« May 2008 |
Main
| July 2008 »
 Every week, Test Kitchen director Donna Deane and I receive e-mails from readers about the week's recipes. Many are positive; the recipes may stir a memory or utilize an ingredient in an exciting new way. Often we receive questions about similar recipes or methods, wondering why we add ingredients when we do, or what we mean by a particular step. Some questions don't relate to just-published recipes but are totally out of the blue — what would we suggest doing with a particular ingredient or how might we cook a certain food? Occasionally we hear from a frustrated e-mailer who's wondering why a recipe didn't come out as expected.
That said, we thought we'd start throwing out some weekly general kitchen tips on this blog. Many will probably be familiar, some may be totally new. In any case, we hope they're helpful. If you've got any questions or tips you'd like us to explore, feel free to comment — we'll do our best to cover each one we receive.
The majority of questions we receive involve baking. With baking being the precise science it is, we thought we'd start by giving some tips relating to measuring and ingredients. Here goes:
• Use liquid measuring cups for liquid ingredients, and dry measures for dry. Honestly, we can't stress how important this is; nothing will throw a recipe off more quickly than measuring out your flour in a liquid measuring cup (you'll end up with much more than is called for in the recipe). Measuring spoons can be used for both liquid and dry ingredients.
• Place the measuring cup on a flat, level surface before measuring. This goes for both liquid and dry ingredients.
• Level off your dry ingredients so they're flush with the top of the measuring spoon or cup. Do this gently.
• Gently spoon — don't pack — the flour into the measuring cup. Packing will throw off a recipe by adding more flour than is called for. And don't scoop the flour using the same spoon/cup with which you're planning to measure — this will pack the flour.
• Pack the brown sugar into your measuring spoon or cup. Yes, this is the total opposite of the flour.
• Opened spice and herb jars should be kept no longer than one year. Spices, like anything else, get stale and lose their potency gradually after they're opened. In the Test Kitchen, we try to date the jars once they're opened so we know when each spice should be replaced.
• Baking soda and powder should be replaced each year. Like the spices, they lose their potency. Quick breads and cookies won't rise (or rise as they should) with stale ingredients.
• Eggs should be at room temperature before they're used in a recipe. One function of eggs in baking is to add volume; room-temperature eggs will give you higher cakes and more magnificent meringues than cold eggs.
• When we call for salt in a recipe, we are referring to fine salt (we use fine sea salt in the Test Kitchen). If a recipe calls for a specific salt, such as kosher or coarse, we will list this in the ingredients.
— Noelle Carter
Photo by Noelle Carter
 The August issue of Eating Well has arrived in subscriber mailboxes with a plump, glistening tomato on the cover.
That means the magazine was coming off the printing presses when the salmonella scare was making headlines. So I called Lisa Gosselin, the editor at the Vermont-based publication, to ask about the not-so-perfect timing.
"I woke up in the morning, heard the news, and my first thought was 'Oh no! Is it too late to get this cover back from the printer?' " she said. Turns out the magazine was too far gone — it would have been far too costly and disruptive to reverse course. So, Gosselin took a deep breath and reflected on the fact that the cover had actually been chosen by an on-line poll of readers. There were four to choose from, including one that showcased summer corn. But hands down, readers chose the photograph by Ken Burris that showed the luscious tomato in all its summertime glory. "There’s nothing that says summer more than tasting a ripe tomato," Gosselin said. "A summer-fresh, farmers market tomato is just one of the best things in the world."
If you're unfamiliar with Eating Well, it covers health and nutrition news and trends, and includes yummy recipes for guilt-free eating. My favorite way to use ripe tomatoes is a Caprese salad. I look forward to trying their take on it. Here's another recipe from The Times' archives for heirloom tomatoes and ricotta salad with homemade croutons. C'mon. You can't pass up homemade croutons.
What's your favorite way to enjoy summer-fresh tomatoes? And for the record, there have been no health concerns reported with locally grown tomatoes, such as from your local farmers market. You can read the latest news story on the scare here.
— Rene Lynch
Photo credit: www.EatingWell.com
 You just knew that the first thing to be ready to be picked would be the zucchini, didn’t you? What else? Not the tomatoes, certainly, and not the peppers, soybeans, eggplants or beans. (Actually, the beans needed to be replanted; I think I put them in too early and they never got off to a good start.) But you know what? Having zucchini come first is not a problem for me. I really love zucchini. That’s not to say that with four plants, there won’t come a time later in the summer when I’m leaving bags of them on my neighbors’ doorsteps, but that’s hard to imagine right now, having just picked my first.
What did I do with them? The obvious choice for me was braising them (you can call it glazing if you prefer): Cut them into 2-inch sections and then cut each of those into lengthwise quarters; cook them covered over medium heat with some olive oil, minced garlic and just enough water to slick the bottom of the pan; when they’re tender, take off the lid and raise the heat to high to reduce the pan juices to a glaze; toss in some basil at the end, if you like. It takes about 15 minutes to make this dish and as far as I’m concerned, I probably won’t taste anything better all summer.
Actually, these squash I grew aren’t really zucchini. They’re cocozelle, which is a predecessor to the zucchini. According to my main squash man, Dr. Harry Paris of the Newe Ya'ar Research Center in Israel, true zucchini didn’t show up in vegetable gardens until the start of the 20th century. Cocozelle are much older, you can see them in paintings from the 16th century. But I didn’t grow them just for their history: Cocozelle are reputed to have flavor superior to any zucchini. Based on my first sampling, let’s just say that I wasn’t disappointed. Next up? My wife has already called dibs on frittata. What would you do with an antique zucchini?
— Russ Parsons
(Photo by Russ Parsons)
This year’s garden find: Seeds From Italy, an American company started by Bill McKay, a passionate gardener who had trouble finding the Italian seeds he wanted to grow on his own plot of land. In 2000, he became the U.S. agent for Franchi Sementi (Seeds) in Bergamo, Italy — a company that dates from 1783 — and has been selling Italian seeds ever since.
