Archive for the ‘Recipes’ Category

To Die for Mandel Bread

Wednesday, August 4th, 2010

okay, in person it was quite the sight, 1983, pregnant with Oliver

I’m not exaggerating when I say I gained a person during my first pregnancy. Not an eight-pound person, a fifty-pound person. And fifty looks more like a hundred on my tiny frame. I’ll try to track down a picture to prove it.
At the time, I was often seen in the nicest restaurants sporting a leopard print Fiorucci number, a one-piece that was meant to have a big belt cinching it to show off your hot early-eighties bod. But I was dressing “for two” and looked more like a giant spotted pumpkin than the sexy dame I thought I was. Strangers laughed at me when they took in the sight. A real ego booster.
Cedars, where I gave birth, became a huge party where all my friends visited at all hours. I was one of the first of us to have a kid. Okay, Kimme, Sherry and Barbara started a bit before me, but it really seemed like I was hosting a big premiere. Think “The Wizard of Oz” and the moment she wakes from the dream, looks around the room and says to each person “…and you were there, and you were there…. “ Well, all of YOU reading this were probably there — only it wasn’t a dream.
Periodically, everyone would leave my room en masse to visit the nursery to look at my new, perfect, ten-days-late, stunning child with the Mick Jagger lips. And no, I didn’t fuck Mick — though I met him a few months after Oliver was born and told him it WAS his baby. Should I totally digress to that story? Sure, why not. (more…)

Dancing Bears

Tuesday, July 27th, 2010

Fredde and Doreen

Doreen and I have known each other since high school but it took years until we found each other again.  And we have REALLY reconnected.   A lot of us on the “other side of the tracks” in Beverly Hills  (south of Wilshire) gravitated to each other.

Most kids I knew then had the perfect, or seemingly perfect nuclear family; a mother, usually stay-at-home, a father, and 2.5 children.  (Why they never had a complete third child, I don’t know.)  Doreen, though, was being raised by a working, single mother. No father in the picture at all.  She was a latchkey kid before there was a term for it, a girl who cooked her own dinner at a very early age, and who often called her mother when it was getting very late, well past dinnertime, to ask when she was coming home.  She had made a meal and wanted her mommy there to share it with her. (more…)

The Little Things

Monday, March 22nd, 2010

with my son Oliver, about to eat an amazing breakfast

I can do so little for my husband and he will thank me. I can make the most thrown together, not interesting mish -mosh of a meal that I haven’t even cooked myself and at the end of that meal, he will not only thank me but HE will clean everything up. That’s what he just said after I threw together some cold chicken that was in the refrigerator. I didn’t even cook that chicken, I picked the thing up at the market yesterday….no, no, no, no, that’s a lie, HE picked it up from the market yesterday, an already fully cooked chicken. I had some side dishes that I picked up today at the Farmers Market. And I did manage to find the left over steamed broccoli and I sautéed it in olive oil, garlic and pine nuts. I told him the truth when I met him. I’m a homeBODY, not a homeMAKER. But I guess since he doesn’t cook, anything he eats is a mystery, a lovely tasting magical mystery. That’s how he acts and I totally understand it. When I woke up this morning, I had an e-mail waiting for me from my son Oliver and I rarely look at the time an e-mail comes in but I did, just curious about how late he stays up. There was one sentence that Oliver wrote. The note read “ when I’m rich I will order a croque-madame at 3:17 am from my personal chef ”.
I thought, I can totally relate, it would be MY “if only I were rich” dream. I would have a private chef.
My husband isn’t THAT gastronomically unlucky because today’s lunch menu was a whole different story. I made pancakes, but not my usual buttermilk pancakes. I love my buttermilk pancakes, the recipe is easy and it always tastes great. When I try other pancake recipes, I am often disappointed. I’m not sure why, but I thought, well today, I will try this other one because it sounded like it could be a good one. It’s not just a good one. It’s great. It’s from a hotel in San Francisco called Campton Place.
I’m just sorry Oliver doesn’t live in L.A. because he’s a big all day breakfast eater and it’s a meal he would have really enjoyed.

