Thanks Ruth

Sunlight. Normally, the sun streaming in my window early every morning is a welcome sign of a new day. But this early Saturday morning light, was a brash reminder that sleep was no longer a possibility, and that the rhythmic pounding right between my eyes was not going away any time soon. Attempting to filter out as much light as my covers would allow, I made every attempt to coax myself back to sleep. I was calm. I was breathing slowly and deeply. I was even imagining myself peacefully floating in a tranquil blue ocean.  Despite these desperate measures for sleep, I gave in, pulled back the covers, opened my eyes...thud, thud, thud.

Just about this time, my other senses kicked in, smelling coffee from down below in the kitchen. I knew it would be here soon; a steaming cup, full of aroma, bitter and rich, brought to me by my husband on these lazy weekend mornings.

I inched my way up my misshapen pillow, adding one more, then two to support my throbbing head. Sitting there, propped up and unmoving, I wondered how I got to this state from the two, no must've been three glasses of white wine I had enjoyed with friends the previous night. How could such a small amount of wine do this to me?  I searched through one memory after another, to the countless days and nights in my life that I've shared drinks with friends and family for celebrations, get togethers, vacations and adventures, and to those times in my life where a glass of wine was my only company. Some of those morning after's came with the evil headache but mostly I came out unscathed.  I finally snapped out of it as the coffee arrived, still unsure of how this headache came about. I was absolutely sure, that two (maybe 3-could've been 4) glasses of white wine, couldn't possibly create this monster holding me hostage.

Coffee propped in the fluff of my comforter, and Ipad ready to roam, I sat happily (as happy as I could feel) in my bed for a good hour.

Still under the constant pounding of my head, but now feeling a growing sensation of hunger. With my husband out to play on his dirt bike for the day, I contemplated my options. Get up and make some food, or...well, there was no other option as far as I was concerned. This was clearly the only choice I had unless I was to stay in the same position all day. That's never happened and I wasn't planning to start today.

I was now starving. I had just read a tweet from Ruth Reichl, the former editor of Gourmet Magazine and food writer. She was describing a beautifully written account of what I assume was breakfast. It sounded delicious and only heightened my sense of hunger.  Her short quips about food and what and how she eats is lovely. Here is what she tweeted this early Saturday morning:

"Mist blowing gently away. Deep purple mountains. Robin's egg sky. Saffron risotto, sauteed, Soft fried egg. Sliced tomato. Sunshine!"

I am often inspired by food writers, and devour any book about the author and his or her experience with food. On this quiet (except for the pounding), lazy Saturday morning, Ruth Reichl's lovely description of her breakfast was the inspiration for mine.

So out of bed I climbed. Down the stairs past the forlorn look I got from the dog (I think he actually shook his head at me), and into the kitchen. This is what I had at hand:

One organic brown egg
One large, perfectly ripe, just picked Paul Robeson heirloom tomato
One Acme sourdough roll
1/2 of an avocado (I adore them. I ate the other half for lunch the day before)

Out came the frying pan, olive oil, salt and pepper and these 5 ingredients. First the tomatoes, salted and grilled golden. The egg is next, salted and peppered, nestled in with the tomatoes, cooked sunny side up (adapted for a broken yolk). Toast one half of the roll, spread with avocado and a sprinkle of salt.

In ten minutes I was back in bed, plate propped in front of me. Coffee steaming. Vivaldi playing softly. Carmelized tomato-smooth, rich, crisp, fried egg-toasted sourdough crunch, and buttery sweet avocado.

For those 15 minutes that I savored this nurturing return to normalcy, I had no recollection of a headache. As it was, I did eventually rise and shine, happy and full of good food that came from my kitchen and garden, leaving me ready to face whatever the day would bring.

Perhaps I'll switch to red wine tonight. 

EAT YOUR BEETS!!

A couple of weeks ago, I was inspired to take a drive to Sonoma, about 45 minutes NW from where I live. When I'm off work during the summer, I like to get and go, often not really knowing where I might end up. Adventures I like to call them, patterned after day trips my mom and I used to take when I was a little girl growing up in Pasadena. We didn't drive our car (Mom never drove), but instead we'd take the bus. Hand in hand, we'd hop on, and off we'd go to some new and exciting place. These adventures were very well loved by me, and nowadays, if I've been on my home turf for more than a week or so, I feel the itch for another adventure.

