Homemade

Been eating out a lot in New York and Chicago. But I have thankfully had some wonderful opportunities to cook with some incredibly talented foodie friends of mine too. Here are a couple little shots of my favorite homemade moments from these past few weeks.


In New York, I made the Italian marscapone cheesecake with bitter orange marmalade that I learned to make in Italy. I served it to friends at our annual Urban Family Easter celebration. Our meal included a gorgeous ham glazed in Dr Pepper and mustard, melted leeks over burrata, Orzo salad with peas and mint, horseradish deviled eggs, and this tart. A tart that we ate for breakfast alongside our cold-brewed iced coffee for the next few mornings.



After waking up to a cloudy day in Chicago, an impromptu breakfast in our pajamas and slippers was in order. I awoke with a ferocious sweet tooth (surprise surprise...) and my cure was in the shape of pancakes- Oatmeal buttermilk pancakes. With stewed prunes in a sauce that reduced to a rich honeyed caramel, and topped them with marscapone. We also had two duck eggs left over from making fresh pasta the day before. These sunset colored beauties were poached and topped on a potato hash of collard greens and lamb chorizo. We gathered our cameras to geek-out over perfect morning light, gold pancakes, and blue chairs. Our coffee was cold by the time we stopped shooting and laughing. It was totally worth it for a good morning with a much missed friend.

I head back to my mountains and ocean of California in one week.

Noodles

My relationship with noodles… or pasta, has changed a lot in the past years of my life. The whole chicken noodle soup thing never carried over in our house as kids, so I didn’t grow up with an overwhelming fondness for the boiled dough. In fact, it was Campbells tomato and rice soup alongside a mandarin-lime natural soda that nursed us back to health when a head cold or stomach flu came into town. Now my mother was a fantastic cook mind you, and she did throw down some hand-made whole wheat noodles for her soups every now and then. But with 4 home-schooled kids, a dog, a holistic practice out of the house, and a thriving garden to tend- just open a can of go-to Campbells soup, mama! And still to this day, post-culinary school and with a healthy knowledge of the sodium content in a small can of Campbells, I still crack open a can of congealed, pink, salty, tomato base with plenty of water logged white rice grains. And not only does it heal me, but I love it.

Now, knowing that pasta, and noodles in general, are considered the “ultimate comfort food,” I only felt that this boiled egg and flour mixture was merely a bland vessel to carry hearty Bolognese, tangy pesto, or sweet peppers and sausage to my mouth. I would have opted for any number of these sauces, served in a large bowl with a hunk of crusty bread. Just let me be alone with my sauce…. but of course, in the manner that all food prejudices should be crushed- I moved to Italy. I made and ate fresh pasta prepared with quality egg yolks and semolina flour. I was left with a perfect pasta that accompanied the sauce and dissolved on my tongue. It was then that my idea of noodles as comfort food changed.



I must admit though, that my spaghetti Bolognese bowl of comfort has been properly trumped by a steaming hot bowl of pho, bun, or ramen. Thick vermicelli rice noodles, alongside shredded pork, spiced fish meatballs, fried baby eels (being my favorite in Hanoi) or crisp tofu topped with fresh shiso leaves and mint, and swimming in a pool of spicy aromatic broth…… Need I say more to convince you of it’s power? I was in South East Asia for 3 months, and I had a bowl of steaming hot noodle in beautiful broth for at least one meal a day. Even in the haze of humidity, I was to be found sitting on a small plastic stool, curbside, with my knees to my chin, ordering a hot bowl of noodles and broth.

A photo montage of the bowl sized comforts in Cambodia, Vietnam and Laos

Vietnam



Cambodia



Laos





I recently dabbled in a bowl of comfort here in New York’s East Village, by the name of Momofuku ramen. Ramen noodles topped with slices of pork belly, shredded pork, scallions and a poached egg. All floating in a tantalizing broth, and served with my very own bottle of siracha hot sauce. I sat there, alone, at the bar of a crowded NY hotspot with my bowl of bliss and a lychee slushy, getting high from the flashbacks of Asian curbside soups. I was so entranced by this bowl that I even started to imagine that the wafts of loud conversations and Indie Rock music was actually buzzing motorbikes and songs of a non-understood language. The yolk broke open and gave the soup a richness that I had never experience before. I would have freaken’ crawled in the bowl and splashed around if it was at all socially appropriate. But I went to bed that night, feeling like this bowl of noodles had just healed me. It had not only transported me back, but it made me as comfortable with the same nostalgic appeal as the tomato rice soup that mom delivered to my bedside when sick. Needless to say, spicy Asian noodle bowls are the chicken noodle soup of my existence.

Definitely check out Momofuku if your in Manhattan or pick up the cookbook here, for a great glimpse into the genius of David Chang. And a couple of great noodle recipe from my friend's Carrie & Andy here and here. Enjoy!

Ode' to Breakfast

I have a strong love for all things breakfast.

