July 2009 – Food Woolf

An improvised recipe for Maryland Crab soup

(Photo credit: from Diane at White on Rice)

There’s something really beautiful about having the confidence and skill to improvise. Musicians do it when they see beyond the black notes on a chart and close their eyes to jam. It’s the same with creating something impromptu in the kitchen; it comes when the cook understands more than just the basic chemistry of cooking and ratios and starts to feel their way into a never-before-created dish.

Like a musician that can hear a tune unwind in their head, a chef must be able to cook and taste a dish before ever slicing into product or turning on the stove. The day I cooked crab soup from beginning to end without ever boiling a pot of water, was the day I realized I had started to think like a chef.

Take me to the bridge!

I have my friend Chef Brian—sous chef of Hatfield’s restaurant–to thank for my recent transformation. Over the past year he’s taken me under his wing, described the way he creates dishes and has talked me through the way prepares every ingredient. Thanks to his willingness to share culinary secrets, he’s given me information that can only learned by spending thousands of hours in the kitchen.

I recently invited a handful of my very best culinary friends to our Los Angeles apartment for a night of eating. I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate our love of food than with a casual dinner that celebrated the bounty of California’s farmers’ market featuring freshly caught Santa Barbara crab. With the Hungry Cat Crab Fest–one of my favorite LA dining events–as inspiration, I began to put together my menu.

Standing in the Hollywood Farmer’s Market I saw it all so clearly. I would serve a multi course dinner, starting with a cucumber and lime cocktail. I’d begin with a savory fruit salad (Suzanne Goin style), follow it with a Maryland-style crab soup and corn bread, and finale with a huge Santa Barbara rock crab, mallets and plenty of corn on the cob. I felt confident about the salad and the simple boiling of the crab and ears of corn–but the soup was a different matter completely.

I didn’t have a recipe, nor any hope of finding one. I asked my boss (Suzanne Goin herself) if she had a copy of her husband—Chef David Lentz‘s—soup recipe but she didn’t. Oddly confident I thought, I can figure this out.

I began to doubt my abilities the moment after I had navigated through the crowded Hollywood Farmers Market with bags stuffed full of fresh produce and angry Santa Barbara crabs. Suddenly my mind was flooded with an imagined future of disappointed food bloggers politely eating a watery crab soup.

Just as I was at my lowest low, the culinary gods smiled upon me as I stumbled across the path of smiling Chef Brian—a Maryland native and crab expert.

“My god,” I gasped. “Can you tell me how to make crab soup?”

With my hands occupied with heavy sacks, he ran down the basic procedures of preparing a Maryland crab soup. Unable to take notes, I visualized the cooking of the crab, the messy job of pulling out the crustacean’s sweet meat, the sautéing of the shells and cooking the bodies down with mirepoix to create a rich stock. I saw it all as I repeated the steps all over again at the stove. Thanks to Brian’s advice and my newfound confidence, the soup was a huge success.

Like a family recipe that is shared through generations, this soup is created by feel and instinct. I offer you the recipe here, as it was described to me at the Hollywood Farmer’s market.

[print_link]
An Improvised Maryland Crab Soup
As shared by Brian Best, Hatfield’s Restaurant

4 large Santa Barbara Crabs
1 large bunch of carrots, peeled and chopped
1 large bunch of celery, chopped
3 large onions, chopped
6 ears of corn
fingerling potatoes (1-2 pounds), peeled and chopped into small pieces
2 small cans of tomato paste
2 dried ancho chili
2-3 tbl Harissa from a tube
Vegetable oil for cooking
Olive oil for cooking
enough water to cover the crabs
left over vegetable scraps or herbs

Crabs should be alive before you cook them. Leave crabs in the coolest section of the refrigerator until you are ready to cook them. Putting them in the freezer for 10 minutes before you cook them will make the cooking process less difficult for the crabs (and you).

Fill a large pot with water. Bring the water to a boil. Add the crab one at a time to make sure they are fully submerged in the water. Cook separately if necessary. Depending on the size of the crab, cook for 12-15 minutes but no more. Remove the crab from the water, let cool. Reserve the cooking liquid if possible.

Cover your worktable with newspapers. This is going to be messy. Using a mallet, hammer, or crackers, break the claws to reveal meat. Using chopsticks or picks, remove the meat. Put crab meat in one bowl and the shells in another. Rinse crab’s top shell of the dark internal liquid, as this juice will make the soup bitter. Break down the top shell with a hammer.

