The Bakery World Cup


For many foodies, watching sports hardly ranks as a favorite weekend activity. Unless, of course, one counts the hours spent on the food network cheering competitive cooking shows like Iron Chef, Hells Kitchen and Top Chef.

After three long years of waiting, the Olympics are back. (No, not that Olympics.) The Bread Olympics, or the Coupe De Monde De Boulangerie, begins tomorrow in Paris. From March 29th until April 2nd, twelve international teams representing the worlds finest bakers will enter the heat of the battle at Europain to see who will bake the greatest breads in the world. In just eight hours, three team members from each of the 12 participating countries, must compete in four specific categories of baking:

Bread (baguette and specialty bread making), Viennese pastry (sweet, yeast risen pastries), Savory (sandwiches and savory rolls) and Artistic Presentation (artistic masterpieces based on country symbol). Organization, teamwork, degree of difficulty and team member competance will all be deciding factors in the judges’ voting.

The American Team, coached by bread maven and La Brea Bakery founder, Nancy Silverton, is this year’s gold medal defending champion. The American team, sponsored by the Bread Bakers Guild of America), consists of Chicagoan Peter Yuan, owner of La Patisserie P , Solveig Tofte, Baker/Chef of Turtle Bread Company in Chicago and Dara Reimers a baker and Pastry arts graduate of Notter School.

Go Team!

Deconstructed Creamsicle Recipe


Getting to know a place eventually requires a trip to the market. Step into a local  market and discover valuable cultural information, right there on the supermarket shelf. City markets filled with ready-made convenience food show a wholly different snapshot of daily life than the mom-and-pop corner store with a deli counter and an aisle of mismatched necessities.

It wasn’t until I started frequenting farmers’ markets that I really started to understand just how different California was from Massachusetts. Back east, vegetables were named simply: potato, lettuce, corn. In Massachusetts I never thought of varietals, hybrids, heirloom, and organics. But at the markets of California, I saw fruits and vegetable I’d never heard of. I experienced produce that tasted more real than anything I’d experienced before.

Suddenly, a tomato wasn’t just a tomato. An orange could be any number of different things.

After scanning cookbooks in search of the perfect ending to a culinary celebration with my friend Leah of Spicy Salty Sweet, I found Suzanne Goin’s recipe for “Creamsicles” and sugar cookies in Sunday Suppers at Lucques. Before thoroughly reading the recipe, it was easy for me to conceptualize the dessert. I would serve sugar cookies with a bowl of vanilla ice cream, topped with freshly squeezed orange juice. It wasn’t until I actually read the recipe that I realized I was about to enter into uncharted citrus territory.

Continue For an Incredible Deconstructed Creamsicle Recipe »

Mind-blowing candy


Fleur de sel caramel

Boule Bakery
408 N. La Cienega Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90048


It’s amazing when something so small and seemingly insignificant can push your day in an unexpected direction.

A good-looking stranger smiles at you and puts a spring in your step. You find a twenty-dollar bill on the sidewalk and suddenly feel flush with cash. You get an unexpected message from a friend and suddenly you’re in your car alone and laughing so hard you’re nearly crying. And then sometimes, you take a bite of a single ingredient and inspires you to make a journey across the world.

Such is the case with Boule Bakery’s Fleur de sel caramel. Small and life-changing, a single bite of this buttery, salty, crunchy candy makes me want to pack my bags and move to the Northern shores of France. The simple and balanced flavors of browned butter, caramelized sugar and sea-side salt come together in this tiny little candy to create a sublime treat that costs only a dollar a piece.

This isn’t a rip-your-fillings-out-of-your teeth kind of caramel. This is a soft, mouth watering, real-deal caramel that’s painstakingly made from fresh ingredients by master pastry makers. And priced at a dollar a candy, this mind-blowing, sugary morsel is totally worth every penny.

And don’t just take my word for it. Oprah, queen of all things great, named this caramel the “finest (she’s) ever come across.”

Spring has sprung (out west, that is)

Growing up in a place so close to the sea, every winter was brutal. White winters lingered for months and months and the Atlantic winds constantly slapped our faces with air so cold that pink-red rashes appeared on our pale cheeks every time we stepped outside. As the winters waned, slush appeared–a thick snow mixed with salt, sand and dirt—and soaked our clothes in less than a second if we had the misfortune of touching it.

