Blessed

As an American raised in Britain, Thanksgiving was something we were able to participate in but rarely in a social sense outside of family. For me now in Los Angeles, it is a marvelous thing to enjoy community and family in that month before Christmas and to reflect on the great joy of being an American, with all the pluses and minuses that we contemporary Americans carry each day. I was able to enjoy an earnest and warm celebration this past Thanksgiving with my adopted family in Bakersfield.

Christmas is here now. For me and many others Christmas is a religious celebration of the birth of Christ. This is what causes me to celebrate and share my own joy and happiness at this time, mindful of the fact that many of my friends are celebrating different religious holidays around this time. So many of their beliefs are different to mine and some friends have no religious beliefs at all. In a spirit of tolerance and respect for those of other credes, I must also be frank about why I am celebrating and why I like to share that internal joy. This is not a secular holiday for me.

I was interested to read in Nathaniel Philbrick's book on The Mayflower that the common or garden Turkey had been introduced, bred and circulated throughout Europe since the 1500s by the Spanish and that The Mayflower's passengers were more than familiar with it as a feasting dish in England when they got sort of settled and had the first Thanksgiving at Plymouth in 1621. Apparently the tastiest birds on that occasion were Mallards and other ducks. What surprised the Pilgrims most was the large size of wild Turkeys (which were present at the feast and provided by the indigenous Pokanokets) as they had already been bred smaller and neater since their appearance in Europe. These settlers introduced stews and hotpots to the Pokanokets who greatly savored them, with all manner of meats and fish therein. Please, who wouldn't enjoy a rich, slow cooked Daube of local meats?

Whatever your belief or non belief I wish you all Love, Peace and Prosperity this Christmas, and also for the new year of 2009. I share and celebrate my "holiday" love only for the already mentioned reasons. Come sup with me sometime to celebrate our friendship. Until then, I bless you and your family.

Salt and Pepper

My barber of eight years, Rafael, told me at the last cut that my hair is almost purely white. No more passing it off as salt and pepper even though people say it looks blondish in the right light. My white hair was totally appropriate at my friend Jeff's impromptu 25th birthday celebration this week on account of the surroundings.

A group of four, we spent an evening at Musso and Frank's before Jeff left for New York. He, Me, Pete and Matt had a lovely time. Jeff, a devoted vegetarian, dined on Macaroni and Cheese, Pete had the Salmon with Asparagus (so beautifully green it provoked a similarly colored envy). Matt had Deep Fried Shrimp with Fries and I had the Grilled Pork Chops. Man, are their martinis good? 'Continental Cuisine' at its fuzzy best. Jeff usually gets Charlie Chaplin's old booth but we waited this time for his favorite waiter. Said truly excellent waiter pointed out the location of The Back Room, orifginally leased from the Vogue Theater next door and which is now accessed from the parking lot and now in disuse since they lost their lease to it in 1954. That was where Faulkner, Fitzgerald and Chandler used to pass out. The bar from there was transplanted without the hood to the large dining room when the lease was lost though the original wallpaper remains apparently. Musso's is reputedly the oldest restaurant in Hollywood since 1919 and it keeps that clubby flavor. Its last makeover was in the early nineteen fifties. On another occasion we were seated in the large dining room and some starlet was seated next to us while her boyfriend made a beeline for the bathroom. She said, "I hear the food isn't so good here". I said, "It's not just about the food, and the food is fine." Needless to say they moved. I love Musso's, you don't just go there for the food, which at the very least is better than any Stuart Anderson's, you also go for the life, the whole kit 'n kaboodle.

A Guilty pleasure this week was lunch at El Cholo Cafe, in Pasadena, an offshoot of the original LA fixture founded 1923. We went for a Margarita lunch with blue corn enchiladas on the side (my lunch partner will remain nameless). I sobered up for an hour afterward by the pool while my friend workhollicked. Believe it or not it was a productive lunch. Sadly, a hired hand intimated that business was not good at the moment. I'm assuming he was talking about localized events that have resulted from the ridiculous overspill of the sandbox we Americans have all stood by and allowed any kid to build castles in during the last twenty years. One wonders if the nod and the wink by Daddy for some kind of baillout wasn't given years ago. These are mostly clever people up there, you know.  I was talking like Maureen Dowd about this particular parallel twenty years ago.

Tonight it's Loin of Pork with Prunes. This is based on an antique Roman recipe by Apicius. The pork, salted and peppered and with fresh onion and garlic, dried prunes, is roasted with chicken stock and a little white wine. Soft Potatoes and Young Broccoli will accompany. Plate, knife and fork, will present it. Salt and pepper, without allusion, will be served on the side. 

Last of Summer?

