Mom's Penicillin

It's still summer in LA but everyone is sick-- including me. And you know it's the real deal when you wake up at 3:00 AM and your nasal passage has been closed for business. I did everything right-- gargled with salted warm water, indulged in colloidal silver nasal spray, threw back a shot of squeezed lemon and grated ginger, and even cleansed with the joyous nette pot... I know. TMI. But nothing fixed me up like my mother's get-better soup, chalk full of onion, jalapeno, garlic, potato and egg. And even though she is miles away I still managed to sniffle over the stove and make my own. Thank goodness it's a simple preparation.

Thank you mom, XO.

Recipe

1 small onion-- any kind

1 glug of oil-- olive is good

1 jalapeno-- chili flakes make a decent stand-in

2 garlic cloves

1 potato-- a Russet will do, or left over rice

1 egg

4 cups water

half a lemon

salt and pepper to taste

Make

Halve the onion and slice it thin. In a heavy pot, saute the onion over medium heat with olive oil.

Dice the jalapeno, leaving out the seeds, and smash and mince the garlic. Add the jalapeno and garlic to the sauteed onions and saute for one minute.

Skin the potato and dice small. Add the water and potatoes to the sauce pan and simmer for 10 minutes.

Break an egg in a bowl and whisk with a fork. When the soup is seasoned with salt and pepper, drizzle the egg over the simmering soup and ladle.

The heat from the jalapeno and garlic clears everything up, and with a squeeze of lemon on top you'll have that extra blast of necessary vitamin C. Get better soon, XO.

Fattoush!

We've all been there-- too busy to get to the store, nothing in the fridge, cupboards are dark and all you want is something to grab and eat. And then it hits you. Crackers and cheese! So, you reach deep into the cupboard to find that fancy cracker-set you bought for your last get-together and open the fridge drawer hoping for a small wedge of something great or even a few slices of yellow packaged Tilamook, and empty.

It happened to me today. A day off and a nap in the works-- my couch had just the right amount of sun... But I forgot about lunch. And having a dry kitchen after a long week of cooking felt like a huge dig from the culinary universe. I did a quick survey of the galley and found two perfectly ripe tomatoes in the window from last weeks farmers market and a box of my fave crackers-- Milton's Crispy Sea Salt (incredible) and remembered a dish I had learned and have been making for the past five years in the Billionaire's kitchen. Fattoush. Fattoush is a salad made of crisp romaine, tomatoes, cucumber, sweet peppers, green onion, parsley, mint and toasted pita with lemon and olive oil. It's a beautiful Arabic salad that I love sharing with my culinary students, when I'm teaching. And it really hit me that I could make a salad with the same concept, same sentiment, and hopefully the same satisfaction. With tomatoes, broken sea salt crackers, lemon, olive oil and a heavy pinch of zataar (an incredible middle eastern herb that keeps well in the freezer) I had successfully made myself a poor man's fatoosh. Oh habibi...

The Quichee Leaks

I spent the early part of Sunday morning making a favorite smoked trout and leek quiche (plus a ham and cheese) that I had proudly made a hundred times before. It was a no-brainer, so I went about my business of rolling-out the dough, making the custard, and getting them into a 375 degree oven for about a half hour, all with the same ease and familiarity of taking a shower.

Grandma Betty was the mother of a dear client of mine and I was lucky enough to have her tart tins. Sure, they were a little warped and rusty, but no matter, they were lovely and I enjoyed photographing them with all my favorite fillings.

But did I mention I had a hangover?

Stupid me forgot to bake-off the crust before adding the filling! And Grandma Betty's tart tins are not forgiving...

Here's what happened...

Like a good schoolgirl I rolled out the dough evenly and fitted it nicely into the pan, being sure to pinch off any extra dough with a roll of the pin. I popped it in the freezer for thirty minutes to set the shape of the pastry.

Forgetting to prebake the pastry, I layered the soft, cooked leeks and pieces of smoked trout into the tart, adding shredded gruyere and custard. Into the oven they went.

As I read the Sunday paper I was surprised to hear a loud spattering sound, followed by a concussive hissing coming from my kitchen. I slammed down my coffee cup and jumped for the stove. The custard was flowing from the bottom of the pans, like runoff, onto the oven floor and I hadn't placed any protective sheet-pans below! What the fig was I thinking?! Quickly, I shoved pans below the draining quiche. There is a saying among chefs-- that we can't cook as well at home. Well, I am not sure if that saying applies here, this is more of what us chefs call a major %up. Anyhow...