I can’t remember what I was searching for when I found his site, maybe speckled borlotti beans (lingua di fuoco). But what a glorious bonanza for Italophile gardeners. Seeds From Italy does have lingua di fuoco, also thick-fleshed peppers from Piedmont and cardi gobbi, the hunchbacked cardoons that are essential to bagna cauda. He’s got the wild green called agretti, several varieties of radicchio I’ve only seen in the Veneto region, and on and on.
I kind of went crazy ordering stuff. The radicchio I think I’ll plant later when the weather cools down. Right now, though, I’m growing an escarole mix for salads, a couple of different eggplants, violetta and romanesco artichokes, a yellow bush bean from Piedmont streaked with red, another that grows in a curlicue, cultivated dandelion and zucchini da fiore — zucchini bred to produce lots of very large flowers for cooking. In addition to the Franchi seeds, he has seeds from small purveyors in the south of Italy.
And four times a year McKay publishes his useful newsletter (which is archived on the website) with advice on growing the various vegetables, along with tips from customers who have written in to tell him how they like to cook their Italian produce.
— S. Irene Virbila
Photo by S. Irene Virbila
 You may remember reports about the summer of 2003 in France? That's the summer when France experienced more 100-degree days than ever in recorded history. Well, vines typically don’t care much for that level of heat, and they’re certainly unused to it in Champagne.
To make matters worse, frost decimated many vineyards in early spring, and hail nearly finished off what had survived the frost. With such a short crop, the growing period accelerated, leading to Champagne's earliest harvest date — Aug. 18 — since 1822.
With so little fruit, and such an extreme year, most Champagne houses played it safe — they held on to their yield, which was minuscule and ripe, to blend it into multi-vintage wines (as you probably know, most Champagne is the product of multiple vintages) and forget about the whole sordid mess. Not Benoit Gouez, "chef de cave" of Moët & Chandon. He took 2003 as a challenge, and, with a certain amount of audacity, declared a vintage 2003.
At a recent tasting he paired the 2003 with other vintage wines from their reserves that were declared under similarly warm conditions. Thus, after some discussion, flutes were placed before us, and he poured Grand Vintage Brut from 2003, 1995, 1990, 1976 and 1959. He was supremely confident that the 2003 would take its place in their company. Warm-vintage Champagne is typically richer and often more seductive than those of cooler vintages. What they may lack in ageability they often make up for in seductive power. Gouez was making the worthwhile point that history may have a hand in deciding if 2003 was worth declaring. But the proof lay in the glass.
The 2003 Brut had aromas of Karo syrup and vanillin, very primary, very unformed. (I have to remind myself it’s not meant to be released until the fall.) My very first impression is that it smells like Grand Cru Chablis, which, given the warmth of the vintage (and Champagne's proximity to the slightly warmer Chablis) makes sense. On the palate the flavors are assertive, even powerful, with a lush mouthfeel. In fact it's unnervingly rich — it's sort of like watching a movie from the first row of the theatre: Everything's a little too big, out of focus and distorted. There’s no reason to think that the wine won't settle, but for now elegance is not its hallmark.
The tasting proved that it's dangerous to forecast the course of even the most perfect vintage. The cooler years are often thought to be more age-worthy, so how is it that the '59 was so lively, or the '76 so exotic? Then again, why did the '90 seem like it was on a downward slide, coming from one of the so-called vintages of the century?
I'm going to risk just one prediction: The fact that the 2003 was so out of focus suggests that this wine, massive for Champagne, still needs months if not years to settle into itself — which suggests it's a worthy investment for the cellar. The 2003 Grand Vintage will be released this fall for about $60. (There is a rosé as well, for $70.) Moet is also planning on releasing a small amount of their older, warm-vintage Champagnes — the '95 and the '90 are in the pipeline — so you can set up your own comparative tasting, and make your own assessment of the virtues of warm-vintage bottlings.
— Patrick Comiskey
Photo courtesy of Moët & Chandon
 I'm a little obsessed with cannelés, the pretty little Bordelaise cakes that are so deeply caramelized on the outside that they look burnt, yet have a dense, rich custardy interior. I've hit every bakery in town that has them. On my last trip to Paris, I was at Eric Kayser's Latin Quarter boulangerie when they opened their doors at 7 a.m. —and back again 20 minutes later for another bag. (I still have one of those that made it back from Paris in my freezer. Prototype? Talisman? Maybe both.) But I'd never made cannelés until last week, when a friend (also with a cannelé obsession) brought me back a brick of beeswax (right) from the honey stall at a local farmers market. Beeswax?
 Beeswax, according to Paula Wolfert's cannelé recipe in her cookbook "The Slow Mediterranean Kitchen" is one of the secrets to creating that glossy, dark crust. Melted, combined with safflower oil and brushed in a very fine film onto metal cannelé molds, the "white oil" helps in the caramelization process. So I followed Wolfert's recipe, using the individual metal cannelé molds we had in the Test Kitchen. Copper molds are the best, but they're insanely expensive; the orange silicone molds that look like muffin tins work okay, but, as baker (and blogger) Dorie Greenspan wrote in an e-mail, "The silicone molds are, as the French would say, 'efficaces,' but you can't use beeswax in them and you don't get that dark, dark crust." OK, then. The first batch, baked at 400 degrees for 2 hours (as Wolfert directs), were a little too black. But the second batch, baked for 1 hour and 20 minutes, were perfect (above, left). A glossy burnished exterior; moist, almost like a popover, on the inside. And they were surprisingly easy to make.
If you don't feel like making them (or heading to Paris), there are plenty first-rate cannelés in town, at Cafe Surfas (plain, chocolate and banana), La Brea Bakery, Boule (plain and chocolate), EuroPane and LA Mill. And Sumi Chang and Adrian Vasquez (of EuroPane and LA Mill, respectively) both use beeswax when making their superb cannelés. Are they better that way? You decide — preferably with a demitasse of espresso.
EuroPane, 950 E. Colorado Blvd., Pasadena, (626) 577-1828. LA Mill Coffee Boutique, 1636 Silver Lake Blvd., Los Angeles, (323) 663-4441.