Campton Place pancakes recipe
For the Topping (I didn’t make this topping but it sounds amazing)
4 ounces ( Istick) unsalted butter
1 Fuji, Braeburn or Granny Smith apple, peeled, cut, cored and cut into ½ inch cubes
½ cup apple cider

For the Pancakes
1 cup all purpose flour
1 cup cake flour
¼ cup wheat flour
3 tablespoons sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 large eggs
2 cups buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 ounces (half a stick) unsalted butter, melted

1. Make the Topping Melt 2 tablespoons of the butter in medium non-stick skillet over medium high heat. Add the apple and sauté until softened and slightly caramelized, about 8 minutes. Add the cider and cook, stirring for 3 minutes, until the apples are tender and the sauce is slightly thick.
2. Remove from the heat and transfer to a food processor fitted with the steel blade. Process until smooth and allow to cool to room temperature.
3. Beat the remaining 6 tablespoons butter until fluffy. Add the apple mixture and stir well to combine. Set aside.

4. Make the pancakes: Sift together the flours, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs, then whisk in the buttermilk, vanilla and melted butter. Whisk in the flour mixture and combine well, but do not overmix.
5. Heat a griddle until hot. Ladle the batter onto the hot griddle, about 1/3 cup per pancake. The batter should sizzle quietly when it hits the surface. Cook until bubbles break through, a couple of minutes, and turn the pancakes over. Cook for another minute, until the pancakes are nicely browned on both sides. Transfer to plates and serve hot, or if making all at once, keep warm in a low oven. Serve with the apple topping.

KAISERSCHMARREN, I Know, What The Hell?

Monday, March 15th, 2010

Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to have me as a mother.  That’s not even true, I am only wondering it right now as I’m about to tell  a having me as a mom story.  So, now yeah, I’m kinda wondering about it.

I’m a big foodie.  Hello? If you’re reading this, you would know that already.  Sometimes I have cravings that just have to be sated.  It could be late at night, so, my kids might be in pajamas, I don’t think I ever woke them up to go on this adventure but it would make the story more fascinating.  But, I like the truth, so here it is.

It would be close to 10:00  at night and the kids  were in pj’s planning on a good nights sleep when I would announce they needed to get “all dressed up” because we were going to Spago for Kaisershmarren.  And MY kids  knew what that meant.  The step-kids will be putting me  and my shenanigans in screenplays and short stories for years to come because of these adventures.   We would all then put our finest clothes on, I would pack up the minivan and head to the fanciest restaurant in Beverly Hills.  We were like the Beverly Hillbillies only sans the newfound money.  Clearly I couldn’t afford to really take them all out to eat at Spago but I never liked the real food there anyway, I love the dessert they have called Kaisershmarren. And if you need “sightings” there really are enough when you arrive at 10:00.  In those days Tony Curtis could be found in the bar area where we were ordering and eating our dessert.

I learned the trick of just ordering dessert in the bar area after I realized all I really love to eat at Spago is the Kaiserchmarren.  I know you’re thinking how many times can I say Kaiserchmarren in one little story.  There is no contest; I just like to say it.

One time, before the famous pastry chef Sherry Yard came out with her book that has the recipe, I was introduced to her.  Sometimes when I’m eating at extremely random great restaurants around the world I run into this guy I know named Andy.  He happens to be married to a famous chef from New York and he is a huge foodie that seems to “know the world”.  He was eating with Sherry Yard this one night , and brought her to my table so I could wax poetic about her talent and well, mainly about my love of Kaiserchmarren.   I didn’t hesitate to ask her for the recipe and she assured me that very soon her cookbook would be published and in it I could find the recipe but that she really shouldn’t give it out until then.  Enjoy the recipe, it took me long to transcribe, it looks too hard for me, so if you are in L. A. I suggest going to Spago and ordering it.emma, barnaby

KAISERSCHMARREN Recipe

For the strawberry sauce

2 pounds, 2 ounces strawberries, hulled and quartered

¾ cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar

¼ cup water

¾ cup fresh orange juice from 3 medium oranges

1 star anise, lightly toasted

1 tablespoon grand marnier

For the pancakes

Softened butter for the pans

9 tablespoons sugar, plus more for dusting the pans

4 egg yolks at room temperature

¼ cup fromage blanc (available at gourmet markets)

¾ cup crème fraiche

2 tablespoons dark rum

¼ cup all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons fat raisins ( I wouldn’t add the raisins and I don’t taste them in it )

8 large egg whites

½ teaspoon cream of tartar

¼ cup confectioners sugar for dusting

  1. make the strawberry sauce:

set aside 2 cups of strawberries and the 2 tablespoons of sugar In a heavy saucepan, combine the remaining stawberries, the water , the ¾ cup sugar, the orange juice, star anise, and Grand Marnier.  Bring to a boil over medium heat.  Stir occasionally to prevent scorching.  Reduce the heat and simmer for 10 minutes.