Eventually, we kids all knew, winter would end. The slush would melt and prove once again that grass really could stay alive under a mammoth snow bank and that streets were made of black pavement and not grey ice. We anxiously awaited the firs sign of spring to peel off our parkas and watch icicles melt.

For me, the first sign of spring was the first bloom of bright yellow daffodils on the still snow-covered lawn. Then, it was the coming of the fearless crocuses that grew despite the inevitable, life-ending cold snap that would always come. Though the days grew warmer, it would be months before the local gardens would be ready to produce any fruits and vegetables.

June would be the first month for our local road-side market stands to open with a lean offering of peas, beets and spinach. In Massachusetts we would have to wait for the sweltering days of summer until the U-Pick strawberry farm or pick your own apple orchards would let us come in and fill our bags with produce. Some kids longed for summer camps while I craved plump, juicy strawberries fresh and warm from the sun-drenched earth. Now that I’m all grown up and living on the west coast, I’m happy I don’t have to wait that long. Thanks to the amazing southern California climate, strawberries (juicy and in an abundant flavors and styles) are available already. So are blackberries, blueberries and gorgeous citrus fruits.

Going to the Farmer’s market is wonderful, but if you are like me and miss the childhood glories of picking the fruits and vegetables yourself, there is an organization that wants to make that a little bit easier for you.

Thanks to my friend Leah at SpicySaltySweet, I’ve just learned about the wonderful organization, Eat Well. In conjunction with Sustainable Table, Eat Well, a free online directory of thousands of family farms, restaurants, markets and other outlets that offer local, fresh and sustainable food in the United States and Canada, creates a guide to the seasonal foods that are available in every state. Just click on this and you’ll find a listing of the foods that are in season in your area.

For Southern Californian’s like me, you might be interested in going to Pickyourown.org to get up to date information on what farms have available and what local farms allow people (and kids) the chance to pick their own produce. PickYourOwn.Org also has lots of tips on canning, pickling, and how best to prepare for a day of picking.

Thanks to my new favorite website, I’m looking forward to a day trip to a strawberry field for a day of picking!

Hand me down cravings


Like a yawn, cravings are passed on. Almost anyone that spends time reading food blogs will at some time suffer from this culinary side effect. All it takes is one long look at a mouthwatering on-line photo and the craving is practically downloaded like an attachment.

Cravings, that undeniable hunger for a specific ingredient, are something I’ve been experiencing a lot lately. It seems that the more time I spend food blog hopping, the more I experience these acute longings for the strangest dishes. For weeks, I was tortured with the need to devour handfuls of home made granola after reading a post on Orangette. After a lifetime of fearing dessert making, my food-blog inspired craving motivated me to make a pot au crème from scratch. After eating a particular butternut squash dish in Italy, I spend a week buying different kinds of cheeses in hopes of perfecting the recipe, post about it and then, a few days later, discovered I had passed on my unique squash craving to a fellow foodie. And now, for the first time in a lifetime of cravings, I can’t get the idea of a sardine sandwich out of my head.

Sardines?

Yeah. I couldn’t believe it either. I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I read Mattbites post on sardines. Fishy, up to this point of my life, has never been a word I’d use to describe any food I yearn for. But thanks to the Internet, things change fast.

But here I am, with the unmistakeable smell of sardine oil on my fingers, to tell you about the sardine sandwich that saved me from my non-stop culinary distraction.

With a craving for sardines firmly implanted in my mind, I set out for the Hollywood farmer’s market in search of ingredients for the perfect sandwich. While there, I stumbled upon a hydroponic farmer selling bags of perfect greens and herbs.

Their baby celery was unlike any celery I had ever seen before. It was so light and leafy, it almost passed as a bag of cilantro. Besides being mostly all leaves, it had thin, pencil-lead sized stalks that when sliced, created perfect little squares of color, like a thinly chopped chive. I had found the perfect center point for my long awaited sardine sandwich.

