Dorothy Kalin's:: The Kitchen Whisperers

A book review (posted to Goodreads dot com)

I fell in love with this book, especially the concept of the book, right away. I cook with lots of wonderful voices in the kitchen - both grandmothers (Coca Cola Cake and Lamb Stew on one side, Lemon Meringue pie and Chicken Croquettes on the other), my mom, good friends, Mrs. Child - of course, the brilliant chefs I've worked with, TV chefs who want to draw us in and get us moving and the quiet cookbook writers and stylists who offer their best.

They all seem to want to engage with us so we try new things, to go beyond our self-imposed borders and experience the wonders of the kitchen, the market, the table. At some point in the book, and it may have been too early on, Ms. Kalin's voice went from collaborative and encouraging to showcasing. Her Kitchen Whisperers are the chefs, the magazine editors and the stylists with whom she collaborated. Somehow, rather than drawing us in, she seemed to have drawn a line - a sort of "us and you" line I found off-putting. She makes a statement about a chef whose new kitchen isn't completed and he brings an amazing meal to the table with two toaster ovens and a hot plate. Brilliant! Wonderful! Exciting! Tell me more, tell me how. Instead, she goes on to comment, "In most chef's kitchens, and especially in most high-end non-chef's kitchens, you'll find a row of shiny appliances that signify mastery to the Williams Sonoma crowd but in reality only telegraph a quick Amazon trigger finger. (Just because they're there doesn't meant they're used, or used well.)" Ouch. There is this unnecessary defense of expertise. I'd prefer she acknowledge the heritage of home cooking - the inspiration, the doing, showing, trying, sharing. It's food! If someone with limited experience gets their hands dirty by using shiny appliances and gadgets, hooray! They're in the kitchen. 

I will say this, the book is staying in my kitchen. It was passed along by my dear friend Michelle - who is a fabulous cook and one of my Whisperers. I assumed I'd read it and pass it along, but I can't! It's FULL of sticky notes, full of ideas for the hours I'll spend at the farmers market and then in the kitchen. (I do wish she'd indexed all the non-recipe recipes!)

This is a good book but sadly, Kalins managed to separate, perhaps unintentionally, the reader and her accomplished associates, when she could have sidled up next to us and become our Kitchen Whisperer.

Judging a book by the cover.

Yes you can and I did.
Who would put a pint of Sea Salt Caramel gelato in such an interesting (screw top) container like this and make such a simple, pleasing label and not make it also wonderful to the tongue?
I judged well and I will have to look into what ever other flavors Talenti has for me.
Sea Salt Caramel was a good first try.

Ahh, the Bergamot

Like many, many people my only understanding of the Bergamot was some essential oil memory. An oil sold with the likes of Patchouili oil. It had something to do either with hippies or massage therapists.

Thankfully, life provides experiences (and a  foraging neighbor) so my understanding has been refined.

Stick with me here.

In the early 2000s, a lovely gardening man I worked with, used to bring small vases of Freesia into my office in winter. At first I just thought they were beautiful. Over time, I realized that they were beautiful and fragrant and drove me to want a cup of tea. And, as my unintentional explorations led, I found my desire fulfilled in Earl Grey. I've become quite an Earl Grey connoisseur, I enjoy the subtler, not to perfumey types and I like the hint of Bergamot. (See how we came full circle - wait there's more).

I was content with my tea and freesia experiences. Then this summer my friend, the foraging friend, introduced me to a beautiful line of pure and delicious olive oils. They are tres special. The way the olives are harvested and crushed makes for a very complete flavor. Garlic is crushed with the olives (for the garlic olive oil) rather than garlic oils being added to the olive oil. No infusion. Full on flavor marriage. You can learn about the oils here. I'm never going back!

In the end, the flavors hold up in cooking or preparations really well and that pleases me.

One day, I was looking at the Bergamot label and was truly surprised to learn that Bergamot isn't extracted from actual hippies, but from the Bergamot, a citrus fruit grown in Calabria, Italy or perhaps France.

Finally, yesterday, Mary handed me an actual Bergamot from one from her travels. Yes, it looks like a lemon and your knowledge of citrus has probably made your mouth water as if to smell or taste the sour. But the fragrance is intense and beautiful and clean and freesia like.

I have to cut into it and taste it. It's said to be more bitter than the grapefruit, which seems impossible with its beautiful scent. I plan, however to wait. I want to leave it on the counter in my kitchen and breath in all the aroma this beauty has to offer.

