Saturday, by myself.

Coconut Bread w/ Slivered Almonds + Chocolate Chunks, February 2010

It was a beautiful, slow moving, and contemplative day. The type of day where you find yourself noticing the objects on your kitchen counter and recalling the origin of each piece.

I'd happened upon this recipe three times. It could wait no longer.

Preparation is truly stress free. From corralling the ingredients to folding in the melted butter, it was a complete pleasure.

Try it, on a day when you are far from hurried. Add slivered almonds and chunks of chocolate.

Eat your first slice while it is still warm. Preferably while you are alone, and gazing out a window.

Share the rest.

Kitchen Counter Objects, February 2010

Saturday, by myself. February 2010

Cucina Nicolina
Seven Spoons
The Wednesday Chef

PDX

Chris + Irvington, 2010

I'm home!

HIGHLIGHTS FROM PORTLAND, OR:

Our arrival...
The side of the Portland Union Train Station sign that reads GO BY TRAIN. It looks fabulous when lit up at night.

Cartola's perfectly prepared cappuccinos, beautiful design, soothing music + free copy of The New York Times.

Helen Bernhard Bakery's crumb donut (cake, not raised) -- the best donut I've ever eaten.

Brunch at Blossoming Lotus. Beautiful kale! Delicious fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice in their Breakfast Greyhound.
Bonus: There was something about the name of the place that made us giggle each time we walked past the sign.

A leisurely afternoon-turned-evening with our friend Daniel. We visited Foster & Dobbs and stocked up on cheese, cured meats, craft beer, fantastic olives (Castelvetranos were our favorite) and the most wonderful salty date and almond crackers. We finished our evening with squares of dark chocolate + ginger.

I stumbled upon Knit Knot Studio while visiting the Pearl District and had a conversation with Elizabeth, the charming owner. She took one look at my favorite scarf and said Oh sweetie, I need to teach you how to create a nice edge for your scarves. She was also convinced that I must give up my bamboo needles and silly wrap around stitching method. I needed to move up to aluminum needles and continental style knitting (the-only-way-to-go in Poland). I know I know, it all seems a little harsh, but really, it wasn't. She loved sharing her wisdom and teaching and did so lovingly. If I lived in Portland I'd buy all of my yarn at Knit Knot, just so I could hang out with Elizabeth.

Strolling the streets of moss-covered Irvington. Moss in just about every shade of green covered just about every exposed surface. Petite purple flowers were popping up through the grass on every corner. The rain has served Portland well.

My last day...
I found it surprisingly satisfying to sit at the counter in Stumptown's downtown cafe. Cappuccino, book of poetry in hand, very loud bass-filled music filling the giant open space. Somehow this was very relaxing. I can't explain.

Irvington moss, 2010

In and around Seattle

Complete! February 4, 2010

Walking
from Capitol Hill to the downtown Seattle area every morning.

Eating
panettone (toasted lightly on the panini press) from Stella Caffe, balsamic strawberry ice cream from Molly Moon's, salt cod hash from Coastal Kitchen, demi-poulet froid mayonnaise from Café Presse.

Ferrying
to Bainbridge Island in the rain.

Drinking
a Mac n Jacks African Amber in The Harbour Public House. What a view!

Listening
to Elizabeth Gilbert's voice.

Knitting
and completing a two-yarn scarf (silk, mohair, merino, cashmere + tiny glass beads) and beginning an organic cotton washcloth.

Noticing
the early evening blue framed by the bedroom window.

3 Simple Things

Chris + Salad* at Serpentine, 2010  
*Those beets are pickled and they are marvelously good!

I.    A  NOTE

Returning from a long weekend away and finding the following email in my inbox. 

Subject: my little fruit salad

hi dene,

i just thought of you as i sliced and diced one bosc pear, one gala apple, one banana, and squeezed an entire cara cara orange over the top... plain, simple, and delicious, and enough for two days for me, or one serving each for you and chris.

love you :)
mom

II.    A  CALL
Just recently, my father was quite determined to find a poem he recalled from his childhood.  He called me to see if I could help him figure it out.  I was pretty quick, but Dad found it first.  

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost 

III.    A  LONG  LUNCH  AND  A  BOOK
Tie between a long luxurious lunch with Chris (pictured above) and his reading an entire Annie Dillard book to me one day during a long weekend spent in Pescadero.   

