have been putting fingers between the pages of recipes I think are great, or writing I want to share, and when I realize I have run out of digits, I know I will be buying the book.

It is a real find folks. A must have in your collection. On its pages are real stories of real restaurants, and Mark’s writing will put you at their tables and counters with thoughtful chefs, surrounded by locals who are enjoying the food you can replicate for yourself with clear and concise recipes. All the while the book is made greater by the accompanying photography by James Beard Award nominee, Masashi Kuma.

With the small plates, communal atmosphere, and great drinks, izakaya is a type of venue we in the west are ready for…but just don’t know it yet.

Mark graciously took time out of his busy schedule to answer some questions about his book and this unique restaurant/bar combination that inspired it.

THS: Izakaya generally gets translated as “Japanese pub food,” but there seems as much emphasis on the food, as the drinking. If you got the chance to do a dictionary entry for izakaya what would it be?

MR: Izakaya: [ee-ZAH-ka-ya] a Japanese tavern; convivial, sometimes raucous restaurant-bar, traditionally owner-operated. Serves a wide menu of small dishes to be shared, including sashimi and deep-fried foods, with an emphasis on fresh and seasonal fare. Typically has counter seating in front of an open kitchen. Offers a full range of alcoholic drinks, especially shochu (qv) and beer. Can become addictive with regular patronage.

THS: Do you think that the west is ready for izakaya? And what aspects to the culture would make it receptive?

MR: Many Western diners may be tired of being lumped with one dish to work through while looking at what everyone else is having, so I would say small-plate, shared dining has definitely arrived (though the Mediterranean seems to have enjoyed it forever). The word “izakaya” is already in most food lovers’ vocabularies. But the true Japanese izakaya, with its cramped seating, smoke, kitchens that may flout overly stringent Western regulations, food orders spontaneously shouted, and no tipping, will never migrate completely, although some places overseas come close. I think the absence of a tipping culture is a big part of the uniqueness of izakaya. Perhaps because the staff are not expecting a gratuity, there is less sense of a patron-servant relationship; you are treated more like a guest and therefore you behave like one, and unlike a conventional restaurant the scene can be like a party.

THS: You touch on the history of these eating/watering holes and it was surprising to learn that they are actually a modern invention, with major developments and stylistic changes coming in boom times. Does this still hold true?

MR: It’s been a while since we enjoyed a boom! However times of disaster, like now, encourage people to pull together, which fits the sharing spirit of izakaya, though apart from developments in the business model I can’t really see the form changing.

THS: Izakaya is a photography book in its own right. A personal fave is a small yet profound shot of a coat peg, can you talk about that photo and what led to its inclusion?

From Izakaya © 2008 by Mark Robinson, published by Kodansha International.  Photos © 2008 by Masashi Kuma

MR: It’s a trace; the worn wall around the coat hook is a written artifact of the countless patrons who have enjoyed themselves here, hanging their coats as they arrive, pulling them down as they leave, presumably satisfied, possibly laughing, each time unwittingly removing some of the building to take home or onto the street. I like this kind of found history.

THS: Between the sheer volume of customers, and the sheer variety of dishes on offer, what can a home cook learn from an izakaya kitchen to help them on a weekday night?

MR: Keep on hand lots of plastic containers of various sizes! Japanese meals are always made up of a range of small dishes and you wonder how the average home cook can throw together such a great range at short notice. The answer of course is they don’t, it would be impossible on the average daily schedule to make everything from scratch, so foods are kept from one meal to the next, and reused and repurposed. That’s how izakaya work, logistically.

THS: Have a favorite recipe from the book, and why?

From Izakaya © 2008 by Mark Robinson, published by Kodansha International.  Photos © 2008 by Masashi Kuma

MR: That’s a hard one but probably the Deep-fried Sardine Rocks (p.85, and recipe below). They’re meaty and rich, but also light. Deep-frying gives you the delicious contrast between the crisp outer layer and the airy insides. You don’t have to skin the fish as it says in the recipe, and any other oily fish will substitute.

Deep-fried Sardine Rocks

いわしの岩石揚げ

Iwashi no Ganseki-age

Makes 8 cakes

12 large whole fresh sardines, about 1 2/3 1b. (725g) total

small yellow onion, minced

A            

3 scallions, minced

6 shiso leaves, minced

1/4  tsp. minced ginger

1 large egg yolk, beaten

2 tbsp. potato starch

1 tbsp. yellow miso

1/8 tsp. hot mustard

Mild chili peppers, such as Anaheim or shishito, skin pierced

2 tbsp. grated ginger

1.      Cut off the heads of the sardines, remove entrails and wash thoroughly. Fillet and remove skin. With a sharp knife (a deba knife is best), mince the fillets. Alternatively, pulse into small chunks in a food processor. Transfer to a sieve and lightly drain excess water.

