When burning books might be a good idea Librarians are quick to defend freedom of speech, but a handful of them aren’t afraid to talk about the need for current titles. Proof that librarians really know when it’s time to pull a book from the shelf. Here at Awful Library Books.
Keep your hands to yourself A regular feature at Chronicle Books’ blog is this 7×7 column that offers a restaurant insider’s view of what it takes to wait tables. Her most recent post offers this advice: Hands off! *And since the general dining public doesn’t seem to understand this concept, here is a simple reminder:
Touching your waiter is a real no-no! If you don’t know what I mean, ponder this: when was the last time you reached out and tapped your bank teller on the shoulder for service? Burgers for everyone Clinton loved em. Obama likes ’em too. Our new president loves his burgers.
As a food lover, working at a restaurant can be a wonderful and cruel thing. You’re surrounded by food and required never to take a bite. You may be hungry but there’s no time to eat (and the last thing the kitchen wants to do is make an employee a meal). Working in restaurants is like being stranded on the ocean in a dingy: You’re surrounded by a beautiful, beguiling thing that you can not consume.
The fact that I handle plates of beautifully crafted appetizers, sculpted entrees and arousing desserts on a nightly basis may have something to do with my obsession to recreate the chef’s dishes at home. And honestly, not eating and being surrounded by food begins to get to you. Especially when you’re so hungry you could eat your own hand.
One dish that’s saved me from nibbling off a pinky for sustenance is a market vegetable dish inspired by my new boss, Chef Suzanne Goin. Goin’s appetizer of market vegetables with Meyer Lemon cream and “burrata” is truly something to behold and a dish I’ve been pushing–I mean suggesting–to guests ever since Tavern Restaurant opened several weeks ago.
The dish is a beautiful combination of colorful blanched vegetables that have been tossed in a light citrus cream and finished with one of the world’s most decadent forms of mozzarella. It’s a celebration of all that is available at our farmers’ markets in one mouthwatering dish that is incredibly easy to prepare and, if done right, is a real scene-stealer.
Market Vegetables with Burrata and Meyer Lemon creamLet the market guide you to the ingredients for this celebration of the season’s freshest vegetables. Let freshness and diverse colors inspire your choices in vegetables! Also, don’t go too heavy on one ingredient and try to pick equal portions.
¾ lb baby carrots (small, fresh and straight from the market), washed and scrubbed
½ lb English snap peas
¼ lb pea tendrils
1 head of cauliflower, stock removed and cut into uniformed florettes
1 small head of purple cauliflower, stock removed and cut into uniformed florettes
¾ lb baby zucchini or baby squash, rinsed well
1 bunch of pencil thin asparagus, cleaned and cut into equal 2-inch pieces.
2 balls of burrata (this California- or Italian-made cream-filled mozzarella is available at specialty cheese stores or Whole Foods’ cheese counter)
Salt (kosher and Maldon) and pepper to taste
2 Meyer lemons (thinly sliced)
Meyer lemon cream (recipe below) *optional flourishes: flowering chive or fennel fronds
Fill a large pot (preferably a pasta pot with a pasta strainer) with cold water. Add enough kosher salt to give the water a slightly salty taste. Bring water to a rolling boil.
When the water is at a full boil, prepare a large metal mixing bowl with ice water. Fill bowl with ice cubes and just enough water to cover the ice.
In separate batches—one vegetable group at a time–blanch the vegetables. Make sure not to add too many vegetables at one time in order to maintain a rolling boil. Cook the vegetables briefly—1-4 minutes depending—making sure they maintain their structure and become just tender. Feel free to test the cooking time early by sampling a vegetable for taste and texture. When the vegetable is just cooked, immediately remove them from the hot water with strainer and plunge them into ice water bath to stop the cooking process. The ice bath will set the vegetables’ bright color.
Remove vegetables with strainer from the ice water as soon as they are cool to the touch. Put the blanched vegetables on a paper towel-covered sheet tray to dry. Repeat process with all remaining vegetables.
Toss the vegetables with enough Meyer lemon cream to coat everything. Add Meyer lemon slices and toss again. Taste for seasoning. Squeeze more lemon over the salad if necessary. Tear pieces of burrata into the salad and serve immediately.
For the Meyer Lemon Cream
From Suzanne Goin’s Sunday Supper at Lucques
2 tbsp finely diced shallot
¼ cup Meyer lemon juice
½ cup plust 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup plus 1 tbsp heavy cream
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Add the shallot, lemon juice and ¼ teaspoon of salt in a bowl and let sit for 5 minutes. Whisk in olive oil. Then, gently stir in cream, being sure to add a few grinds of pepper to taste.