Getting carded at Duarte's after ordering a Sierra Nevada almost made III. a 3-way tie, but I decided against it.

Share your 3?  

more here...

January

January, 2010

Hearing:
The construction and traffic that's so much louder when I turn off the radiator. I think I'll turn the radiator back on...

Tasting:
The salted caramel pot de creme at Serpentine. I believe it is the best dessert I have ever tasted.

Smelling:
Citrus. Fresh squeezed grapefruit juice. I've been craving grapefruit, but today is not a market day, so I just stopped at a corner market and bought what they had. Texas Rio Star grapefruit. Unfortunately, not local...but they smelled so good as I was squeezing the juice.

Seeing:
A Man in North Beach. His name is Roy. He has some "issues" and often wanders the streets and pops in and out of cafes and shops shouting out his disgruntled thoughts. Sometimes it seems we have to conjure up all of our patience just to tolerate him. Today I saw him seated outside Victoria Pastry with a man who had the nicest way about him. They were having a real conversation and Roy was laughing. It brought a tear to my eye.

Touching:
The new yarn I bought to make my friend, Joen, a scarf. I want to knit a huge blanket with this yarn and sleep beneath it every night. Dreamy, but I've never attempted a knitting project so large. Maybe I'll just knit Joen's scarf and dream about the blanket.

More here.

Psst. Come over here.

Distillation by Alembic, 1910

 Image: Wikimedia Commons

Where?  The Alembic Bar.  They are located at 1725 Haight Street in San Francisco.  I've been curious about this place since reading an Edible SF article about them in early 2008.  Luckily, my friend Joen had a birthday that required celebration during the same month The Alembic Bar began serving lunch.

Although rumor has it this place fills to capacity each evening, it seems most people are unaware of their new lunch service.  We practically had the bar to ourselves.  This was a pleasant surprise after reading a few unpleasant comments on yelp such as ...A small blonde waitress approached us and announced, "We don't pack 'em in here. It's not our style.  Leave and we can call you if we have room for you later." and ...the bartenders were aloof, yet gracious enough to eventually pour our drinks. I've noticed a lot more establishments in SF adopting this idea they seem to think is fashionable that the customers should be treated like garbage.

We did not experience anything of the sort.  Lately, I tend to feel a little hesitant when a bar or restaurant has recently surged in popularity, produced a tasteful website, and eloquently described all that they have to offer their clientele.  I just don't like being disappointed.  I wasn't.  Our lunch was fabulous.

My beverage, well, I actually drank two, was one of the best drinks I've ever tasted.  It was called a Southern Exposure.  When it arrived at our table, I just had to stop and look at it for a while.  It was a beautiful deep yet muted green color and served in a darling little glass.  The Southern Exposure combines junipero gin, fresh mint, lime juice, a touch of sugar and a little shot of celery juice.  Exquisite.

For lunch I ordered the Slow Poached Egg and oh my, it was heavenly!  The most beautiful yolk I've ever seen and it tasted as good as it looked.  This pristine poached egg rested on top of a nice thick slice of toasted brioche, a layer of thinly shredded Brussels sprouts, a sprinkle of Parmesan, and just a hint of bacon marmalade.  Seriously spectacular.

So don't tell everyone you know, but do make your way over to The Alembic Bar for lunch before word gets out.  You understand, I'd still like to be able to find a table when I return for my Southern Exposure + Slow Poached Egg fix.

My salute to the satsuma.

The glorious satsuma.
I love it here, I love it there, I really love it everywhere.

I like them seen way down below.

I like one resting in a bowl.

Or with some pals in a Nijiya Market still life.

They are so sweet,

they are so nice.

Sometimes safely tucked inside a nook.

 
Or resting quietly, with a book.

The peel drops from the flesh,
and there's never a seed.

Eat one today and happy you'll be.

I prefer men to cauliflowers.

Lounging Cauliflower, 2009

Like Ms Woolf's Peter Walsh, I too prefer men to cauliflowers, but when it's roasted cauliflowers we are discussing, well, the competition stiffens. I've been meaning to roast cauliflower for quite some time now. Yesterday, I decided it was an activity that could no longer be delayed.

