Dining is fine, but whining is better

Just you, me & these
noble giants.

Yes, it's been a month. Yes, I've been dutifully dining in this interim, but whining to myself. Here's what you missed:

Wolf song by Christopher.
New trend!

Went to Seattle's Folklife festival. Where giant xylophones go to show off,  and the best acts no one admits to loving shine, like didgeridoo and djembe prodigy Christopher of the Wolves. Like most festivals, they had the typical NW festival food train, crepes, corn, elephant ears, and my new favorite, Salmon piroshky.

What's that you got there? Can I stuff it with
salmon, dill and cream cheese and deep fry it?
I'll be your best friend...

Drowning Rama

I tried Bell Thai, ordered the Swimming Rama with tofu and won't do it again. If they fry their own tofu, they're doing it without any dignity, and if they buy it, well, they're skimpin. The spinach, for which I ordered the dish, was indeed swimming, drowning in a peanut sauce that was out of key with the rest of the plate. My top complaint was getting secretly charged $2 for the worst, most limp and overcooked flat rice noodles I've ever had the occasion to complain about. Slimey. Did enjoy the black sticky rice pudding. Plan to enjoy it again soon, too.

Okay very good creamy sensation pleasures.

There was a week where I ate pizza exclusively. The highlights:

Slices on Alki. The salami should be prosciutto, but who's complaining?
Best crust within a .2 mile radius of my home. Like naan. Soft. Doughy, flavorful. 

Z pizza, best $2 happy hour pizza & beer (after 9pm) within 30 seconds of rehearsal.
Definitely corporate pie, but with local zest. Vegan slice pictured.

Hot Momma's: Best/only pesto pizza with a .1 mile radius of rehearsal. Could improve their dough recipe.

Safeway 5 cheese oven ready pie, with some embellishments.
Best bang for the buck.

We stopped into Jillian's for pool & beer. Note, they do games, tv & beer. Not nachos. Don't order these nachos. You want nachos you go to Cactus.

The olives were delicious.

I took a page from the Alton Brown bible and discovered my new favorite steak. Dry aged in the fridge, seared in the cast iron then broiled. I added it to a salad of field greens, nectarines, radish & sugar snap peas. Alton suggests a three day stint in the fridge, finishing the steak under a makeshift outdoor chimney, but  a few hours aging and an oven does quick work. After a few quick minutes under the broiler, I let it rest, covered, then sliced it, doused it in balsamic and threw it in. Not to brag, but it was sooOooOoo good.

Other notable home-cooking success stories include Bill's pancake chefery...

Most improved pancake award. Medal to follow.

...and my continued command of frying up salmon croquettes. I tried adding a cream cheese, caper & horseradish filling, which was a stroke of melted, savory genius on my part.




Salmon Croquettes

Mash up one can of pink salmon
Add a beaten egg, half a sleeve of crushed saltines, 2 chopped shallots, 1 T capers, salt & pepper.
Blend, form into a shallow patty, make a well and add 1 t of cream cheese horseradish.
Cover with another shallow patty and fry in a half inch of oil until golden brown.
Serve with ketchup. Or something you hold in high esteem.







Dine of the month: 

Wild fennel growing taller than me like weeds in someone's yard off the beach.  I know. A whole month and this was the best. But it was so good! I didn't even get to the bulb, (I haven't dug up food in someone else's yard in years), but the sweet fronds were so wonderful and unexpected. I crumpled them up and put them in Bill's sweater pocket, where they're now dehydrated, crumbling, but fragrant. I've got to get on this.
See you next time. Missed you!

Dine Out? I'm in.

Before Best Coast last night at The Neptune, Mr. Two Drinks and I stopped at Cedar's Restaurant in the U.

Don't tell me you don't know Mr. Two Drinks

Delicious

Deliciousher

Seated instantly, we were served quickly and well tended until it came time to get a box and get moving. It was getting busy, but, you know. I complain. Oh, but the food...

Against my better judgement, I passed over the highly-recommended garlic naan for the mint naan. Refreshing, its cooling powers were appreciated next to the 3* heat in our Butter Chicken. Close in flavor to a tikka masala, the butter keeps surprising you. Occasionally putting down your fork is recommended, (per usual) to better appreciate the absence of any acidity. "Creamy" doesn't really do this dish justice. Let's say, in a whisper, silky. Silky, with chicken. 

