I’m thrilled to share my first feature-length article, published in the Winter issue of Edible East Bay – a James Beard Foundation award winning publication. A Seasonal Scavenger Hunt for the Senses celebrates the changing seasons and some wondrous offerings in the East Bay. I’m kvelling.
In the spirit of Throwback Thursday, one of my favorite posts…
Originally posted on Cooking with Caleb (and Sadie!):
It began with a good-natured letter to the French Laundry restaurant in Yountville.
Mateo and I had just celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary and we made every attempt to honor our special occasion by dining at the French Laundry. Despite following the reservation protocol of booking two months in advance (only to get on the waitlist for several days), calling almost daily, even showing up on the day of with my hand-written sign hoping that we would come off the wait-list, we were unsuccessful in getting in.
We still had a fabulous and memorable anniversary celebration in the wine country. Once home, I sent a letter to the restaurant with a clip from my last blog-posting. Some expected that I would receive a call back from the renowned ‘temple of all things delicious’, but I wasn’t sure. Several days after putting my letter in the mail, however, I received…
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By now, you have likely noticed that I’ve almost completely hijacked what was to be a charming blog about cooking with my children and turned it into a big old flaming cheese themed me-fest! Well, hang in there…Caleb and Sadie will soon return. In the meantime, allow me to tell you about a delicious experiment.
Several weeks ago, I held a small event in my home and called it an Artisan Cheese Pop-In. I invited a handful of cheese-loving guinea pigs to help beta test an idea I’ve been incubating for far too long. For years, I have dreamed about starting a small business that offers food-themed workshops (not specific to cheese), both hands-on and informational, creating an inviting and inclusive environment around a family table of sorts.
Intimidated by business plans, loans, and lease agreements (not to mention big, scary leaps of faith and potential bankruptcy), I’ve kept my idea safely on the back-burner, until recently when I decided to just hold a gathering and launch the concept in the comfort of my home. What the heck.
So, I asked my guests to ‘bring to the table’ a selection of artisan cheese that they could tell us about, and a story or two about food memories from childhood. Culture Magazine was kind enough to donate a stack of recent issues and I had some of my favorite cheese books on display for good measure. Jesse Rogala, a talented local photographer and founder of Left Shore Photography, was onsite to capture the event. And capture it he did with just the right energy and mood.
My friends not only contributed a delicious and distinctive selection of cheese, but also came equipped with personal food stories that when told, brought us all a little closer. I supplied some of my favorites: Fourme d’ Ambert, Le Secret de Compostelle, and Epoisses, and accompaniments such as acacia honey, figs from our tree, olives, apricots, and plum preserves. Oh, and wine of course.
For me, this was not intended to be a cheese party – a two hour slot to eat cheese, sip wine, talk, then move onto the next event. It was an attempt at putting my ideas out there to see what it feels like and how they would be received. I feel successful and proud for having taken this first step, and I am grateful to those who took part. If you weren’t invited to this one, I am confident that there will be others!
Photographs by Left Shore Photography (Jesse Rogala)
Admittedly, I’m not a huge fan of sardine-packed concert venues, large crowds, contact highs, and Jumbotron-sized speakers blaring bands that I’ve never heard of. Schlep into San Francisco on a bone-chilling, foggy day only to be surrounded by thousands upon thousands of intoxicated young adults. Not so tempting. However, sweeten the deal with an opportunity to volunteer for Culture Magazine and be surrounded by an impressive selection of cheese for an entire day, not to mention be in the entertaining company of Lassa Skinner, the owner of Culture Magazine, and her merry band of cheese passionistas, and I could be swayed.
I’m grateful to Mateo for taking the kids around the city, while I spent the day volunteering at Cheese Lands, pretending I was a cheesemonger for the day – slicing and prepping cheese, then assembling enticing cheese plates for the masses of surprisingly sophisticated palates wandering Outside Lands. As long as I was within the confines of the cheese booth, surrounded by great people and copious amounts of amazing cheese, I was thoroughly enjoying myself.
Last weekend, with a day wide open for adventure, our family spontaneously made for the coast to the often fog-cloaked town of Pacifica. I’ve been hearing much buzz about Gorilla Barbeque, a small operation housed in an abandoned freight container. Clearly a local favorite, we joined the long line of shivering, yet loyal masses – those willing to brave the fog and crisp coastal breeze for a plate of ribs (and other barbecued meats such as brisket and pulled pork) and sides that warm you from the inside out.
Caleb was so excited to order his helping of ribs that he spent our time in line rehearsing his order and bouncing it off me for feedback “I’ll have the kid’s special of pork ribs with a side of corn-on-the-cob! Does that sound right Mama?” Confident that he could deliver his lines without incident, I set him loose on the young, unsuspecting woman behind the counter. Before long, we were exiting the freight container, down the stairs and headed to a grove above the parking lot, bathed in…wait for it…fog.
