More chef goings-on from Rustic Canyon

This morning at the Santa Monica farmers market, I bumped into newly appointed Rustic Canyon chef Evan Funke (pictured) at Windrose Farm's stall -- along with the restaurant's entire crew (owner Josh Loeb, pastry chef Zoe Nathan, departing chef Samir Mohajer), who seemed to be having an ad hoc meeting next to the tomato plants and baskets of lettuces.  Funke, a local boy from Pacific Palisades, rolls out his new menu tomorrow night.  He says he'll be emphasizing pasta (zucchini agnolotti with basil sauce, black olive pappardelle with rabbit ragu) since he just got back from Italy, where he spent three months cooking pasta with pasta maker Alessandra Spisni in Bologna.  Prior to that, Funke spent 6 1/2 years with the Wolfgang Puck organization, starting out in catering and moving up to sous chef at Spago, followed by a stint as chef de cuisine at the Avalon Hotel. 

As Funke moved off to talk to Windrose Farm's Barbara Spenser about lamb, Mohajer confirmed that he and Paul Shoemaker (formerly chef de cuisine at Providence) have a restaurant in the works:  "That's the plan."  It turns out that Mojaher and Shoemaker went to culinary school together -- Pasadena's CSCA -- from which Funke also graduated.  Maybe it was a secret alumni meeting....

Rustic Canyon Wine Bar and Seasonal Kitchen, 1119 Wilshire Blvd., Santa Monica.  (310) 393-7050.  Lunch, 11:30-2:30 p.m. Tues.- Fri.; dinner, 5:30-10:00 p.m. daily (closing hours may vary). 

-- Amy Scattergood

Photo by Amy Scattergood

The talented Mr. Perry

Charles Perry's well-known byline appears in Food this morning on the lead story "Dogtown, USA," but the longtime staff writer retired from The Times last Friday.

Every story Charlie has written for Food, it seems, has generated an outpouring of e-mails from his very engaged readers. So we want to let everyone know that although he'll be heading to Turkey in the immediate future and has a number of projects planned, Perry's articles will continue to appear from time to time in The Times on a freelance basis.

Coworkers bid him adieu with, among other festivities, a doughnut reception in the Times Test Kitchen, where glazed, raised and filled doughnuts from the city's best-loved doughnut shops were on the menu in honor of his endearing habit of bringing doughnuts to the office on deadline day.

It will be impossible to fill Charlie's shoes; he -- and his legendary collection of vintage and novelty neckties -- will be sorely missed. He is the quintessential "Renaissance Culinarian," equal parts historian, storyteller, detective and cook. While food is but one of Charlie's passions -- do a Web search under his name and you're likely to find references to medieval cuisine, long-dead languages, Haight-Ashbury, Rolling Stone magazine and even Augustus Owsley Stanley (his college roommate) -- it has, of course, been the focus of his professional life. A member of the Times staff for 18 years, Charlie has often been referred to as the wit of the Food section, with knowledge (and personal experience) covering everything from historic California pit barbecue to the finest ancient recipes for rotted barley.

Among Charlie's upcoming projects is the aforementioned trip to Turkey, where he'll take part in the Traditional Tastes Conference in Safranbolu and make a side trip to Istanbul, whose libraries contain arguably the best collections of medieval Arabic cookbooks. He'll continue his work with the Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery and the Culinary Historians of Southern California (of which he is a co-founder and longtime president).

Charlie is also putting together a book proposal tentatively titled "Partying Like It's 1399." The book details the author's many adventures as a food historian. Mr. Perry describes it as "one man's quest to be cookin' it old-school."

We'll forward e-mail sent to his attention at food@latimes.com.

-- Noelle Carter and Susan LaTempa

Photo by Nick Cuccia

Crudo Tuesdays

When it's as hot as it's been for the last few days, cooking over a hot stove -- or cooking at all -- isn't so appealing.  Which makes crudo, the Italian take on sashimi that's so popular these days, that much more appetizing.  It's surprisingly easy to make yourself (thinly slice sashimi-quality raw fish on a diagonal, add a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil, a squeeze of lemon, a sprinkle of sea salt), and with a salad of interesting greens, you have dinner.  Or head over to Il Grano on any given Tuesday evening and sample chef-owner Salvatore Marino's full menu of the stuff. (This is his wild bluefin tuna crudo, with arugula and a fine dice of artichokes, tomatoes, carrots and onions.)