  1. Remove from the heat and cover with plastic wrap.  Allow to infuse for 10 minutes, then remove the plastic and discard the star anise.  Cover with plastic again and allow to sit for 2 hours.
  1. Pass the sauce through a fine-mesh strainer and set aside, or refrigerate if not using right away.
  1. Make the pancakes:  Place a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat the oven to 400 degrees.. Generously butter two 9 or 10 inch 2 inch deep ( recommend pyrex) pie pans or round cake pans.  Add a heaping tablespoon sugar to each pan and tap and turn the pans to dust evenly.  Tap out any excess sugar.
  1. In a medium bowl with a hand mixer, beat the egg yolks with 2 tablespoons of the sugar until the mixture is light and lemony yellow.  Beat in the fromage blanc and scrape down the bowl and beaters.  Beat in the crème fraiche and rum and scrape down the bowl and beaters.  Beat in the flour and raisins. ( eeuu, I so wouldn’t add those raisins )  Set aside.
  1. In a bowl, beat the egg whites on medium-low speed until they foam, then add the cream of tartar.  Turn the speed up to medium and continure to beat while streaming in the remaining 7 tablespoons of sugar, a tablespoon at a time.  Beat the whites to medium stiff peaks.
  1. Whish half the egg whites into the crème fraiche base.  Gently fold in the remaining egg whites.  Divide the batter between the two pans.  Bake for 15 minutes.  Turn the pans 180 degrees and bake for another 5-8 minutes, until puffed and brown.  The center should be pudding-like.
  1. Finish the sauce:  Meanwhile, in a large skillet, bring the strawberry sauce to a boil over high heat.  Add the reserved 2 tablespoons sugar and stir until the sugar has dissolved.  Add the reserved 2 cups strawberries and heat through, then divide among the serving plates.
  1. When the pancakes are done, remove from the oven and,  using a serving spoon, divide each one into 6-8 portions.  Place 2 portions on each plate and dust with confectioners sugar.  You can also arrange all the portions on a platter, with the sauce and serve family style.  Serve immediately.

(more…)

Valentines Day and Gourmet Grandma’s Salmon

Sunday, February 14th, 2010

forkI fantasized that I could cook meals long before I made it a reality.  Refer to my “About” page.  I never observed my own mothers amazing cooking and had little interest.  She was a true caretaker or maybe I was a hysteric with little interest. I ate her delicious meals and it didn’t matter to me how it ended up on my plate.

I was,  however, a hopeless romantic.  And as each Valentines Day approached even as a teenager I PLANNED to make a heart shaped cake or something special for a boy I loved.  I’m sorry for them that it never happened and if any of them find their way to this blog, I invite those boys/now men to take me up on the offer.  You know who you are and I will make you a damned good cake-come and get it!

The first meal I made of any substance was at the age of 32.  It is Gourmet Grandma’s secret and easy way to cook salmon.  For me, part of the beauty is the little preparation involved- and I almost feel like that little girl waiting for my mothers meal to magically arrive; that’s how easy it is.

Stop fantasizing and start doing, it doesn’t matter at what age you start.  I’m being forced into that as my new motto.