The Tuesday Market didn't have any cauliflower, but Farm Fresh to You, inside the Ferry Building, had two choices: 1) A nice traditional white head of cauliflower wrapped in plastic 2) An uninhibited green head, no plastic jacket. I chose the green. There's just something I find off-putting about plastic-wrapped produce. This distaste for plastic-wrapped produce is one of the main reasons I haven't visited Trader Joe's in a while. The Tuesday Market did supply me with an inspirational bunch of young leeks. With cauliflower and leeks in hand, and a few other items I knew I had in my kitchen, I decided to construct a pizza.

Roasted Cauliflower, Caramelized Leek, and Crispy Pancetta Pizza
(serves 2)

• 1/2 recipe of this pizza dough, or enough for a rectangular pizza the size of a small cookie sheet (Store the other half in the refrigerator for your next pizza.)
  
• One small head of cauliflower (Any color will do.) sliced lengthwise into 3/4 inch slices
• 3 thin slices of pancetta, diced
• 1/2 head roasted garlic
• 4 small leeks, sliced thin and slowly caramelized in generous amount of olive oil
• A very small amount of cheese (I used a few curls pulled with a vegetable peeler from a block of Marin Cheese sharp white cheddar. No one ever uses cheddar on pizza and I wanted to give it a go. Chris agreed.)
• Olive oil (Keep bottle on counter, you'll need it.)
• Salt & Pepper (I happened to have Fleur de Sel and freshly ground black pepper.)

Roast a head of garlic if you don't have one on hand, actually, roast two and save one for later.

Read your dough recipe and allow yourself some leisurely time to prepare. It's quite simple, but it takes a while.

You can pre-cook the rest of the ingredients ahead of time or wait until your last dough rising cycle and begin then.

Rub both sides of your cauliflower slices with olive oil, place on cookie sheet, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast for about 20 minutes, turning once. If you end up with some smallish pieces of cauliflower, wait about 10 minutes to add them to the cookie sheet. This will avoid burning. Your cauliflower should brown a bit on both sides. Set aside and let cool to room temperature.

Saute pancetta in a little olive oil until lightly crisped. Don't overcook because it will crisp up a bit more on the pizza. Move pancetta from pan to a small bowl or plate. Do not drain on paper. Do not wash pan.

Add a bit more olive oil to your saute pan (the same one you used for the pancetta) and add sliced leeks. Slowly caramelize your leeks and let them cool to room temperature in pan.

Preheat oven to 500 degrees.

Break up roasted cauliflower and add to leeks in pan. Toss leeks and cauliflower and add additional salt and pepper to taste (remember...pancetta is salty).

Press dough into cookie sheet, out to the edges of the pan.

Smear cloves of soft roasted garlic onto the dough with your hands--a bit here, a bit there.

Evenly sprinkle leek and cauliflower mixture on top of garlic.

Scatter pancetta on top of leeks and cauliflower (don't wash the bowl).

Pull a few curls of cheese and place on top.

Dip your fingers into the pancetta bowl and rub on all of the exposed crust showing around the edges of the toppings.

Bake for about 10 minutes or until crust begins to turn light brown. If the toppings start looking too brown before the crust turns brown, cover them with a sheet of foil.

Remove from oven, cool for a few minutes, and EAT!

Use the other half of your dough later in the week for a roasted red pepper, feta, and chicken Italian sausage pizza. That's what I'll be doing...

Yes, this takes a little time, but it's fun, and remember--don't let your priorities get in the way of your priorities.

Everything old is new again.

Late October, 2009

This new light, it makes everything feel so different.

Good Poem Hunting

My best friend's breakfast. September, 2009

Do you have a favorite poem?

Whenever I'm asked this question I think of a very early work of Sylvia Plath's, Jilted. It reminds me of so many of the thoughts I had during my adolescent years. Looking back, those thoughts seem sweet and cute, but back then it was all very serious.

Would you share your favorite poem with me (just post it in the comments section)?

Side note:
Here's wishing you find the perfect light, and when you do, that you happen to be with someone who will pause, put down his fork and knife, and be patient while you work.

But is it work? No, not really.

Enjoy your day.

This is not my Chicago.

On my way home after visiting with my Aunt Barb,
shot from the train, somewhere near La Grange, IL.
Autumn 2009

...but maybe it's better. Oh, I'm just not sure.

There is often a struggle between my adventurous side and my sentimental side. For instance, the new Millennium Park is great, but I miss the original Petrillo Band Shell and the old Grant Park of my childhood. I'm sure most would disagree, Millennium Park is a big hit, but my Chicago past holds a very special place in my heart and the old run down Grant Park is part of that past.