Traditions & a French Dip Sandwich

My kids are getting old. The handwriting is on the wall. They may not be leaving tomorrow, but every moment today has to do with their tomorrows. I'm noticing how important family traditions are to both of my two. We have plenty of traditions around holidays, Sundays, birthdays, late mornings, etc., (and a discussion of them will make another post).

I've also noticed that the traditions I don't legislate, but that evolve over time are very important.

A year or so ago we went to Philippe's for French Dip Sandwiches a couple of times after Christmas. We saw lots of families with college aged kids, likely home for the holidays, eating and chatting for long stretches of time. I thought, "I love this - a cool, not-so-blatantly Christmassy traditional visit to a great LA institution - we can do this!"

However, we didn't go at Christmas this year. At least I didn't go. My Dear took the kids into LA for some errand or another and ended up stopping at Philippe's without me. And then I got this laryngitis business and didn't feel like going anywhere for a couple of weeks. My tradition was canceled, put off, done for the season.

So Monday, with the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday, we decided to go up to LA's great camera store - Samy's -  to explore each of our digital photo/video needs. And on the way we stopped, along with the rest of the city, for a French Dipped Sandwich.

While we stood in line, my daughter starting singing Christmas songs. And my son reminded me that the Beef Dip is better with a pickled egg.

My timing may be off a bit, but my traditions are thankfully, embraced and intact.

Apples in the country.

It started here in Colonial Chesterfield - Riley's Farm in Oak Glen, CA. It is one of the most beautiful places in the state.



While you may drive up in a four wheeled wonder, you move into the 1700s when you cross into the farm. We've enjoyed much fun here in the past, including a Revolutionary War re-enactment, but that is not this story.

On this day we started with lunch at the Hawk's Head pub including music of the Colonies whilst being served by costumed maidens with British accents.

Then we headed off for our mission: picking apples.

Shenanigans and hi jinx ensued.

And yet, we found the mother load.

And then some.

And apples, beautiful, crisp, fresh and yummy,  came home.
The pumpkins are Part 2.

Food Friday - My favorite Vinaigrette - oh, but I repeat myself

Last night I shared dinner with my lovely friends. Our topic is Simplicity for the Soul, so, I brought a simple salad (see what I did there?) I tossed a little arugula, baby greens, a firm, chopped Ricotta Salata and Heirloom Tomatoes. And topped it with my favorite Dijon Vinaigrette and was reminded, this recipe truly is perfection. If all you have to keep in your pantry is Grey Poupon, Apple Cider Vinegar and good, rich, extra virgin olive oil, you'll never have to buy dressing. Ever. In your life. Pretty pure and pretty yummy. It's also quite versatile.

Here's a link to the recipe for Sheri and I'll recommend these variations:

• Switch vinegars to Rice Wine vinegar, it's milder, tender and subtle, doesn't require so much of the salad
• Throw in pico de gallo for a Mexicany flavor (crush tortilla chips and add avocados to the salad - it's also good as a French dip for tortilla chips)
• Pour it over the Cafe Un Deux Trois  salad: romaine, chopped Granny Smith apples, walnuts, crumbled blue cheese (I beg you, hand crumble, the ready-crumbled stuff has a powdery texture). I note they now serve this with endive, but the original recipe was with romaine. It has a good crisp bite.

Do you have a favorite, workhorse dressing?

This pretty salad is found here. I sure wish they had a location on the left coast.

Breakfast at Marjorie's

My girlfriend sent me a little text this morning with a mid-morning query, "Where's my friend?" which led to, the whatcha doin', didjya eat, wanna have breakfast conversation. I dragged a brush through my hair, grabbed my youngest and these fixin's and scooted down the street. Her team was mostly in pj's and gravitated to the TV room with my girl while Marj and I got after the side by side breakfast business. She made her soon-so-be-world famous crunchy, fluffy waffles while I turned this green bowl goodness into my current favorite breakfast: Spanish Eggs.

I've happily shared the original recipe. Oh, but I deviate and suggest you do to - with great gusto! Red peppers, green, yellow, minced carrots, more onions, add 'em in. It is a delicious way to enjoy a shirred or poachy kind of egg. And best served with good friends, great conversations and today, pear tea.
Saturday mornings all around, I say!

Peachy

Oh, the summer fruit.
Who doesn't love the color, the fragrance, the flavor of the peach?
The neighbor's peach tree is overloaded and I'm dreaming about what each of these darlings will become in the next phase of their lives.
I'll let you know as we go. But I must ask the question:
What do you do with your peaches?