Gourmet Grandma’s salmon recipe

I use two, but fine, take one, I don’t care…sheet of aluminum foil

place the salmon fillet on the sheet of foil

I drizzle good olive oil,  just a touch and only a touch of salt and pepper

Gourmet Grandma used to add julienned carrots, carrots sliced thinly

very thin sliced onion

thin slices of lemon and some dill

you can add any vegetables, I only cook the salmon, no vegetables, onions, dill or lemon

fold the foil into a pouch, nothing genius about this….play with it and figure it out, if I can do it, you can

cook the salmon in the pouch of foil in a 400 oven for 15 minutes

if it’s very thick, you might have to go a few more minutes

Amuse Bouche

Monday, January 18th, 2010

Tonight I really amused my bouche.  And, I hope I amused my husbands and even Domy’s bouche.  And yes I do love that it all sounds very naughty.  I’m glad to say it’s really G-rated, is French and literally means it entertains the mouth.  It is a small appetizer served at some great restaurants. When I am served an Amuse Bouche in a restaurant, I often get very greedy and ask for more.  Maybe it’s greedy AND rude, I’m never sure.  And yet, I still do it.  Just did it the other night at Fraiche in Santa Monica when they gave me one small bite of the best caesar salad I’ve ever had.  Ten of those amuse bouches could have made a nice little meal for me.

The appetizer I made for tonight was crostini served with an olive tapenade and burrata cheese.  How simple it is to make and how impressive it is to serve.

my amuse bouche

I totally copied from one of these restaurants, both served a version of this dish.  It was either Delfina Restaurant on 18’th street in the Mission district of San Francisco or Rustic Canyon Restaurant on Wilshire in Santa Monica, California.

Burrata cheese and olive Tapenade Crostini recipe

Cut slices of your favorite french bread

drizzle with olive oil and fresh garlic

toast lightly in oven, I do 400 degrees and turn it over after a few minutes, two minutes on each side is good

sorry but I buy my olive tapenade from a local gourmet market but I’m sure you can chop a bunch of black olives to make your own

I get Burrata cheese from the same market, Burrata, Italian meaning is buttered, it’s really mozzarella and cream so you can just use a very good mozzarella

put the olive tapenade on the crostini first and then burrata and blow everyone away

When All Else Fails, Bake

Saturday, December 19th, 2009

me and michael at sylvias soul food restaurant

That Thanksgiving Day turkey thing didn’t work out that well.  I hate that pressure.  I like that I know I can do one thing and do it well.  Bake.  My baking never looks all that “mahvelous”.  The cakes I make tend to look a bit like the leaning tower of Pisa and yet, they taste oh so good- if I don’t say so myself.  A very creative friend in the hood, Simone once suggested I start a business of private cake baking because she’s such a fan.  Simone came up with the name of the business (“I baked you a cake”) and totally approved of the fact that my cakes are so imperfect.  She said, she goes to buy baked goods from local bakeries but that none of those cakes, though they look so perfect tasted as amazing as mine.  I was so flattered that for the next few years, I called when I finished a new good cake to offer she and her family a big ass chunk.

One of her families and my favorites is a red velvet cake that I do not dye red.  My husband is not a big fan because; well, because it’s just not his thing.  But also, he’s not a fan because the color is sort of the color of a spice cake.  He calls the color grey.  I keep insisting it’s a light chocolate cake color.  Regardless of how it looks, it’s one of my best recipes.  It comes from Sylvia’s soul food restaurant in Harlem

red velvet cake

It Takes A Village

Thursday, November 26th, 2009

charlie, lotus augie oliver thanksgiving

I just came back from my third but not last trip to the market. Thanksgiving is in approximately two days, two-and-a-half, to be exact. I’m dizzy, I have a touch of vertigo, and I’m also dizzy from anxiety. Lethal combination.

I was given instructions from one friend, Robin, to ask the butcher to nearly cook me my turkey. She said I could ask him to take the whole bird out of its bag, clean it, pull everything that’s inside out and put that in one bag, and place the turkey in yet another bag. I liked the whole concept of never having to really touch the damn thing.

This Thanksgiving dinner crap is like my math phobia on steroids. I can’t help but think of my mom at this time because she did it all — and did it effortlessly. My mom didn’t ask for help chopping, shopping or even to clean up. We were all spoiled by this. Not to mention, she did the whole Thanksgiving dinner with no anxiety, and could have done that meal for us, on-demand, every night of the year.

Gelson’s, my market, wasn’t fully staffed, so there was a long line to ask for help from the one butcher. People stared me down when they heard of my over-the-top, time-consuming request. Embarrassed, I tried to explain that I don’t really cook turkeys. Two women nearby tried to help me; everyone seems to think cooking a turkey is as easy as pie, so to speak. And I don’t think pies are easy, so there goes that saying.

