Jook, Love at First Bite (a Project Food Blog Entry)

Project Food Blog congee
Project Food Blog's Second Round Entry

When you move to Los Angeles from small town USA, the culture shock is great. The weather, the cultural diversity, the dominance of the entertainment industry, and the abundance of revealing clothes is all quite astonishing. What’s more, if you want to know anything about food and are curious by nature, every day in Los Angeles can be an opportunity to move outside of your culinary comfort zone.

For this week’s Project Food Blog Challenge (more about that in a bit), the contestants were asked to create a classic dish from outside their comfort zone. What better dish to make than Jook, a rice porridge comfort food from a culinary culture I know very little about.

I first learned about Jook from Jonathan Gold, one of our city’s most famous culinary journalists (and the only winner of the Pulitzer for food writing). Gold is what you’d call L.A.’s poster boy for strip-mall ethnic food. His craft for sculpting words and ability to describe uncommon meals in the most mundane locations has created something of a culinary fad where LA food lovers seek out the most unusual, ethnic eats across the city in our city’s trashiest of locations.

All this is to explain how it came to be that this white girl from Massachusetts has been craving a Korean comfort food I’ve never even tasted before.

The first bite is the greatest

Rice porridge, or Jook in Korea, Congee in China, Okayu in Japan, is a popular comfort food throughout all of Asia. Known for its restorative powers for both the sick and the hung-over, the slow-cooked rice dish is a savory oatmeal that’s eaten for breakfast, a late night snack, or during the lean times. Jook is a creamy porridge that’s both comfort food and a kind of blank canvas for all sorts of great flavors and textures. Slow simmering short grain rice for several hours in water or chicken stock results in a creamy pap that is the perfect food delivery device for the flavors and textures of sesame oil, fish sauce, crunchy pickles, spicy condiments, herbs, meat, seafood, and even a fried egg.

Eating a dish for the first time on a very empty stomach is often the best way to imprint a taste in your memory. I’ll never forget that crusty French bread slathered with rich butter that time I was a starving student in Paris. Nor will I ever forget the flavor of Congee after a day of shopping at the Korean market and rushing around to be ready in time for this Project Food Blog Challenge.

But oh! The jook! It was just beautiful the way the soft fried egg oozed onto the porridge. Or how the sesame oil pooled onto my spoon with a drop of salty fish sauce, creating a fishy vinaigrette. And the salty crunch of the bacon and pungent hit of chopped scallion gave every bite a satisfying texture. The soft porridge is the kind of comfort food that–regardless of your cultural heritage–you immediately want to adopt once you’ve tasted it.

Continue for the easiest Congee Recipe Ever! »

Nose to Tail Lamb Dinner Party

lambalooza wine and lamb dinner

Dinner parties with wine experts, restaurant owners/mangers, and chefs aren’t like your commonplace soiree. We don’t cater (unless it’s our friend that’s doing the cooking), we don’t go as a group to a favorite restaurant (unless it’s our friend that’s doing the cooking), we don’t use mixers for cocktails, and we most certainly don’t drink plonk wine. Rather, these after-hours events are more like being invited to an underground dinner club or pop-up speak easy—where there’s an abundance of food, great music, and an obscene amount of impeccable wine and hand-made cocktails.

Food industry parties–not the kind attended by press and marketed to create a buzz, mind you, just a little get together of friends—are Dionysian affairs where off-the-clock servers grin a little bigger, sommeliers share favorite wine stories and their best off-color jokes, and the chefs cook and eat food with nonchalance. Though these are intimate gatherings-they are the kind of party you wish you could watch on TV.

snout to tail lamb dinner
The Menu for the Snout To Tail Lamb Dinner

Be it spur of the moment get together or well-executed culinary bash—we restaurant folk go the extra mile to celebrate our day off by eating and drinking well and just relaxing. Crash one of our parties and you’ll see a group of people happy to be free of their uniform and outside of the demands of customers. Really, really happy.

snout to tail lamb

You can feel a kind of excitement in the air when you spend a night off with fellow industry folk. I imagine the dinner party fireworks of food and wine professionals are similar to the electricity between rock stars backstage, or in the dug out with baseball players. Put a group of people together who are in love what they do, and sparks will fly. If you look carefully, you can even pick up on the embers of exhilaration floating through the air*.

You can take a restaurant pro out of a restaurant but you can’t take the restaurant out of the restaurant pro

Earlier this week, I had the good fortune to be invited to an extraordinary backyard happening called “Lambalooza”, an event so named by its originator and co-host, Dan Perelli (friend, wine expert, and employee of the Wine Hotel). The eleven-course tasting menu was hosted at the home of Ben Anderson, a wine representative of Rosenthal wines and was organized by Sara Gim of Tastespotting. Dan was the mastermind behind the event that celebrated great wine and every tasty morsel of a whole Colorado prime lamb.

The moment I entered the backyard patio, I knew I had been invited to a remarkable dinner. Past the apartment’s back gate, I found a circle of excited sommeliers and wine professionals standing guard over a high-top table littered with open bottles and tasting glasses.

Continue Reading… »

So You Wanna Be the Next Food Blog Star

chef tattoo
A view from inside restaurants

Hi, my name is Brooke and I’m a restaurant blogger. I’m not a Yelper, nor a restaurant reviewer, not a food-fanatic, or even an angry waiter on a rant. I’m a food writer and a restaurant professional with a strong point of view on what it is to work in the business of food.