Sardine and market-fresh celery and radish salad sandwich
makes 2 servings

Half a baguette (or any other crusty bread)
1/2 cup chopped celery leaves and stalks of hydroponic celery (or, using a normal celery plant, use ¼ cup celery leaves and a ¼ cup thinly sliced celery stalks)
2 thinly sliced and halved radishes.
4 tablespoons of good olive oil
2 tablespoons of a great tasting, aged red wine vinegar
At least 1 can of sardines
salt and pepper to taste

Mix the chopped celery and radish in a bowl. Mix in the oil and vinegar and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Open face style is the easiest way to eat this sandwich, but you should cut your baguette any way you like. Add a heaping tablespoon of celery radish salad to the bread and top with one to two sardine filets. Sprinkle with salt and devour until your craving is satisfied.

You know you’re a food blogger when–

1) Every meal inspires you to write.
2) Every meal requires a camera.
3) You are unavailable to meet or talk with friends because you are too busy to writing or photographing food.
4) You cook and re-cook several recipes a week in order to “perfect them”.
5) You read newly published cookbooks first, then you’ll start on best selling novels
6) You’d be more star struck if you ran into Mario Batali, Orangette, the Barefoot Contessa, Anthony Bourdain, Gordon Ramsay, the Amateur Gourmet, or Chocolate and Zucchini than if you saw a movie star at your local restaurant.
7) Spending an hour on the computer food blog hopping is like taking a multi-vitamin. It’s a daily requirement.
8) News about restaurant openings makes your heart race.
9) Going to said new restaurant is considered a fact finding mission.
10) You read a blog and suddenly you’ve dropped everything and are in the kitchen cooking up that very same dish. Because you crave it.

Feelin' it at Froma

Ask anyone that adores food what their secret passion is, and they’ll most likely tell you they long to open a restaurant of their own. They stumble upon a charming little hole-in-the-wall restaurant in the middle of nowhere, party in a great bar, see a cute white-tile bistro in France, or shop at a charming little cheese store in Napa and think with a gushing sense of pride, “I could do this.”

And lots of people with money do.

Britney Spears

(via ddbraves)

Famous people like Eva Longoria, Phil Rosenthal of Everybody Loves Raymond, and Jeri Ryan open up their wallets and empty them (Jennifer Lopez, Brittany Spears and Wesley Snipes) in order to prove they actually can do restaurants, at least on some level.

And then there are the underdogs–the kitchen help, the service staff and the dogged managers–that save every penny they make working in restaurants in hopes of opening their own little place. These hard working people (Jason and Miho Travi of Fraiche, Karen and Quinn Hatfield of Hatfields, and Neil and Amy Fraser of Grace and BLD) take out impossible loans, gut their savings, mortgage their homes and sell anything they can think of, in order to make their dream of restaurant ownership come true.

FROMA ON MELROSE: Purveyors of fine foods
7960 Melrose Ave.

Owned and run by a chef and husband and wife that have dedicated their lives to the service industry, Froma is the kind of specialty food market that so many people dream of opening one day. People like me.

So when I stumbled across the newly opened Italian market, Froma on Melrose recently, I was overjoyed. And, truth be told, a little disappointed. Don’t get me wrong. Froma is amazing. But maybe it’s a little TOO amazing. The sandwiches taste as good (if not better, sometimes) as the ones I had in Italy. The cheese monger behind the counter loves to give me samples of the newest cheeses! The bags of gourmet chips taste of sausages or horseradish. And just when I think that maybe my idea of opening up my own place is still viable, I look around me.

With its long glass display cases filled with beautiful imported meats and cheeses, hot panini presses grilling up authentic Italian sandwiches, shelves of gourmet ingredients lining the store and a little seat by the window where I can enjoy a glass of wine, Froma makes me think that maybe my time to open my own little wine and cheese shop has come and gone.

Designed to appeal to the home chef and demanding food lovers, Froma offers hard to find ingredients like specialty sugars and International salts, bellini flour, carmelized black figs, Italian Parmesan, artichoke honey, radicchio pasta, Osetra caviar and Italian pasta flour. Francine Diamond, managing partner and General Manager, offers a broad range of imported and domestic olive oils and an area in which customers can try them all.