My knee-jerk reaction was to pour the pool of custard, collecting in the pans below, back into the tart shells. I know, it's sort of like pouring water into a sieve, but it seemed to work. So, I kept at it, loudly cursing and scraping the blackened pools of custard off the bottom of the stove. The fire alarm was blaring.

And for some damn reason my efforts worked. Over a span of about fifteen minutes the pastry started to bake, the custard started to set, and the leaks damned-up. Damned up, I say.

Smoked Trout and Leek Quiche

Recipe

1 filet of smoked trout, picked into small and medium pieces

1 large leek, washed of all dirt and sand

8 oz. of grated gruyere

5 eggs

1 1/2 cups of half and half

a nob of butter

a scratch of nutmeg

kosher salt and pepper

puff pastry dough for a 9 inch pan (make it or buy it)

Cook

In a saute pan cook chopped leeks in butter until translucent and season with salt and pepper. Set aside to cool.

Roll out the puff dough large enough to fit a tart tin or a pie pan. Prick the bottom of the pastry with a fork and freeze for 30 minutes.

Cover the pastry with foil and weight it down with dried beans or rice. This will prevent the shell from forming a giant air bubble of pastry. Bake at 375 degrees for 20 minutes until cooked and very lightly browned.

Remove the foil and lace the tart shell with leeks, smoked trout and cheese, making sure to disperse it evenly. Combine the eggs, cream, nutmeg and salt and pepper and pour the mixture over the top of the filling. Bake at 375 degrees for 30 minutes.

Thanksgiving with Billionaires

If there is one thing billionaires know it's how to give thanks on Thanksgiving (in my five years of cooking in Los Angeles I have had the pleasure of managing the kitchens of two). Giving thanks typically extends beyond the large, immediate family to include the giant, not-so-immediate family, close friends, someone famous, a holiday-homeless assistant or two, and adopted types-- i.e. "cousins", and people who work out in the gym and have lunch regularly at the house . On average we're looking at close to fifty guests.

Thanksgiving week

By 11:00 AM, Monday, you can forget about parking your car near the service entrance. Floral trucks, Classic Party Rentals, and various other necessary holiday experts will be descending on the property. Gardeners trim whatever "Fall-ness" LA weather can manage and everyone is ramping up for Thursday. As a chef I have menu changes to attend to and last minute menu-meetings with the estate manager, event planner, and of course, The Mr.

There are orders to be filled, chefs to schedule, ovens to check, and prep lists to make-- on top of my regular job. With guests arriving through out the week, there will certainly be a running rush of "spa salads", grilled NY steaks, "quick" pastas, late breakfasts, early breakfasts, an executive lunch, "something sweet-yet-healthy", lattes from the coffee bar, family dinner for twelve, and someone looking for a low-fat cheese stick and a cracker. It's a busy house turned fully-booked Four Seasons hotel and no one is allowed to get sick. NO ONE. All staff is on high health-alert and everyone is downing Counter Attack, Echinacea Forte and Emergen-C around the clock. It's a big week.

I order extra double-door refrigerators (one for pies and one for turkeys) to accompany the already full, four, single Traulsens and two, large "low-boys" in the Chefs Kitchen. I make my list and spend as little time on the road and phone as possible. There are gallons of stock to be made and thirty loaves of fresh bread to be freezed, de-crusted, cubed into one inch dice, dried- out in all five ovens, cooled on a rack and sealed in buckets. And that's just Monday. Tuesday is turkey pickup day with a procession of shopping carts and an army of Whole Foods helpers in tow. My Prius is transformed into a delivery vehicle packed with 12# Turkeys from Heidi's Hens-- plus a "show" turkey. There are ten total.

My boss is known to be generous-- his family excitedly sets the staff a beautiful table in the staff lounge (he personally served the staff one year, pouring everyone a nice glass of Burgandy, before sitting down for dinner). Every family attending gets a take-away bag with turkey, all the trimmings, and a pumpkin pie.

Tuesday is also produce day and the poor delivery guy has to lug a dollie, piled high with vegetable boxes, over cobblestone because the service driveway is a 405 traffic jam of trucks, ramps and workers. My "double-doors" are installed and immediately filled with turkeys and veg and I am in full prep mode. I pray the Apilco is counted for and ready for service...