A few weeks back, I had spent a wonderful few days with a couple of equally wonderful girlfriends in Sonoma. We had stopped at this great little store on Hwy 121, called The Fat Pilgrim.  This place is as  sweet as could be and we had no trouble finding lots of things to like, no..love, including their massive vegetable garden sitting out back. This morning, I decided to head back to the store (again..3rd visit) to take another peek at all they have to offer.

The drive to Sonoma is pretty ho-hum...BUT, once you get past Hwy 29 and veer onto The Carneros Hwy, man, it's something else. It feels and looks like you're driving along the autostrade in Italy (or France, depending on your mood).  As you come down into this valley full of neatly lined vines dotting the lush hillside, villa's and wineries that beckon you to taste, take your time and experience this lovely area. It's breathtaking. Continuing on to Hwy 121, you'll come upon a huge favorite of mine for breakfast, Fremont Diner. DON'T PASS THIS PLACE UP! Trust me, you'll love it.  Unfortunately I missed it this time, as they were closed for the holiday.

A bit further on down the road, you'll find Fat Pilgrim. I know, weird name, but I have no doubt they named it well. I love wandering in their back yard. Yes, it is a backyard. Back there, just behind Fat Pilgrim and it's sister-Modern Farmhouse, you'll find a chicken coop, and sitting under a majestic old oak, you'll find some amazing pieces of handmade tables and lovely aged iron pieces.  But the main attraction out back is a huge organic garden that you can wander about in. Lovely stuff. But here I was, admiring all these beautiful veg, and out comes the owner, a real nice guy. We chatted a bit about what he's growing (everything) and how well it was doing (amazingly). I admired the beets, onions, squash, and was in complete awe at the tomatoes. He said he hadn't done anything but till the soil some.  I smiled to myself at what a cool place this was, and he reaches down and pulls up some beets. "Here he said, I bet you like beets".  The guy grabbed a few more bunches, and recited the names as he picked, "chioggia, cylindra and golden", and off he went. What a cool guy. I also found out that Fat Pilgrim grows for local restaurants. And another cool thing, did I mention that it's all organic?

Had a glorious day. Ate a fantastic salad at The Carneros Inn (a night here would make all your dreams come true...yes, trust me again), and came home with another bag from Fat Pilgrim along with a beautiful bunch of beets to cook up. I know not everyone is into beets, but really, what's not to love?

One last thing...BEETS ARE GOOD FOR YOU...EAT YOUR BEETS!

Health Benefits of Beets! (excerpt reprinted from WebMd magazine)

Before passing on that bowl of borscht, consider the health benefits of its main ingredient: beets. This often unloved veggie contains fiber and potassium and is an excellent source of folate -- just a half cup of cooked beets provides 17% of the recommended daily folate intake -- and, like all vegetables, has no saturated fats or cholesterol. Researchers believe the red pigment (called betacyanin) in beets could protect against development of cancerous cells and might play a role in reducing the inflammation associated with heart disease.

ROASTED BEETS WITH FETA AND WALNUTS

Heat the oven to 400*. Peel em' and cut into quarters

drizzle with really good olive oil

Add a good sprinkle of coarse sea salt and roast until fork tender, about 35-45 minutes  

My friend, the owner/organic gardner told me to splash a bit of champagne vinegar on them as soon as they come out of the oven, and let them sit for a while...smells divine

Add feta cheese and roasted walnuts...Simple, eh!

If you're anywhere near Hwy 12/121 in Sonoma, check these places out!! 

http://www.fatpilgrim.com/

http://www.thefremontdiner.com/

http://www.thecarnerosinn.com/thecarnerosinn/

From Farm to Table...Blueberry Muffins

• The three pounds of blueberries that Jenna and I came home with a couple of weeks ago from Santa Barbara Blueberry Farm were the absolute best I've had...ever.  After picking these no spray/no pesticide beauties myself, and gladly handing over $15 for a pail that held 3 pounds to the sweet young gal at the fruit stand, I knew I had to share these blue's and make something special.  
• Last season, I made a pie, this year, being only June, I know I'll be going back and have plans for pies later on in the summer season, but for now I woke up very early one morning this week, way before the heat of the day hit my kitchen and baked some blueberry muffins. 
• They're pretty darn good and this is how it goes:
• 
  