Over the years I’ve gotten a lot of so-when-are-you-going-to-get-a-real-job-attitude for the work that I do in restaurants from friends and acquaintances. I’ve taken that attitude with a grain of salt. But frankly, I’m tired of it.
I do have a real job. I am a professional server.
There’s definitely a misconception in the minds of people outside of the service industry that restaurant work is something that’s easy, good for a fast buck and a vocation for unprofessional types. Though restaurant work is not a 9-to-5 job and doesn’t require the fabrication of cubicles or the purchase of slide projectors, restaurant workers ARE professional.
I’m not sure what it will take to change people’s mind about this…but let me be clear:
There is nothing fast nor easy about restaurants. Restaurant work is mentally challenging and physically exhausting.
When will America’s dining public start treating servers with some respect?
Waiting tables requires many skills, talents and virtues.
A typical day
It’s Friday afternoon at 2 pm I’m at the ironing board pressing my dress shirt and apron. While I nibble on a late lunch, I scan the pages of three-ring binder filled with food and wine notes for knowledge retention. I listen to a recording I’ve made of myself reading tasting notes on domestic and international wines. I listen to myself describe a California chardonnay so that when a table asks me about that bottle, I already have a sound bite response.
It’s 4pm and my car is parked. I tie my tie before I cross the threshold of the restaurant. A double check of my uniform for any last minute adjustments, and then I give myself a moment for a deep, cleansing breath. It’s time for service.
By 4:30 I’m in a staff meeting where changes in the menu, service issues are discussed, and guest information is shared with the front of house staff. By 6, hundreds of napkins are folded, glasses are polished, and stations are stocked for the flurry of service that is about to hit.
7 p.m. the restaurant begins to fill up. By 8pm service has kicked into high gear. Tables are sat and resat. Orders are taken, menu items described in minute detail. Food is cleared and silverware placed. Dishes are run to the back kitchen for washing. Glasses are refilled and silverware is placed before courses hit the table. Menus are dropped and egos massaged. Checks are tallied, split, cashed out and rung up.
By 9pm–after 5 hours without food or drink—I’m dehydrated. A quick sip of water and I’m back on the floor with smile. Business roars. There’s a problem that needs attention, a table needs clearing, a manager is needed to help fix an error. I push through service like a boxer at a speed bag. My mind races with details. Did I deliver that wine? Check. Did I place that steak knife? Has that entree hit the table? Did I find out what city in France that cheese was from? Check, check, check.
No night is flawless. Something goes wrong. The only thing I can prepare for is my attitude, stamina and mental preparedness. Seven hours have passed since I stepped inside the restaurant. By 11 pm service begins to slow. Full dinner guests lounge in their seats and enjoy another glass of wine. Maybe they’ll have some dessert. Or another after-dinner drink. A back-waiter prepares a double espresso, giving me just enough time to drink a full glass of water and chew a handful of nuts. There’s still a few more hours left of work. I have to keep my energy up. I adjust my tie, tuck my dress shirt into my apron and hit the floor with a smile. There’s another cocktail to deliver, a menu to drop, a table to clear, a story to tell…
By midnight I’ve handed in my cash, tipped my support staff and clocked out. By 1 am I am in my car driving home. I’m starving, craving a glass of wine and wired from a night of speed walking 7,000 square feet several hundred times.
My mind races with the cruel barbs from a guest I artfully dodged, the selfish behavior of a co-worker that made my temper flare, the European tourist that gushed verbal compliments but only left a handful of dollars on a large bill, the joke that had me quietly giggling all night, the fiscally generous guest, the out of sorts guest that went out of their way to be rude and the sweet guest that went out of their way to be kind.
Every night is different. But every night ends the same way–with my head spinning from the millions of tasks and service issues. If I’m lucky there’s a glass of wine in my hand by the end of it all.
It’s true, there are other things I would rather do on a Friday night with my time. I’d love to write full time and have my nights free. But the fact remains that as an artist there are other things I have to do to pay my bills. And I love restaurants, the food culture and the people that work doggedly day and night to put food on the table. There shouldn’t be any shame in saying I’m a server at a restaurant.
Yes, I work in the service industry. Yes, I’m a writer AND a restaurant professional. And I take my job seriously. Very seriously. I’m a professional. Respect what I do.
A weekly round up of some of the week’s top national and Los Angeles-based food blogging news…
–The Federal Trade Commission is planning to require bloggers’ full disclosure of receiving freebies. Douglas MacMillan staff writer for BusinessWeek writes,
“The world’s more ambitious bloggers like to call themselves ‘citizen journalists.’ The government is trying to make sure these heralds don’t turn into citizen advertisers.”