— Amy Scattergood
Photos by Amy Scattergood
 I came across a new coffee spot while in San Francisco. There was a wooden sandwich board on the corner of 15th and Caledonia in the Mission — Caledonia being one of S.F.'s mini-streets, more an alley than a real road — and on the sandwich board was scrawled "4B" and a picture of a coffee cup and an arrow that pointed north. I followed it, past a lady in a plaid miniskirt smoking a cigarette and past a hipster sprawled out on the sidewalk with a ceramic coffee cup and saucer in hand. He looked as if he had settled into that spot for the afternoon.
 The alley was lined with paintings that led to a small kiosk, a sneak peek at Four Barrel, the cafe from Jeremy Tooker (of Ritual Coffee Roasters) that's set to open any day now. (The main entrance is on Valencia Street.) Bags of coffee beans were stacked next to a barista and his La Marzocco Mistral. I stepped up and ordered a macchiato.
Thus far the alleyway Four Barrel reminds me of Blue Bottle on Linden Street in Hayes Valley, the garage-front predecessor to Blue Bottle Cafe (where you'll find the $20,000 Japanese siphon bar that seems to be one of the fetishistic symbols of coffee's Third Wave). But the Four Barrel spot is even funkier, for now, with a plastic tarp in the background and the sound of hammering and drilling emanating from behind it. Actually not a bad spot to enjoy an afternoon macchiato.
Four Barrel, 375 Valencia St., San Francisco (find coffee on Caledonia Street, off 15th Street).
— Betty Hallock
Photos by Betty Hallock
 Leave it to the Silver Lake coffee "boutique" to elevate the freebie. Until 10 p.m. tonight, LA Mill is giving out free cups of coffee from Rwanda's Bufcafe mill. This isn't just a paper cup of average joe either, but heady stuff, tasting of dark chocolate and black cherry, with great, full body and a marvelous grapey finish. (OK, so I read the accompanying tasting notes, but it really does taste like that.) And, if you ask nicely, your tattooed barista will hand over your coffee in the form of a nicely pulled shot of espresso (see left) -- or run some freshly ground beans through one of the two crimson Clovers. Contents of a nearby donation jar go to Bikes to Rwanda, which helps create jobs for villagers in that country.
And after you've been properly caffeinated, you can always spring for one of Adrian Vasquez's pastries or chocolates — or a pork belly panino — before you go.
LA Mill Coffee Boutique, 1636 Silver Lake Blvd., Los Angeles. (323) 663-4441.
— Amy Scattergood
Photo by Amy Scattergood
NPR offered this amusing tidbit about the foul-mouthed star of Fox's hit reality show "Hell's Kitchen," who apparently has become too much for Australian viewers. Listen here. And don't worry —there aren't any expletives. But if you feel the need to hear — through the usual bleeps — Chef Gordon Ramsay kicking, screaming and cursing up a blue streak, you only need to check out this video clip on YouTube.
What do you think? Does Chef Ramsay go too far? And all that aside: Who do you think will win this season of "Hell's Kitchen"? Christina, Petrozza or, my least favorite, Corey?
— Rene Lynch
 Frieda Caplan has never been shy about trying new things. After all, she is the woman who in the 1960s found a fuzzy little green fruit and turned it into the global sensation called the kiwifruit. As a result of that and other discoveries, the purple “Frieda’s Finest” sticker quickly became ubiquitous in supermarket produce departments. This summer, along with daughter Karen Caplan, who is running their company now, Frieda (pictured) has launched her own version of a farmers market at the Los Alamitos headquarters of the national wholesale produce company. They’re careful to call it a “Fresh Marketplace,” not a farmers market, but you can recognize the trappings: tables under tents, cooking demonstrations and a jazz band.
There are some pretty interesting things to taste, as well, all of them coming from Frieda’s warehouse. In addition to the by-now-expected farmers market fare of shallots, fingerling potatoes, fresh herbs and heirloom tomatoes, there are fresh and dried chiles, tomatillos and jicama from Frieda’s line of Latin products. And of course there are exotic tropical fruits: three kinds of bananas, different varieties of mangoes and papayas, kiwano, rambutan, feijoa, cherimoya and — wouldn’t you know it, kiwis — both green and golden. There are even farmers — last weekend’s was Mark Maggiore from Brentwood, a Frieda’s supplier who brought in corn and sugar-sweet white apricots called Angelcots.
And, of course, there’s the irrepressible Frieda herself, still marketing at more than 80 years old, parked under an umbrella and signing copies of her “Purple Kiwi Cookbook” for anyone who wants one.
Frieda’s Fresh Marketplace, 4465 Corporate Center Drive, Los Alamitos (Cerritos Street at Lexington Drive). Saturdays 8 a.m. to 1 p.m. through July 26.
-- Russ Parsons
Photo by Russ Parsons
Today is Day 4 of triple-digit temperatures in Los Angeles. But the It's a Grind coffeehouse on Pacific Coast Highway in Long Beach is taking this heat wave in stride. Customers are enjoying ample air conditioning. And the baristas are brewing up Vanilla Nut and Winter's Blend as their flavors of the day.
What are you drinking -- and eating -- on this hot summer day?
-- Rene Lynch
A couple of months ago, I wrote a story on the latest round of restaurant openings in Vegas. The best bargain I found as part of that story was the elegant buffet breakfast at Payard Pâtisserie in Caesars Palace — $16 for coffee, fresh-squeezed juice, as many of the exquisite morning pastries as you could eat, plus cereals, yogurt parfaits and house-smoked salmon with all the fixings.
However, it seems as if the management at Payard felt that petit déjeuner was too much of a bargain. A reader alerted me soon after that the price was now $22. OK, it was underpriced at $16, but isn’t that the definition of a bargain? Still, a $6 hike seems a bit steep.
In another change, the bistro is no longer serving its dessert tasting at night, which is a real shame. I guess they never developed enough of an audience.
Payard Pâtisserie & Bistro, Caesars Palace, 3570 Las Vegas Blvd. S., Las Vegas; (702) 731-7110. Open daily 6:30 a.m. to 11:30 a.m. for breakfast; 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. for lunch.
— S. Irene Virbila
 I just knew it was too good to be true.