Marino, who likes to point out that he's been serving crudo since 1997 (the menu for last week's Crudo Tuesday, the first, marked each of the 12 raw dishes with their inaugural year, as if they were wine vintages; above is 1997) takes his fish very seriously.  He says he decided on Tuesdays because that's when the freshest fish are flown into the downtown Los Angeles fish markets from Tokyo's Tskiji fish market, the most famous of them all. 

Last year, while working on a crudo story, I had the sleep-deprived pleasure of meeting Marino early one morning (by early, he meant 4 a.m.) at International Marine, the downtown Los Angeles fish wholesaler where many of the city's most fish-centric chefs can often be found trolling for amberjack and toro, wild snapper and cuttlefish.  (As I slid across the wet concrete, FDA-approved hairnet in place, I could see the boxes marked in felt pen: Matsuhisa, Providence ... )  Here's the handsome yellowtail I brought back that day to the Test Kitchen; it later became crudo, accompanied simply with a little lemon vinaigrette and a few heirloom cherry tomatoes.  OK, not as crazy inventive as Marino's mackerel with mint, fava puree and whole-grain mustard (that one's a 2008), but pretty tasty.  No stove required.

Il Grano, 11359 Santa Monica Blvd., Los Angeles; (310) 477-7886. Though crudo is also served at lunch, the full crudo menu is served at dinner. Lunch 11:45 a.m. - 2:15 p.m.; dinner 5:30 - 10:30 p.m. 

-- Amy Scattergood

Photos by Amy Scattergood

Signs of life ... and a question

As promised, here’s an update on the Parsons’ Family Farm (well, the four raised vegetable beds in my front yard). The squash and the melons have poked through and are doing well, as are about half of the bean seeds I planted at the same time. The beans seem to be a little slower to germinate than the cucurbits. (I planted them all April 13.)

I’ve also planted three tomato plants I bought last week from Barbara Spencer at Windrose Farm. Two of them are old favorites: Cherokee Purple and Brandywine Pink. The third is something called Double Rich Red, which I’ve never tried but Spencer says is “high-acid,” which fits my palate perfectly.

The question is this: I’ve still got one tomato spot left. What should I plant? Cherokee and Brandywine are beefsteak-types. Double Rich Red looks to be more of a slicer. I’m tempted to put in a cherry, or maybe a paste. I’m a couple of miles inland, but the early summer months still tend to be foggy and cool (this last weekend notwithstanding!). So maybe something very reliable like a Sweet 100 or even Early Girl (not a cherry, I know) would be a smart bet. What do you think?

-- Russ Parsons

(Photo by Russ Parsons)

Bevy of bivalves

“Scam” is such an ugly word, so loaded with implications of illegality and wrongdoing. So I’ve been working hard trying to come up with another description of my judging of the Pacific Coast Oyster Wine Competition. I’ll let you know if I come up with something.

For someone who loves both oysters and wine as intemperately as I do, it’s a little hard to believe that someone would actually offer to let you consume as much of both as you’d like, all in the name of science. But that’s exactly what Jon Rowley does every spring. Rowley is the marketing genius who introduced the world to Copper River salmon. He also dabbles in other things, great peaches and oysters being among them. And every spring for the last 14 years, sponsored by Taylor Shellfish Farms in Washington, he convenes a panel of judges in three West Coast cities to determine which wines go best with raw oysters.

Here’s how it works: About a dozen oyster lovers gather at Water Grill in downtown L.A. They pour the wines, five at a time, 20 in all, and they bring as many oysters as you want. Yes, you read right: As many as you want. You slurp an oyster, taste a wine and then rate it on what Rowley calls the “bliss factor,” which is basically a highly scientific term for “how much you like it.” At the end of the tasting, the scores for all of the judges are totaled, then combined with the results from San Francisco and Seattle, and a winner is named.

The best wines with oysters tend to be extremely crisp and slightly light in body. Oysters seem to emphasize any bitterness in a wine, so wines with a lot of oak rarely do well and neither do varietals such as Gewürztraminer, which has a slightly bitter finish that is delicious in the proper context but not with oysters. The best wines don’t necessarily make the best oyster wines. A lot of times strong varietal character will overshadow the more delicate aspects of oyster flavor. Instead, oysters want a wine that refreshes the palate.