• Recipe adapted from Cook's Illustrated
• The secret to these better than a bakery muffins, is the addition of blueberry jam that is swirled in to the batter just before baking 
•   2 cups fresh blueberries (about 10 oz) 
• 1 1/8 cups sugar (8 oz) plus 1 tsp
• 2 1/2 cups unbleached AP flour (12 1/2 oz)
• 2 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp table salt
• 2 large eggs
• 4 T (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, melted then cooled slightly
• 1/4 c vegetable oil
• 1 c buttermilk (make your own in a pinch by adding a of  couple squeezes of lemon juice to a cup of milk)
• 1 1/2 tsp vanilla 
• Lemon sugar topping: Add  1  1/2  tsp lemon zest to 1/3 cup of sugar.
• 1. FOR THE TOPPING: Stir together sugar and lemon zest in small bowl until combined; set aside.
• 2. FOR THE MUFFINS: Adjust oven rack to upper-middle position and heat oven to 425 degrees. Spray standard muffin tin with nonstick cooking spray. Bring 1 cup blueberries and 1 teaspoon sugar to simmer in small saucepan over medium heat. Cook, mashing berries with spoon several times and stirring frequently, until berries have broken down and mixture is thickened and reduced to ¼ cup, about 6 minutes. Transfer to small bowl and cool to room temperature, 10 to 15 minutes.
• 3. Whisk flour, baking powder, and salt together in large bowl. Whisk remaining 11/8 cups sugar and eggs together in medium bowl until thick and homogeneous, about 45 seconds. Slowly whisk in butter and oil until combined. Whisk in buttermilk and vanilla until combined. Using rubber spatula, fold egg mixture and remaining cup blueberries into flour mixture until just moistened. (Batter will be very lumpy with few spots of dry flour; do not overmix.)
• 4. I use an ice cream scoop or large spoon to divide batter equally among prepared muffin cups (batter should completely fill cups and mound slightly). Spoon teaspoon of cooked berry mixture into center of each mound of batter. Using chopstick or skewer, gently swirl berry filling into batter using figure-eight motion. Sprinkle lemon sugar evenly over muffins.
• 5. Bake until muffin tops are golden and just firm, 17 to 19 minutes, rotating muffin tin from front to back halfway through baking time. Cool muffins in muffin tin for 5 minutes, then transfer to wire rack and cool 5 minutes before serving.
• Here's a hint:  Do all your baking on the middle racks of your oven.   If you have 6 slots for racks, use the middle two. If you have two   pans in the oven, switch and rotate halfway through baking.
  
  
  So if you're ever traveling north or south along Hwy 101 in the Gaviota, keep your eyes peeled for the Santa Barbara Blueberry Farm. Pull in, grab a bucket get yourself to pickin'. You'll be happy you did.

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...and isn't that what it's all about

A Cake for Ann

Whoa..it's been a long time since my last "in the kitchen" post. I've been having fun sharing my adventures of travels near and far on that "other" blog that I fiddle with. But what better way to return than with a celebration for a friend.  My dear friend Annie(who luckily is also my neighbor), had a birthday yesterday.



We celebrated her day by sharing a lovely Italian dinner at a neighborhood trattoria. While we chatted and laughed over a robust Chianti and freshly made pasta (mine canneloni and hers orrechiete), our most delightful waiter Roy, charmed us with stories of his family in Italy, wines of the region and a huge smile.  He went on to teach us two new Italian words..Maremoto (tsunami) and Terremoto (earthquake), just in case we happen to be caught in this type of disaster on our next visit to Italy...a future visit, yes, but hopefully Terremoto or a Maremoto will not be in the picture!  After this truly delicious meal, and lengthy discussions about our childhoods and husbands, our evening drew to a close.  But not until it was topped off with a creamy, rum-based tiramisu, complete with candle and brought to the table by Roy, our Italian-Argentinian waiter. The three of us (including the chef) sang a lovely rendition of "Happy Birthday" to my dear girlie girl, Ann.



This past weekend as I thought about how I wanted to celebrate Ann on her birthday, it occurred to me that I should bake a cake. Now I can't really recall the last cake I made, but it's been awhile, last spring maybe, but Annie had given me some Meyer lemons and I knew I wanted to make her something with these fragrant favorites of hers. As I was searching around, I came across a recipe for "The Brown Derby's Grapefruit Cake". Perfeto!  Reading through the recipe, (which all good bakers should do before even attempting to bake anything), I realized I didn't know if Annie even liked grapefruit. It's my opinion that you either like grapefruit or you don't. It's very different from liking oranges or even lemons, and can be quite bitter. But I went ahead with it, for a couple of reasons. I loved the Brown Derby restaurant. I went there as a young girl with my mom many years ago in Hollywood before it closed up and they tore it down. It was such a cool place..very old Hollywood. Second reason was that I knew I could make a few adjustments that would make it more of lemony.