I can't say much for the iced chai other than I wished I'd ordered it hot, because their was a strange flavor I like to think was from the ice. Bill tried it, decided it was heavy on the anise, so I decided to love it. Ah, the power of suggestion, and anise. His mango lassi was delicious, precisely creamy (no whisper needed), and blended with rose water. Purr.

This past weekend Bianca came through, inspiring me to go beyond the usual egg breakfast. We whipped up a quick Dutch Baby and Fritatta with tea and fruit.

No you whip it.

 Dutch Baby in a buttery cast iron skillet

• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup milk
• 1/2 cup sifted all-purpose flour
• 1 pinch ground nutmeg
• 1 pinch salt
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 2 tablespoons confectioners' sugar for dusting

Preheat skillet, buttered, in a 475 degree oven

Mix ingredients and add to hot skillet

Lower heat to 425 and bake 12 min or until puffy>>>

Dust with powdered sugar and serve

Fritatta Loaf  

3 eggs

A handful of whatever veggies you have, chopped (I sauteed some creminis and shallots ahead of time)

1/2 cup shredded cheese

Fresh herbs (Oregano, basil, parsley are all easy, approachable breakfast herbs)

1 T melted butter

Heat butter in loaf pan in oven

Toss vegetables in melted butter, add 3 beaten eggs, shredded cheese and fresh chopped herbs to a loaf pan

Bake 15 min at 425, allow to cool slightly.

Serve on hearty, buttered toast. 

Nom of the week

I'll carry you around like an infant, Juanita,
and hold you close.

No, it's not butter. It's my girl Juanita. We discovered Juanita and her magic bag of chips a few weeks ago, and have been stocking our pantry ever since.When a bag runs low, nothing feels quite so right as buying a new bag. Sure, they're gluten free. But that's pretty irrelevant. They're also bullshit free. These chips are the end of every other chip. Forever. 

Happy Mother's Day

This morning, we hosted a Mother's Day Brunch without any mothers. Admittedly, we sent out the invites too late.

On the menu, we featured Italian sausage & spinach omelettes, banana yogurt granola bowls, hot tea and fresh mango bellinis in homage to our moms.

My omelette was duly overcooked, just like Mom used to make. 

Here's to you, Mom.

Seis de Mayo

Because Cinco de Mayo came at the end of a tiring week of this,

Posing in factory apparel. Exhausting.

my holiday was spent like this after a few Coronas:

Ole!

Sunday morning was a slow-moving, ill-humored wake up, disgruntledly drowsing at the alarm until I actually got going with these increasingly-popular breakfast foods.

Coffee/tequila not pictured.

 Camp counseling, 2003. I taught canoeing,
drama, music and salsa eating.

Salsa Verde recipe I picked up long ago from one of the kitchen ladies at Camp Arrowhead. Muchas, muchas, muchas gracias, Senora.
This will make damn near a quart, which is not enough.

1 small red onion
1 lb. tomatillos, blanched and skinned (or 3 cans) (I know)
1 small tomato
1 lg bunch cilantro leaves and a few stems
2 mean serranos, seeded to reduce the heat (or not, ole!)
juice of 1 lime
1 1/2 t cumin
1t salt

blender or food processor

1. Blend/pulse tomatillos, tomatos, cilantro, cumin & lime until mixed.
2. Chop fine by hand or pulse in serranos and onions. Do Not Liquify.
3. Add salt to taste. Then chips. The biggest bag you can find.


We took this batch to my cast mate's house for a small fiesta writ large with comida, cerveza and...

Photo by Emily Ho

Horchata!

What you need for fast aguas frescas:

1 1/2 cups uncooked rice

1 cinnamon stick

1 can sweetened condensed milk

3 cups hot tap water

A holding vessel & a pitcher

Tea towel or cheese cloth

1. Allow the rice to soak with the cinnamon in water, our holding vessel was a tall tumbler. Many people add blanched almonds to the soak. See this recipe for more. Soak overnight or as long as you can wait. A few hours will do. (thankfully)

2. Using an immersion blender, blend/grind the mixture, now softened slightly until smooth. Strain through cheese cloth or a tea towel, like your abuela used to do.

3. Add the sweetened condensed milk and blend well. Now you have horchata concentrate. Add water to taste (you're aiming at about two quarts total). Chill in a pitcher to make your aguas frescas frio then go to town. I enjoy mine over ice. Maybe with a churro or two. Yes. Vicky I'm thinking of you.