Have you heard about the Cookie Diet? If not, you probably will. Just the name, the Cookie Diet, was enough to pique my interest. Eat cookies like this? And still lose weight? One last question: Where do I sign up?
But of course, it’s never that simple.
Here’s the fine print on this diet that is kicking up controversy:
Continue reading Does the Cookie Diet crumble under scrutiny? »
 Le Sanctuaire in San Francisco hosted Aki Kamozawa and H. Alexander Talbot (pictured at right) of Ideas in Food over the weekend for a series of classes on hydrocolloids — Methocel (derived from cellulose ethers), pectin, Activa (a transglutaminase) and carrageenan.
A hydrocolloid is a collection of particles suspended in water that can form a gel. They can come from natural sources — say, agar from seaweed, or even cornstarch could be considered a hydrocolloid. Much of what's referred to as the "new" hydrocolloids traditionally have been used as industrial stabilizers, but more and more chefs are becoming enamored of their myriad uses — not for extending shelf life but for refining texture (and not just for foams and "spheres").
Chefs and pastry chefs, including a handful from L.A., watched demonstrations of how to make re-heatable brown butter hollandaise sauce with Methocel, Hoisin sauce "lentils" with pectin, mozzarella "noodles" with Activa Y-G and crab meat tater tots with Activa RM.
"Maybe I'll 'glue' two burgers together to make it a double," Sang Yoon of Father's Office said of the Activa, which works by cross-linking food proteins.
"One thing I try to keep in mind when using these things is to ask, 'Do I really need this?' " says Craft chef de cuisine Matt Accarrino. "I never use these modifiers to extend shelf life, compensate for poor product or technique or generally change something which can be made just fine without adding something new."
For example, "xanthan gum is a great thickener. It works well with higher acid. I made an acidic ramp aioli with sherry vinegar, and a lot of ramp puree in it. I added a pinch of xanthan gum.... It provided the right thickness with the right flavor. We were making it every day just before service so it was really fresh. You just have to be careful or everything you make will look like snot." Words to live by.
-- Betty Hallock
Photo by Betty Hallock
At least once a week I find an excuse to go to Super King Market on San Fernando Road just east of the Glendale (2) freeway. Lately that excuse has been limes, 15 for a dollar. In this weather, I’m living on fresh-squeezed limeade. I see some mango drinks in my future too, since I just bought a box of 12 mangoes for $3.99. I’m smitten.
One week I’ll find fresh almonds in their fuzzy green shells (3 pounds for 99 cents) or fresh garbanzo beans in their papery husks, or piles of fresh fava beans, all at unheard of low prices. A few weeks ago they had sour plums and — sour grapes! You could make your own verjus (unfermented grape juice), for example.
Armenian-American women crowd the aisles sorting through Persian cucumbers at 29 cents a pound as opposed to $3 or $4 a pound at the farmers market. Parsley for tabbouleh is five or six bunches to a dollar, cilantro about the same, depending on the week. Latino families stock up on fresh pasilla chiles for 49 cents a pound (sometimes less), yellow onions for 29 cents or avocados, three for a dollar.
Just look at the shopping carts — everybody here cooks. Women pick through the produce, taste before they buy. You won’t see many prepared foods in any of the carts. And most, by the looks of it, must belong to extended families.
Take a number at the cheese counter to buy five or six kinds of feta, lebne and thick ivory Mexican and Guatemalan crema. In the canned goods section, look for garbanzo beans, black or pinto beans and Egyptian foul medames (fava beans) for your pantry at a good price. I’ve found a mix of olive oil and vegetable oil for frying for something like $8 a gallon, and just last week I bought a 2-liter bottle of grapeseed oil for $9.99.
Last week too, meaty red bell peppers for roasting were just 59 cents a pound and organic blackberries 79 cents a package. Cherries? 79 cents a pound, but they’re right on the edge, so you have to eat them fast.
That explains why the parking lot is packed day and night. Checkers are fast and efficient. If you’re looking for a particular item, they can tell you exactly where to find it. And when you walk out of Super King with three or four shopping bags and haven’t spent over $30, that’s a bargain.
Super King Market, 716 N. San Fernando Road, Los Angeles (323) 225-0044; and in Anaheim at 10500 Magnolia Avenue; (714) 527-5809; www.superkingmarket.com.
— S. Irene Virbila
Photo by S. Irene Virbila
 There may be no tougher puzzle for the conscientious consumer than trying to figure out where to buy sustainably caught fish. The environmental group Greenpeace is trying to make it a little easier with a website that ranks leading retailers according to the eco-friendliness of their seafood offerings. Searchable by state, the site ranks the stores in four categories and then comes up with a final score and a rating. Generally, the situation is quite gloomy.
In California, 17 chains are assessed; perhaps predictably, Whole Foods and its corporate sibling Wild Oats come out on top, though their ratings are hardly sparkling. Not so predictably, the third- and fourth-rated chains are Wal-Mart and partner Sam's Club. Some very highly thought-of markets, such as Bristol Farms and Trader Joe's, fare worse.
Dig a little deeper, though, and you find that the rankings, though admirable in intent, have some drawbacks. For example, among the criteria markets are judged on is whether they have established a seafood sustainability code. But is it fair to assume that the absence of a code is the same as endorsing bad practices?
Even more problematic is the emphasis on Greenpeace's "Seafood Red List" of fish that should be avoided. The catch is that the list paints with a very broad brush, and in the confusing world of seafood that can lead to some serious oversimplifications.
This is particularly noticeable when you compare it with the list produced by the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch program, which is generally acknowledged to be the gold standard. For example, Greenpeace red-lists albacore tuna (an obvious problem for grocery stores, because it makes up most of the canned tuna). But the Seafood Watch list specifies that albacore should be avoided only if it is long-line caught outside of the United States; in fact, domestically caught trolled or hand-lined albacore makes the tough "Best Choice" list. There are similar confusions with other seafood, including sea scallops, swordfish and yellowfin tuna.
Consider the Greenpeace list a good start, but one that still needs some refining.