*I made Annie a little 6 inch cake. This recipe will fill two 6 x 2 inch pans. Since the pans were smaller,I baked them for 15 minutes, then rotated and continued baking for another 20 min. Test the cakes by touching the tops. When they spring back, they're done. Once the cakes are completely cooled (on a rack), release them and put them back in the pans.  Take a serrated knife and trim the "dome".  You will then have two flat surfaces to frost.  As a garnish, you can add candied grapefruit, but on this cake, I added a single rose from my garden... Annie has the greenest thumb I know of.  She loves flowers and can name most any species I point out. Amazing.  I thought it fitting to top Annie's birthday cake with one lovely, grapefruit~y colored rose...and so it was!











Brown Derby Grapefruit Cake (adapted from LA Times Magazine)


Cake
1 2/3 cups flour
1 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
4 eggs, separated
1 egg white
1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar
3 tablespoons water
1/4 cup canola oil
1 tablespoon plus 1 tsp. cup grapefruit juice (I used 1 T. Meyer lemon juice, 1 tsp. grapefruit juice)
1 tablespoon grapefruit zest
1 1/2 tsp. lemon zest

Preheat oven to 325. Prepare two 9-inch cake pans. Sift together flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Separate eggs. Beat egg white and cream of tartar to a stiff peak and set aside. Beat yolks until fluffy and pale yellow. Combine water, oil, grapefruit juice and fruit zests. Slowly stream water mixture into egg yolks. Fold egg-yolk mix into egg-white mix (be gentle here!). Incrementally add dry ingredients to wet mixture in 4 additions. Pour  batter into cake pans. Bake 20 minutes then rotate and bake an additional 25 minutes. Let cool completely.

Frosting
1/3 cup butter, room temp  (I always use European butter..this time Irish)
1 1/4 cups cream cheese, room temp
1 cup powdered sugar
1 tsp grapefruit zest
1 3/4 tsp grapefruit juice (I used mostly lemon juice)
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

With paddle attachment, beat softened butter on medium setting until smooth. Add cream cheese and mix until thoroughly blended. Add powdered sugar in 1/4-cup increments, making sure it’s thoroughly incorporated after each addition. Add zest, juice and extract.

Annie and I..we're big on celebrating! 

"Better Than Jailhouse", he said...

Throughout the years, I've made a bleep load of chili.  I can't even begin to count the recipes I've poured

 over to find a fantastic chili recipe...you know the kind of chili that you'll find at those 4th of July chili cook-offs where it's 110 degrees and the last thing you want to be eating at 3 o'clock in the afternoon is HOT chili.    Well, I've been to several of those chili cook-offs in my career, and I always walked away, spoon in hand, asking myself what was in that chili that made it so good?

 I think I actually made my first real pot of chili when I was 17 or 18 or some crazy teenage girl age...I wanted to impress my boyfriend..a born and bred Texan.  I don't remember much about it, only that I thought it was pretty good, and from what I do remember, I think he did too.  But later, when I got serious about the ingredients that went in to my cooking, along with why those ingredients were there, and how they affected the outcome of the dish, that's when I got serious about chili making.  Through magazines, cookbooks and friends handouts, I found a few recipes that were pretty darn good.  I tweaked them here and there to make them better. I finally found a recipe that I've used over and over again which is really pretty good for Turkey Chili, (a bit healthier perhaps?) and it's filled the bill as one of those rib sticking good meals~ good to come home to when you've had a long day and there's a chill in the air and you need something good and substantial, but good for you too.

 I made a batch of chili up last week and with my hard workin' husband coming home late at night, it filled the void he needed after his long day.  He continued to dig in to the bowl day after day for 3 days or so.  This chili's just one of those things that's gets better after it sits for a day or so.  There's one little bit left in the fridge now... and did I mention that I changed up the recipe?  It was a perfect fall afternoon to make up a batch of this chili, but realizing that I had one pound each of ground chuck and ground turkey, I improvised.  Either way, it's really good.

So here's a new and really delicious chili recipe that is guaranteed to win an award at the next chili cook-off...that is if my husband is a judge.  Serve this chili up with a good dollup of sour cream and a sprinkling of sharp cheddar. Add a big chunk of corn bread on the side and you've got yourself something you'll wish you had more of!