That same day, Bill and I had a chance to try Two Bells Tavern, a legendary old burger hole that smells like, well, an old burger hole that's seen some grisly days. There is a smell. Their burgers arrive on crusty sourdough lengths with your choice of cheddar, swiss, havarti or bleu, (I hear their blue burger is a siren song.) Bill had the Tavern burger with swiss, and I was in love. I had the basic havarti burger, and must admit it was not as juicy as I had heard it would be. For sides, no fries will do. They make baked beans in house, which I've never had the occasion to rave about before but do so now, since I kept pilfering from Bill's small bowl, and a cole slaw with bacon and a mustard wash, (yes!) Potato salad is also an option, and if you have no heart, there's also chips. 

See all of you soon.

Something even worse than going smell blind

The cold rain took my health, but these berries
 lost everything.

Last Thursday, I accidentally left myself out in the rain and caught a cold, which augmented the ferocity of my allergies, cost me a couple days of work and has left my most prized senses debilitated. I'm no blood hound, but if there's a lingering smell left on you from yesterday, I'll usually able to track it. A voracious taster, spicy foods burn me easily, upsetting the delicate palate I rely on to taste the deep, hidden flavors I stay hungry for. I have always had a talent for tasting, but for the last week, I have nearly given up eating, as my taste buds have only been able to detect sweet, salty, and sad, save for a few strange days. I've traded dining out for driving thru, and even then for sustenance only. I was weak and dizzy this morning, and had to take a hard look at what I've been chewing on these past few dismal days.

Since nothing in my kitchen has made sense, I've been skipping my usual balanced nourishment and opting for Ikea breakfasts, fish sandwiches from McDonald's and Jack in the Box, small servings of leftovers, and light handfuls of nuts and oranges. I've been playing the hunger games solo, but without my tasting tools, I've got no fight left. We had a friend stay over the weekend, and finally visited Buddha Ruska, something I've been looking forward to since we moved to West Seattle, but I only sensed far-away flavors and promising textures while the rest of the table cooed and chewed.

Vegetarian field roast pile, w/ grilled biscuits at
Luna Park Cafe. Thank you, Universe.

 The next morning we hit up Luna Park Cafe, where I foreswore my usual Espresso milkshake for water and split a Vegetarian Field Roast Pile. This was not in vain, my 'buds were back, (for a limited time), and were awake and transmitting long enough for me to enjoy the feta, mushroom, tomato, spinach and vegetarian field roast sausage on a bed of hashbrowns topped with two fried eggs. I've mentioned this before, here, but go get their biscuits. Ask for them grilled, wait patiently, and when they arrive,  go get 'em. Forget about that old "America's bread basket needs more roughage" adage*, and fill yourself with starch, carbs and lingering grill marks.

*DO NOT forget this. America is stupid for bread. Put the hoagie down, get dressed, and go fill up your basket at the farmer's market. And wear something trendy - you'll shop with more dignity and adventure.

I've been blowing my nose overtime, trying to purge this curse, and I think I'm finally coming around. Today I cleaned out the fridge on a quest to nourish myself, and I did a bang up job. Veggie burger with hummus, bell pepper and spinach, beans and rice, hearty cereal and a garbage pale smoothie. Wait, how do you get one of those?
Gather all the fruits and veggies in your kitchen that have that not-so-fresh pallor, and combine with milk, yogurt and that protein powder you can't seem to work into your diet. I like (to gag on) Designer Whey's Double Chocolate. Alone, it tastes like cardboard made out of wood chips, crushed aspirin and generic hot chocolate mix. I learned that when added to strawberries and spinach, the taste is muted by the overpowering earthiness of the greens, but the smooth creaminess can shine through, gathering mild sweetness from the fruit. I always throw in a frozen banana - one that grew too many spots on the counter (xtra sweet) - and some barely still alive berries. What? Of course throw in some flax seeds! Avoid melon, which tends to sour even the trashiest garbage pale smoothie. I blend until well mixed, then add more spinach. Because it can't hurt.

Do not microwave this.

Too Disgruntled to Dine Out

Disgruntled means many things on this blog, and today we'll let it sub for "under house arrest."