-- Russ Parsons
Photo credit: Greenpeace.com
 Ever since my kids were very small, they've loved to make potions. They'd go out in the backyard and mix together jars of water and dirt, leaves and flower petals, like tiny medieval alchemists. With their discovery of Harry Potter, these experimentations reached a new level. The girls would pretend they were in Snape's potions class, stirring foaming vials of water, vinegar, food coloring, detergent and baking powder (this combo, at left, is what makes the bubbling lava in fake volcano projects) and then pretending to drink them and transform into fairies, cats, Slytherin boys. 
Recently, in an effort to combine this fun with the actual consumption of a healthy snack (and cut down on the amount of cooking supplies they transformed into brightly colored jars of polyjuice potion and veritaserum), we've been making edible potions. This past weekend, Isabel got out the blender and added the following potion ingredients: plain yogurt, strawberries, a banana, honey, hibiscus-flower tea. She blended it, then added a few secret ingredients, stirring and mumbling some incantations. The seeds scraped from a vanilla bean. (Vanilla extract contains alcohol, so it was out.) A teaspoon of rosewater. Then she garnished the whole thing with fresh mint and a strawberry, for aesthetic rather than magical reasons. Accio snack. No eye of newt required.
-- Amy Scattergood
Photos by Amy Scattergood
 The July issue of Family Circle just landed in my mailbox, and I think you'll agree that the cover is a showstopper.
Someone went and super-sized the cupcake.
How did they do it? I flipped to Page 154 in the magazine for details and found that there's a giant cupcake pan now on the market. It has two sides. One side is the "bottom" of the cupcake, complete with cute little ridges that look as if they were imparted by a cupcake liner. The other side is the swirly "top." You bake batter in both sides, pop 'em out, put them together and –- voila! -- giant cupcake.
My immediate reaction was, I'm sure, the same as yours: Launch a campaign to nominate this person for culinary sainthood, and have his or her visage carved into Mt. Rushmore.
But as I began fantasizing about a cupcake the size of my head, I began to fret: Doesn't this contraption cut down on the frosting?
To me, cupcakes are simply a delivery system for frosting. And the perfect frosting-to-cupcake ratio is roughly 55% frosting and 45% cupcake. (You think I'm making this up? No. I've really put some thought into this.)
So if the swirly part of the giant cupcake is actually cake ... that means less frosting, no? Has anyone tried one of these? Maybe I am missing something.
I do think the giant cupcake would be a hit at a kid's birthday party. I did a little scouting around on the Internet. It appears there are at least two manufacturers of these pans, and they all sell for about $30. They're at a variety of places, including at Target, Sur La Table and Williams-Sonoma. Family Circle also has instructions for a special deal for $25.99.
In the meantime, here's a link to a recipe for Auntie Em's coconut cupcakes, courtesy of Times Test Kitchen manager Noelle Carter. This one has been a hit with readers, and has been requested again and again. I know it's only June but I don't think I'm going out on a limb when I say it has a shot at our our annual Top 10 list. Just remember, you read it here first!
-- Rene Lynch
Photo credit: Cover courtesy of Family Circle magazine.
 My kids love to make fresh pasta; they love mixing the dough, rolling out the sheets of pasta, then cranking out fine strands of linguine or angel hair onto the floured counter. They also love testing the pasta's doneness by throwing it against the wall. (I'm still not convinced of the efficacy of this, but hey, it's one of the few things that Sophie still likes more than Hannah Montana, so I'll take it.) 
Last weekend, in an attempt to spin the all-noodle dinner, I remembered Russ Parsons' story about making free-form lasagna and decided to try it out on the girls. While they were at a birthday party, I made a quick tomato sauce using farmers market tomatoes and rolled out sheets of pasta to dry; I set out a bowl of pesto sauce I'd made a few days earlier, another of fresh ricotta.  When the girls got home, play-worn and desperately needing something other than cake, all I had to do was cook the pasta.
Then they each took turns building their dinner, one architectural layer at a time. A dusting of grated Parmesan. A glass of milk. A lot of fun.
-- Amy Scattergood
Photos by Amy Scattergood
You can learn surprising things tasting a couple of hundred wines at one sitting. Two weeks ago, sniffing and spitting with three other judges at the 2008 Los Angeles International Wine & Spirits Competition, I learned that, on average, cheaper Chardonnays can be a better bet than the pricey ones.
Nine a.m. Wednesday morning I faced a semicircle of wine glasses, each holding an ounce and a half of Chardonnay. Our group was to decide which of 44 barrel-fermented Chardonnays priced $12 or less deserved a medal, either Best of Show, Gold, Silver or Bronze. Teed up to taste next were nine barrel-fermented Chardonnays with retail prices exceeding $23.01. Competitions like this are blind tastings, with the identity of the wines unknown to the judges. We assumed most of the wines were from California because the annual competition associated with the Los Angeles County Fair draws heavily from wineries within the state.
After tasting through the 44 cheapies, it took me a moment to fully appreciate their nearly uniform quality. Sure, there were a handful of nasty surprises -- some tart lemons, a few tainted with bacteria, a dullard here and there -- but most of the wines were simple, bright and clean, well-made in a restrained Chablis-style that offered nice fruit flavors. While our group argued over which wines deserved Gold (we picked two), we were quick to award most of the rest of the wines Silver and Bronze.
BUYER BEWARE when you decide to splurge on more expensive Chardonnay. I wrote "yuck" after two wines with overwhelming "oak" flavors (think wine steeped with bushels of oak chips). Other wines had a disjointed and tart acidity, most likely the result of added acid that failed to fully integrate into the wine. While three wines were Gold quality, the rest were far inferior to most of their less expensive brothers.
-- Corie Brown
 "How're my vegetables!" my 7-year-old niece yells into the phone.
"Fine," I reply. "How are you? How's school?"
"How big are my sunflowers!" she interrupts, too focused for pleasantries. I tell her the sunflowers are about up to her knee. And she continues, wanting information on each of the vegetables: the corn (up to her waist), tomatoes (waist), beans (as tall as she, but spindly), cucumbers (size of her hand), melons (same as the cucumbers), and pumpkins (the leaves alone are as big as her head). She's not interested in the peppers.