The winners tend to be dominated by Sauvignon Blancs with the occasional Pinot Gris thrown in for interest. As an added bonus, these lighter wines rarely cost more than $15 a bottle. Repeat winners include such wines as the Sauvignon Blancs from Kenwood, Geyser Peak and Dry Creek (labeled Fume Blanc). This year’s competition is not yet completed, so it’s too early to name a winner, but my favorites out of the tasting were the Sauvignon Blancs from Simi, Clayhouse, Kathryn Kennedy and Clos du Bois.

The big question, of course, is how many oysters? I stopped counting after four dozen. It was taking all my concentration to come up with an alternative to “scam.”

UPDATE (4-28): Final results are in and the top 12 wines, in alphabetical order were: Amity Vineyards 06 Pinot Blanc (OR); Chateau Ste. Michelle* 06 Columbia Valley Sauvignon Blanc (WA); Clayhouse Vineyard 06 Sauvignon Blanc (CA); Clos du Bois Winery 06 Sauvignon Blanc (CA); Covey Run Winery 06 Fume Blanc (WA); Dry Creek Vineyard* 06 Sonoma County Fume Blanc (CA); Girard Winery 06 Sauvignon Blanc (CA); Kathryn Kennedy Winery* 07 Sauvignon Blanc (CA); Robledo Family Winery* 06 Sauvignon Blanc (CA); Simi 06 Sauvignon Blanc (CA); Van Duzer Vineyards 07 Pinot Gris (OR); Willamette Valley Vineyards* 07 Pinot Gris (OR). Asterisks represent wines that have also won in previous years.

-- Russ Parsons

Photo by Russ Parsons

Libation, prayer and wild gulf shrimp

OK, granted that when visiting New Orleans, farmers markets do not rank high on most tourists' list of "must-dos." (My cab from the airport was stenciled with "Libation and Prayer Solve All Problems," and judging from the crowds in the French Quarter, most folks were putting their faith in the first option.) But still, a sunny Saturday morning and having taken on board a fresh load of debris and grits and meat biscuits from Mothers, it seemed like a fine thing to do.

It's still a little early in the growing season in Louisiana and the Crescent City Farmers Market at Magazine and Girod streets was pretty tiny. But it was packed with happy people who didn't seem to mind at all that the selection might have been a little limited. There were tomatoes, chard, beautiful spring onions labeled "Vidalia-like" and even fava beans and some navel oranges from Plaquemines Parish. But the big draw was strawberries. Louisiana strawberries have a legendary reputation, but a food snob couldn't help but notice that these were Camarosas, the standard commercial variety for California. They were pretty sweet, though, even if fairly firm.

The highlights of the market for me were the things we can't get in California -- foremost among them pristine wild-caught white shrimp, heads on and fresh from the gulf. Heck, I would have settled for that beautifully briny water they'd been transported in. Silky Creole cream cheese also had people lined up. And there was even a guy selling beef. What breed, one woman asked. "Oh you know, it's just some old piney woods cow," was the answer. Thus persuaded, she bought some.

-- Russ Parsons

Photo by Russ Parsons

Ko woes (Quick, you have 4 seconds to make a reservation)

I've jumped into the Momofuku Ko reservation fray. I'm going to New York this weekend and have been logging on to the online reservation system every morning at 6:59 a.m. for the past several days. Jeesh, if New Yorkers think they have it tough trying to get a reservation at David Chang's 12-seat restaurant, try doing it from the West Coast.

The reservation system opens at 10 a.m. East Coast time, showing seats available for seven days out. But there are so many people clicking for seats that it's near impossible to get one. It really does drive people nuts -- I was pre-coffee delirious on Saturday morning (Saturday! I should have still been in bed) when I clicked on the link at the bottom of the page that said "help is here" and sent an e-mail to the reservation powers that be, saying all kinds of stupid things about how I'd been up since the crack of dawn and complaining about how my Internet connection wasn't fast enough. I didn't expect a reply, but I got one:

"this morning there were several hundred people actively logged onto the system and all the reservations went in the first four seconds.  with everyone trying to get what amounts to 14 reservations the odds of getting a seat are certainly slim but your internet connection speed is basically irrelevant; it's just plain old busy.  ...

check out these recent articles:

http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5jUtyh9e9IMll4s3E3fqUCciridQwD900E0N00

http://gothamist.com/2008/04/04/momofuku_ko_onl.php

thanks for your interest in ko."