Using the same large pot, heat pot over high heat with a little vegetable oil. Add an acho chili or two, the crab shells and pieces. Stir crab shells frequently, making sure to heat all the shells evenly. The crab shells should start to smell of the sea, about 10-15 minutes.

In a separate pan, add half of chopped onion, carrot and celery to a hot pan with olive oil. Sautee down until the mirepoix ingredients begin to soften. Add to the sautéing crab shells. Add herbs and any vegetable scraps you may have. Add cooking liquid or water to the crab shells, being careful to add just enough to cover the shells. Simmer on stove for an hour. Taste. Drain the crab stock with the finest sieve you have. Cook down the stock for 30 minutes to an hour.

In your sautee pan, cook down the remaining mirepoix ingredients until soft. Add softened mirepoix and potatoes to stock. Remove the corn from the cob and add to stock. Add tomato paste, stir to dissolve. Add crab meat. Cook down for 30-60 minutes. Taste for seasoning. Add Harrissa if you desire more spice. Serve immediately or freeze.

Serve with cornbread.

July 23March 28

Chef Suzanne Goin’s Savory Fruit Salad Recipe

I love eating salads, don’t get me wrong. But when it comes to eating out, I skip the leafy greens for the instant gratification of ordering a complex entrée that takes just minutes to come to the table, rather than hours of preparation at home. When I go out I want to have fun. When I’m home I want to keep it simple.

Once outside of the restaurant–be it the one I’m working for or dining at as a customer–I find myself craving simple dishes. I long for perfectly composed salads and uncomplicated appetizers that I see service after service as I wait tables at Tavern.

Thanks to my job as a server for Nancy Silverton, I craved Italian antipasti for years. But now that I work at a new restaurant, I find my cravings are colored by the seasonal whims of my new boss, Chef Suzanne Goin. Her food is rustic, Provencal and thoroughly inspired by the market. Go to the market and it becomes clear why a warmed heirloom tomato, a crisp plum, the lingering flavors of a basil stem could inspire entire dishes on Suzanne’s menu. Her dishes reflect California’s bounty and an unabated passion for great ingredients.

A recent culinary revelation was recently delivered to me via a white plate at pre-service (a daily meeting before dinner service begins). Suzanne described the dish as a fruit salad. More savory than sweet, one perfectly balanced bite made it was clear this was no ordinary fruit salad. Suzanne’s greens were lightly tossed with vinaigrette—ingeniously made with left over basil stems and not-so-perfect plum pieces—and studded with just ripe stone fruits and Marcona almonds.

I’ve been craving it every since. This is my interpretation of her recipe, as prepared for my friends on a recent hot summer’s day. I omitted the nuts, but you can add those back in.

[print_link]Suzanne’s Fruit Salad

1 large bag of mixed greens
1 head of radicchio
1 head of frisee
3 large plums, dark purple and heavy with juice
2 large peaches
2 large nectarines
2 small Geo plums (or a tart, crisp varietal)
1 small bunch of grapes
4 branches of thyme
2 branches of basil
3 oz. red wine vinegar
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 small tangerine, juiced
salt and pepper

To prepare the plum vinaigrette:

Staying close to the seed, slice the stone fruit so that you have two perfect rounds per fruit. Slice the fruit “cheeks” into consistent sized slices. Set aside.

Cut the remaining fruit off the seed of each fruit, being careful to save the uneven pieces for the vinaigrette. Place the random pieces into mortar and crush, being careful to extract as much fruit juice as possible. Put the pulpy juice into a small bowl and add the olive oil, vinegar and tangerine juice. Remove the basil and thyme leaves from the stem. Muddle the herbs’ leaves and the basil stem in a mortar and pestle. Add to the vinaigrette, stir and taste. Add salt and pepper. Taste for balance. Add more acidity (in the form of more red wine vinegar or lemon juice) or seasoning if needed. Put in a jar and let sit for a few minutes. When ready to toss the salad, remove the basil stems.

To prepare the salad:

Chop the radicchio into small slices. Chop the bottom off the frisee and pull apart into individual pieces. Toss the radicchio and frisee into the greens. Toss the fruit with some of the plum vinaigrette in a separate bowl. When ready to serve, toss the greens with the plum vinaigrette, using the least amount necessary.

To compose the salad, place a heaping tablespoon of dressed fruit on a chilled plate, then top with greens. Add pieces of the fruit on top, being sure to drizzle some of the juice over the top of the final salad.

July 23March 14

Getting to know you at LA’s Blogger Prom

Last night I stepped back through time and found myself on the roof-top deck of the Riot Hyatt (now the Andaz Hotel), dressed as a 1980’s prom attendee. Luckily, I wasn’t alone in my time travels. Thanks to the incredible party planners of The Blogger Prom, I was surrounded by other garishly clad, time warping guests.