By Wednesday the green light is blaring GO. Chef Fiona arrives to help and between the two of us we prep for sweet potato ginger souffle, butternut squash soup, Fall fruit salad, roasted parsnips and potatoes, whipped potatoes, chestnut stuffing, cranberry relish, apple sauce, turkey, gravy, marble bundt cakes for breakfast, and various other family food faves. I BB the driver to pick up twenty, 8 inch, pumpkin pies from our trusted bakery first thing Thanksgiving day and remind him not to forget the morning pastries and fifty egg rolls. There are people to feed-- including 12 staff.

The Real Soda guy stocks the house with twenty cases of Fiji water and cases of sodas. The check list is a sharpie nightmare bordering illegibility. By 10 PM the turkey's are cleaned, lightly pre-seasoned and waiting to be trussed. I make my way home and dream of reflexology.

Game Day

6:00 AM alarm-- I have my aching foot on the pedal by 6:30. By 7:30 chef Fiona and chef Pascal have arrived. On this day, we are the Dallas Cowboys of the kitchen. Pascal is a classic, culinary Frenchie with knife skills that would make Jacques Pepin weep, while Fiona is my psychic, kitchen-sister. We have cooked together since 1997, four of those years on the line-- hence our psychic kitchen connection. She is a bad-ass. A Rock. A kitchen animal. We get to work.

By 10:00 AM the house is buzzing with family and randoms looking for breakfast and attention. Everyone is in a buoyant, holiday mood. The marble cakes, stuffing, and roasted veg rest on a speed-rack as the service-staff rolls in. We scramble some egg whites and roast-off the turkeys. We need ovens at noon-thirty for souffles and reheat, and check on oven temps and space. All the while thanking the heavens for the commercial steamer I hardly ever use. Fiona, side-towel in hand, cranks up the twenty quart mixer and whips pounds of potatoes into a heavenly cloud. It's a damn good day.

Whipped Potatoes ~ Pomme Puree

Helpful Equipment

Mandoline (slicer)

Ricer

Mixer

Recipe

Russet Potatoes

Cream

Milk

Butter

Nutmeg

Bay leaf

Salt and Pepper

Cook

Clean the potatoes of all skin and save in a large bowl/tub of water. Slice the potatoes into thick, uniform coins using a mandoline (slicer) or a knife. Place coins in water until ready to cook.

Bowl a body of water twice the size of your potato coin yield and season generously with salt. You should taste/smell the salt in the water.

Cook the potatoes on the highest heat without boiling over. The idea is to cook the potatoes quickly; and for each potato piece to cook at the same time-- hence the uniform coin shape. This should help reduce the chances of a soupy/lumpy puree. You will know the potatoes are done when the tip of a paring knife easily slips through the coin. Be careful not to over cook them-- falling to pieces in the water.

~ In a small sauce pan, gently heat one part cream to one part milk and add spoonfuls of butter. Include a bay leaf and a couple of scratches of nutmeg.

Strain them in a large strainer and allow the steam to steam-off as much water as possible. The lengthy steaming should render a dry potato ready for the hot cream mixture above.

When the potatoes are dry and still very warm to hot, push the potatoes through a ricer. This is exhausting but well worth it. The potatoes will not be overworked and therefor starchy.

In a mixer or in a bowl, gently whip in the hot milk mixture and season along the way with salt and white pepper, avoiding over mixing. Keep on the stove covered in a warm place; or bake in a buttered dish until fluffy and a light, golden, crust.

Jonathan Gold Gets Four Loko for American Psycho

Yeah. I thought that might get your attention. It got mine. I was seriously perplexed when my friend Kim Stevens invited me to hear Pulitzer Prized food writer/critic Jonathan Gold and American pop-culture novelist (American Psycho, Less Than Zero...) Brett Easton Ellis in a "mash-up" at the Hammer Museum, last night. What on earth could it be, we wondered. What, who, why could these two prolific writers be in a conversation for all to see? I could hardly wait for it to start.