That being said, my trip "back home" did not include one Chicago-style hot dog. There was not a poppy seed bun in sight. Those delicious Italian beef sandwiches, the type they used to sell in the shop below my grandmother's apartment, the tasty treat I used to earn by peeling potatoes for the owner's french fries. Nope. I didn't eat one. Chris took our new friend from London to Pizzeria Uno for a deep dish pie, but me, I was not along for that ride.

These were the Chicago standards I grew up adoring, but during this trip I focused in on some new favorites.

The Publican. It's a great place. If you visit Chicago, go. If you live in Chicago, why am I telling you about this place? Although I was incredibly fond of the pig paintings on the walls, I loved their housemade pickles, the pork rinds were out of this world, and the beer selection was spectacular--it was the suckling pig, yes, that Fairbury, IL pig from Slagel Family Farm that truly won my heart. When we quickly perused the menu and ordered suckling pig as one of our many shared dishes, we'd imagined a large and somewhat messy platter piled high with rough chopped pork. This was not the case. I don't know where I came up with this idea, I've never eaten suckling pig. When it arrived, well, we all frowned a bit. That's it? It was a tastefully arranged dish (broccoli, delicate little grapes, and almonds--plated upon a small serving of creamy grits) , quite beautiful really, but we'd anticipated that messy overflowing platter... We were sitting in this enormous beer hall filled with long communal tables, pork rinds as big as your head, and grand pig portraits decorating the place. We were thinking BIG. Long story short, the suckling pig was exquisite and my favorite dish of the trip. Order it.

Next on my list is the best almond croissant I have ever tasted. It was made at Vanille Patisserie, a small unassuming storefront off of Clybourn Avenue, just north of Webster. Vanille seems to be more about wedding cakes, chocolates, and beautiful little cakes and tarts. The croissants appeared to be second class citizens, but don't be fooled. This croissant was perfectly crisp on the outside and had I've-died-and-gone-to-heaven layers of pastry and almond goodness on the inside. It was fabulous. Try the chocolates and cakes if you like, but please, indulge in at least one of these almond croissants.

Last, I will talk briefly about Intelligentsia. I'm a little uncomfortable with this one (the sentimental thing again...). I'm confused. Intelligentsia has been around. It was there, on Broadway, when I left Chicago in 2000. It had been there for about 5 years. I really liked the place. Back then, it was just a place, not a brand. They made great coffee. I loved to camp out at a table with a book and sip my cappuccino. It was quiet. It was cozy. Honestly, no one besides the loyal locals seemed to really care that it existed. I never knew anyone outside of the neighborhood who had even heard of the place. Now Intelligentsia is a brand. They have a detailed website and a definite look. They've opened locations in Silver Lake and Venice (CA), New York, and the guy at the counter told us they'd recently purchased a struggling brand in San Francisco. When I rode the train to the suburbs to see my Aunt, they were selling Intelligentsia coffee inside the tiny train station--they are everywhere. They look good, the coffee is still great, the owners will surely retire happier, but I miss that unpretentious and independent little coffee place on Broadway.

Before we departed, after all of the food and drink, we visited my favorite place to find peace in Chicago. My beautiful escape. A place I've gone to find solace more times than I can count. A seemingly never ending body of water that touches Illinois, Indiana, Wisconsin, and Michigan. Probably the first body of water I ever observed, the same one I watched as I rode in the little bike seat on the front of my father's bike when he used to take me along with him on his lakefront bike rides. Just past the Lincoln Park Zoo (my first zoo, the only FREE zoo I've ever visited, the place my parents took me when I was a tot), right where Fullerton hits Lake Michigan. Beside Theater on the Lake. One of the best spots in Chicago. It hasn't really changed at all. When I arrive I see standing in this spot still overwhelms me with peace. It is still my Chicago.

Lake Michigan at sunset.

Autumn 2009

tossed salad and boiled eggs

Green Gulch Farm salad greens in my favorite wooden salad bowl

It is Sunday morning. I've woken without an alarm. I've posted my poem. I have a few eggs boiling on the stove. We will soon be eating those eggs with a green salad and slices of toast topped with homemade jam. Green Gulch Farm adds lovely little flowers to their salad greens mix, and for me, it makes all the difference. It is a good day. I'm happy. That's all...

orangette

one little orangette at sunset

The orangette is a beautiful thing. This past weekend I made a platter of them and most people agreed.