These last weeks I've spent some time mourning meals like the one you see here. In Texas, you end up eating a lot of Tex Mex because a.) it's the reason you're there or b.) wherever you go you're never more than five minutes from a lovable taqueria or cantina. We've tried a few different "Tex Mex" eateries here in Washington, and they just seem to be missing something. The Tex, maybe?

When the weather turns, then turns again, and you can't take your summer spirits outside lest they get broken by the clouds, take your woes to the store and buy ingredients for an indoor fiesta. These party favors are quick, fresh, healthy and require minimum clean up.

First, set your oven to broil.

What you'll need for quesadillas:

1 can black beans, rinsed & drained
1/2 cup fresh shredded cheddar
1 small mango, chopped
1 avocado, chopped
tortillas
cooking spray or butter
salt

plus 

1 poblano pepper,

1 T dried oregano and 

about a cup of chopped onion. Sweat those together over medium high heat until onion is transparent. Combine with mango/avocado.

Plant some cheddar on half of the tortillas, top with mix and then more cheese, for adhesion & prosperity & extra fat. For love, really. Fold in half, spray lightly with cooking spray and give it up to the broiler til' melty.

 If you can't bring yourself to turn on your oven, crisp them up on the stove on medium high.

Look what's left! It's just you and the pan, now. Don't be shy. Grab a spoon and get in there. Or...

Focus, think about what you can make without cheese, since you so cavalierly ate the rest of it while cooking, and create a cool, refreshing Tex-Mex salad.

What you'll need:

Red Bell pepper, chopped

4 radishes, sliced thin

3 scallions, chopped

1 can black beans, rinsed & drained

for the dressing:

1/4 c chopped cilantro

2 t coarse grain mustard (brown deli mustard will do)

1 t red wine vinegar

1 T lime juice

3 t olive oil

Whisk together your dressing and combine with chopped veggies & beans. Marvel briefly at the colors, grab a Modelo and eat. 

Canlis: A Masterpiece in Three Acts

Last Tuesday got real fancy real fast. Since you weren't there, I invite you to grab your opera glasses for flavor, sit back in your seat, and allow me to regale you with my decadent tale. 


I spent all day prepping for an audition, and as soon as I finished I raced across town to grab Bill, only to race home, pull on some evening wear and dash out to dinner. I made a conscious choice to let my frantic momentum run itself into a $20 cocktail as the hostess took my coat and we were led into the beyond.

The best $1 dining
bible around

Tuesday, February 21st, we left this earthly plane, all its noises, plastic clutter and crude banalities to ascend the gently sloping path to a dinner I'll not soon forget. In William Speidel's You Can't Eat Mount Rainier!, Canlis is described as having reached the "pinnacle in decor, service, and taste." This book is adorable. Published in '55, it called to me from a clearance rack after Christmas, and upon flipping through it I found an entry for the mysterious restaurant we'd just received a gift certificate for. I brought the book with us, handed it to the hostess and invited her to pass it around so the staff could enjoy a glimpse into their mighty empire's past.

Oh, help me, John Mason.

We gave our name to the valet, let our car drive off with all our cares and woes, and headed in. We were early, and so took a seat in the lounge where a piano played gilded versions of today's hits. Brittany, Whitney, Celine, Radiohead - a likely overture to foreshadow the evening ahead; modern in places, but smacking of your favorite traditions. We perused the cocktail list, but I knew right away what to order. My 'Prince In Disguise' and Bill's Old Fashioned arrived just as our table was ready, so we followed our drinks to a table facing the dining room. It was pulled out so we might sit easily beside each other in the booth, and I was lucky enough to find my orientation offered a view of the kitchen window, fully done in copper paneling, casting off soft visions of kitchen business without clearly reflecting any distractions. We took in the other diners as we sipped our drinks. Mine a bourbon fantasy with a slice of apple dusted in cinnamon and Bill's a cold, refreshing toddy. If nothing else, please, take yourself and $50 to Canlis and get a couple cocktails. Really fine work.

That star anise came home with me. What were they going
to use it for? These things don't just grow on trees.
(Do they?)

Act One began shortly after Bill learned he would be feasting on his very own plate of oysters, our amuse bouche arrived; a warm, creamy leek soup in sweet little cups that were perfect with nibbles of their house milk & honey rolls. For those of you with private shame about gorging on King's Hawaiian Sweet Rolls in a dark pantry, the soft and supple crumb of Canlis rolls will upgrade your addiction. And you can have as many as you want. And they're always warm, because they bring them to you one by one out of a hot, covered basket. Ok. The bread was good. What about the food?