The cheese selection is diverse with Cow Girl Creamery cheeses, Chateau La Tur from France and hard cheeses imported from Italy. Diamond, also a sommelier, has put together an impressive, albeit limited, wine selection. From a $20 Morgon to a $100 Barolo, Diamond gives customers incredible values and amazingly delicious wines from California to Italy.

What I find most appealing about Froma (other than its proximity to my house) are the delicious, panini-pressed gourmet sandwiches.

The ingredients are fresh, the breads (from the Bread Bar) are undeniably perfect and the combinations divine. As a matter of fact, the first sandwich I ever ordered from Froma (a proscuitto and Robiola panini), required me to pull my car over and stop driving, for fear I’d crash into something because my eyes were closed in pleasure.

After that, my Husand and I went into a full-on binge and ate only at Froma for four days straight. In that time we made friends with all the nice people behind the counter, drank a few glasses of Morgon and tried nearly every sandwich on the menu. We haven’t made our way through the Crostini and all of the soups and salads…but we still have time!

Our favorites:

The Francese: Saucisson sec, a French cheese of the day, tomato, basalmic and mixed greens. $10.95
The Alpino: Bresaola, chevre, thinly sliced lemon and arugula. $10.95
The Castagno plus proscuito: Bosc pear, saint Agur blue cheese, chestnut honey. I ask them to add proscuito. $9.95 plus proscuito’s cost.
Plat de Fromage: a plate of ripened cheeses, dried fruits (fig, blueberries), candied pecans, and Savannah bee honeycomb. $12.95
A bag of Tyrell potato chips. Either Cider vinegar and salt chips or the Ludlow sausage with whole grain mustard.
A cappuccino afterwards. The Danesi Italian espresso is some of the best in town. Freshly roasted, pulled on an Italian espresso machi
ne, the drinks taste delicious.

Based on how many times I eat and shop at Froma, I don’t think I’ll be opening my store any time soon. But that’s okay. It’s nice to let someone else do all the hard work and be able to enjoy the bounty.

Brown Butter is on everyone's lips

If you’ve recently found yourself in the dairy aisle of the grocery store unable to locate a delicious something called “brown butter”, you are not alone. There are lots of people out there, even smart food professionals like my friend Nick, that don’t know exactly what that lovely, nutty liquid is.

But don’t worry. Just this week, it seems, there are suddenly a ton of food bloggers out there just chomping at the bit to talk about brown butter and what exactly one should do with it.

B+H=BB*
(Butter plus heat equals brown butter.)

Brown butter is, essentially, butter that’s cooked just before it burns. Put it in pastries and they suddenly taste a lot better. Drizzle it over Italian spaghetti with fried sage and you have one of the simplest, most elegant pasta courses ever. Pour it on fresh from the garden vegetables and potatoes and watch people’s eyes roll back.

And now, thanks to Michael Ruhlman, author of the amazing book The Elements of Cooking, and a number of other bloggers weighing in on the subject, there’s plenty of information to be had about the glories of brown butter.

Check out the following great blogs:

Brown Butter can be broken down to its elemental parts to make some really cool stuff.
Use it to make an amazing cake by Suzanne Goin that’s so good you’ll swoon over it.

Toss a can on the roof for McNulty


Last year, on the eve of The Soprano’s finale, millions of viewers cleared their social calendars, bought Chianti by the case and pulled out their Italian cookbooks in search of a classic Italian meal that would comfort them through the final minutes of a much loved, six season drama. Soprano’s Finale parties were all the rage. Dedicated viewers and occasional visitors alike, all talked of what they planned to do the night of the show’s finale. Parties of Sopranos fans were organized. Whole menus were designed to celebrate the many meals witnessed by the ever-hungry mob boss, Tony Soprano. Baccala was served alongside lasagna and bowls of pasta brimmed with heavy meatballs.

On the night of the season finale, the Los Angeles streets were unusually quiet. Viewers gathered in groups or sat alone, breathless, watching the final seconds tick by as the drama crescendoed for the final time.

And now, the streets are about to get very quiet again, but for a much different reason.

