skip to main |
skip to sidebar
It's been a blustery, wet and cold past few days (OK, weeks) here in SF. Exactly the kind of weather that calls for something heartwarming and belly-busting like this ultimate lasagna bolognese recipe, created by comfort food king himself, Tyler Florence. (Have you seen how fat he's become since coming out West?)Anyway, I've made this baked pasta twice before and backed off on the amount of meat Tyler asks for—4 pounds?! Whoa, Nellie. I think 2.5 will do just fine—and the creation still hits the jackpot in terms of rich, creamy, fatty taste sensation and satisfaction.
Rather than puree the holy trinity of onion, celery and carrot, I cut 'em up into a fine dice. What can I say—I find chopping veg therapeutic; it's part of the fun in cooking (though I've got to admit my hand-me-down Cuisinart was busted. That said, I like a little texture in my sauce). I also doubled the amount of basil and Italian parsley than the recipe includes. And I browned the meat and veg separately (though using the same Dutch oven), to make sure to build good flavor in both.
After layering the casseroles (and frankly, I don't know how Tyler does all of the prep, cooking and assembling all within an hour and a half—maybe he's got sous chefs to help him out; I certainly don't!), I threw 'em in a 350-degree oven for one hour, et voilà! Massive amounts of what's become my fave lasagna recipe. I served hefty helpings along with a peppery arugula, cherry tomato and shaved Parmesan salad to four eager friends. Despite their big appetites and doggie bags sent home with a few, I had plenty left over to freeze for future "fast-food" dinners. Yay!
Aquatic Culture's Chef John Myers gave a demo on shellfish this past weekend at CUESA, and my, did his preso knock our socks off. Look at the size of the Pacific oysters (pictured just above) in the cornucopia of frutti di mare that also came studded with the more standard-sized kusshis, miyagis, kumamotos, crawfish and more.
mmm ... crawdads
the ginormo, 10-plus-year-old, barnacle-encrusted Pacific oyster ...
... shucked. No, you can't slurp these suckers down in one go. What you can do, said chef Myers, is grill 'em over a medium heat, then cut 'em up before serving. Hmmm, think I'll stick to their smaller brethen instead.
Fra'Mani salumi are absolutely fabulous. The fragrant black truffle (my fave), piccante (hard, dry chorizo seasoned with pimenton de la Vera), soppressata (moister and flavored with clove) ... they all add that extra something special to any party platter.
"Bacon is the new black," writes Ryan Farr on his 4505 Meats website. Hmmm ... as far as I'm concerned, neither bacon nor any other pig product has ever been passé. All I can say is that, as soon as his chicharrones—airy puffs of deep-fried pig skins, seasoned with sea salt, cane sugar and chiles—came out of the zip-locked bag, I was all over 'em. And a good thing too, as chicharrones start to go stale as soon as they come up for air. Fried pig skins are the perfect accompaniment for any alcoholic beverage.
I've been to Japanese-inspired, seafood-centric Skool twice now in the past 2 weeks and shared the plate of blistered shisito peppers, crowned in dried bonito flakes. Love them peppers—for their sharp, slightly bittersweet flavor and crunchy-firm texture, but damn if this season's bounty isn't full of a lot more stingers than usual."What, isn't it one out of 10 that's hot?" said one pal when we ordered a plate of these peppers at Sebo a month or so ago. "Yep," I agreed. "That sounds about right." Turned out it was more like 4 in 10 that were packin' some serious heat.The same thing happened at Greens a few weeks back—lots more hot peppers, with a few set-your-mouth-on-fire grenades. In fact, our server at Skool confirmed what I'd already figured out: This year's shisitos are spicier than normal.So, you'd think I'd learn my lesson and just stay away. Nah. Them peppers are just too tasty to pass up.
... no matter where you are.
I inhaled this splendiferous sizzling stone pot full of Korean delights—kalbi (beef short ribs), sauteed and pickled vegetables, white rice, with a fried egg and generous squirt of hot chili paste on top—in Seattle. My preggy friend AS (Korean-American like me), whom I was visiting, said she'd been having some serious K-spice cravings. I was more than happy to oblige her.
I think back to my childhood and teen years, when my folks used to scoff at my sister for always and ever ordering bibimbap when we went out for Korean. As they explained it, bibimbap (which means "mixed rice") is nothing special—it's something you'd have at home, throwing all of your leftovers together into a bowl with your rice. But my sister was unswerving—she knew what she liked. And what she liked was bibimbap. Well, hats off to my sister ... for sticking to her guns ... and having good taste.
Six-month-old Mill Valley Beerworks Brewery and Beer Cafe has a mighty nice vibe (the clientele comprises the outdoorsy Nor-Cal type, so no surprise here), not to mention a really big range of Belgian, Bavarian and home brews. JA and I gobbled up the springy-fresh, home-made pretzel (I wanted another but restrained myself) and followed it with a lovely little cheese and olive platter. Oh yah, and of course we washed it all down with some quality beer. After trying a couple (one being a pumpkin ale that was a flavor bomb of spice), I opted for the easygoing kölsch, while JA favored the hefeweisen. All in all, well worth the trip to the North Bay.
Mate (pronounced ma-tay) is hard to drink ... unless you're an Argentine who's grown up drinking the extremely bitter brew on your mama's knee. Our guide Girardo said he and all the locals drink this stuff daily, from hollowed-out calabash gourds, through metal straws, and in very large quantities. They love it, he told us. It's refreshing, soothing, a great digestive. He added that it's even said to be an appetite suppressant ... hmmm, is that why the meat-loving Argentine's are so lean?Fortunately, Girardo took pity on us and sweetened our yerba mate while it steeped in hot water with a generous dose of sugar. While the other gals were only able to take a small sip before passing the mate back, I was finally able to drink some of it down ... and actually almost enjoy it. Almost. But not quite. Mate is definitely an acquired taste. Kinda like cilantro, or black licorice, or the stinkiest blue cheese. It evokes a strong reaction—often negative in the beginning, but with repeated exposures, I'm sure you'd grow to like it. Really.
Me: actually drinking the mateJA: faking it (it was the only way she could take the pic without grimacing)
In Buenos Aires, Argentina ... naturally. And some tasty pork too. We had a really lively meal of smoky, fork-tender pork rib brisket and rib-eye—along with some ginormous veggie sides and a peppery, zesty Malbec—at Minga in Palermo Soho.
I inhaled this medium-rare hunk o' beefy goodness, sitting out on the verandah of Victoria Ocampo's house in Tigre. I kept telling myself there was no way I was gonna finish this steak, but I did—the richly flavored meat was so tender and juicy, it was almost as if each piece melted in my mouth ... like magic.
When we spent the day out on a 150-some-odd acre estancia (aka ranch) near San Antonio de Areco, we partook in multiple rounds of Argentinean BBQ comprising a wide range of grilled meats—chorizo and blood sausage, ribs, tenderloin and a whole roasted chicken. Yes, there were sides, but it was all about the meat.
Mmmmmmmmm.
