Madeleine

Fugghetabout Kevin Bacon: Six Degrees of Traca in a 90 Degree Kitchen

Happy July, y'all! We came, we ate, we melted in the historic Fairfax, but a good time was had by all thanks to our own Seattle Tall Poppy.

Monday nights have become a kind of sabbath in our little house in Skyway (it's my Sunday after all in the retail world)--a sacred day to take rest, reflect while pulling weeds & planting seeds, catch up with family on a long walk (thank you husband, for finally talking me into getting a cell phone) & cook something memorable that will carry us through the week with full-mouthed mumbles of what we'll invent the following Saturday when we're back in the kitchen together. That's the definition of a foodie for you, talking about what you're going to eat next between bites... 

And while try as I might not to break the sabbath, sometimes an invitation comes along that can't be refused. That would be Six Degrees of Traca Savadago, a collective meeting of the minds (over food & wine, of course) where host/chef/locavore/cookbook author, Becky Selengut, graciously brought together the many threads (meaning us, the peep's) in Ms.Traca's multi-faceted life. The crowd managed to wipe their brows while downing any chilled wine in sight, while feasting on Becky's chilled avocado-shiso soup & "potluck crack"--a mango bean curd mixture served on shrimp toasts, the perfect summer salad with a crunch that I crave at the end of a good party. Let it be known, it was not fun to hear the alarm clock go off this morning.

But who is in within six degrees is well worth a couple extra hits on the snooze bar. Try Jon Rowley, the person that put Copper River salmon on your radar, Molly (a.k.a. Orangette) who's poetically personal blog attracted the attention of Bon Appetit (& her pizza-obsessed husband, Brandon), Rebekah Denn (former P-I restaurant critic and hole-in-the-wall restaurant champion--love it!!) & of course many more folks that inspired me, talking about their passion & businesses late into the night...

So the rule of thumb that was established amongst us all is whatever Traca says, goes, & she says my private little newsletter to friends needs to go on Madeleine. Tah dah! Here it is, & if you'd like to subscribe to my weekly newsletter, send your equest to quesoyvino@gmail.com

Hasta proxima- C

Hello to all my wonderful friends & foodie family!

The 4th of July, this Friday??? Wow, I'm quite glad to see "June-ary" come to an end, but I can hardly believe that I need to flip the page on our calendar tomorrow... It finally *feels* like summer & while Ken was busy pouring wine over at Portalis in Ballard yesterday, I made my rounds at the Farmer's Market, walked to Shilshole Marina & back, all the while thinking about how lucky I am to live in the Northwest. I know well the stickiness of upstate NY summers in Schenectady, the necessity of being doused in bug spray before attempting any amount of time in the great outdoors after the sun goes down--& frankly I'll take Seattle any day.

For me, this week is all about chilling out with summer wines in the old ice bucket & a bunch of 30-minute menu plans (lord knows, my fridge is filled with English peas, bulbous favas, & Nantes carrots so beautiful I can't resist buying them) so we can just hang out in the backyard, enjoying the warm night air without a care in the world... The fireworks have already started in Skyway--this year I think we're just going to kick back & enjoy the one benefit of living in un-incorporated King County--we can watch the show from our own backyard! Happy Independence Day!!!

Besos,
Catherine Reynolds

CATHERINE'S CAMANO ISLAND MOORISH MINI-BURGERS
4th of July is probably one of the biggest grilling holidays of the year, & so I decided to republish one of my all-time most popular recipes... This recipe came from a mini-burger competition I had with some foodie friends one weekend on Camano Island, & guess who won? No cookbook required, just great ingredients & a little ingenuity...

Makes approximately 6 mini-burgers

1 lb lean ground beef
4 oz Spanish cured chorizo, casing peeled & finely chopped (a mini-food processor probably would have come in handy!)
4 oz Basque sheep cheese, thinly sliced (enough to top the burgers)
3 piquillo peppers, julienned
1 cup prepared alioli (garlic mayonnaise)
1/2 a preserved lemon, peel only, minced
2 Tbs romesco sauce
handful frisee
coarse sea salt
6 soft dinner rolls, cut in half

Chop or grind the chorizo as finely as you can (small chunks are okay) & combine with the ground beef. Form six  patties & set aside.

Combine the alioli (or aioli) with the minced preserved lemon to taste. While the flavor of the lemons is quite strong, don't skimp! Everyone said that when they got a little piece of lemon it made all the flavors of the burger explode.

Sprinkle the meat with sea salt shortly before cooking. Grill up the cheese burgers & rolls, & have the remaining ingredients ready. Spread the bottom of the buns with romesco sauce & the top with Moorish mayo combination. Top each burger with criss-crossed piquillo strips & a little mound of frisee. Enjoy your masterpiece!

THREE WAYS TO SPICE UP YOUR SUMMER PICNICS

Spicy Calabresi Olives:
From the southernmost point on the mainland of Italy, these little guys pack a wallop of flavor. Brined with red peperoncini & chopped fennel stems, Calabresi olives are the color of a Spanish arbequina, but with an assertive flavor that has turned me into an olive-popping addict. A super snacking olive, & the ideal choice for Puttanesca pasta sauce...