My friend Joy promised to e-mail a recipe to me, but since these two women were being held hostage by my demands of the butcher, they used the time wisely by offering me advice. It sounded so simple. It always does. I liked the younger woman because she seemed to have an easygoing temperament. She was so pleasant that I now wanted to be invited to her house for Thanksgiving dinner. Please invite me, it’s just me and my six guests.

Frankly, I’ve been angling to be invited somewhere for weeks. Thanksgiving has always seemed overwhelming. For years I could count on my family, or if not my own family then my boyfriend’s at the time, or my husband’s. I loved going to Gourmet Grandma’s house (mother of the ex-husband), because, well, it’s obvious — she’s a gourmet cook!

This year, as each week passed and we got closer and closer to this semi-dreaded, semi-thrilling holiday, I kept asking my kids if they were invited to go to their dad’s, which really means his mom’s. I never got an answer, so I worried that they never got an invitation. Finally I received a call that all mothers (or all other mothers) would love. My daughter announced that she and her fiancé and his adorable four-year old would definitely be coming to my house for the big day. “Why? Is something happening here?” I thought. Instead I said, “Great. Are you sure?”

She seemed not to pick up on my ambivalence and I still thought this could change. Her father might yet call with that invite. Then I got another phone call from my oldest son who said that he, too, would be here for Thanksgiving. Everybody was RSVP-ing to an invitation not sent. Now, it suddenly seemed set in stone — I was going to be the hostess of this year’s Thanksgiving dinner.

It hasn’t been easy since my mother died, scrambling at the last minute to figure out where I’m going. Even less easy when I remarried and we became seven people, five kids, two adults. Mind you, we don’t eat a lot, but still it’s hard to be invited somewhere when there’s seven of you. One year, I was solo because my husband was back east with his family and my kids were at Gourmet Grandma’s. That was easy. I thought/hoped that this year would be a repeat. (more…)

Feng Shui and Kimme’s Chili

Friday, October 30th, 2009

Kimme, Tara

Sometimes I inherit friends.  Kimme is one .  She is Kimberly, my best friend’s other best friend.  Over the years she has become one of my best and dearest friends.  The three of us celebrate our birthdays together and we stick by each other in a crisis. We had that crisis a few years ago when Kimme’s husband fought a two-year battle with cancer.  It’s now been two years since he died ( not sure why but I like the word die better then passed ).  There is no describing Kimme because she’s a “gotta see her for yourself” kind of a girl, but let me try.  Kimme is an original, authentic, deep, funny and spiritual person.  She’s adorable beyond belief, stylish (beyond belief).  Kimme is the most loyal friend and partner and did I mention yet that she’s a truly gifted chef?  If only I were a man, I have thought over these past few years, I would surely love to be married to my best friend Kimme.  Alas, I am a woman and I’m married. (more…)

Mogull sisters and the brilliance of Blini’s

Monday, October 26th, 2009

There are certain friendships you make over your life that you just know you were meant to meet.  The Mogull girls are that and more to me.  We met in the 70’s, they were younger and adorable.  My father always said you make your own family in the friends you choose and I certainly feel apart of the Mogull family.  Our fathers were in fact friends and our children are friends so it’s now going on three generations of friends.  Cathy Mogull gives a great Christmas Eve party where she serves blini’s with caviar and smoked salmon.  In the past few years her “friends”, family really, have been displaced by moves.  Alison Mogull moved a few years ago with husband to Colorado. Cathy moved with her husband to Carpenteria.  Cathy Mogull’s best friend Kym moved last year to New York.  I’m still here and I miss our blini parties.  A quirky thing would happen each year, sometime during the year I would want the blini recipe but couldn’t remember where I wrote it, which just gave me the great excuse to call Cathy who would then have to call Alison to get it again.  Not sure what all of our problem was about remembering it because it’s so simple.  And now anyone reading this blog will be able to make these absolutely wonderful and easy blini’s

Blini’s

2 Eggs

One cup milk

1/2 teaspoon salt

One cup flour

2 Tablespoons melted butter

cover and let stand for 30 minutes, we like to put all the ingredients in a blender but you can make it the way you would a pancake batter