Last year, I converted part of the backyard (about 200 square feet) into a vegetable garden. I wanted it to be totally organic, which was -- and still is -- quite a learning experience. Yeah, I learned all about tomato worms and white mold, but nothing beats the feeling you get when you can pick your tomatoes and cucumbers five minutes before they go into your evening salad. It was so rewarding that this year I wanted to invite my niece to participate, so she could learn firsthand how all her dinner vegetables come to be.
 We started six weeks ago, weeding and tilling the soil, readying the garden for planting. I placed an order earlier this year for seeds and seedlings from Seed Savers Exchange, a nonprofit organization focused on preserving heirloom vegetable and flower varieties. When everything arrived in the mail, we were ready.
We followed the "Three Sisters" method for planting the corn, beans and pumpkins: The beans climb up the corn to support it, the corn provides extra nitrogen in the soil for the pumpkins, and the pumpkins provide shade so the soil doesn't dry out. We planted basil with the tomatoes; supposedly basil keeps the tomato worms at bay. When everything else was planted, I installed an irrigation system to help combat the white mold. (The mold thrives on damp leaves -- no more watering with a hose for me.)
After two weeks, everything had sprouted. To keep all the bad bugs at bay, we picked up ladybugs and praying mantis egg sacs from the hardware store. I don't know what fascinates my niece more, watching those seeds turn into big plants, or seeing 700 hungry ladybugs emerge from a pint-sized jar.
 Though my niece has come over every other weekend since the planting, she'd call once a week for updates. Now that the plants are -- quite literally -- growing a foot a day, I get my call almost daily.
So far, no white mold or tomato worms, and my fingers are crossed. But if you have any other suggestions, please comment, I'd love to know. Otherwise, I'll be sure to update as the season continues, but I'll spare you the daily briefings.
-- Noelle Carter
Photos by Noelle Carter
 I tried my hand at a Key lime pie this weekend. I fully planned to make it with generic limes when I spied a bag of honest-to-goodness Key limes at my local Pavilions. I was surprised at how teeny tiny they were. And how little juice they released, even after I rolled them on my countertop to loosen 'em up. I needed 3/4 cup of lime juice for the filling. Normally, two to four limes would do the trick. But it took more than 20 Key limes. (They were too small for my wooden citrus reamer, so I resorted to the more powerful lemon squeezer.) Suffice it to say, there was a lot of squeezing.
The pie came together well, although the almond-graham cracker crust was a bit too crumbly. (I'll use more butter next time.) While the meringue was browning in the oven, I conducted my own unscientific taste test, slicing open a regular lime I had on hand and a Key lime. The Key lime was brighter, tarter ... is 'lime-ier' a word?
But I'm not sure it was worth the extra work. Purists, am I wrong? Am I giving up too easily?
-- Rene Lynch
Photo credit: Steve Carney
Continue reading Cooking smackdown: Lime vs. Key lime »
Proceed with caution -– but there's no need to panic. That’s the word from Dr. Jonathan Fielding, director of public health for Los Angeles County, talking about the salmonella outbreak tied to some types of tomatoes.
The Food and Drug Administration is urging consumers to avoid raw red plum, red Roma or round red tomatoes, which have been linked to 145 salmonella infections since mid-April. The FDA says consumers can continue to eat cherry tomatoes, grape tomatoes, tomatoes sold with the vine still attached and tomatoes grown at home. The source of the outbreak remains unknown.
Fielding noted that the FDA’s website says there are no immediate concerns about tomatoes grown in Southern California. “There’s no reason for people to say, ‘Tomatoes are off my diet,’ ” he said. “I would not be concerned about buying things that are locally grown, or from local [farmers] markets.”
He suggested that until further notice, people should take the same care at restaurants that they would at their markets: Don’t hesitate to inquire about the source of tomatoes, or avoid them altogether.
Restaurants, fast-food chains and supermarkets across Southern California weren't taking any chances, and removed fresh red Roma, plum and red round tomatoes from their shelves and menus.
At La Bottega Marino’s two locations -– on Larchmont Boulevard and on Santa Monica Boulevard –- visitors might notice the change as soon as they sit down.
Typically, a mix of diced tomatoes, basil, garlic and a drizzle of olive oil would be served alongside fresh bread. But starting earlier today, that appetizer was replaced by a creamy dip that includes white beans and a touch of rosemary.
Vice President Sal Marino said he had no concerns about the tomatoes that would normally be served. But why cause unnecessary anxiety among the clientele? “Why worry them about it?" he said. "You want to show them you’re in tune.”
-- Rene Lynch
Photo credit: Scott Olson / Getty Images
 Though most of the edible action in my new front yard is focused on the four raised vegetable beds I’ve written about before, there’s also a fuyu persimmon tree and — miracle of miracles — three big artichoke plants. And while everything else seems to be enjoying a slow spring adolescence, those artichokes are going kind of crazy. This is big news for me, because I’m kind of crazy about artichokes myself.
I’m not sure exactly where this affection comes from. Certainly, there’s plenty to love about artichokes just from a culinary standpoint. But that can hardly account for it. One of the first long food and farming stories I did was about the artichoke industry just north of Monterey around the little town of Castroville (home to something like 85% of the artichokes grown in the United States). All I know is that I still feel a thrill whenever I drive through the area and see those rolling, fog-shrouded hills covered with giant, gray-green plants.
So it’s probably only appropriate that the first thing harvested out of my new garden was an artichoke. I clipped the biggest of the half-dozen buds that have popped up already, snipped off the tips of the outer leaves, rinsed it well (aphids and ants!) and microwaved it (4 minutes on high in a sealed container, just long enough so that the leaves pull out easily). Then I served it with some garlic mayonnaise.
I’m not going to tell you that a home-grown artichoke is going to change your life. It’s not a tomato, for goodness' sake, and after all, artichokes are certainly tough enough to ship fairly well. But it sure was good. It may have been just my imagination, but there did seem to be more nuance of flavor there. It was somehow more “artichoke-y” than the ones you buy in the store. And best of all, a little corner of my front yard looks just like Castroville.