There are, of course, those with an aversion to oranges--Ahem J.

It is a fairly intense treat. Although one slowly savored orangette per evening is enough for me, most people did not agree. I watched several individuals quietly return to the orangette platter again and again, each one of them slipping a fresh orangette (or two, or three) into their mouth during every visit.

I was happy to see the candies disappear, pleased the guests were enjoying what I'd prepared for them. Suddenly it occurred to me that I hadn't photographed even one of these lovely little confections and the sun was quickly sinking. I'm a big fan of natural light, so I grabbed my camera, snatched one orangette from the platter, placed it on a teensy dish, and headed outside.

It had been a beautiful day and I knew that each time I looked back at this image I'd be able to return to this place and time. No pressure. I worked quickly, the sun vanishing, as one of my friends cheered me on yes, yes, I like the blue! I did the best I could. It was done.

I loved that I was able to indulge in the bitter sweetness of this particular orangette and save it forever.

I searched for orangette and candied orange peel recipes and found quite an array. I loosely followed this one. If you'd like to prepare a platter of your own, you'll need the following:

• 4 large oranges
• 3 cups of sugar for the syrup (This is what I used and our guests seemed quite pleased, but I found the orangettes to be very sweet, perhaps too sweet. I think I might take the amount of sugar as low as 1 cup next time and see what happens. I'm the type that cuts way back on sugar in preserves and cakes too.)
• 1 additional cup of sugar for coating the orange peels
• 8 ounces of extra dark chocolate--70% cacao
  
• lots of water
• sharp knife
• cutting board
• large stock pot
• medium heavy-bottomed sauce pan
• baking rack
• cookie sheet
• wax paper
• airtight container

Cut off the top and bottom of each orange (the North and South Poles). Cut just far enough into the orange to reveal the flesh.

Score the peel to create 6 sections (longitude lines) and ease your fingers beneath the first section of the peel, beginning at the top (North Pole) and gently working your way to the bottom (South Pole). Continue with the additional 5 sections of peel. Repeat with remaining 3 oranges. Save the peeled oranges and eat them later (or now).

Slice all of the peels lengthwise into 1/4 inch strips and toss them into a large stock pot. Cover with water and bring to a boil. As soon as the water boils, drain off all water and repeat process 2 more times.

Pour 1 cup water into a medium sauce pan and add 3 cups sugar. Bring to a boil and then lower to a simmer. Once the sugar has dissolved, add the orange peels and simmer for 3o minutes or until translucent, stirring occasionally. (Don't abandon your peels at this point...you've worked too hard.)

Set a baking rack inside a cookie sheet and remove all peels from the pan with a slotted spoon and arrange on rack so they are not touching. Save the remaining syrup in a Mason jar and refrigerate for later use. (I added a little bit to a glass of sparking water and it was nice).

Once the peels have cooled down and dried a bit you can toss them in a bowl of sugar. (I coated all of my peels, but I might try 1/2 without sugar coating next time.) I saved the remaining sugar too.

Place all sugared peels back on the rack and let dry completely, about 5-6 hours. Once dry you can dip in tempered chocolate. I used Method 1, sans thermometer, and it flopped. Perhaps I need to find my candy thermometer...I know I have one somewhere. Dip each orangette 1/2 way into tempered (or simply melted in my case) chocolate and shake off excess. Place dipped orangettes on a wax paper lined cookie sheet and let the chocolate set in refrigerator. Store set orangettes in an airtight container or serve and watch them vanish.

Since my tempering was unsuccessful, the chocolate on my orangettes began to get a little soft after only a short while on the platter. Oh well... No one seemed to mind.

#33 -- check!

these are not capers

green peppercorns in one of my little handmade bowls 

I'm contemplating green peppercorns.

These are special peppercorns, at least they are special to me. They aren't dried and dried peppercorns are all I've ever known. I had no idea that what appear to be fresh peppercorns packed inside a small slender jar with water, vinegar, and salt (basically...a pickle) were out there in the world waiting for me. Aren't they beautiful? I saw them on the grocer's shelf when I was searching for capers and I knew I had to have them.

Green peppercorns are simply young unripe berries. The fruit is dark red when fully mature. Black berries do not exist in nature, black peppercorns are green unripe berries that have been cooked and dried.