Turkey Chili, My Way

Pour a glug of olive oil in a heavy dutch oven.  Heat it up, add 1 chopped onion. Let it caramelize over med low heat for 10-15 min.  Give it a bit of salt. Add a clove or 2 chopped garlic.  Cook another 3 min.  Add 2 pounds ground turkey or ground chuck or 1 of each turkey and chuck (I use organic grass fed).  Stir now and then over med heat for 15-20 min until caramelized and no liquid remains.  Add 1/4 cup good chili powder and about 1/8 cup cumin, (I love cumin so I always add more..do what you love!). Cook for another 5 min.  Add crushed red pepper (how hot do you like it?) oregano and salt.  * At this point, add any extra peppers to give that extra kick. When it looks nicely browned and it smells terrific, add a 28 oz can of whole tomatoes, a 16 oz can of tomato sauce, 8 oz of a your favorite beer (that leaves you 4 to drink while you stir) and about a cup or so of good beef broth (I found the best is Trader Joe's brand, in the box).  Let this come to a boil, then simmer for a good hour give or take.  Chop up the tomatoes into the chili as it cooks.  Add 2 cans of your choice beans, rinsed and drained (I use cannelini and pinto).  Simmer another 10 minutes...then EAT IT!  IT IS SO GOOD.  REALLY! 

Bakery of Dreams

Aria fig walnut scone

For many years, I've had a vision of owning a little bakery in a small town.  I never imagined anything fussy or too big, but a place where the locals would drop in and have a chat, a coffee and a tasty scone, muffin or toasted sourdough with jam and butter. My little bakery's interior would be rustic, a couple old wood tables and chairs, and high ceilings...like something old, familiar and friendly.  Along with my photographs, I'd have photos of family spread out around me, images that remind me of the road we've all traveled together.  Right out front there'd be an old, weathered bench...the kind that has been worn smooth by time.  I'd serve up a hearty and delicious soup of the day, (I'm well known for my belly warming soups) and there it would sit, a big simmering pot of veggies, stock and herbs, the aroma of all good things spreading the news of lunch time soon to come. There would be a daily bread (one of my favorite sections in cooking school) along with the standard sourdoughs and levain's.  I've got all these images here in my memory bank, in fact, I've drawn a picture of my bakery, and most importantly, there I am standing there in front of my little place...smiling.

In my travels, I have found that bakery in Murphys, Ca.  Aria by far is my favorite artisan style bakery (French bakery~ Miette in San Francisco is tops).  This bakery/cafe is amazingly similar to "My Bakery"... a sketch I drew five years ago.  Undoubtedly one of the reasons I was drawn to this gem and why I love this bakery dearly.  Besides that, they have really delicious baked goods, breads and desserts (they also serve up tasty sandwiches, salads and soups).

Jim and I always stop here before we head up the hill to our cabin.  For a girl, who at 5 years old, stood and cried when asked what kind of ice cream she wanted at 31 flavors, ( Jim often has to come check on me to see what's taking me so long to get our goods),  I tend to look over each offering, appreciating what goes in to each lovely treat. Crafted with care, knowledge and quality ingredients, the gals at Aria have created a well~loved bakery that has locals and visitors coming back again and again. 

On our last stop at Aria, I picked up a bear claw for Jim (I did sneak a bite), and I chose a fig and walnut scone.  Both finger lickin' good.  The scone was so good, full of figs and walnuts, texture and flavor,  it inspired me to make up a batch at home.  Once again, using ingredients I had at hand, I settled on pear and walnut, and put together a recipe that is reminiscent of a traditional English cream scone.  It's a winner (Jim told me so)...tender, soft and delicately fragranced by the pear, which also provides sweetness.  The walnuts add crunch, texture and flavor to this perfect afternoon accompaniment to a lovely cup a' tea.  Cheers!

Pear Walnut Cream Scones

• 2 cups all purpose flour, plus more for rolling
• 3 tablespoons sugar, plus extra for sprinkling
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1 tsp kosher salt
• 5 tablespoons european style butter, cut in 1 inch chunks, very cold
• 2 extra large eggs, lightly beaten
• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 1/4 teaspoon vanilla
• handful toasted walnuts, chopped 
• 1 pear, large dice
• egg wash