Fra'Mani Spicy Italian Sausage:
By now you've probably heard of chef Paul Bertolli (formerly of Chez Panisse & Oliveto in the Bay Area) & his famous salumi, but have you tried his sausages? All of Paul's meats come from family farms where the pigs are pretty pampered & allowed to root & roam about which of course makes the meat taste better! These fully cooked sausages are made in the Calabrian style (do I see a theme evolving?) with hot & sweet peperoncini and take minutes to cook--heck, we even threw them on the panini grill at Bella Cosa & got a crispy seared skin! I was thinking these would be sensational for a grilled pepper & sausage hoagie & then I read the menu online for Crow Bar down in Corona de Mar, CA where they make a Fra'Mani flatbread with tallegio, piquillo peppers, & fennel pollen. Oh man, I've got to try that combo! 

Matiz Spicy Olivada Spread:
Made from succulent black Empeltre olives, this is my favorite tapenade bar none. Importers Pere & Betsy have taken a traditional Catalan recipe & kicked it up a notch with these spicy olives from Aragon. Richly flavored, this Spanish spread can be used to slather on rosemary Manchego, build a vegan delight of olivada & avocado sandwiches, or create a stunning black olive crust on halibut & salmon. Endless possibilities, really... 

Catherine Recommends: Fourth of July Wines

Las Rocas Rosado 2006, Calatayud $5.99 (reg. $9.99)
Here's everything I love about the Las Rocas wines, but in a rosado, & at a ridiculous price... While this rose was released last spring, I love it's mellow personality & folks were ordering it by the case at the Gaudi tasting to have on hand this summer as their house "deck wine". This bargain pink has savory Chelan cherry character & a spiced dry finish that stems from old-vine Grenache, of course. Come get some & I'll give you Ken's famous recipe for Ginger Grape Rose Sangria from his days cheffing at the Mandalay Cafe...
"The 2006 Las Rocas Rosado is produced from a bleeding of the tanks for the red Las Rocas. Made from 100% Garnacha, it is dark pink in color and offers up a fragrant nose of kirsch and strawberry. Full-flavored and ripe, this tasty wine should prove to be remarkably food-versatile. It is also an excellent value." -Robert Parker's Wine Advocate

Broadbent Vinho Verde 2007, Vinho Verde $9.99
Vinho Verde's are just plain FUN. The British call this type of wine "more-ish" because when you taste it, you want to drink more! Light, citrusy & spritzy, Vinho Verde can take you straight to a beach in Portugal. To capture the spirit of youthfulness, Bartholomew Broadbent had his 4-year-old niece design the sunny label on this white. Super-fresh flavors of peach fuzz & tart/sweet green apple that reminded me of a Jolly Rancher! The white I served at my wedding & drank the rest of that summer...

Montsarra Brut Cava, $14.99
What would the 4th be without some bubbles to pop open? This has to be one of my favorite sparkling wines from anywhere in the world. Por que? Maybe it's the abundant golden apple & bright citrusy aromas with hazelnut & spice cake flavors. Then there's the deliciously toasty & fresh pear notes, a body that's round, creamy, & crisp with frothy bubbles that reminds me of expensive Champagne. There's even a hint of jasmine pearls. I'm ready to celebrate!

Cannonball Cabernet 2005, California $15.99
This wine screams summertime... Alright, for one it's got a catchy label with a tyke who's ready to take the plunge, & if you bring this to a party, my bet is everyone will be grabbing for this first. This wine was meant to go with the foods of summer from its spiced plum nose, cassis & blackberry juiciness (characteristic of the Dry Creek Vineyards,) & a hit of mochaccino that is going to love anything with bbq sauce on it. Winemaker Dennis Hill has worked at some top Sonoma Estates & refreshingly has kept the alcohol in this Cab/Syrah blend down to 13.8% & the price at the affordable level--both rarities in California wine these days. Plush texture, nice verve--dive right in.

Looking for expert Spanish wine advice? Gourmet staples to stock the pantry? Melt in your mouth artisan charcuterie & intriguing hand-selected cheese? You can find me at Bella Cosa (1711 N. 45th, just west of the Wallingford Center) Tuesday through Saturday, from 11 am to 7 pm, five days a week. Please come by & say hello!

Feeling Like Where's Waldo... A New Nest at Bella Cosa

If you've been wondering where I've been for the last month or so, you're not the only one! I could not have imagined all the events that have transpired in the last six months, but 2008 has been a very interesting year indeed. On one of my many "what the heck am I doing?" cell phone conversations with my parents since I quit Spanish Table, my dad said something very wise to me: "You don't know what's available until you make yourself available." And how right he was..

So now it's official--I am the new manager at Bella Cosa in Wallingford & I'm off and running, learning the trials of managing staff, keeping up with the lunch crowd on the panini grill, the where & how of ordering the products that I want from which distributor, recommending wines of course, & paying the bills so the lights stay on... It's all in the day of a small business owner & while I don't own it, I am thankful for the opportunity to be thrown into the fire, but with a paycheck in store.