Four seconds?!

-- Betty Hallock

My Rancho Gordo care package

Some weeks ago, during the course of writing a cooking story on beans and greens, I had the happy privilege of a few telephone conversations with Rancho Gordo founder Steve Sando.  Rancho Gordo is the Napa company that markets a terrific assortment of dried heirloom beans, which Sando sources himself during treks through the Americas.  (The humble bean has gone chic: Rancho Gordo was No. 2 in this year's Saveur Magazine 100; the company's biggest customer is the California headquarters of Google.)  Sando -- empassioned, funny, articulate -- told me about his clay pot experiments; his firm belief that really good beans don't need anything more than water and mirepoix to bring out their true flavors (i.e., no ham hocks, no stock); and that he's been busy translating his hills of beans into a book, due out in September. 

Sando was also the inspiration for the Christmas lima bean taco recipe that I've been making obsessively since. Finally, I got online and ordered packages of Good Mother Stallard, Goat's Eye and Black Calypso beans; a bottle of pure Mexican vanilla extract; and Rancho Gordo's Gay Caballero very hot sauce.

And here's one of the resulting tacos, built with the Good Mother Stallard beans, tomatillo-radish-cilantro salsa, avocado from my editor's tree, and a generous pour of the hot sauce.  It was very, very good.  The beans, cooked with only water and a little diced onion sweated in olive oil, were dense and nutty, deeply flavorful and unusually shapely, if such a thing can be said about a bean.  Even after reheating the next day, they were beautiful, discrete, perfectly articulated on the plate.  And the hot sauce -- a blissfully incendiary concoction, with a surprising jolt of cloves and allspice -- well, let's just say that E. Annie Proulx (who wrote the short story "Brokeback Mountain") should by rights have a cabinet full of the stuff.  If she doesn't, I may have to order another care package and have it shipped to Wyoming. 

Rancho Gordo: New World Specialty Food; 1755 Industrial Way #26, Napa, California; (707) 259-1935.

-- Amy Scattergood

Photos by Amy Scattergood

Farm store at Cal Poly Pomona

I happened upon the farm store at Cal Poly Pomona the other weekend and picked up a bunch of citrus and avocados grown right there on campus, in the middle of its AGRIscape project -- 40 acres that showcase farming and urban landscaping practices that are sustainable. (You have to love a store where the parking lot dividers are filled with mint.)

In the store, you'll find Cal Poly Pomona's avocados (Bacon, Fuerte, Zutano), Algerian tangerines (I love them -- sweet and floral), lemons, oranges and orange juice, pummelos and grapefruit (Oro Blanco, Frua), squash, onion, broccoli, cabbage. Even their own beef, pork, sausage and jerky from the cows and pigs raised at the Meat Science facility (a USDA-inspected plant) on campus. Oh, and there's a big vat of their own buckwheat honey, from which you can fill your own bottles. (Also: Pick your own strawberries through May.)

Cal Poly Pomona Farm Store, 4102 S. University Drive, just south of Temple Ave., Pomona. (909) 869-4906, Sunday to Friday 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. and Saturday 8 a.m. to 6 p.m.

-- Betty Hallock

Photo by Betty Hallock

Saturday breakfast at Rustic Canyon

The menu at Rustic Canyon in Santa Monica relies heavily on local farmers market produce, so it was doubly fun to see the restaurant open this past Saturday for a market-inspired breakfast.  Not only do the new hours coincide with the Saturday morning Santa Monica farmers market, but pastry chef Zoe Nathan's morning menu reads like a paean to what's just arrived in her kitchen -- or what you'll find or have just found at the market stalls.  The restaurant's wooden bar was loaded with lemon-currant scones, strawberry-rhubarb galettes, a huge asparagus-tomato frittata, pistachio teacakes and kouign amann (amazing little Breton pastries made with laminated dough).  The kitchen also offers Pudwill Farms' berries and Strauss yogurt, and yummy dishes featuring eggs from Lily's Farm -- bought from the farmer that morning.