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Line baking sheet with parchment.  I use my Kitchenaide to mix the first 4 ingredients, but go ahead and use what ever you have...pastry cutter, knives or food processor.  Add the butter and mix slowly until the butter's the size of peas.  Mix the eggs, cream and vanilla together and add to the flour/butter mix.  Slowly mix until just blended.  At this point, add the walnuts, mix in, then gently fold in the pears.  The mixture will be slightly wet and lumpy.  Pour it all out onto a well floured board, counter or marble.  Keep moving the dough so it doesn't stick.  Pat or roll it into a 1 inch thick oval.  Cut 3 inch rounds with a cutter or knife and place on baking sheet.  Brush with egg wash (egg and a bit of water) and sprinkle generously with sugar.  Bake for 15~20 min. until the tops are browned and scones have risen.  Sprinkle them with more sugar and let them sit for 10 minutes or so before devouring. Makes about 6 scones.  These freeze well~ prepare up until egg wash and sugar, pop them in the freezer, then when you're ready to bake, pull them out, give them an egg wash and sugar, and bake 20~25 min or until brown.

Fave's

http://ariabakery.com/

http://miette.com/

http://www.renaudsbakery.com/

A Dog, A Burger, and The Bay

Late last winter, when the hills were green and the air was wonderfully cold and crisp, Jim and I had a really good burger craving...you know, one of those motivating cravings that get you out the door and put you right at the source of the craving.


We both knew of a place in the City where we could satisfy that need, and even better, do it on the cheap.  I'm a sucker for any excuse to make the 35 minute drive in to San Francisco...I think Jim is right there with me though. I had been looking for an excuse anyway, ( burger and a trip to the City) so we gathered the dog, and off we went.  First stop was Red's Java House. Red's has been sitting at the end of Bryant St on the Embarcadero for years.  It's where folks go for one of those simply delicious burgers, made that way with good beef and a traditional San Francisco sourdough roll (the famous sourdough comes from the yeast in the SF air...seriously!).  No crazy fixins', but you can add your own condiments...my rule with this burger is just a dab of mustard, a bit of onion and that's it.  Another rule of thumb with us is, if you're going to eat a Red's burger, order it with a beer.  So we did. Fries too.


But with Brody waiting in the back of the car...hoping for a stop at the beach for a romp in the surf, we downed our beer, licked our fingers clean and headed over to Crissey Field where we strolled the beach, laughed at our deliriously happy, salty-wet pup running himself ragged, and ended our incredibly wonderful day with a salute directed straight up to the Presidio.

That was one happy day.

  

Favorites

Red's Java House  Pier 30 San Francisco

www.bordenavesbakery.net  

www.parksconservancy.org/visit/park-sites/crissy-field.html

Oh, You Lovely Green Beans

 I found 8 tiny, perfectly ready green beans ready to pick in my garden the other day. I had picked at least a couple of pounds of green beans this summer.  The 6 vines that we planted in June are now a giant mass of twisted vines...weaving in and out of whatever they can grab onto. I recently learned that the younger the better when it comes to harvesting the green bean. I never really managed to pick them when they should've been picked, which meant tough stringy beans...not so good.  But on this day, as I was out watering, crouched down low with my face in the tomatoes and basil, (they just smelled so good!) I looked up and spied 8 little green beans all in a row on one vine.  I sat there just for a minute or two, trying to think how I could use these perfect little beans.  What I came up with was as simple and down to earth as you can possibly get (in my opinion).  It was a perfect lunch for me...healthy, colorful and delicious.  I'm sure there might have been other perfect little green beans hiding somewhere in that tangle of delicate vines and beautifully shaped leaves, but sometimes you just have to go with what's in front of you, a good lesson as a cook and life in general.

• So, take a handful of green beans (fresh is best) trim, then throw them into a pot of salted boiling water for 1-2 minute (depends on how much crunch you like)...put them right into ice water to stop the cooking

• A beautiful ripe heirloom tomato was also picked that morning, chopped it up, put it in a bowl with a few leaves of chopped basil, salt and pepper...let it sit for an hour or so

• Out came the  4 roasted fingerling potatoes from dinner the night before... they are buttery and creamy, yum...slice them up!

• Nothing's better than sweet cherry tomatoes...I eat them like candy, so in they went 

• I love cheese...any type, from any country...I chose feta, it would add creaminess and loads of flavor

• Into a bowl everything goes...Chopped or sliced... A vinaigrette of olive oil, salt and pepper and the juice from the tomato/basil mix...A combination of crunch, creamy, smooth, cool...The flavor that says the very best of summer.