The Wire, a much loved and too-smart-for-it’s-own-good, HBO series about down and dirty politics of politicians and drug gangs in Baltimore, is coming to an end. After this Sunday, David Chase’s narrative “wire-tap” on the whispered communications of a gritty city will be silenced. No more gritty insights and great one-liners for us arm-chair activists, too scared to get to know the realities of inner-city culture by hanging out with the gangsters on the corner. Anyone that’s ever watched The Wire, is often fond of saying “it’s one of the best shows ever written for television.”

And yet, only a core group of dedicated watchers are racked with anxiety over the show’s coming finale. Granted, the small percentage of us are talking about it, nay, obsessing over the potential final story points, but hardly no one at the breakfast counter or gas pump are talking about the show. Let alone planning their menu around the show finale.

Well, I certainly am.

While others wallow in street-ignorance, I plan my menu.

The Wire Season Finale Party Menu

One 12 pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon (or cheap, domestic beer) per person.
Drink quickly and toss onto roof top. Do not remove.

At least one bottle of Jack Daniels.
To be served straight from the bottle, McNulty style.

Take Out Chinese food
To be eaten out of the box with a plastic fork, undercover cop style.

Take Out Wings
Hot and spicy. To be eaten with fingers, corner-boy style.

Alcoholic Roasted Duck
Borrowed and adapted from Food Network Kitchens

1 beer-and-bourbon fed duck (Baltimore Port), about 5 pounds
Six 1 by 3-inch strips orange zest
1 small onion, halved
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 1/2 tablespoons unsulfured molasses
1 1/2 tablespoons honey
1/4 teaspoon coriander seeds, lightly crushed
8 whole black peppercorns, lightly crushed
2 tablespoons fresh orange juice
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
2 large garlic cloves, crushed and peeled

A day before roasting, have bird drink so much it dies. Cry over your stupid, bone-headed mistakes. Pluck bird. Remove the giblets and neck from the cavity of the bird and discard. If necessary pluck any stray pinfeathers off the duck with tweezers.

Trim the neck flap and excess fat from around the cavity. Rinse and dry the bird well. Set the duck on a rack on a baking sheet, and refrigerate, uncovered, for 24 hours. Go to bar with buddies. Talk about the big score you just landed.

Sleep off hangover then wake up at the crack of noon and heat your mom’s oven to 300 degrees F. Pierce the duck’s skin all over (including the back), every 1/2-inch, with a skewer or small knife. Season the cavity with salt and pepper and stuff with 3 strips of the orange zest and the onion. Set the duck on a rack in a roasting pan, and pour a cup of water in the pan. Roast the bird for 3 hours, removing the duck from the oven every hour to prick the skin again.

Meanwhile, make the glaze: Combine the remaining orange zest, molasses, honey, coriander, pepper, orange juice, vinegar, and garlic in a small saucepan. Heat, stirring, over medium-high heat until warm. Remove glaze from the heat and set it aside at room temperature while the duck cooks. Try not to burn yourself.

Remove the duck from the oven and carefully, pour off the excess fat from the pan. (If desired reserve this fat for frying potatoes or wilting greens.) Raise the oven temperature to 450 degree F. Return the duck to the oven and roast until crisp and brown, about 30 minutes more.

Let the duck rest at room temperature for 10 minutes before carving. Brush the duck’s skin with glaze 4 to 5 five times during the resting period. Carve the duck and transfer pieces to warm serving platter. Serve the remaining glaze at the table to drizzle over the duck, if desired.

Eat bird. Do not try to rob the corner guys, whatever you do.

Baltimore Steamed Crabs seasoned with Old Bay
Cover tables with The Sun newspaper, use mallets or hammers to crack open the shells.

Dessert: Jack Daniels poured into a shot glass. To be drunk with friends.

Bang mi, Bánh mì

I grew up in a small, predominantly white town in Massachusetts where fear of “outsiders” was subtly encouraged and big city living was openly scorned. I spent my formative years avoiding anything unfamiliar, for fear it might turn me into some kind of a monster. It took a college education in the progressive town of Amherst, a semester in France and interacting with a diverse population of students to show me how limited my world view had become. Armed with a journalism degree and a hunger for knowledge, I vowed to explore the world beyond Massachusetts and discover all that I had missed.