I just popped one in my mouth and it's quite lovely. As the firm little berry rolls around in my mouth, at first there is a mild sour saltiness, somewhat similar to a common caper, but without any hints of bitterness. When I bite into the berry it pops and there it is, the familiar pepper taste, but more bright and fresh. It's easy going for a second, but then boom, it hits me and my tongue tingles, my eyes water a bit, and I cough a weak little cough as the spiciness tickles my throat. A brief moment passes and I'm okay again.

The mild burn stays on my tongue for a few minutes and then I eat another one.

berry

Breakfast on Mesa Road, Point Reyes Station, June 2008

berry, oh berry
simple, honest, and sweet

juicy and black
not at all like a beet

you bathe in the sun
and you never burn

you fall from your stem
nothing asked in return

Ice cream, in oatmeal?

Steel Cut Oats, Red Apricots, Vanilla Bean Ice Cream, and Freshly Ground Nutmeg

Yes, ice cream in oatmeal!

The following is excerpted from the comments section of a post about ice cream on david lebovitz living the sweet life in Paris.

By chez danisse on August 14, 2009 3:47 PM

Ice cream in oatmeal? My father used to top our Cream of Wheat with vanilla ice cream and until now I'd never heard anyone reference anything even close. You are the first. We loved it--rich cool sweet cream melting over breakfast...yum. I'm sure your version, caramelized white chocolate ice cream stirred into oatmeal, is superb!

By David on August 15, 2009 4:06 AM

chez danisse: Ice cream, in oatmeal? Even I'm not that crazy : )

I put a big spoonful of the caramelized white chocolate itself in the oatmeal, let it melt a bit, then stir it around slightly. (Not too much, such I like ribbons of it.)

By chez danisse on August 15, 2009 11:57 AM

Oops...looks like I was reading too quickly and seeing what I wanted to see versus what was actually written. That being said, I am crazy enough to try ice cream in oatmeal and plan on giving it a go. It was so good in Cream of Wheat. I'm sure it will be tasty. Maybe you should get a little crazy and try it too ; )

Julie & Julia Bruschetta

Bruschetta? Who cares!

I am certain that I am not the first person to try and recreate the indulgently drenched in olive oil and fried version of bruschetta prepared by Amy Adams in Julie & Julia. As I watched Julie and her husband devour those crisp slices of bread covered in olive oil, heirloom tomatoes, and basil...well...I knew a week would not pass before I gave it a go in my own kitchen.

Forget one week, I didn't even let two days pass. I was first enticed by a couple of beautifully ripe orange heirloom tomatoes at The Real Food Co. and snatched them up. Yesterday I added to my collection with some juicy and full flavored Early Girl tomatoes from the farmers market. I also found a huge bunch of basil from a Bolinas farmer with a stand I hadn't seen before, I believe it was La Tercera, but I'm not completely sure because I was too focused on the basil. The type of basil she sold was unfamiliar to me, thin stems topped by little globes of tiny basil leaves, loads of them. The nice man at the Acme Bread Co. counter suggested a Long Italian loaf of bread and it was an excellent choice, perfect for this recipe, perfect. I already had garlic, fleur de sel, and my pepper mill was full. I deviated just a smidge from what I saw in the movie by adding one small ripe fig to the mix. A fig might seem a little out of place here, but I've never heard of fried bruschetta either, so I figured, why not?

I began prepping my ingredients about an hour before I planned to eat. Step one was cutting up my tomatoes into traditional bruschetta sized chunks. To my bowl of super ripe and juicy tomatoes I added the little leaves from several basil stems and stirred it around gently with my hand. I topped the tomato basil mixture with one very soft and ripe fig cut into small pieces. Don't add any salt at this point because it will make the tomatoes release their juices and if you've selected ripe tomatoes they'll be juicy enough. Wait and add the salt at the last moment, right before you eat your bruschetta. I then placed a piece of saran over the bowl and walked to the library to return a book.

When I returned from my library walk, after thinking about my bruschetta feast the entire time I was away, I anxiously moved forward. I poured some (I wasn't shy) olive oil into a heavy bottom pan and began to warm the oil over a medium heat. I placed several slices (about 3/4" thick and sliced on an angle) of bread into the pan of warm oil and brushed the top side of the bread with the oil in the pan that was pooling up around the slices. Once I'd covered the top side of the bread with oil I moved the slices around in the pan so the bottom side could absorb more oil. I wanted this bruschetta to look as crazy good as the bruschetta in the movie. Just forget that it is not the bruschetta you know and love and move on. Fat, calories, and Italian tradition were not on my list of priorities.