Let's coddle an egg together.

Voted one of the 100 best dishes in America, the Canlis salad has barely evolved since 1950, but continues to dazzle diners, $18 at a time. A crisp foundation of romaine, green onion, grape tomatoes, mint, oregano, bacon, romano cheese and croutons, what really sells this salad is its fresh simplicity, but it might be the coddled egg--which is exactly what it sounds like. I think you pay for that one careful moment where the sous chef pauses, ignoring whatever chaos is going on around them, (does Canlis know chaos?), and delicately places the whole egg into water that was ever-so-recently boiling. Kind of a high-risk job for anybody. Or maybe they have an egg coddler on staff for just this sort of thing.

Humming along with Gangster's Paradise on the piano, we sighed as our plates left, empty, but lit up as our main course arrived. Act Two opened with Muscovy duck, sliced parsnip and pear in a creamy reduction, a dollop of sticky golden raisins and a duck croquette. The duck was delicious, aged 14 days and prepared admirably, but the croquette, which maybe took minutes to form and fry, sang the song I still can't get out of my mind. As a fan of fried treasures, this one goes straight to the top of my list, and that's all I'm prepared to say.

In between bites of duck, I moved in on Bill's king salmon. On a bed of shitake mushrooms and pearl onions dripping with something fabulous I'll never know the secret to, the salmon was fresh, thick, and gently grilled. A substantial meal in itself, I ate about half the fillet and left thinking I'd never need another bite of protein. That's value.






Not pictured are the twice-baked potato - a sixty year tradition that keeps on giving - and a mound of herbed truffle fries, which we were advised to take home and broil the next morning with eggs for breakfast, (encore!) An unexpected intermezzo arrived as I was agonizing over ever standing up again: two dips of goat's milk sorbet. Bravo.

Happy Birthday Forever!!!!

Just as I'd lost hope that we'd receive a visit from the distinguished owner, Act Three began: a Grand Marnier soufflé, cracked and drizzled with creme anglaise by Mr. Canlis himself.  Personable and younger than you'd guess, he returned my book and we chatted about more refined dining techniques. The Morenos were climbing the social ladder a little too fast, so we ordered two boozy coffees and slowly prepared for our humble return home. The bill came and went, our serenity unbroken as we handed over our gift card.

I bow to you, sweet somethings.

For all there was to love, the one thing that didn't succeed was Bill's Spanish coffee - a mix of armagnac, cointreau, rum, you see where I'm going with this? Not really a "perk up before you drive home" kind of beverage, which we were duly warned about, but it was so sweet and alcoholic I couldn't really enjoy it. Maybe set it on fire? My Irish coffee was just what I wanted, and effectively brought me back to life for the curtain call:


Rosewater macarons and dark chocolate nibbles filled with peanut butter ganache.



Clap louder, you swine, they can't hear you in the back.





Dine of My Life

Still struggling to pull myself together

But wait, where was the climax? Who died?

It was me, I died, and as Vanessa Williams once cooed, I've gone and saved the best for last. The gun shot happened early, in the first act, making expert use of the charcoal broiler Canlis is famous for, and adding star power to huckleberry jus, coriander, and a smashing pickled rutabaga coin. The star in question is pork belly, the softest, fattiest, most breath-taking cut of meat ever to be dusted in pastrami shavings and disappear, between sobs, off my plate. And the rutabaga - (I promised myself I wouldn't cry again, but) - so crisp and commanding, I tried to pace myself but... Before I knew it the feathers were drifting to the floor and my mascara had betrayed me. This dish was so, so good, I'm having trouble getting out of bed in the morning, knowing there's nothing in my kitchen worth getting up for.

As a diner, I'm not quick to award an establishment simply based on its reputation for excellence, and having read a few reviews slandering Canlis as an over-priced, over-staffed exercise in stuffy tradition, I kept an eye out for missteps. I am easily disturbed by overly-attentive servers, and while the staff was indeed extensive, and we never wanted for anything, the calm at our table never felt threatened. As this particular outing was a gift, I wanted to see the good, but was ultimately and unexpectedly charmed, thrilled, to find that even a diner as disgruntled as I could be healed by a truly fine dine out.

Special thanks to our investors, Bill & Cecilia, for believing in us and sending us to the moon for one beautiful evening.