The moving to LA part took me a while, but when I finally got up the courage to move west, I made a grand step in the right direction to broadening my perspective. I threw caution to the wind a handful of years later, and moved to New York City for a summer to work as a restaurant consultant.

While overseeing the opening of a LA based restaurant, I sub-letted an apartment in a six-floor walk up a few blocks north of the emerging culinary scene of the Lower East Side. When I wasn’t knee deep in construction and restaurant permiting, I explored neighborhoods on foot, sampled food I had never tasted before and realized that the song lyric “New York, a city that never sleeps” was actually true. And, unlike what I had been told as a youngster, New Yorkers weren’t all that rude (no more than Boston folk) and all the men lurking on street corners didn’t try to kidnap me or demand I take drugs.

But then, there was this one time I did end up trying something in the big city I got utterly addicted to…

Don’t worry, dear reader. I never do drugs. That ominous thing I’m referring to is Bánh mì.

Bánh mì, for the uninitiated small-town foodie, is a spicy, Vietnamese meat sandwich filled with pickled carrots, cilantro, daikon, hot peppers and onion that represents the blending of two cultures: French and Indonesian. Back in the day, the Vietnamese adopted the crispy baguette (Pain de mie) of the imperialist French colonists and made a sandwich filled with fresh ingredients all their own. Say Pan di mie with a thick Vietnamese accent and you quickly understand where the name came from.

Like any good street drug, Bánh mì is priced to sell. Costing between $2-$5 a pop, the contrasting flavors of salty meat (pate or marinated pork and chicken), spicy peppers, crunchy vegetables and crispy bread make Bánh mì’s unusual flavors completely addictive.

I’ll always remember my first taste. It was a rainy summer’s day and the chef went on a sandwich run to Nicky’s Vietnamese Sandwiches. I watched him carefully unwrap the paper around what looked like a pretty straight forward meat and vegetable submarine sandwich, and how his eyes rolled back as he took mouthfuls of the thing.

“What are you eating?” I innocently asked.

The chef stopped chewing and eyed me with surprise. “You’ve never had Bánh mì?” He swore under his breath and shoved the sandwich in my face. “Eat it. It’s gonna change your F*k’n life.”

My first taste of Bánh mì was tentative. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the possibility that this simple sandwich could possibly be as good as he said it would be. I took another bite. And then, much to his surprise (and mine), I became territorial. I stepped back, got out of Chef’s reach, and in just a few short delirious moments of spice, salty meat, and buttery baguette crunch, I had polished off the entire thing. Never in my life had I tasted anything like it.

I was hooked.

Just an hour later, after attending to the needs of my restaurant construction crew, I hauled ass to the nearest Bánh mì stall to buy the first of many Vietnamese sandwiches.

It’s a slippery slope trying to find the best Bánh mì. You get lost. You make mistakes. You add too much chili spice and break into a cold sweat. You get so strung out on spicy meat sandwiches you start saying “bang mi” to the counter person and they threaten to throw you out for talking dirty to them.

STREET LEGAL

Being the addict that I am, I am always on the lookout for the best street-legal Bánh mì out there. Unfortunate, there aren’t a lot of Vietnamese sandwich shops in the Hollywood area. The best and most convenient place I’ve found is:

Gingergrass, a modern take on Vietnamese cuisine, conveniently located across the street from my favorite wine shop in town, Silverlake Wine.

Because it requires a bit of a drive from where we live, my husband and I make an afternoon of it and on Sundays we drive east for the delicious pork Bánh mì with crispy Vietnamese rice crackers, the sautéed baby bok choy and the appetizer special of the day. After filling our bellies we roll across the street to our favorite wine shop, Silverlake wine, and buy amazing wines from Randy and George.

Thanks to a recent comment on my blog by culinary couple and food bloggers, White on Rice, I discovered I was not alone in Southern California in my Bánh mì obsession. White on Rice has a website called Battle of the Banh mi. BOBM is dedicated to finding the best Bánh mì in every city across America. Readers are encouraged to post their favorite Bánh mì restaurants and the site offers suggestions on how to make the addictive Vietnamese sandwich and where to buy it.

It’s true what my small town friends said. Living in the big city really can turn you into some kind of addict.