The Blogger Prom was masterminded by a handful of incredibly insightful LA bloggers that recognized the fact behind every .blogspot, .wordpress, .typepad and moveable press web address are men and women that are unabashed food geeks and culture dorks.

Picnik collage — @SamKimSamKim and DianaTakesaBite.com

Between the Michael Jackson and Duran Duran tracks, pink cocktails with lollipop garnishes, Aqua-netted hair and a brief cameo by Pauly Shore there were wonderful first time meetings and lovely connections to be made.

Out from behind our computers and in full 80’s attire, the night began as most proms do: awkward. But as the room filled and the sun set (and the alcohol started to kick in) attendees fearlessly introduce themselves. Bloggers that had only known each other through blog posts and Twitter avatars, embraced when they caught sight of each other’s blog name scrawled on their name tag.

Lindsay William-Ross aka @ SquashBlossom #Blogger Prom — Lindsay William-Ross aka @ SquashBlossom

It was a wonderful night that was filled with great stories, wonderful outfits and incredible connections. Thanks to the Blogger Prom, LA’s blogging scene just got a whole lot closer.

Food Woolf prior to #Blogger Prom — The 80’s Prom photo re-dux in ’09

July 16November 14

Third and Fairfax Farmer's Market Celebrates 75 Years

Ten years ago, in the greatest uprooting of my life, I moved to Los Angeles after a lifetime of small town living in Massachusetts. Like most new arrivals to this town, I was a small town girl with big dreams…and a very bad sense of direction. For me, the Original Farmers Market at Third and Fairfax became my north star: it was a culinary landmark that told me just how lost I was in the sprawling city of Los Angeles.

Though I knew very little about the history of the Third and Fairfax Market, the hand painted signs and elderly patrons that staked out tables were visual proofs that despite its size, LA could maintain some simple village ideals. The stalls of the Farmers’ Market reminded me of New England tourist stops with penny candies and plastic key chains and the produce vendors’ tables piled high with fruit, brought to mind road-side apple stands and pumpkin farms.

Looking back now, it is no wonder that I chose to live near the Original Farmers’ Market. The neighborhood is my own little village where I can walk to shops, enjoy the park and eat out at my favorite restaurants. I am a regular, a local, and now–after ten years of visiting–I am a fixture at the market.

After many years of feeling lost, I have finally found a home in this big city, thanks in part to the Original Farmers Market.

Happy 75th Anniversary, 3rd and Fairfax Farmers Market!

July 14

Italian Fast Food

24 hours days aren’t what they used to be. Hours spin in a blur of color, sound and flavor. Life as I know it—thanks to the opportunities this blog continues to offer me—is morphing into something wonderfully different.

With my new job as a columnist for the LA Weekly’s on-line food section called Squid Ink (home to the nation’s only Pulitzer Prize winning food journalist, Jonathan Gold!), waiting tables a few nights a week and multiple freelance writing gigs, there’s a lot to accomplish in one day. Consequently, sleep has become a luxury. Coffee is a non-negotiable necessity. And lately—here’s the shocker—I’ve gotten so busy I barely have enough time to eat.

Fast food for foodies

Granted, lots of food lovers have secret fast food indulgences. In-n-Out is definitely one of mine. But in terms of being good to my body and the world around me, pulling up to a drive thru window on a regular basis just isn’t an option. Protein bars are good in a pinch, but the act of devouring a meal replacement bar may quiet my stomach but it tends to put me in a bit of a sour mood.

In truth, my idea of great fast food is a slice of great bread with a small bowl of oil-soaked sardines sprinkled with red wine vinegar and radishes. But after several weeks of eating my way through many cans of sardines, I knew it was time to expand my fast food repertoire.

Dinon Alimentare

I recently discovered Dinon Alimentare’s line of marinated seafood salads at the seafood department at my local Whole Foods. Beautiful white anchovy filets and golden jewels of marinated mussels from Italy’s coast had me intrigued. The less than $9 price tag got me buying.

I love toasting bread and dropping a couple tender anchovy fillets over the top. I like to toss the marinated mussels* in with some greens and heirloom tomatoes. The calamari salad travels well in its sealed container and is a perfect addition to an outdoor picnic.

With a couple of Dinon seafood containers in the fridge and a beautiful loaf of bread on my counter, I’ve got ready to go meals in just seconds.