Hungry and expectant, we sat down at a funky, rag-tag table and hurriedly opened our individual orders. In record time, we were making lip-smacking sounds and licking our fingers, while devouring perfectly seasoned pork ribs, slathered in award-winning barbeque sauce.
It’s rare that Mateo and Caleb get as excited about food as I do, but something about expertly made warm ribs devoured on a chilly day, made for their idea of a perfect culinary experience.
We will most definitely return.
Last Sunday, my family honored this Jewish-earth-mama with a home-cooked breakfast of luscious lemon ricotta pancakes, fresh berries, and crispy bacon, followed by a much needed reprieve from my share of the household duties. After a relaxing morning of feeding on love and lazing about in the sun with a good book, I could stand it no longer – I had to labor away at something!
In an attempt to prolong the afterglow from my trip to Paris, I recently began reading Mastering the Art of French Eating by Ann Mah. This delicious memoir is at once relatable, mouth-watering, and an edible journey through France. A lifelong foodie and Francophile, Mah embarks on a year of discovery – one regional specialty at a time.
I recently made the steak frites from her first chapter – receiving Dino hugs and rave reviews – and on Sunday, I decided to spend the afternoon exploring another recipe from the book: soupe au pistou.
With the summer harvest nipping at the heels of late spring, the time was ripe to put the latest stars at our local farmers market on display. Soupe au pistou, a Provencal summer soup reminiscent of minestrone, seemed an optimal way to taste the season.
With a little assistance from my favorite prep cook (give Caleb le Cuisinart and he’ll wiz and whir the day away), we prepped the ingredients and started the slow process of making the soup. The beans had begun soaking the night before, I rinsed them off and began cooking them in the Dutch Oven first. Then came the diced vegetables, and other ingredients; lastly, the pistou (think pesto).
After several hours, the fragrance emanating from the kitchen, redolent of basil, left us eager to spill out onto our patio and dine al fresco with a close friend who had joined us for dinner. The finished soupe au pistou, with a blend of emmental and parmesan sprinkled and melting on top was heavenly, and elicited happy sounds and compliments from all. Enjoyed with a simple arugula salad, Acme’s Bread Company’s pain au levain, and a glass of chardonnay laced with crème de cassis (for the grown-ups, of course), we were transported from the San Francisco Bay Area to Provence for a few delicious hours and the perfect end to Mother’s Day.
Soupe au Pistou
Makes 6 servings
- 1/2 cup dried white beans, such as cannellini, sorted, soaked overnight in water to cover by 2 inches
- 1/2 cup dried cranberry beans (or borlotti beans), sorted overnight in water to cover by 2 inches
- 2 pounds zucchini, trimmed
- 2 to 3 medium-size red potatoes
- 2 pounds fresh green beans, trimmed, cut into 1-inch pieces
- 1 cup elbow macaroni
- Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
- 2 to 3 plump garlic cloves, peeled
- 1 large bunch fresh basil, washed, dried
- 1 1/2 pounds ripe tomatoes, peeled, seeded
- 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus more if needed
- Pinch of salt
- Garnish: 1 cup grated Gruyère or Parmesan cheese, or a combination
- 1. Drain beans. In a large Dutch oven or soup pot, add beans and enough cold water to cover them by 2 inches. Bring to boil on medium-high heat, skimming off foam from the surface. Lower heat and simmer until beans are tender, about 11/2 hours. The cooking time for beans varies greatly, so make sure to test the beans for tenderness from time to time (they might be tender after 50 minutes or so).
- 2. Meanwhile, peel the zucchini lengthwise, leaving half of the skin on, making stripes; cut into 11/2-inch pieces. Peel and cube the potatoes into the same size. When beans are tender, add zucchini, potatoes and green beans. Bring to boil, lower heat and gently simmer until zucchini starts to disintegrate (about an hour, adding more water if necessary); use a fork to mash a few pieces of potatoes and zucchini against the side of the pot to thicken soup. Raise the heat slightly and add macaroni, cooking until very soft. Taste and season as needed.
- 3. While the soup is cooking, make the pistou. With the motor running, drop garlic into feed-tube of food processor. Add basil and process until finely chopped. Add tomatoes and pulse to very finely chop, intermittently stopping motor to scrape down sides. Add olive oil and process to combine. Add salt and pulse to combine. Taste and add more olive oil or salt if needed.
- 4. Remove soup from heat. Stir in pistou and combine thoroughly. Taste and adjust seasoning. Serve, passing the grated cheese at the table for topping. The soup can be prepared in advance and reheated.
Source: adapted from “Mastering the Art of French Eating” by Ann Mah
Who doesn’t love a satisfying breakfast of bacon and eggs? Then, why not fall in love with bacon and egg pizza like I did on my recent solo trip to Paris?