-- Russ Parsons
Photo by Russ Parsons
The Web Scout blog is the first to report that Web TV network Revision3 has made another high-profile acquisition by adding wine expert Gary Vaynerchuk -- you may know him as GaryVee -- to the fold. Vaynerchuk's popular Wine Library TV, which Revision3 says brings in more than 60,000 viewers every day, stars the blue-streak-talking Jersey boy as he sniffs, swishes and spits his way through a bottle or three per episode. This unsnobby charm mixes well with his insistence that viewers trust their own palate rather than what the experts say, an approach that has helped win him more than 9,000 followers on Twitter alone.
Click here for video and more.
 Wait a second -- $6,100 for a watermelon?
A rare type of watermelon -– the black Densuke, to be exact -– was auctioned off in northern Japan today for a record 650,000 yen (that’s $6,100), according to the Associated Press. That makes it the most expensive watermelon ever sold in the country — and possibly the world, according to the AP.
What does a Densuke watermelon taste like? Gold bullion? Has anyone out there ever tried one of these? Is it worth it? (A Japanese agricultural expert was quoted as saying the melon is crisp and hard, with an unparalleled appeal: “It’s a watermelon, but it’s not the same. It has a different level of sweetness.”)
The 17-pound black melon is considered the cream of the crop, one of only 65 from the first harvest of the season. The fruit is grown only on the northern island of Hokkaido, adding to its value. The new owner is said to be a marine products dealer who wants to support local agriculture. I wonder what he plans to do with it.
Here’s the real kicker, though. The watermelon is a bargain compared to the $23,500 recently paid in Japan for a pair of Yubari cantaloupes, the AP reported, adding that melons are a luxury item commonly given as gifts.
-- Rene Lynch
Photograph by Tomoko A. Hosaka / Associated Press
 Gordon Ramsay bestowed his presence at the opening party for his restaurant Gordon Ramsay at the London West Hollywood last night. Also in attendance: David Beckham. As well as Sona chef David Myers, Campanile's Mark Peel and chef de cuisine Matt Accarrino, pastry chef Catherine Schimenti and general manager Adam Rosenbaum from Craft. Jared Heber, formerly Mozza's wine director, is now pouring (last night it was champagne) at Gordon Ramsay. But after rubbing shoulders (literally) with Beckham and receiving a kiss-kiss from Ramsay, I was left hungry. Sure, there were canapés -- lobster consommé gelée and a tray or two of sushi -- and macarons, panna cotta and tartlets. But too little of it all. (Even when one stood shamelessly by the kitchen door waiting for servers to come out with the trays.) I stopped at Echo Park taco truck Taco Zone on Alvarado and had six tacos: two carne asada, two carnitas, a chorizo and pastor.
Gordon Ramsay at the London West Hollywood, 1020 N. San Vicente Blvd., West Hollywood, (310) 358-7788. Taco Zone, on Alvarado between Sunset and Glendale boulevards, near Vons, Los Angeles.
-- Betty Hallock
Photo credit: Frazer Harrison/Getty Images
 At 7:30 this morning, Alain Giraud's new brasserie Anisette officially opened its doors. The former Bastide chef was right there, looking dapper in his chef's whites; in fact, he opened the doors himself ("Now is showtime," he said). The brasserie, in Santa Monica's Clocktower building, is drop-dead gorgeous: two stories, open staircase, tiled floors, wooden tables, mirrors and slowly spinning ceiling fans and a long bar of French hand-poured pewter. 
Upstairs there are more tables and an open kitchen, where you can see rows of hanging copper pots and the marble counters of the patisserie station. The breakfast menu (lunch and dinner begin next week) is classic French fare: Viennoiserie by pastry chef Mehdi Boudiab (formerly of Breadbar); crepes (pictured at right); omelets; a smoked salmon plate with Michel Blanchet salmon and brioche; eggs Benedict; Belgian waffles with dulce de leche and Nutella; and so on.
"You know, exactly four years ago I left Bastide," said Giraud, who noted that yesterday was his birthday. Well, happy birthday, chef. Welcome back.
Anisette Brasserie, 225 Santa Monica Blvd, Santa Monica. (310) 395-3200. Breakfast, 7:30 to 11:30 a.m. Monday to Friday; brunch this weekend and lunch and dinner to follow next week.
-- Amy Scattergood
Photos by Amy Scattergood
Last Friday, she was the guest of honor at a secret supper celebrating the book to be released by Sasquatch Books in October. (Jenn is the pretty redhead in the green sweater. I'm the lady on the left.) Garbee arrived at The Times two years ago as a kitchen intern. A smashing writer as well as a cook, we put her to work on the editorial side as well. Garbee has moved on to be the editor of a new lifestyle magazine -- Santa Monica Style -- to launch this fall, but to our delight, she continues to write for The Times.
In her book, Garbee takes the reader to 10 underground restaurants across the country, with recipes at the end of each chapter. "They are all completely different. Some are grungy, some are professional chefs, some are home cooks, some are who knows what. That's what I like best about them. Go to one, find another, go again," Garbee says. You never have the same experience twice.
Friday's dinner was an al fresco event in the backyard gardens of floral designer Tara Kolla hosted by Carrie Norton, founder of Silver Lake Supper Club. Norton is a home cook who loves to entertain and, so far, she's hosted four underground dinners. "She does it for fun -- to meet people, gather people, share food," Garbee says. Make money? Forget about it. Secret suppers are less profitable than joyful. Rich Mead, exec chef-owner of Sage on the Coast in Newport Beach (Chapter 9), created Friday night's meal. There were two appetizers offered to guests when they arrived: grilled garlic bruschetta with tomato jam, arugula and fresh mozzarella and Vietnamese-style butter lettuce cups filled with green papaya salad, barbecue beef and spicy Thai sauce. Dinner was served family style starting with a green salad tossed with strawberries, goat cheese and pistachios. There were two main dishes: a slow-cooked Schaner Farms whole pig with tomatillos and steamed sesame teriyaki Loch Duarte Scottish salmon on soba noddles with grilled baby bok choy. Dessert was a sensational collection of pastries by Zoe Nathan, pastry chef at Rustic Canyon Wine Bar and Seasonal Kitchen (Chapter 10). I'm still dreaming about the fresh blueberry corn cake with vanilla ice cream. Amazing! -- Corie Brown
Photo by Chris Fager
 Check out the current issue of the Los Angeles Times Magazine, and you'll find Laurie Winer's story on Sarintip Singsanong (friends call her "Jazz"), owner of Jitlada restaurant in Hollywood. Jitlada specializes in Southern regional Thai food, and the magazine was able to procure the recipe for its famous rice salad (khao yam).