The quality of the ingredients and care that the people at Italian based-Dinon Alimentare take to prepare their marinated seafood salads has me thinking that the Italians really do know how to make food–even fast, prepared food–sexy. I may not like the words “prepared packaged foods” but I certainly do love saying the company’s motto: “Freschezza pronta in tavola.”Freshness brought to the table fast? Who doesn’t like that?

*sometimes the Dinon mussels need a little more de-bearding. I take the extra few seconds to trim that off. Otherwise, they’re just perfect.

July 8November 14

A Dash for Bragging Rights at Hungry Cat

It took weeks of verbal sparring to get Matt Jeronimo and John Curtis—two bartenders at the Hungry Cat—to the point where they needed to step outside to settle their argument. But on Monday, dressed only in their lightest gym outfits, the pair met up on Selma Avenue—a quiet block just outside of Hungry Cat—to finish the argument for good.

It all started as a casual conversation that was inspired by a friendly regular at the bar. He had asked about their past glory days, but soon after, the two co-workers were soon disagreeing. This was not a political or philosophical dispute. It was a different kind of argument that could not be settled by words. What was needed was physical proof.

The issue was, quite simply, who was the faster runner.

Both men were sprinters for their high school track teams. After comparing past race times and current exercise programs, Curtis didn’t hesitate to tell Jeronimo who was the faster runner. But Jeronimo refused to accept Curtis’ claim that he was the faster runner. Jeronimo wanted proof. “I threw down the white glove,” he explained just minutes before the race. “I suggested we do something like a 100 meter sprint.”

Curtis—a man unafraid of physical trials (he competed on the reality show “Wipe Out“)–was slow to agree to the foot race. After weeks of Jeronimo’s unabashed call to action, however, Curtis finally consented.

But by Monday at 2:45, some 15 minutes after the proposed start time of the race, it appeared that Curtis wasn’t going to show. Was Jeronimo concerned? Jeronimo pushed back his hair with one hand. “We work together behind the bar tonight. What are you going to do?”

Jeronimo insisted he wasn’t interested in winning bragging rights from a forfeit. “I still want to know who’s faster,” the brown haired bartender said as he waited for his competitor at the Hungry Cat’s bar and nursed a glass of iced orange juice.

At three o’clock, Curtis arrived, dressed for a foot race. Jeronimo’s face lit up as he eyed his sneaker-clad foe. “I gotta tell you, I broke a couple of ribs on the Fourth,” Jeronimo admitted as he lifted his sleeveless running shirt to expose a dark purple bruise under his right nipple.

Curtis stopped mid-stride and asked with true concern, “Sure you still want to do this?” Jeronimo nodded, solemnly. “I’m just gonna have to run through it. Nothing you can do.”

A camera toting blogger (yours truly) and a restaurant regular (my husband) marked the beginning and end points of the race. With nothing more than a friendly “on your mark, get set, go!” the race began.

A black-vested parking attendant and several curious passersby watched from the sidewalk as the two men sprinted down the center of Selma Avenue. Curtis’ lean form and tight running gait quickly gave him a measurable lead. His pained competitor grimaced as he struggled to keep up.

Within seconds, the race was over.

Curtis wasn’t a boastful winner. He smiled and offered a friendly set of knuckles to his co-worker for a fist bump. For the first time in what may have been weeks, the two co-workers smiled at each other with relief. The argument was over. The fastest man won.

As the two runners caught their breath as they retraced their route down the short distance of Selma, Jeronimo sighed with frustration. “Man, I just couldn’t find that other gear.” Then, without a moment of hesitation, Jeronimo added “Best two out of three?”

Curtis laughed, but it was clear there wouldn’t be another race any time soon.

July 7November 14

Border Grill Taco Truck vs. Kogi

Since the beginning of the Mozza’s, Nancy Silverton has celebrated this nation’s independence day with her employees. Naturally gracious and generous, Nancy has opened her home to her dedicated kitchen staff (the chefs, prep cooks, dishwashers) and gregarious front of house employees (servers, bussers, bartenders) and invited them to eat, drink and be merry.

Every year a new challenge

The first annual Fourth of July Mozza party Nancy served trays of food from Marouch, the second year employees gobbled up burgers from an In-n-Out truck for hours and on the third annual Fourth of July party Nancy decided it was time for a culinary showdown.

I got a message from Nancy on my voicemail, late Friday night.

“Brooke. It’s Nancy. Nancy Silverton. Call me.”

Granted, Nancy doesn’t call me every day—or ever, to be honest—but the fact that my name and number lives in her phone at all makes me very, very happy. “I’ve got the Kogi truck and the Border Grill girls coming.” She told me early Saturday morning. “It’s going to be a taco truck showdown.”