I'm the type that goes to sleep excited to wake up for breakfast. Like every night. Whether I'll be in the mood for fluffy pancakes with maple butter, simple oatmeal and brown sugar, a cup of coffee and a scone, or a hangover curing breakfast burrito, I'm anticipating it's arrival into my life before I even shut my eyes.
I have been taking pictures of my favorite breakfast moments, and perfect cups of caffeinated bliss for years now. And I've been following food porn blogs like Simply Breakfast for quite some time.

So here is the start to my Ode to Breakfast, an ongoing post from the archives of my favorite meal of the day.


Amsterdam, Netherlands. March 2008

España

I have been away from Spain for 2 years now. I think about it often though. Very often.

I had lunch today, here in Manhattan, with an old friend from my life back in Palma de Mallorca. We played catch up for hours, filling in all the missing gaps in our 2-year hiatus from one another. Sitting face to face in an über healthy, hippy, vegan café in Union Square. We sipped kombuchas, barefoot, at a large communal wood table. Our bodies still zinging with juicy post-yoga vibes. Quite American of us indeed, and very far from our old Spanish ways. Our conversation danced from life as of late to life way back when. From albondigas and paella, to tofu and quinoa. Remembering tasty moments of croquetas de bacaloa, tortilla Espanola, gambas al ajillo, café con leches, and jamon, jamon, jamon….

I would have paid BIG money at that moment to have one of those hemp-wearing, new age, crystal worshiping employees change the Om-Jaya-Shiva-Yaya music to European Techno, and to have my macrobiotic bowl doused in a boat-load of garlicky aioli. Ah, to be back in Spain….




Much has changed in life since leaving the island of Mallorca, for both of us. Our tight group of friends have all scattered themselves across the globe, and our favorite little café where we would congregate to spill our lives out in tales over a cappuccino, has since shut it’s doors for good. Life is a trip, and the cards it deals you can be so captivating and yet so paralyzing at the same time.

My dear friend reminded me of how precious this life of ours really is- the past, the present, and the future that it holds. How living in the moment is the only time we have, and it really can be the best part of our lives. To expect the unexpected, and to always find the time to relive the memories that still make us smile. I don’t take enough time to do that because I’m just “too busy” for appreciation all the time- Gotta change that.

Almost 2 years to the date, we’ve gone from toasting glasses of vino tinto around my dining room table, to clinking glasses of fermented hippy tea around a large wood table on a different continent. The table allows an outlet to pour out joy, sorrow, advice, concern, laughter, and nourishment of all forms, from one part of the world to the next. And the table -la mesa- hosted us on a sweet trip down memory lane. A trip all the way over to España.


-Tortilla Española -
(what I always make when my Spanish meter is running low)

1 1/2 cups oil
2 1/2 pounds boiling potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/3-inch dice
2 1/2 cups chopped onion
1 tablespoon coarse salt
10 large eggs

Heat oil in a 12-inch nonstick skillet over moderate heat until hot but not smoking and add potatoes, onion, and half of salt. Cook over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are very tender but not colored, about 45 minutes. Drain vegetables in a large colander set over a bowl and cool 5 minutes. Lightly beat eggs in a large bowl. Gently stir in vegetables with 1 tablespoon oil, salt, and pepper to taste.
Return 1 tablespoon oil to skillet and add mixture, pressing potatoes flush with eggs. Cook over low heat, covered, 12 to 15 minutes, or until almost set. Turn off heat and let stand, covered, 15 minutes. Shake skillet gently to make sure tortilla is set on bottom and not sticking to skillet. Invert tortilla onto a large flat plate and slide back into skillet, bottom side up. (Alternatively, especially if top is still loose at this point, slide tortilla onto plate first. Cover it with skillet and invert tortilla back into skillet.) Round edge with a rubber spatula and cook over low heat, covered, 15 minutes more, or until set. Slide tortilla onto a serving plate and serve warm or at room temperature.


This recipe is best enjoyed with a long lost friend, a cold beer, and doused in a boat-load of garlicky aioli.
Bon Provecho!

In Love

With a bagel.
















And with a pizza.















I've been in New York City now for only 6 days and I'm already in Love. Ok, I'm a cheap date. This I know. But I have truly never met a bagel like this before. It's special. And it lives just across the street from where I'm staying. Which basically means that this bagel practically stands out my window throwing pebbles and serenading me to come join it in a beautiful morning embrace of scallion cream cheese, followed by a food coma and a cup of coffee. My love drug of choice- Whole wheat everything bagel (warm and fresh out the water bath) lathered with creamy, fluffy scallion cream cheese. Slightly crisp on the outside, and perfectly chewy in the middle. Happiness achieved. For the girl that has never really been "in to" bagels in her life, this relationship is a big deal. I seem to always pass a date with a bagel for a blueberry scone or bran muffin romance instead. But this bagel, Ess-a-Bagel, has taken the lead role in my breakfast bliss..... and will probably take the lead role in the extra 5 lbs of body weight gained this month.