Sunday Roast

My brother Ted and I recently had a conversation about our dad. Ted and a gathering of his neighbors are constructing a Dia De Los Muertos altar honoring their dearly departed relatives who are no longer of this world. A photograph of the chosen loved one, along with their favorite food is placed on the altar for a week or so in early November.   My brother, who is the actual builder of the altar, has decided to honor our mom and dad. He called me wondering what our dad's favorite food was.  There was no hesitation when it came to Mom's favorite, we both agreed that the obvious choice for her would be doughnuts.  Not just any doughnut you see, but the still famous Winchell's Donut's.  She was a Winchell's Donuts afficionado...a "french twist" girl, Mom made Winchell's one of her daily stops.

"What do you think Dad's favorite food was?"

"Ice cream... root beer floats", I said.  My dad was the root beer float king. He loved his Dad's Root Beer and vanilla ice cream.  Chatting about Dad with my brother made me smile remembering the image of my boys, then 3 and 5 gathering around their Grandpa Ed as he constructed a proper root beer float.

Although Dad loved ice cream, Ted and I both agreed that a root beer float may become unrecognizable even for the dearly departed after 5 days on the altar.  Instead I said, "How about a roast?"

Dad was a meat and potatoes man, growing up with a British mother and a father who was a born and bred Easterner from a large, well to do New Jersey family.  And despite living in the high country of Idaho for the first 15 years of his life, (besides being smack dab in the depression) it was likely that there was some variety of Sunday roast, be it venison or elk.  But when my dad's father died, he was sent off to live with the "Aunts and Uncles" in a big, old, beautiful house in Pasadena, Ca. The Aunts and Uncles, as our family refers to them, were a loving mix of silver miners, actors, adventurers and even a WW1 war hero.  They were seven brothers and sisters who, all but one (my grandfather) had never married.  This was a period of time (1934) when families actually sat down to dinner every Sunday afternoon.  The Condit's carried out the tradition of dressing for dinner and a highball with the family in the living room.   Then when the dinner bell was rung, (one of my treasured memories) they would all gather in the formal dining room around the beautifully set mahogany table.

There was always a roast on Sunday.  The meat tied and placed in the pan, roasted slowly in the old 1930 era porcelain stove, with no real temperature gauge, just a "moderate, slow, or hot" oven (much like the Aga stove still used in England). The potatoes would be mashed with butter and cream, the pearl onions creamed, perhaps some string beans, a lovely puffed yorkshire pudding, and always ice cream or sherbet for dessert.  I can imagine Aunt Molly in that big old kitchen, cigarette hanging off the corner of her mouth (as I am told) preparing those Sunday meals along with her brothers and sisters and their only nephew, my dad, all of them having a grand old time.

It makes me happy to imagine my dad as a young man sitting at that lovingly seasoned old table, surrounded by laughter and lively conversation, sharing a meal.. a Sunday Roast with the family.

I have those same memories as a child at that big old house, but by the time I came along there was just one of the uncles left.  My family would still go over on Sundays, and each of us would have a part in creating the memories of that Sunday meal, that to those of us that are still here, keep very close to our hearts.

I imagine that's why my favorite meal, like my dad's, is a roast.  Beautifully browned, surrounded by tender potatoes, carrots, fennel and onions, it sits before us on any given Sunday in all its glory, comforting and delicious.  Filling our bellies and our lives with memories of family and reminding us that the simpler things in life come from the kitchen.

So when my brother finishes the Dia De Los Muertos altar for the many well loved relatives of Flora Morgan Trail friends and neighbors, I know that there will be a Winchell's Donut, and a nice cut of roast and mash under my mom and dad's photo.  Cheers!

Pears to you, Anthony Bourdain...

Somehow in the past few weeks, amidst the heat of summer, the "back to school (thus work) blues, and the absence of any recent travel adventures, I lost my appetite to cook, bake and blog.  I'm now 3 weeks into school, it's cooled down just a bit, and still no real traveling in store for me.  But what has prompted this newest journal entry, didn't really have anything to do with the aforementioned, but instead, a combination of just two things.

First of all, I was given several beautiful home grown pears last week. I watched them turn rosy as they sat on my counter, but came to the sad realization that I just wouldn't have time to make a lovely Pear Tarte Tatin that day or the upcoming weekend, (we were off to our cabin for a couple of days). So I did something I never do, and popped them in the refrigerator Friday afternoon with the promise that I'd rescue these perfectly ripe pears on Sunday evening when we returned.