It's a tight-knit group at Rustic Canyon.  Owner Josh Loeb hired Nathan after their mothers -- both families are from Santa Monica -- set the couple up (that's them on the left).  Nathan's father makes the frittatas; Loeb's brother pulls the shots of Groundwork espresso behind the bar.  Loeb's not quite ready to announce chef Samir Mohajer's successor (Mohajer's leaving at the end of the month), but he says it'll be someone who shares the group's communal ethos.  Maybe his mother knows somebody...

Rustic Canyon Wine Bar and Seasonal Kitchen, 1119 Wilshire Blvd., Santa Monica; (310) 393-7050.  Open for breakfast on Saturdays, 9 a.m. - 1 p.m.

-- Amy Scattergood

Photos by Amy Scattergood

Father's Office preview

Here's the news: Sang Yoon's long-awaited Father's Office Version 2.0 in Culver City (actually, just a few feet north of the city limits) is not yet open and the opening date has not been announced. At least we now know something about what it's like, because there have been a couple of preview parties, including a big one last night.

So we know that the new place has very pleasing proportions. With wood paneling hanging just a bit low over the bar and tables, it's slick and cozy at the same time. (And about as loud as the original Father's Office, in case you were wondering.) The weird arrow-shaped sign out front is identical to the one at the original Santa Monica F.O., whose baroque, no-substitutions Office Burger made such a splash in our town seven years ago.

Last night the press was there, old customers were there, foodies were there and certainly beer people were too. At one point, restaurateurs Evan Kleiman and Nancy Silverton were chatting with Mark Jilg of Pasadena's Craftsman Brewing, one of Sang Yoon's favorite craft brewers.

"I've been here a lot before," Jilg said. "I was in charge of putting in the taps." That must have been quite a job -- the back bar is studded with 72 taps, dispensing 36 beers, including a couple of Jilg's brews.

F.O. 2 serves beer and wine, like the original, and also cocktails -- a new direction for Yoon, which he is pursuing in his usual perfectionist, take-it-or-leave-it way. There's a limited list of cocktails, all stirred and none shaken, and none made with vodka. Yoon refuses to allow vodka on the premises.

Still, there was no question where the center of gravity lay. My strolling-around research suggested that 10% of the guests were drinking cocktails, 20% wine and 70% beer. When your place has four entrances from the sidewalk dining deck and at each the floor is inset with the giant word BEER, that's what we think of as a tip-off.

-- Charles Perry

Photo by Mark Boster/Los Angeles Times

How does your garden grow?

Several readers have asked about my front yard vegetable gardens, so I thought I’d post some pictures. And who knows? If everything doesn't die, maybe I'll drop in from time to time with news about how things are growing and what I'm cooking.

The raised beds are the brainchild of my brilliant garden designer Nick Tan, of Urban Organics Design. My wife and I had dreams of a fairly basic xeriscape garden, but he knew of my interest in cooking and growing and suggested the beds and as soon as he said it, we all immediately knew we had to make room for them. Our house is on a corner lot and the vegetable beds are arranged along the side yard, behind a fence that will soon be covered by a climbing rose. There are four beds, each about a yard square, and there is another long, narrow one along the back with a trellis that runs up the wall.

I've been traveling a lot lately, so it'll be a couple of weeks before everything is planted. Right now I've got Victoria rhubarb from Burpee's intermixed with some California irises. Waiting to go in are a bunch of seeds I ordered from Victory Seed Co. One bed will have melons — an old variety called Queen Anne's Pocket Melon; they're very small (softball-sized) and extremely fragrant. Supposedly, they were carried by Victorian women in their purses as deodorants. I'm also planting zucchini, if you can believe it. Actually, it's a zucchini predecessor called Cocozelle that I almost never find at farmers markets. It's supposed to have really terrific flavor. The trellis bed will be a mixture of Scarlet Runner Beans (the hummingbirds love them) and an old Italian variety called Valena that can be eaten as green beans, as shelly beans and as dried beans. I've talked to Barbara Spencer at Windrose Farms about tomatoes for another bed. I'll definitely do something Brandywine-ish, and maybe a great paste tomato, especially if she can come up with true San Marzano. The final bed will be a cut-and-come-again salad bed with mixed herbs and greens.

Besides the beds, I've got a Fuyu persimmon tree and a Panachee fig tree, plus three artichoke plants that may or may not be used as ornamentals. We'll see how that goes. A garden, like a blog, is always a work in progress.