Now, for this pizza........ wow!
Bizarre love triangle, you say? A bagel, and a pizza in 6 days? Yeah, I must be pumping out an extra set of foodie pheromones this month or something. The pizza and I met just last night. I stood in line at Artichoke for 20 minutes at midnight for this slice of Heaven. A steaming hot wedge of pizza was sliced to my order and placed in a togo box for $4. I walked it home, flirting with the aromas that wafted from the warm box. This slice of happiness, the size of my forearm was thin crust (New York style,) perfectly chewy, and slightly charred on the bottom. The way I like it! It's topped with a heavy hand of creamy artichoke hearts, garlic, spinach and cheese. Think of warm, spinach and artichoke dip on top of pizza- GENIUS!

Other than pizza and bagels, I have been enjoying this city for all the other joys that it offers. Drinks and appetizers at this and this classic New York establishments. Incredible dinner here- Grilled bacon with sauerkraut and horseradish cream? Yes please! A long awaited Momofuku meal here- skate with preserved lemon and yuzu, old bay fingerlings, and spicy aioli. And my favorite homestyle, cozy little joint called Northern Spy- A kale salad of butternut squash, almonds and pecorino that was oh, so perfectly balanced.

And I still have a healthy few weeks of edible opportunities to come! That's if I'll ever get over the bagel and the pizza...

On the Horizon

I'm a Pisces- Total dreamer.

Dreaming up my future is a full time job, and one that I love to have. When people ask me where I'm off to next, and my answer consists of at least 12 countries on 5 seperate continents, even I start to wonder if the dreaming is at all reality based. But then when the ideas start to actually fall into place, I begin to realize that it might really be possible to live the dream afterall.

Currently dreaming about....... Morocco.
I shouldn't say current though, because I have been lusting over the land of flavorful tagines, warm African winds, and colorful spices piled in perfect pyramids for years now. I want you, Morocco!



I recently got to spend time with two of my senior mentor chefs- Kim Schiffer and Peggy Markel
Both of which have significantly paved my way in the food industry, and have inspired me daily in my quest to live and travel through the art of good food. Peggy came to Santa Barbara recently to visit her dear friend Kim, and to teach a Moroccan cooking course. One that I got to participate in! After a meal of chicken tagine with preserved lemon and olives, baked eggs in a pool of aromatic tomatos, and lemon curd with pistachios- I was closing my eyes and releasing myself to the Pisces brain of Moroccan dreams yet again.



Peggy and Kim both teach cooking courses in on this beautiful planet. Kim has a course in Andaluicia, Spain. And Peggy has courses in Italy, Morocco and India..... And my current goal in life is to attend all of them. Ok fine, I'll start with Italy, Spain and Morocco and see how it goes from there.



I highly suggest you check out all of Peggy and Kims adventures here and join me this fall!

And untill those dreams pan out the way I want them to, I'll be wandering around the Big Apple for the next month of my life with these cool foodie friends of mine. I leave tomorrow morning, and I am quite ready for my taste buds to be rocked in the epicenter of good food. It's like traveling the world in one city! I'm hungry for you, New York.

I made a cake

I made a chocolate cake.



This chocolate cake was for a job in fact, so i did not eat this chocolate cake. But I do need to talk about it.

I hate chocolate cake. In fact, I've hated chocolate up until maybe a few years ago. Yes, my Swiss Grandmother has questioned our relation over this issue in the past... But I do believe that my negativity towards the love of cacao (especially in cake form) stemmed back from my childhood. Way back when going to a fellow 6 year olds birthday party at the park ended with a big Costco or Vons shiny chocolate cake. All dressed up in a circus of neon piped frosting, confetti sprinkles and a fatty star-tipped chocolate boarder (at least 2 inches high) that amazingly would never melt in in the hot sun for 5 hours! I would sit on my little park picnic bench, swinging my little legs around bellow, and observe my fellow 6 year olds while still basking in my supreme glory of hitting the piñata much harder than the boys. One more adjustment to my obnoxious party hat string while I waiting for this apparently VERY highly anticipated birthday cake. The effects of these cakes were lasting on me. This dry, crumbly "cake" that was apparently just a glorified vessel for the 6" of frosting that lay on top of it. I remember these cakes coating my mouth in an abnormally greasy way, leaving an uncomfortable film around the entire inside of my mouth for hours. Why was there SO much excitement that surrounded such a terrible dessert! I couldn't understand it- so I gave it up, and hated chocolate from there on out.

Then I moved to Europe and had proper 70% dark chocolate in Austria- SOLD!



So this cake is one that I tried a few months back when my senior Chef, Kim made it for a party we were catering. I took some home, and it stayed moist for almost a week! I have never had a better tasting chocolate cake before in my life.

I was frosting this cake yesterday morning at home, in my slippers, with a large cup of Stumptown café au lait and Long Distance Runaround by YES playing on my stereo. And I thought abound how my fondness for chocolate cake has really changed. But it really does take THAT one chocolate cake to do it. And this one is THAT. Literally- the chocolate cakes name in the cookbook is "That Chocolate Cake." And it really is.




Check it out in The Essence of Chocolate cookbook by Scharffen Berger. It'll make you as excited as a 6 year old in the park. Without the awkward-fatty-film-coated mouth thing...