One could only assume that Brett Easton Ellis had become some sort of foodgeek. After all, he had lived in New York for many years, and the possibilities of him dining at Babbo with Gweneth Paltrow's friends, seemed fair. Even if, just nineteen years ago, Ellis was writing things I could not bring myself to read; gratuitous, senseless, murder scenes, just didn't add up with dining at Bouley. At the very least it seemed to be much more Momofuku (the brilliant edge of Momofuku) than anything. But who could surmise at that point? I suppose I left it at that.

But that was not the case at all. Ellis walked on stage carrying a heavy, black shoulder-bag, loaded with Four Loko-- a bizarre, Asian soda/beer that apparently comes in many flavors. Ellis offered one to Gold-- who had never had one. Imagine that? Offering Jonathan Gold an Asian food product he had yet to taste- and you're not a Korean grandmother? I suppose Ellis is just as innovative as we had thought. But his culinary interests seemed to end there.

The conversation was unmonitored leaving lots of room for conversational scale-tipping, and it was hilarious. Foodies in the audience sat back as Ellis stole the show, making witty, comic remarks about the over-usage of phrases like "man-up" and "it is what it is". Gold just went along, almost interviewing Ellis (it seems that they are good friends, and get together regularly) asking Ellis-- what in pop-culture most currently exemplifies Los Angeles. Ellis replied, that the MTV show The Hills was tragically LA's best mirror-- and a show he loved and watched. The audience was rolling.

It wasn't really until the audience-questions were asked that Gold had his chance. And I asked him about his impression of Yelp. Yelp being somewhat his competition. And in a five minute answer he declared his distaste of Yelp; considering it at times to be a mere address book for restaurants, with reviews from people who don't typically have the discerment or the training to discuss the merits of good food. But what he did appreciate was how Yelp, if you understood how to utilize it, could bring the reader into unique neighborhoods of cultural foods, that would otherwise be hard to discover.

In the end, Four Loko had its critique, too, (with Gold announcing it's flavor profile much like a beer with Jolly Ranchers, to which Ellis said-- that sounds like something I would like), Ellis suggested a book titled Sluts by Dennis Cooper, and Gold agreed (I think) to watch the The Hills (!)

And that's when Kim and I made our way to the bar, hungry, and grateful to find a sea of bread sticks. They were on every table, tall and golden, jutting out of big, glass jars. We ignored the book signing and polished off a handful each, chatting with Gold's cool, editor wife, and a few other interesting people from the LA Weekly.

And then they kicked us out. The night was over. And somehow I was awarded the left-over bread sticks-- an entire pastry box worth of bread sticks, to take home. And what can a single gal manage with a box of bread sticks? Bread crumbs. That's what.

Parmesan Bread Stick Bread Crumbs

Recipe

Bread sticks from anywhere. Anywhere.

Cook

Crush in a mixer, or plastic bag with a rolling pin. Freeze in a plastic bag and pull out whenever you need them!

Quick puff pastry... say, what?

Yes. It's true. In the universe of laborious French pastry, there actually exists a quick puff pastry recipe (!) Instead of the classic time-sucking day and a half process of puff dough-hell, you can roll out a fresh batch in just two hours! Sure, I know what you're thinking-- why on earth would I even bother with a quick recipe when I can buy Pepperidge Farms, or the very good brand Dufour? Or, what the hell is puff dough anyway and why the hell would I make it if it typically takes a day and a half, or even just two hours? Seriously, laundry doesn't take that long... Let's skip that last thought.

It's pretty simple-- there is nothing like handmade puff pastry baked in your own kitchen. Made, of course, by you.

The recipe is Clay's Quick Puff Dough from my favorite dessert book-- Chez Panisse Desserts, by Lindsey Remolif Shere. I revere this book and have worn down it's pages over the years-- there is even evidence of chocolate and butter and a signature from Alice Waters, herself.

So, here it is. In all it's glory. Made, on a somewhat cool, early eve on my kitchen table. Try it at home. And remember; if you screw it up, who cares. Anyhow, what have you got to lose? Two hours?

An adaption of Clay's Quick Puff Pastry

Makes about 3 1/2 pounds of dough, enough for 4 or 5 nine-inch tart shells. Use this dough for free-form, savory/fruit galettes or tarts. Also great for hand held pies, or sugary palms and bow ties (great with a cookie plate or a dish of ice cream.)

Recipe

3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/2 cups cake flour

1 1/2 tsp salt

3 1/4 cups of unsalted butter (1 pound 10 ounces)

2 tbs lemon juice (one lemon)

1 cup of ice water

A large cutting board, marble or clean surface, 19"x 14", is needed to prepare the dough. Also, do not attempt to make this on a warm day. The room needs to be cool.