My next big motivator, was Anthony Bourdain.  Now, not to say that Anthony himself isn't motivation enough for this foodie girl to do pretty much anything if he asked, but I turned on the No Reservations marathon first thing Monday morning, and the first show that I caught was the episode filmed in Sardinia. The visuals had me hooked.  The countryside and surrounding towns were incredibly beautiful, and as I stood there with my mouth open, watching Anthony and his lovely Sardinian wife, Ottavia share a meal, I think I actually drooled. The food was glorious and delicious (Anthony said so), and I could just about taste the fresh ricotta with local honey...oh, if only.

I admit, it doesn't take much to make me happy.  The simple combination of watching a top rate, beautifully photographed food/travel show and 5 pears, is what got me back into my kitchen.

It's late in the afternoon now. The tarte is cooling, Anthony Bourdain is now eating his way through the south of France, and enough said... tomorrow's another day

Thinly slice 3 pears, sprinkle with lemon juice

Role out puff pastry~Cut out a circle with a medium dinner plate

Fan the pears in a cast iron or heavy non stick pan over cooked caramel

Caramel

2 T. water

1 1/2 tsp. cider vinegar

1/2 cup sugar

2 T. butter

Blend the first 3, cook undisturbed over med-low heat for 10 min, add butter.

Cook the pears in the caramel until dark golden brown, about 10 min.

Lay the puff pastry over the pears~ cover the pastry with a lid~Put the pan in the oven

Bake at 375~10 min~ Remove lid~ Bake another 15 min. until golden brown~Let it cool 15 min~

Run a knife around the edges~Flip over onto a plate

Voila! Tarte Tatin de Poires !

I do love this beautiful tarte tatin, but I love these petite cheris even more. They are sweet and crisp and buttery and beautiful...what more could a girl ask for?

Use a metal one cup measure to cut circles from the left over puff pastry.  Spoon a little of the caramel (make sure you save a little bit) fan 3 pear slices over the caramel, and drizzle a bit more on top.  Pop them into the (375) oven until they're golden brown and bubbly, about 15-20 min.

Tartellettes Poire Mini

32 lemons

We have a rather strange lemon tree in our backyard.  It's trunk reaches all the way up to the roof (about 7 feet) and then it branches out above the roof line.  This spring, my lemon tree started producing lemons...many lemons, and hasn't stopped since.  I've used my lemons in numerous meals and drinks, taken them on vacation, given them away to neighbors, and even sent them to work with my husband.

But being such a tall tree, I can't just reach up and pick the lemons, they're way out of my reach. When those lemons are good and ready, they fall to the ground.  But every now and then when I'm feeling rather peppy, I'll go in to the garage, get my 8 foot fruit picker (you know the kind with the basket on the end) and I'll go fishing for lemons.  I usually end up being showered with leaves, getting the tiny flowers and lemon dust in my eyes as I look up at my lemon tree to try and coax them down off the branches. The picker really isn't such a great system, so the lemons end up falling to the ground when they're good and ready, and where I go to gather them up.

 This summer I would go out nearly every morning with my coffee and look at the progress of my vegetable garden (sorry Jim, I know you planted it).  I'd water my lavender, sage, roses, gardenia and my herb garden (yes, I planted it).  So with my coffee in one hand and the hose in the other, I'd eventually end up under the lemon tree.

I'd always end up putting either the coffee down, or the hose, but sometimes both, and look around for something to bring the lemons in to the house with. Instead, I would end up gathering all my lemons in my shirt and there I'd be, 10 or so lemons in the pouch of my shirt holding it all together with one hand.  The other hand free to grab my coffee, which at this point is most likely cold.  It never occurs to me during all this figuring out, to walk back to the kitchen (which is all the way around the other side of the house) to get a bowl, or basket, or something to make things easier for myself.  But I guess I got into a routine of doing it this way, gathering those lemons.  Part of a ritual for me on those early summer mornings.  A summer break that has passed too quickly.

The last time I gathered my lemons was Friday.  I counted 32 (from the week) into a big beautiful bowl.  I squeezed them, froze most of the juice, zested 4 or 5,  and made a batch of my favorite lemon bars to share at dinner with our dear friends and neighbors.

This morning I went out as usual coffee and hose in hand, and walked over to my tree to gather the fallen lemons, but to my dismay, there were no lemons on the ground.  As I turned around to go, cold cup of coffee in my hand, one single lemon fell right on to my head.

I guess summer's not quite over yet...

The crust.  Buttery. Slightly sweet.  A hint of crunch with each bite.

The curd.  Tart and sweet.  Thick and creamy.

A to-die-for taste of summer.

Worth every calorie.