Once the bread was lightly browned on the bottom side I turned it over and continued heating the bread until it was lightly browned on the other side. The bread should have that overall crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside look.

I removed one slice of bread from the pan at a time and thoroughly rubbed each slice with a 1/2 clove of garlic. Next I spooned mounds of the tomato, basil, and fig mixture on top of the garlicky bread and sprinkled it all with a bit of Fleur de Sel and freshly ground pepper.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that this meal was absolutely delicious! Yes, the bruschetta alone was my meal. It was all I needed. It will be all you need. I haven't swooned over my food like this in quite a while. I was the only one home and I'll admit to moaning out loud with each and every bite.

We are right in the middle of tomato season and the timing could not be better for a dish such as this that revolves around fresh sun ripened tomatoes. I strongly recommend giving this non-traditional and utterly indulgent version of bruschetta a try. You will not be disappointed.

* I performed an encore at about 10:30 pm, when Chris made it home from a long day at work. He happily devoured a full plate of this goodness and thanked me with a nice kiss (and a couple of bites of his bruschetta).

Choose your dinner companion carefully, this dish begs to be followed by nice kisses.

Lunch @ Wexler's

Photo: Kevin Bond via Google images

Miracles do happen. Today is July 13th, technically summer, and... it actually feels like summer here in San Francisco. This does not occur often. I am filled with joy! This is cause for celebration.

On this perfect summer day, I was lucky enough to be treated to the most perfect summer lunch. We met at a new restaurant, Wexler's, located on Sacramento Street, between Montgomery and Sansome. Wexler's is a beautiful little restaurant with simple cream-colored walls and red chandeliers. A custom-made wood canopy invites you inside and then ripples above you through the entire restaurant.

The decor was cozy, and the rippling canopy interesting, but it was the food that truly caught my attention. I ordered the the trio below, starting with the cucumber soup and ordering the squid salad as my entree.

I enjoyed having my cucumber soup assembled on the table right in front of me. It was beautiful. Three petite dollops of the smoky ricotta and thin ribbons of bell pepper confit were brought out in a large shallow bowl, a perfect match for the cool and clean taste of the smooth-as-silk cucumber soup poured into the bowl from a small cast iron teapot. The server poured while I smiled and observed as the soup flowed slowly from the teapot spout, filling in the space surrounding the tiny ricotta and pepper islands.

My salad was impeccably balanced. Lightly dressed frisee, little squares of delicately fried green tomatoes, sweet supremed orange slices, tender squid, and the heat of a few thin rings of bright red pickled chilies (I adored the chilies!).

We shared the banana cream pie. A drizzle of Dulce de Leche topped with a slice of creamy pie and a few caramelized banana slices arranged neatly beside the pie--all sprinkled with just a hint of Fleur de Sel.

The combination of colors, temperatures, tastes, and textures in all three of my selections created a beautiful and delicious summer lunch. I couldn't have been happier.

Chilled Heirloom Cucumber Soup - $8
Smoked Ricotta, Bell Pepper Confit

Monterey Bay Squid Salad - $9
Fried Green Tomatoes, Pickled Fresno Chiles, Orange

Bourbon Banana Cream Pie - $6
Dulce de Leche, Fleur de Sel

Malt-O-Meal Makeover

my breakfast -- July 10, 2009

I had a wisdom tooth pulled in May and one of the things that comforted me post-surgery was a box of Malt-O-Meal. The box has been neglected since then, but today it called to me.

I prepared one serving of Malt-O-Meal as directed by box instructions (one exception, I used a whisk--it works much better than a spoon). Next I scooped a heaping tablespoon of crunchy peanut butter, my favorite type, the type that is labeled ingredients: peanuts, into my bowl. I poured the hot Malt-O-Meal over the peanut butter. I topped the Malt-O-Meal and peanut butter with a generous sprinkling of sweetened coconut flakes, a drizzle of sesame oil, and finished it off with some SRIRACHA HOT CHILI SAUCE (rooster sauce).

I dipped buttered toast (Acme's Upstairs Bread) into this fabulous dish and it was mmm mmm good.

Small confession: Another post-wisdom tooth extraction comfort was instant mashed potatoes with blue cheese crumbles. I was weak...

perception

I burned the onions,

but he didn't seem to mind.

He ate them all,
every last bit.