–The New York Times introduces a new large format photo/video blog called The Lens. A visual coffee break.
The Kitchen’s hours are still a work in progress, but are expected to be open on Sundays from 7:30 am until 2 pm and Tuesday through Thursday 11:30 am until 3 pm
–If you live in LA and are looking for something to do (before you die) LA Food blogger Caroline on Crack gives her bucket list of things to eat and do in LA.
It takes a masterful preparation of an ingredient to make a person forget their aversions. Just ask any mom how they get their kids to eat Brussels sprouts or how a great chef can make a fearful diner order the calf’s brain ravioli and they’ll be sure to tell you the answer: technique.
Why individuals steer clear of specific ingredients are varied—some object to texture, flavor, scent, sense memories, allergies and sometimes even ethical issues come into play. As a voracious eater, there are few things I avoid. The smell of truffle oil makes my skin crawl. Sadly, I’m allergic to blue cheese. Say the word soju and my brain reflexively throbs with the memory of a two-day hangover that I almost didn’t recover from.
So when I tell you that I recently created a delicious cocktail for a delightful new artisan shochu (the Japanese version of soju), I offer positive proof that great technique really can reshape a culinary opinion.
How I came to try Haamonii Shochu
Had it not been for the fact that my husband came home with two free sample bottles of Haamonii Shochu (pronounced show-chew), I probably would have never tried the Japanese beverage. But thanks to Hans’ eager assurances that Haamonii Shochu was nothing like the cheap plonk that ruined me one night a long time ago, I got up the courage to ignore my aversion to soju and try something special.
Tasting Haamonii Shochu
I poured myself a tiny splash of the Haamonii Shochu and edged my nose over the glass. I was surprised by the delicate floral and citrus notes of the Haamonii. Based on my previous experience with soju, I never expected to smell fresh citrus blossoms and sweet rice. My curiosity was peaked enough to ignore my jaded past with shochu’s Korean cousin and take a taste.
Once past my hesitant lips, the Lemon Haamonii Shochu offered a hint of sweetness and a kiss of citrus. The shochu was sophisticated and clean and didn’t offer hard alcohol’s harsh heat. Within moments of enjoying the nuanced flavors of the shochu, I was dreaming up cocktails.
Shochu Convert
Crafted by San Francisco-based James Key Lim and his wife, the artisan shochu makers set out to create an ultra-premium shochu that was low in alcohol and smooth in taste. The result is America’s first award winning shochu, an elegant, 22 percent alcohol drink that is made with purified water and a blend of grains that can be enjoyed on its own or mixed. According to James Key Lim, Haamonii is “four column distilled” and triple filtered for extra purity.
Called soju in Korea and shochu in Japan, this clear spirit is one of the most popular distilled spirits in the world–enjoyed straight, on the rocks, mixed with hot or cold water, tea, or in mixed drinks. Shochu is traditionally made from grains (rice and barley) and starches (such as potatoes). In addition to its smooth flavor and versatility, shochu possesses another great virtue; it is low in calories.
I visited an event celebrating a Japanese shoe designer Hiromi Tatsuta that offered guests Haamonii Citrus mixed with green tea or apple juice and handmade sushi rolls from San Shi Go. Usually a fan of Japanese sake with my sushi, I was impressed by the delicate nature of the shochu and how it paired well with the raw fish and sweet sushi rice. Like sushi, the well-made shochu was refreshing and didn’t weigh down my palate with aggressive flavors. Unlike a mixed drink, the shochu didn’t deaden my tastebuds with numbing alcohol.
With my recent conversion to shochu at the forefront brain, I visited the Hollywood Farmers market. Spring citrus, cherries and stone fruits peaked my interest as possible ingredients for my home’s larder. But it was a bunch of lemon verbena and tart and crunchy sour plums that made me want to create a cocktail for the Lemon Haamonii shochu waiting for me back home.
The gentle acidity of the sour plums and refreshing perfume of the lemon verbena do not overpower the delicate sweetness and aromatics of the lemon shochu. The spicy salted rim on the glass is just the kick the drink needs to have you tapping your toes with happiness.
[print_link] Salted Plum Shochu Cocktail Makes one drink
Kosher salt and cayenne pepper mixture (4 tbsp kosher salt to 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper)
2 lemon verbena leaves (one for muddling, one for garnish)
4 small sour plums (sliced and without seeds)
1 oz fresh lemon juice
1 lemon wedge
1 tsp simple syrup
3 oz lemon (or regular) Haamonii Shochu
ice
Place the kosher salt/cayenne pepper mixture on a plate. Wipe the outer edge of the cocktail glass with the juicy side of the lemon wedge. Run the wet edge of the glass in the spicy salt to create an even rim.