Marissa Roth gave a small dinner party last night which started poolside with plump green olives and sliced salami, creamy pastry cheese twists and a very potable chilled Riesling. When called to table we found a huge platter laden with fresh buffalo mozzarella, baby arugula, avocado, capers and a mild vinaigrette. Food maven, LA Times columnist and author Russ Parsons, brought along two varieties of Brandywine heirloom tomatoes grown in his Long Beach garden which Marissa substituted for her tiny heirlooms, and they were plump flavorful and lusciously tasty. After we had laid waste to that she served up wild organic salmon poached in orange juice with fresh dill, steamed french green beans with plenty of parsley, and deliciously crisp pan roasted fingerling potatoes. A French Muscadet and a dry, buttery Carneros Clos Du Val Chardonnay, which Russ also supplied, complemented it all with plenty of sparkling mineral water. If that wasn't enough we went back poolside to taste fresh nectarine gelato. All the ingredients were from her local South Pasadena farmer's market, including the gelato by Carmela Ice Cream who sells online and at the Hollywood and South Pasadena farmer's markets, with the exception of Russ's homegrown tomatoes and the salmon which Marissa caught herself at Bristol farms. It was a superb dinner.

We talked a bit about whether summer was over or not, a bit about food as Russ is a goldmine of information on resources and the way things are in foodland, and we talked about Bakersfield and Fresno and their anomalies. For all that hard work Marissa looked remarkably relaxed and glowed throughout the evening like the bloom on one of the sweet nectarines she garnished the gelato with. Perhaps this cool summer will linger on and I for one won't mind. Next week fall will officially be here for me as I harvest my Bakersfield Chardonnays and start to turn them into wine. I tasted them last week and they were intensely sweet but I bought a refractometer so as to measure the brix before I start getting sharp with the shears.

Atlantic Balm

The weather here in LA is truly clement. I left for Florida's Atlantic coast two weeks ago to celebrate my father's 80th birthday and feared that when I returned this unusually moderate weather would have disappeared. I realized when I first set foot on the beach there that the two minute walk from my parent's house across A1A made all the difference, even though as usual you could cut the air with a knife. A couple of visits daily shoreside with my excellent youngest brother Matthew, to bathe and take in the sea air, watch the pelicans drop dive for fish and spot dolphins rolling along very close to shore, was something I needed a lot, not least because of his company and it became a daily ritual. Here, in SoCal, I rarely visit the Blue Pacific as it involves decanting myself into a car and making upwards of a 30 minute drive to travel a few miles, if traffic is good, trundling around for another half hour looking for parking, and then fighting the usual dense crowds, before finally bracing myself for the icy Pacific waters. By the time I get home all beneficial effects have usually worn off. There is also the frightening toll taken at the gas pump. It's much more pleasant to have access to a swimming pool and I'm pretty sure this is why they are abundant here. 

Each morning Daytona's brilliant skies were full with scudding clouds, and by early afternoon they were pregnant with rain, bolts of lightning and accompanying thunder. By early evening it it had cleared and one could return to walk at dusk on the rain embossed sand, paddle in the warm gulf stream flotsam and jetsom, and breathe in the thick, moist, clean air (see pic above).

I did most of the cooking whilst there, and for my mother's birthday baked some mostaciolli bolognese style, thick with a mushroom béchamel with added sausage by request of brother Matthew. That day brother David and his wife Theresa had had an enormous rich black chocolate cake made to celebrate both the birthdays complete with elegant piping and congratulatory text. For my father's special event I roasted a large leg of lamb for the family, with anchovy sauce, all brothers and their families in attendance to decimate it very quickly. Profiteroles for dessert - I cheated and bought 36 frozen Belgian cream puffs. I did make the bittersweet chocolate sauce from scratch but confess that I didn't harvest the cacao beans myself.  Another day we shucked the best part of a half  bushel of oysters from Hull's. It was a lovely trip, and while I am always sad to leave my family, for the first time I can honestly say I rather miss Florida.

Grapes Without Wrath

Here is a cozy shot of my Chardonnay vine up in Bakersfield from the 4th of July which is full with fruit. The 4th was a lovely family day and a short but welcome rest from the wild schedule of the past few weeks. I also have a sauvignon blanc vine which is equally full with fruit. I am grateful to Lou Diaz for his attentive watering while I am in LA and for the Diazes hosting of the ever expanding vines. It's a constant struggle keeping them from climbing the beautiful young magnolias which flank them. Come September harvest I will make a bottle or two of wine from the grapes.

My friend David Hockney is in town for a flying visit and, yesterday, Rita Pynoos held a tea party at her Beverly Hills home to celebrate his birthday, which is next week. Rita had it catered by Wolfgang Puck's flagship, Spago's. I had heard about, but never partaken of, David's favorite, the smoked salmon pizza. On a crisp crust an almost mayonnaisy layer of mild herbed goat cheese supported a bed of smoked salmon and that in turn garnished with abundant, and big, glistening orange salmon eggs. Delicious. So I stand corrected, I had thought the idea was pretty terrible, until that first bite. Happy Birthday David and thank you Rita.