-- Russ Parsons

Photo by Russ Parsons

A bleak spring

This spring may mark a decidedly nasty turning point for California food lovers as two of our most treasured highlights of the seasonal table seem to be in danger of disappearing.

Thursday afternoon, federal officials meeting in Seattle closed down California’s and Oregon’s salmon fishery. This is the first closure in the more than 150-year history of the fishery, which was thriving  as recently as 2004.

At the same time, reports say some asparagus farmers in the Sacramento-San Joaquin River Delta area are “rolling” their fields, taking them out of production. In the last five years, asparagus acreage in California, which grows 85% of the fresh asparagus in the United States, has declined from 36,000 acres to only 16,000. In the 1950s, as many as 75,000 acres were harvested.

The culprit is a combination of increasing labor costs — asparagus is extremely labor-intensive because it must be cut by hand — and competition from cheap imports grown in Mexico and South America.

The salmon crash came much more suddenly. As recently as 2004, California fishermen were catching more than 7 million pounds of king salmon a year, second only to Alaska. In 2006, the last year for which statistics are available, that had plummeted to 1.2 million pounds. Oregon, which fishes the same schools, saw its catch fall from 5 million to 1.3 million pounds in the same period. This year looks even worse: Projected “returns” — salmon returning to spawn — in the Sacramento River are less than half what fisheries managers say is required to ensure a viable population.

The cause of the drop is in some dispute. According to news reports, scientists point to poor ocean conditions, perhaps related to global warming. But fishermen say a bigger factor is the fragile condition of the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta itself, which has suffered from pollution and increased water exports to Southern California.

-- Russ Parsons

Photo by Chad Surmick/Associated Press

Lilacs at the farmers market

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloomed, to quote Whitman, it was about this time last year.  But it still came as a glorious surprise to see (and smell) the boughs of flowers at the Santa Monica farmers market yesterday. Intensely purple, gloriously perfumey, the stunning blossoms are an instant mnemonic device for some of us (trees, Iowa).  These are from Weiser Family Farms, where they'll continue to have the flowers (weather permitting) until about Mother's Day.  The folks at Weiser, by the way, advise hammering the stems and putting ice into the vase water.

And lilacs aren't just for gracing your kitchen table.  Keep an eye on the menu at Joe's
Restaurant in Venice, where chef Joe Miller (who gets his flowers from Alex Weiser too) likes to make lilac ice cream this time of year.  His recipe is fairly simple (I made it two years ago): Miller infuses a basic creme anglaise with carefully washed lilac blossoms, lets the mixture steep overnight, then strains it before putting it in an ice cream machine. VERY yummy, and utterly gorgeous -- especially strewn with a few fresh flowers.  Enjoy while reading "Leaves of Grass."

Lilacs, available from Weiser Family Farms, $10 a large bunch; also from Windrose Farms, $1 a flower. 

-- Amy Scattergood

Photo by Amy Scattergood

Chicken and waffle feud

Last month a restaurant calling itself Rosscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles opened in Chicago. That's "Rosscoe's," you understand, with a double S. Immediately, Los Angeles' famous Roscoe's House of Chicken n Waffles sued for copyright infringement, and a Chicago court has ordered Rosscoe's to remove every trace of that name from the place by the end of business next Wednesday. The owner will change the name to Chicago's House of Chicken and Waffles.

The problem wasn't just the name. Rosscoe's had the same logo as Roscoe's (a chicken standing in front of a waffle) and served drinks named Sun Rise and Sunset, just as Roscoe's does.

Oddly, the owner of Rosscoe's ran a Rosscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles in New York for eight years without stirring up a lawsuit. Roscoe's owner Herb Hudson explains that he let it slide because he had no plans to expand into the New York market. Chicago is another matter -- he'll open a Roscoe's there next year.

The original Roscoe's isn't finished with Rosscoe's, either. It intends to sue for damages. "We're suing them to the hilt," Hudson says.

Owner Darnell Johnson said of the damage lawsuit, “He’s got to do what he’s got to do.” He plans to contest that suit.