The butter must be cold and cut into 1/2 inch cubes. Portion it onto parchment and pop it in the freezer for 20 minutes.

Combine the two flours and the salt. Mix with a whisk to incorporate the ingredients well.

Combine the ice water and lemon juice.

Once the butter is cold place the butter and flour into a mixer (using a paddle) or a food processor. Pulse or mix until the butter is 1/2 inch in size and rough looking. Add the lemon juice and ice cold water and pulse two or three times until the dough is moist.

Turn out onto a floured cutting board and push tho dough into a triangle. Do not kneed, it will become tough. Working quickly, roll the dough evenly, using all your weight, but careful not to dent the dough. Roll it to a 1/2" thick, keeping the shape of a rectangle.

To begin, you will fold the dough over itself, starting with the left side: 1) fold the left side over the middle 2) fold the right side over the middle to create 3 layers of dough. The edges of the dough need to be even in thickness and shape, so as not to have build up at the ends.

This folding creates layers of butter and flour, creating the "puff" effect of the dough as it bakes. The moisture from the butter creates a vapor that separates each layer. This is what we are trying to achieve. Chill the dough if it becomes soft and return it to the cutting board. "Turn" the dough a quarter-turn and roll the layers into each other.

Turn this 3 times and roll the layers together.

Once the last 4th turn is completed, fold it in thirds and wrap in plastic. Chill in the freezer for one hour, to rest the gluten in the dough.

After an hour, pull the dough from the freezer and let it warm for 15-20 minutes. When is is maleable but still very cold, turn the dough two more times. At this point the dough should be very smooth.

Fold the dough into thirds and cut into three pieces. Wrap and date. Chill for two more hours before baking. The rise of the dough will always be best two hours after. Keep the dough in the refrigerator for up to three days, or in the freezer for several months.

Test the dough after the last two hours of resting, and bake a slice or two with a sprinkle of raw sugar, at 400 degrees until brown.

Later, Arnold

My friends and I shared hellos with the Governator today, in his final days of office, at the Brentwood Country Mart. It would have felt more auspicious on this election eve had Arnold not been a regular there-- dining on the Mart's lowbrow fare.

The first time I met Arnold was in my kitchen at Beverly Park. I was scraping handmade spaetzle off a cutting board into boiling salted water, wishing I had made time to make pierogi. God knows what was on the menu that evening, but I am sure there was some sort of smoked fish and pickled cabbage. Someday, I'll come across that menu and smile, remembering his giant handshake and the cigar he whipped through the air as he made charming conversation. He was certainly nice enough, and because I didn't vote for him, I felt a little guilty for liking him at all. Why is it always that way?

Anyhow, it's his Secret Service guys that are fun to have hanging in the kitchen, making sure the food is on the up and up. Whenever a head of state is around, or an A-lister, security is front and center. And when those guys show up to watch the kitchen, the topic is always the same: brief, and funny, we laugh at the strangeness of our jobs. I like to ask them if they ever get bored standing with their feet apart; hands behind their backs; looking like the Blues Brothers. They usually laugh, and ask me if I ever get bored with my cutting board... And I say, that's all you got? That's pretty much how it goes. Bad Secret Service jokes are hilarious, in the moment.

And then I offer them an espresso. And every once in a while, someone gives in. And then we talk about how neccesarry coffee is to our upright careers and how we wouldn't have it any other way, yada, yada, because sitting down is certainly overrated-- for sure.

So, today, when I saw Arnold digging into his chicken basket with fries, I recognized one of his Secret Service guys. And I wondered if the insatiable smell from the rotisserie chicken was making his stomach growl, and if the espresso waft from the nearby Luxxe Caffe was driving that Secret Service guy mad. And I imagined the Governor (now just weeks away from ending his term) ordering the pumpkin ice cream at the Country Mart's Sweet Rose Creamery, while his security men stood near by, peering into the windows, watching him polish off a cone and wondering what it will be like to watch Governor Jerry Brown eat-- next term.

And that's when I had enough excuses to order myself an election eve scoop of salted caramel ice cream smothered with a shot of steaming espresso. I told myself I was taking one for the team. Oh, yeah. And celebrating early.