As with the Food section, all recipes for the Times Magazine are thoroughly tested before publication. We received the recipe to test, not realizing that parts of it would be so difficult to crack. The salad itself was simple: a colorful display of finely shredded vegetables around a garnished mound of steamed rice. It was the dressing that got us...
Like many restaurant dishes we test, the dressing had no formal recipe. Jazz's brother Tui (the chef) makes gallons of the sweet, herbal, fish sauce-based dressing at a time -- each batch is enough for 400 to 500 salads. He throws in a little of this, and maybe a little of that, constantly adjusting and simmering each batch for about 8 hours so the flavors merge and harmonize.
The Test Kitchen was charged with adapting the dressing, adjusting the volume (honestly, who's going to want dressing for 500 salads in their fridge?) and total time (nix the 8 hours). Our original tests, based on notes between Jazz, Tui and Laurie, yielded about a quart of dressing and took only 4 hours to make, but it tasted nothing like the balanced sauce at the restaurant. Ours tasted like salty, burnt caramel and charred herbs.
  After a couple more tests, I decided to visit Jazz and Tui at the restaurant, hang out in the kitchen and watch them prepare the dressing and salad. I've included some cellphone pictures from my restaurant visit, including exactly how the lemongrass -- just one component -- is crushed and chopped before it's infused in the sauce, as well as how the sauce should look in the pan (we needed to determine the total liquid volume, as well as the ratio of solids to liquids).
We still had trouble figuring out the dressing. The flavor and texture were almost there after a few more tests, but we still weren't getting the rounded fish flavor of the restaurant's version. Our recipe instructions called for a budu (a Thai anchovy-based fish sauce) base, but the fish flavor was one-note. We felt something was missing. Finally, on a whim, we threw in some ground shrimp and allowed the sauce to steep an additional 10 minutes. It worked -- the flavors were rounded, and the sauce tasted true to the original.
As for that recipe? It follows Laurie's story here. For more pictures, check out the photo gallery of Jazz and Tui as they prepare the dish.
-- Noelle Carter
Photos by Coral Von Zumwalt and Noelle Carter
 I spent much of last week looking dreamily at Amy Scattergood’s recipe on romesco sauce, and wondering when I’d have an opportunity to whip some up for myself.
Turns out someone did the work for me.
I was invited to a pizza party Saturday night when I spied a platter that looked like it had walked off the cover of last week’s Food section: Grilled shrimp and lightly toasted slices of baguette brushed with olive oil surrounding a big bowl of romesco sauce. Apparently, my friend Karen –- she’s the queen of the appetizers in our circle -– had been looking longingly at that recipe, too. The crowd pounced. It was everything it was billed to be -– rich, nutty, garlicky and with just enough of a bite. Even friends who don’t normally pay attention to such things were puzzling over the ingredients in between bites, asking: What’s in this?
Soon, the baguette slices and shrimp were gone, so we resorted to using tortilla chips to dig in. I even used the last remains to slather on the hand-tossed pizzas as they arrived hot off the grill. It doesn’t really matter, though, what you serve with this dip. It’s a guaranteed crowd pleaser.
I wondered whether this was dip that could be made in advance and frozen, so I could keep some on hand all summer. I put that question to Amy. She joked that nut-based sauces rarely last long enough to make it to the freezer, and offered these guidelines (which include some suggestions from Times recipe tester Noelle Carter): "It does keep very well in the refrigerator; I’ve had some in there for 2 weeks, with no ill effects. So we’d suggest making your big batch and refrigerating it instead of freezing (I think the nuts would degrade slightly and you’d get water separation in the freezer.) Be sure to bring it back to room temperature before serving it. I’ve heated mine slightly in the microwave even, as it’s really better if it’s not cold."
Amy also added a p.s. -- that romesco makes a great pizza sauce, particularly when topped with fresh mozzarella, grilled onions or leeks.
-- Rene Lynch
Photo by Bob Chamberlin/Los Angeles Times
 Back in January, when I wrote a story on sourdough, I had 18 active starters in my kitchen. Afterwards, I kept most of them, although baker Peter Reinhart told me I was being sentimental and urged I throw many of them out (have a little ceremony, he suggested). I gave some away, but mostly they've been languishing in my refrigerator since then, unfed, dormant, but not forgotten. As it's soon going to be too hot to bake happily, I decided to take out 4 of them and see how they'd fare after 5 months of neglect.  The picture on the left shows them before feeding: Three I made myself, one with Peter Reinhart's pineapple juice recipe, one with Nancy Silverton's grape recipe, a third using Paul Bertolli's potato recipe; the fourth was from Sona's 100 year-old Puglian starter. On Friday morning, I stirred in the 'hootch' and fed each with equal parts water and AP flour; more feedings followed on Friday night, Saturday morning and Saturday night. By Sunday morning, they were all bubbly and very active (right). I baked with the most active of the four (Reinhart's, with Silverton's a very close second). 
Here are the boules, which rose beautifully, had nice hole structure, and tasted nutty and surprisingly mild -- especially considering how long they'd gone without feeding. Which goes to show how resilient starters can be. And why I'll never need to buy yeast again.
-- Amy Scattergood
Photos by Amy Scattergood
|
|
Every week, Test Kitchen director Donna Deane and I receive e-mails from readers about the week's recipes. Many are positive; the recipes may stir a memory or utilize an ingredient in an exciting new way. Often we receive questions about similar recipes or methods, wondering why we add ingredients when we do, or what we mean by a particular step. Some questions don't relate to just-published recipes but are totally out of the blue — what would we suggest doing with a particular ingredient or how might we cook a certain food? Occasionally we hear from a frustrated e-mailer who's wondering why a recipe didn't come out as expected.