On my second night staying in le Marais neighborhood in the 4th Arrondissement, and after a fulfilling day of walking my ass off through one of the most breath-takingly beautiful cities I’ve ever visited, I ducked into what appeared to be a very popular Italian restaurant. After looking around at the individual wood oven-baked pizzas sitting in front of the guests at the neighboring table, I quickly surmised that I should order the pizza. The waiter came to take my order, and with my very limited French, I promptly ordered something far different from what I had in mind.
What arrived after my glass of vin rouge, was the happiest of accidents: an ambrosial and heavenly looking pancetta (bacon) flecked pizza with a large egg, sunny-side up in the middle. Not a big fan of farm egg on everything – still a craze on restaurant menus ranging from farm-to-table to Asian eateries – I pulled a c’est la vie and expectantly dove in. I quickly observed that what set me apart from the Parisian diners (apart from the fact that I wasn’t looking tres chic or planting kisses on the cheeks of friends at my lonely table), was that I impatiently sliced my pie into quarters, scooped the slice up in my hands, then hungrily stuffed it in my mouth. Other, more well-mannered patrons, had fork and knife in hand and were politely slicing bite-sized pieces – feeding their hunger slowly and with intention. Whatever! My pizza – a delicious dance of flavors including smoky, salty bacon, four cheeses, and a rich egg atop – was absolutely mind-blowing! I had left my camera back in my room and had no one to witness my perfect moment of blissful food transcendence, with a little egg dripping down my chin.
Funny, that one of the best eating experiences I had in France was at a trendy Italian pizzeria. Once I returned home, I vowed to re-create this pizza in my kitchen. On a recent trip to TJ’s, I picked up pre-made pizza dough, shredded quattro formaggi, and diced pancetta – the organic eggs were waiting for me at home.
Last night, after a full day at work, I rolled up my sleeves, kicked everyone out of the kitchen, and summoned my inner pizzaiolo. Taking the advice of Phyllis Grant, a fellow blogger and skilled baker of sweet and savory, I made a round trough with my fingers in the center of each pizza, to eventually crack the eggs into. I then pre-heated the oven to 500F, assembled a larger pie for Mateo and I, and smaller pies for Caleb and Sadie. Once in the oven for 8-10 minutes (light golden topping), I pulled the racks out and gently slipped one raw egg in the middle of each pie, then let them bake for an additional 4-5 minutes.
I can say with confidence that I nailed it, having created the closest version of what I had enjoyed in Paris and was very pleased with myself as I bit into the first hot, salty, cheesy, and egg-oozy slice. Mateo quickly exclaimed that he has absolutely loved everything I have been cooking since my return, and Caleb ran over to me with a Dino hug and kiss. If you have any questions about how to make this at home, just ask. I hope you try…it was that good!!
Day five of my reacquaintance rendezvous in Paris. After participating in a wonderful walking tour of Notre Dame, I headed to l’Hotel de Ville to La Cuisine Paris, for a French cheese and wine pairing class that I had registered for prior to my arrival. Lucky for me, the school, which teaches classes in English, is located at the base of the hotel and was a pleasant 10 minute walk from my apartment in Le Marais (4th Arrondissement).
I arrived just before the start of the class and introduced myself to Jane Bertch, the lovely founder of the school who originates from Chicago (and someone I could envision becoming fast friends with over the subject of anything food). I then met our young Parisian teacher Emily as well as a couple from Norway, a woman from Australia, and a young couple from New York – all signed up for the class.
Once gathered, we were offered umbrellas, then promptly headed out on a walking tour of the nearby island of Il Saint Louis. First, we visited a fromagerie on the main walking street, met the owner and were treated to several samples of his perfectly aged cheese. My favorite, being a truffle flecked tomme, an earthy and unctuous delight (shout out to Martine)! I became particularly giddy when I noticed he had a large round of Mimolette, which was recently banned by the FDA in the US because it is brought to you in part by small mites which live on the periphery of the cheese and help form the little craters in the rind. When I pointed to it and began jumping up-and-down, the owner handed out some samples and I think I floated above the ground bit, or was that when I ate the truffle cheese?
We then bid farewell to the owner and left with several examples of French cheese including Livarot, Fourme d’ Ambert, Brie de Meaux, three varieties of aged chèvre, and the aforementioned Mimolette.
Just around the corner we walked into a small wine shop, where we met the amusing and quintessentially Parisian owner who was very much a contrarian, and probably someone best taken in small doses. We left with a recommended bottle of wine and walked back to the school on the slightly overcast streets of Paris, along the banks of the Seine.
We walked upstairs to the cooking school and sat around a table in the back of the kitchen. Before long, we were being offered samples of the cheese we had purchased on our walk. For each cheese, a selection of wine that paired extremely well with it.
Sitting around the sizable dining table, eating copious amounts of French cheese and talking with a knowledgeable instructor and my ‘partners in cheese’ about my favorite subject, was as close as I’ll likely come to arriving in heaven for some time. C’est la vie!