Today David stopped by for lunch round the corner at Cafe Figaro in my neighborhood on Vermont Avenue with Derek Boshier and Alfred Young in tow. It was me and the class of '59 as they had all attended The Royal College of Art together. We dined on escargots and moules frites which are particularly good there on account of the leeky sauce. We might have been in Paris. We talked of tripe and kidneys, liver and sweetbreads, and their general unpopularity Stateside and the fact that Musso and Franks is one of the few restaurants locally that keep lamb kidneys on the menu. It was a balm to hear new and familiar stories, full of laments over liberty and arcane facts from the past and present all spiced with humor and warmth. A nice start to the week and a pleasant weekend in all.

Spring Lamb Up Close

This weekend, has become a concentrated social melée. I don't know whether it's age or apathy but I like to limit my social engagements severely these days. It's no reflection on the kind friends who invite me to wine and dine but more a desire to stay close to the nest, and I prefer to entertain than be entertained.

Last night the home made festivities began with a dinner for Chris and Linda Finch. I roasted a boneless leg of lamb with rosemary and garlic, served with potatoes, celery and parsnips also roasted l'anglaise, steamed green beans, and Nantes carrots with organic peas. It was garnished with a sauce of pearl onions, garlic, rosemary, and balsamic vinegar. We appetized with fresh hummus made with Lebanese Tahini, all accompanied by local whites and reds from Paso Robles, and a nice Argentine Malbec that the Finches brought.

The highlight of the evening, though, was the Tiramisu. Matt made it completely from scratch the night before in honor of the Finches. As a teenager Matt had pored over most of Chris's monographs on Disney and Henson and such, having been gifted them by request on special occasions by his parents as he grew up. It's a nice feeling to give back a little of the pleasure one has received over the years from someone even though they might not know they have given it. Matt's Tiramisu was two and a half hours of hard work in the making, fifteen minutes of pure pleasure in the eating. A perfect and luxurious end to a warm evening.

Chris brought along a copy of his marvelous book on the painter, Chuck Close. Linda Rosenkrantz, Chris's spouse, is a subject of many of Close's most well known early portraits, and I must say she is more radiantly beautiful now than she could ever have been at the time Close made those original gargantuan portraits in the seventies. She is also a writer and a wonderful raconteur. I will be ordering the book on her Bronx Childhood. Chris is the author of the much quoted definitive monograph on Disney, amongst several other publications. I very much enjoyed the evening though many topics of conversation remained unexplored. I'll write a list of questions next time. One sacrifices a little of the social time to the needs of the kitchen but it's a fair trade off.

To cook potatoes or other root vegetables, in the English style, peel them first then cut them into large chunks and boil them in salt water until semi soft. Drain them well, and then put quite a bit of bland oil in an oven durable pan, or better still drippings from the roast, lard or crisco, to maybe a half inch depth, and roast. Turn rarely, until a rich red crust forms on most of their sides. Serve with the roast and plenty of gravy.

To roast the lamb ( I bought my boneless leg at Costco ) remove it from the fridge at least an hour and a half before cooking to bring to room temperature. Leave any binding on it and with a paper towel blot any liquid from the joint without washing it. When ready to cook preheat the oven to 450°. Take a shallow roasting pan and sprinkle with good olive oil and put a bed of long sprigged fresh rosemary on it. Not too much oil, the lamb will add its own. Rub the lamb with chopped fresh garlic and put some on the rosemary. Stud the roast with sliced slivers and then salt the lamb with a good sea salt. Place the roast on the bed of rosemary and garlic and make sure all the rosemary is covered by the roast. Grind some pepper over it and place on the bottom shelf of the oven turning the oven down to 400° after five minutes.

Pearl onions are a pain to peel and frozen ones are just as good all ready to place in a saucepan and boil for twenty minutes with some good chicken stock and a little white wine. When the roast is done, after perhaps two hours, remove the roast and then drain the pan of most if not all of its oil. Remove the pearl onions to a dish and reserve. Deglaze the roasting pan by pouring the liquid into the pan and pop back in the oven for ten minutes. Scrape in the drippings and then pour everything back into the saucepan and bring to the boil again adding seasonings and the battered rosemary and a couple more fresh sprigs. At the last moment add crushed garlic and stir as you thicken it with a little cornstarch to the desired consistency and add balsamic vinegar to taste. Pour the sauce through a sieve to remove the spent garlic and rosemary and transfer to a sauce boat. Arrange the pearl onions along side the roast and serve. Note that the pearl onions will be a pretty golden color not a clear white.

Thinking of Beans...

About now the fava bean season ends. There is a restaurant on La Brea Avenue that serves up a fava bean salad with smoked turkey which turned me on to the raw green delight. The fava bean, like all legumes, is  many layered and after husk and hood are removed they reveal their waxy green centers which slide into two pieces when run between the forefingers. The fava (known as the broad bean in The States), is a historic staple of the Egyptians, and to me really tastes green. Steam them, then shell them and break them naturally in two, and add a little lemon and olive oil to the separated hearts. Combine them with a salad or add parsley to make them a salad on their own.