Popsicles

I could go on about the brilliance of time for summer reading, or the de-stuffing projects, but really, all that's on my mind is popsicles. Like these at DesignSponge.
I have hungry, hot, tired people around and the second best thing I can think of to cool them down is a cool thing on a cool stick.
We'll maybe even make them out of watermelon, like our favorite watermelon granita.
Believe me we'll be enjoying Christina's Fabulous Summer Slush. But that recipe is for another summer's day.
Ah, summer.

Spatchcocked Chicken Night

You can't imagine the fun we had last night making this unbelievably easy and unreasonably delicious dish. It may be the 7th wonder of the food world.

Our dear friends, the one's we call, "Group"  (five families, nine kids and thirteen years of infectious affection), gathered last night for a pool and dinner party. Kids were everywhere - ranging from 10 to 14. Parents came from as far as 300 miles away for the event. (This is close to full compliment with a family out of the country.)

Of course, we all had responsibility for a dish and the host made scrumptious chicken, from a MS Everyday recipe. We, of course, went right into Julia Child mode discussing the merits of a Spatchcocked Chicken, the method, ("First you spatchcock the chicken by running a knife down it's back...") loudly and joyfully.  It is the most delicious chicken I've EVER eaten. No exaggeration and, I'm posting the recipe.

Just in case you don't know the cooking term to Spatchcock (which I only vaguely recalled and couldn't define very well) is an Irish term and refers to the removal of the backbone and flattening of a chicken for the purpose of rapid cooking. (We could call it butterflying, but Spatchcock has so much more gusto.) You can also use it to refer to something dispensed with quickly. Good word.

Beyond the chicken what I loved most about this night was the play occurring all over the house. There were men with cellphones and cameras and apps all kibitzing about new and better and what's next. The kids swam and worked in the studio or performed well-choreographed dance routines and the moms stood around the kitchen laughing and talking and cooking and making friendship bracelets. Friends for life friendship bracelets. Good play.

Good friends. And a good night.

Photo credit: Michelle Goldstein  (our Mama G.)

The well beaten path

Last night my kiddos and I found ourselves back at Philippe's in downtown L.A. We'd been over to the west side, home and back to up to Hollywood when my son became, "Ravenous Man." For me, any trip away from home is a great opportunity to try, see, taste something new or experience a place in the local culture, so my brain was working on the many spots available when Philippe's entered his mind.
We hopped onto the 101 freeway and sat as visions of French Dipped Sandwiches danced in his head. (Neither my girlie nor I were really thinking sandwiches, so she quickly declared that she'd be dining on potato salad while I recalled a Caesar Salad I'd never tried.)

When we pulled up it felt so familiar and welcoming.
Queues were short and we found ourselves at the head of the line, then off through the sawdust to our table in no time.

While we ate and stared at the beet red pickled eggs we really noticed what a center of Los Angeles culture Philippe's really is.

From the back room, we heard a little girl singing loudly with an auditioning-for-Annie voice. We saw a couple of dressed-for-casting swing dance hipsters. There were a couple of lawyers discussing details of a case at the big common table to our right, a group of older men in their 70s kibitzing and occasionally watching the World Cup on the TV, a Chinese couple sharing their own bag of Hawaiian Style potato chips with the beef dips, young tourists chatting behind us, and literally hundreds of others coming in and out as we sat. I wondered who they all were, where they were going and most interestingly, where they'd been. My musings were interrupted when one of the men who busses tables offered to take our picture. He was dear, but my inner-Los Angeleno was highly insulted. "Wait just a doggone minute!" she cried out. "I'm from here! My dad ate here in the 50's when he worked in the copy department at the Broadway and the Times. I came when I first worked in advertising in my twenties. My husband came as a kid with his parents. And my kids have come since they were really little! In fact, we were here just a month or so ago! We're from here, sir!"

Instead, I simply offered a, "no, thank you, sir" and went back to my cup of sixty five cent coffee and sighed, with great gratitude, for the opportunity to walk and share the well beaten floors of a Los Angeles institution.

By the way, it was a tasty Caesar Salad.

Kids Color Week:: Orange

My young photographer referred me to some of her previous work for ORANGE day.

There are butterfly mobiles we oogled at the California Sciencenter.

And this is our world famous Monkey Bread on an orange and blue plate (ok, it's salmon again!).

Here's a link to the step by step recipe for this famous-at-our-house and truly yummy delight.