2.      Preheat the oil to 320°F (160°C). In a large bowl, combine the chopped sardines and A. Mix well by hand. Shape into 8 small cones and deep fry until the cones rise to the surface of the oil and are well browned, about 7–10 minutes. Transfer to a paper-lined dish to drain excess oil.

3.      Deep fry the mild chili peppers and transfer to a paper-lined dish.

4.      Arrange the fried sardine cones on a serving plate. Serve with the chili peppers and grated ginger on the side.

THS: In Izakaya, you talk about the kind of opening beer order to settle everyone in a party down, but after that is there a general through line for drink ordering?

MR: No, not at all, you drink what you like. But if you and your friends are interested in sake you’ll probably end up sharing a flask, probably taking turns to nominate a preference if there’s a range to choose from (some izakaya only carry a few).

THS:  Is sake on the ropes with the price, mixability, and extended shelf life of shochu?

MR: Sales are not strong in Japan and I don’t get a sense young people are picking up on it, although there are enthusiasts. Right now the big thing among younger drinkers seems to be highballs, usually a mixture of cheap whisky, cheap shochu, flavoring syrup and soda water. Erk! There has been some publicity for the brewers of the northern Tohoku region however, who suffered in the earthquake and tsunami, and hopefully that’s having an impact on their recognition and sales. Good sakes from the region include Nambu Bijin and Denshu.

THS:  Is it a man’s world?

MR: Yes and no. Izakaya still tend to be run by men, though there are many izakaya madames. It’s become completely normal in the past decade or so for women patrons to hit an izakaya on their own, and the presence of women has helped change menus; more healthy food, more drink choices. Generally speaking, women have also made izakaya more civilised than the hardcore men-only sake and spartan food bars of old.

THS: What is next for you?

MR: I’m writing, freelance editing, and food consulting. I have a book proposal on Japanese restaurants, another social/food-culture type thing, but it’s yet to be taken up.

A special thanks to Mark and all at Kodansha for making this piece possible. For more information on Mark or to purchase the book, click through to his site.

A Firm Middle Finger: Thoughts on the Beard Foundation Awards and Why We Are Not on Their Radar

Well it would appear that the otherwise great James Beard Foundation (you don’t write, you don’t call), have announced their awards for the year Monday night.

And, like all other years since 2004, the City of the Ciudad got shafted at their awards ceremony. Fine. Good.

That’s fine. For what we do here, isn’t on your radar. The high end chef has a hard time here. We are not a town of monocultures, of big white men cooking big white food for big white people. We are, instead the tropics. A rainforest of diversity with elaborate waggle dances going on.

Take for an example the truck culture we have here in Southern California. We kind of take it for granted now, but the thought of gourmet catering trucks specializing in a food is still a revolutionary idea. No insular high end restaurant (or storefront even) could have originally supported say, Korean BBQ tacos, or dosas, or empanadas, but here in the City of the Ciudad, they are here, in fact, just a Twitter feed away.

Oh and if you live in the United States, we still make a good chunk of the food that you eat, and the beverages you drink.

Related to that we have been the foot soldiers for year round CSAs and even the dreaded farmers markets.

And related to all that, can I mention the recent Artisanal LA festival that went on? There were a lot of great folk there. Jolokia Ghost Pepper in a Grinder from All Spice Café. Hooch from the Greenbar Collective. Creme Caramel LA. Good. Eagle Rock Brewery. Mystic Pizza L.A. Winnetka Farms. On and on. Each stall filled with people who are carefully and independently thinking about food, and not looking for someone on high to say what is good, and what is important.

So yeah. Fine. Here’s a firm middle finger. We’ll just keep making the food and drink that you will be eating in a few years time.

The Groundskeeper

I am looking at weather.com right now, and I can officially say we are in spring.

Not the everything is in bloom kind of period, but its toughest part, where it just hasn’t made up its mind what time of the year it is. And truly neither winter nor summer.

So for an example, the current temperature as I write this in the City of the Ciudad is 57. Temp in Wichita, Kansas? 91. And the reverse could just as easily happen in a few days time.

So I thought that a drink I have been making as of late would actually work well this time of year. One that would work well both in cooler and warmer climes, one that also shows off a common bit of produce this time of year.

I call it…

The Groundskeeper

Freshly squeezed juice of 2 small oranges

1 shot of gin

½ Shot of limoncello straight from the freezer

Splash of tonic water

Stir gently, and then pour over three cubes of ice in an old fashioned glass.

I have been told by neighbors that the house in which I live has an orange tree from the original orchard that stood in the area. I say that it makes this drink easier this time of year, just popping in the backyard to grab a couple. But regardless of where you are this is a good time of the year for them.

It is light and refreshing enough to drink on a hot day, yet its herbaceous nature stands out if in chilly weather.

About the name. People who have tasted the thing with all of its orange, lemon, botanicaliness say it is like drinking the garden department of a home improvement store, or it is like drinking “citrus and shrubbery.”

This may not be selling it.

But you have to trust me.