For those of you just tuning in here at Food Woolf, this is a literary blog which offers a non-fiction account of a restaurant professional living life from inside of some of Los Angeles’ best restaurants.

Like a chef who produces food that she loves to eat for her customers, I work hard to create something beautiful here—first for myself and then for others. At Food Woolf, I want to give you something more than just a simple recipe and a fast paragraph.

I want to craft appetizing phrases—like ones I’ve discovered in the fine writing of M.F.K. Fisher and Michael Ruhlman—and delectable sentences you’d like to roll over your tongue a couple of times. I work hard to weed out unnecessary tirades and focus on the insightful behind-the-scenes moments that speak to bigger issues that affect diners. Sometimes, I even snap some photographs of great meals that make people want to dive through their computer screens and get eating.

Continue to Read Up on Project Food Blog »

Vietnamese Cocktail

Vietnamese Gin Tangerine mixed drink

Some chefs will tell you that there is not such thing as leftovers in a well run restaurant. Everything that isn’t used should be reused for something else. Scraps of vegetables and chicken bones become stock. Left over meat from a special might become that day’s staff meal. And so it is with cocktail making. Whenever I come up with a cocktail—whether it’s for myself at home or for the restaurant I work at–I try to limit my ingredients to those on hand and don’t require an extra purchase or visit to the market.

My recent culinary foray into Vietnamese cuisine and Banh Mi making had me with several extra ingredients that begged for repurposing. The result: a refreshing Vietnamese cocktail made with complimentary ingredients of muddled mint, sweet tangerines, bittersweet Vietnamese caramel (Nuoc Mau), Plymouth Gin, and a splash of rice wine vinegar for balanced acidity. This is a show stopping cocktail for any dinner party or Asian-inspired meal.

Continue for the details on my Vietnamese Cocktail!»

Sunday Brunch Musings

sunday brunch restaurant

I cherish my Sundays. The day is quiet by design. The day’s placement—the final coda on an ever-rising sequence of days—gives a final curtain to a week of happenings. Sundays are a day of ellipses, where anything can fall between the rests.

The market. Brunch. A football game. Gardening in the yard. A Sunday supper at home.

But when your work is in restaurants, the week is misshapen. Phrases like “This Monday is my Friday,” are common in the dining room, because holidays and traditional weekends are never ours. Friday, Saturday, or Sunday may be your day to let loose and relax, but for us in restaurants, those are our hardest days. While most are thinking about Happy Hour, we’re lacing up our shoes, pressing our dress shirts, and eating a last meal before the onslaught of friendly struggle.

Sunday is the cruelest of days for the restaurant worker. Because though it may truly feel like a day of rest, for most waiters, bartenders, bussers, and kitchen staff, Sunday means work. It’s the longest of days, where all we can see are endless vistas of empty juice glasses, coffee refills, bloody mary’s to make, and egg-white omeletes to fry up. Because when most of the world wants to relax, restaurants are prepared to step in and make things easy.

Be aware Sunday brunchers that those poor souls scheduled to work a dreaded Sunday brunch—are the unsung heroes of the week. Be kind to them. Because almost everyone loves a Sunday. Even us.

Caramel Pork Banh Mi

how to make pork banh mi

Certain foods elicit recollections of childhood, others conjure up the essence of loved ones. Rare though, is a flavor so particular and influential, the act of consuming it has the power to alter the course of the eater’s life. Turning point foods are those that not only evoke an eater to remember, it defines the eater. So it is for me with Banh Mi.

I never expected a spicy Vietnamese sandwich called Banh Mi, would have the power to delineate my life. And yet, the simple and ultimately complex sandwich—the result of a tumultuous relationship between the French and the native Viets—has lead me to a whole new culinary realm and brought me significant friendships I will cherish forever.

My first taste of Banh Mi was a wake up call from the fiery spirit of a Vietnamese muse. I was living in New York City during a sweltering summer and working as a General Manager and consultant for a soon-to-open restaurant under construction in the Lower East Side. Despite the fact that I was new to the vibrant city, and lived in the heart of a new food mecca (Katz’s Deli, Russ and Daughters, Stanton Social), I lost myself to 16-18 hour work days. Rather than cherishing the opportunity to experience a new city, I poured myself into every passing minute at the restaurant. I was missing everything.

That’s when Banh Mi stepped in to kick my ass.

Continue for the full Vietnamese Caramel Pork Banh Mi Recipe »

Nuoc Mau: Vietnamese Caramel Sauce

Vietnamese Caramel Recipe

It takes a lot of faith and trust to let something—or someone—change before your eyes. It takes a lot to stand by and watch the process happen, even if you know the final outcome. You can observe, be ready to assist, and offer positive thoughts and well wishes, but ultimately the changing process is up to that person or thing. Some things are just out of your hands.

Take for example Vietnamese Caramel Sauce, or Nuoc Mau. This is a simple syrup made from sugar and water that requires a few seconds of stirring and then fifteen minutes of mindful watching.

What? No stirring? No touching? No manipulation of outcome? Gasp!

Vietnamese Caramel
This is the only time you can control the sauce

It took several failures to learn my lesson in resisting the urge to control the sauce. I had no idea how hard it would be for me to stare at a bubbling pot of hot sugar without manipulating it. I mean, one stir of a spoon and you can ruin the whole thing. An entire batch, ruined because of the need to control the cooking process of sugar and water?

Making Nuoc Mau opened my eyes to just how far my control issues go.

Continue for my Vietnamese Caramel Recipe »