Muddle a single verbena leaf in a clean cocktail shaker. Add the sliced sour plums and continue muddling until most of the fruit’s juice is released into the glass. Add simple syrup, shochu and fill shaker with ice. Shake well. Add mixed cocktail to salt-rimmed glass. Top with fresh verbena. Serve immediately.
To be honest, Leah and I had no idea what we would be getting ourselves into when we wrote our manifesto. We had no idea just how many people were going to read this thing.
Monday of last week I called my friend Leah of Spicy Salty Sweet to suggest we write a post about food blogging ethics. The subject was at the forefront of my mind after weeks of heated discussions with fellow food bloggers across the state. Leah and I got up early on Tuesday and met for breakfast to discuss the topic. When the plates were cleared from the table of our local breakfast joint, we had written down five major points of what we thought our blogs should stand for. When we finished we looked at the scribbled page and saw it for what it was: a manifesto.
Like Jerry Maguire in the opening scene of the Cameron Crowe film of the same name, I was excited by the sharing this food blogging mission statement. I wanted to share this co-authored document but I didn’t know what would be the best format. Post simultaneously on our separate blogs? Share the same post title?
Before I left for work that night I called some sage food bloggers for advice. I asked how they would recommend two independent food bloggers simultaneously weigh in on the same subject.
“Maybe you should start a separate blog together,” one blogger suggested.
By Wednesday—between our jobs and maintaining our blogs–Leah and I had fleshed out our five-point manifesto (it reminded me of the code created by a handful of pragmatic, Danish filmmakers). We looked for a title for our document. We wanted a name that was obvious and easy to find in a Google search if someone happened to be looking for such a topic. We decided on The Food Blog Code of Ethics.
We posted the blog for the first time on Thursday afternoon, before I went to work. A Twitter-inspired discussion started and many bloggers began re-tweeting about The Code. While I was busy waiting tables, people all over the Internet started arguing about the responsibility and freedoms of online publishers. By the time I got home at 2 AM, more than a thousand people had visited our site. Comments poured in. Many asked to join. Some said they were interested by the discussion. Others were angry and fearful at the words we had just posted.
Overheard on the street
The online discussions had gotten so loud that someone at The New York Times overheard. By Friday morning, I awoke to a phone call from Leah. I slept through the first call. The second one got me from bed.
In less than 48 hours—thanks to the power of the Internet and Twitter–The Food Blog Code of Ethics went from a personal statement of two people to a nationally distributed document.
It’s been less than a week and already our lives have been changed by the publication of document. We have been given the opportunity to discuss the politics of blogging with people we have never met before. We are engaging with others on these electronic pages and responding to our supporters and detractors. We are facing personal attacks and vitriolic remarks while we encourage discussion. We are taking part in a fast paced discussion about accountability, civility and fairness.
Though our code was written for ourselves (and for anyone else that shared our views on the need for personal accountability in the food blogging world) the fact remains that this document went viral. Within hours our personal statement became Something Bigger. This experience only highlights the need to understand just how powerful the Internet can be to make a personal statement a public document.
A few days ago we were two people talking ethics. A few days later we were an organization against freedom.
This is not what we are.
We are two people making statement that we personally believe in. For us personal accountability and truth in self-publishing is an important credo that we feel strongly enough about to express to others that are willing to listen. Personal accountability is a choice. Not everyone believes in accountability or a personal code of conduct. In the US, there are no laws that insist we have “good manners” or even etiquette for that matter. No one is going to get in trouble for cutting someone in line, skipping church or being rude to a bank teller. But I do hold myself to a higher code of ethic and personal accountability. That’s my choice and I’m not telling any one to do things my way. I do, however, feel the need to express what I believe in. If you don’t agree with me, don’t read it, and for goodness sakes, don’t feel any pressure to do it! .
In the discussion of free speech, it’s been interesting to hear people raise a fist against to the notion of personal accountability and self-imposed standards while at the same time those very same people are calling for us to shut up, rescind our statements, delete the Food Ethics Blog and go away. As US citizens, we are lucky to have the right to freedom of speech. It applies to all of us, regardless if we agree with one another.
Please know that we, the original authors of the code, are just two individuals that came together to write a document that defined the values we believe in. There will be no charges to be part of us, no branding of those blogs that are “good” or “bad”. There is no master scheme here. We just wanted to stand up and say what we believe in.