The showdown

Kogi was the first to arrive. When the truck pulled into Nancy’s driveway, Mozza employees quickly began lining up for a chance to try Kogi. Kogi + a short line + free meal = happy employees. With plastic cups filled with beer and Italian wine, the party guests happily chit-chatted as they waited for their Korean tacos.

When asked if most people had tried Kogi before, many admitted they hadn’t. A few taco truck afficionados admitted they had and added, “It’s not waiting in one of those lines, though.”

Granted, the people that work at Mozza have very high standards when it comes to the food they eat, serve, and cook. But overall, the general consensus was that the Kogi truck offered good flavors but nothing that was worth waiting for in an hour line.

We all sampled the dishes before passing judgment*. The rich short rib slider was sweet and savory and offered the a perfect textural interplay between the chewy meat and the soft bun. But as we progressed though the spicy pork and chicken tacos we found the flavors to be too similar –everything is sugary sweet and red chili spicy–and the tacos didn’t offer any diversity in taste. Updating a classic street food can offer all sorts of great culinary discoveries, but unfortunately, the Kogi truck’s hand-held dishes all tasted the same. Hitting the same flavor note over and over again is monotonous.

It was about the time when most people were considering what to eat next when the Border Grill truck pulled up curbside. Within seconds of parking outside of Nancy’s beautiful ivy covered home, a line spontaneously formed.

With Kogi truck chef, Roy Choi, near the front of the line to sample the competition, we were all excited to see what the Border Grill girls had cooked up for us. Mozza guests ooohed and aaahed as co-workers at the front of the line offered views of their trio of tacos. The three Border Grill tacos were a bright rainbow of colors: Purple/red pickled onions, green guacamole, bright white sour cream excited hunger and signaled palates to be prepared for some taco diversity.

The sweet, crunchy acidity of the red onions gave a wonderful textural counterpoint to the soft and flavorful meat of the cochinita pibls pork taco. The squared cubes of potato in the potato rajas taco were cooling morsels between bites of the spicy meats. The guacamole had people licking their fingers and stealing mouthfuls from their distracted co-workers. The roasted poblano quesadilla with cheese was a mild choice good for a large party, but had big pieces of pickled jalepeno on the side for those that like to spice things up.

Two taco trucks rolled up. Only one wheeled-kitchen would win.

Based on the unabated line at the Border Grill truck, the tossed trays of half-eaten Kogi, and sophisticated discussion (and drunken banter) about the merits of the Korean tacos and the appreciation of classic Mexican cuisine– it very quickly became clear who the winner was.

Border Grill wheels away with bragging rights

As the trucks pulled away and inebriated–I mean satiated–party guests gathered their things, we gathered around our generous host to thank her for opening her home (and pool) to each and every one of us culinary misfits. We look forward to seeing what’s in store for next year’s party!

*I have had Kogi three times–once at the Alibi room (I waited 45 minutes for my trio of tacos), once at Nancy’s party (the tacos were free) and once at a food event (also free).

July 4

God Bless America

I might not say it much, but I really am proud to be an American. Proud to live in a democratic country where freedom of speech is treasured and issues of ethics are weighed and decided by many–not just one supreme leader.

It’s true, I’m not really a flag waving kind of girl, but I do have moments of civic pride. The night Obama was sworn in had me wishing I could bang a drum and sing that hokey tune they always sing at sporting events about being proud to be an American. When I hear my mother and father in-law talk about how lucky they feel to have immigrated from Guatemala and become citizens in a country so beautiful, safe and full of opportunities my heart swells with appreciation. And early one morning in September of 2001, I cried tears of pride and humility when I heard about the courageous American men and women that helped bring their own plane down, in order to save hundreds–if not thousands–of others.

Beyond the philosophies, declarations and laws that make up this great country, the thing I’m most proud of are the American people. Once I get past the stereotypical personas and bone chilling ignorance of some, I am struck by the fact that this place celebrates believing in yourself and the freedom to pursue The American Dream.

I recently heard a political comedian say this of Americans: “We’re not a thinking people. We just do it.” And though this behavior often gets many of us Americans into quite a bit of trouble at the dinner table, international events and war zones, I do find this American trait endearing.

Fearless Passion

The fearless passions of the American people can sometimes be a scary thing, but the juxtaposition of brilliance and ignorance is what has made me become a writer, journalist and story teller.

I raise a glass to the American people. Here’s to our differences and the freedom to express ourselves.