-- Charles Perry

Photo by Con Keyes/Los Angeles Times

One-dish pony

Every winter I used to look forward to the week my friend Doug, a sculptor, would decide it was time to cook his yearly sauerbraten. It’s a dish that needs chilly weather, preferably raining outside, and a fire in the fireplace. He’d make a special trip to the butcher, marinate the beef for a couple of days in vinegar and spices, and then braise the meat slowly until it was beautifully tender. And he always made a point of serving it with all the fixings, including braised red cabbage and potato pancakes. This was his one dish, but it was a great one, unusual and festive.

When my Italian friend Marta came to this country for the first time, she traveled all over the U.S., staying with friends of friends in each place and always offering to make her risotto while she was there. This was back in the days when risotto still seemed incredibly exotic and difficult. She brought her special arborio rice and some dried porcini with her from Italy. Everybody was thrilled to have her cook. Never mind that her risotto was like cement, or that she wasn’t a particularly good cook. She was Italian. It was risotto.

My husband, Fred, at one time worked all over the world as a photographer, and to thank friends who loaned him a couch or a guest room, he would always cook his one specialty: fried chicken. Here in the States, he soaked the bird in buttermilk and Tabasco, floured it by shaking the pieces in a brown paper bag, and fried it in lard. It was a great party trick, but in other countries sometimes difficult to pull off. The chickens were different. Sometimes the lard burned. Or he couldn’t find buttermilk. Or Tabasco. And yet , by improvising, he managed to make a pretty good version of this all-American dish whether he was in Yemen or Buenos Aires, Japan or Italy.

In all these examples, it’s the anticipation and the ceremony of making the dish that makes it so special. None of these people were expert cooks, but they’d adopted one dish as their signature. Practice, as they say, makes perfect, whether it’s paella, feijoada or Peking duck. Or even an omelet, like the beautiful one an 11-year-old boy wrapped in a long white apron made for us in the bled — the boonies — of France.

— S. Irene Virbila

First BBQ craziness of the season

Warm weather always brings out the wild side of barbecuers. The website of Cookshack, a manufacturer of electric smokers, has just announced the winners of a contest for nontraditional barbecue: traditional bbq meats smoked in a nontraditional way, nontraditional meats with a novel smoke profile, etc.

Including smoked desserts. Not heavily smoked desserts, mind you. In fact, the winning recipe neglects to mention putting wood chips in the smoker, though you obviously have to throw in a couple. Apple or cherry wood, I'd guess, not hickory or mesquite.

Anyway, that winner was a sort of coconut, chocolate, butterscotch cheesecake cooked in a smoker (partly cooked -- once the flavoring stuff is cooked and smoked, you top it with store-bought cheesecake filling). You can see the recipe here, along with some other unusual uses for a smoker.

-- Charles Perry

Flavored salts: Dare to dip

We've seen flavored vinegars and flavored oils. An outfit called Saltistry (salt artistry, get it?) makes flavored salts. And not just the obvious flavors, such as herbs and spices. Preserved-lemon salt. Lavender gray salt (made with an unrefined sea salt). Truffle salt.

Last night it threw a public tasting at the Beverly Hills-adjacent Food Court L.A., and it was like a lot of tastings -- that is, a mob of people crowding around a buffet table and getting in each other's way at the best item (that would be the tiny roasted peewee potatoes -- so small I thought at first they were olives -- which you were supposed to dip in truffle salt; excellent earthiness). At this one, people connected with the event also wandered around encouraging everybody to dip freely and not confine themselves to the recommended flavor combinations.

Personally, I found most of the flavor combinations, even the non-recommended ones, to be charming or at least plausible, except for cantaloupe and coconut black salt, and I suspect watermelon and truffle salt might not have worked so well either. The clementine slices with tangerine salt were very good (if kind of a no-brainer), but preserved-lemon salt also proved an excellent foil for the clementines.

After two times around the table and trying 18 different salts on fruits, candies (chocolates and salty caramels -- surprisingly good with the lavender salt), raw fish, flank steak and duck rillettes, my ears were ringing. But maybe that was the noise of the crowd.

So I headed for the bar. It was making margaritas (with lime-flavored flake salt), Salty Dogs (tangerine salt) and Bloody Marys (six-pepper salt). I'm sure they were interesting and all, but this was the only open bar I've ever seen where more people were lining up for plain spa water than for cocktails. We'd all had way more than a grain of salt.

-- Charles Perry