Much more to come, but Madeleine has been pushed to the back burner for so long I couldn't help but stay up the extra hour to let you in on my secret! Thanks for reading, y'all, & come help christen my new boat to happiness.

With much love,
Catherine, a.k.a. Ms. Proust

Epcot for Enophiles: No Sideways Spit Bucket at Darioush

Was this picture (of me taking a picture) shot somewhere in A.) Athens; B.) Rome; C.) Vegas?

Sorry my friends, but if you guessed any of these above, you're wrong (oh, you knew it was a pop-quiz trick!) although Vegas might not have been a bad bet. Welcome to............the Napa Valley, Disneyland for wine lovers, as long as you have quite a few pesos in your pocket, that is if you want to take a souvenir home with you.

And while Seattle was belted with more snow & hail from the heavens a week ago, Napa rewarded us with green hills & sunshine, country highways flanked by vineyard after vineyard with pastoral stretches of grazing stallions in between. I had hoped to catch a few winks on the drive before hitting our first tasting room, but as soon as our gang cruised over the Golden Gate Bridge shouting out, "There's Alcatraz! Hey Catherine, look at the VIEW!" I knew sleep was for wimps, despite pulling a couple of half-nighters.

So here is a portrait that best paints the life of a wine professional--witness the spit-vs.-swallow dilemma, the quality-to-value ratio racing through our minds, a pondering of the cosmos poised over a glass...

Heck yeah, I drank what was in my cup--I'm at Darioush!

To my right is Jens Strecker, a close friend and proprietor of Portalis, my favorite wine bar in Seattle, & to the right of him is Kurt of A & B Imports who suavely got our tasting fee waived & secured a reserved industry table where we lounged on sleek leather couches instead of huddling at the bar with the masses. Kurt, you rock.

So while I could wax poetic for hours about the bucolic roads of Napa, let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?

Darioush Signature Chardonnay 2006 ($41): Supremely elegant, restrained oak (a big plus), creme brulee notes with a nutmeg-spiced finish, this feisty Chard has lots of structure to offer plus a vanilla twist.

Darioush Duel 2005: 60% Cab, 40% Shiraz (the region of Iran that  Darioush Khaledi hails from.) Chai spices brew in the glass and memories of hot cocoa, black cherry cordial fruit, with an earthiness dug straight from the valley.

Darioush Signature Merlot 2005 ($48): A Merlot that dares you to scoff at it. Fresh blackberry pie fruit, flirtatious vanilla, creamy as a cappucino with herbaceous notes, & cacao tannins.

Darioush Signature Shiraz 2005 ($64): Sidle-up to a glass of mocha fudge, grilled fruit, and candied cassis. Heady & opulent with thoroughbred tannins. Precioso but seductive. What could be next...?

Darioush Signature Cabernet 2005 ($80): ...California Cab, of course. I guess this would be considered our entree, although I wish there was an fillet mignon serves beside it instead of their delicious estate-grown pistachios. Spice box nose, bramble fruits, & gravel texture make this a whopper of a wine that glided off into the sunset on the palate.

What a flight--& this was just our first stop of the day!

I have to say, my dream would be to come back & pause for an hour at this shaded picnic table in the vineyards... It's not the French Laundry, but with a bottle of wine, a baguette, & some San Fran-produced salumi, you have the makings of an unforgettable rustic meal in the most romantic of spots. Just face north so you're not over-looking the Hummer-limo parking lot.

This is Napa after all & a far cry from my normal life--splendor often comes from the company I keep, & indeed I was very rich on this trip. Salud and thank you all for enjoying the journey!

But Jens--you owe me for going to The Tonga Room (San Fran's oldest tiki bar)-- one for that awful salt-shaker of a margarita, one for the floating barge wedding party R & B band (although that elderly Asian drummer did have something on James Brown), and one for the ring-side seats of jiggling on the dance floor that don't need further explanation.

Tonga is sort of like a big mid-western wedding reception meets the Rainforest Cafe, and were it not for a good friend wanting to share a night cap before retiring to a mint on his pillow at the gorgeous Fairmont Hotel before we headed back to our friend's bohemian apartment across the bridge in Oakland, I would have bolted faster than Anthony Bourdain facing another trip to an Uzbekistan bath house. The sort of excruciating entertainment that makes for a good story in the end at the expense of the teller, I suppose.

Fortunately, enough sun & alcohol can put you out like a light, and I dove into bed with dreams of California sugar plums dancing in my head hours ahead of making our early flight on Sunday morning. Tonight, I'm ready to hit the hay after trying to combat the troops of dandelions invading our yard, & wrapping up this blog after an extremely successful tasting of Brian Carter's wines at Urban Vines.

But we'll meet again, Jens. And I'm sure we'll laugh--hopefully over a beautiful Burgundy from your cellar!

The Eagle Has Landed Part Deux: Tom & Connie Make a Marvelous Recovery

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

For those of you who know me personally or have been following this blog for the past year, you invariably have heard about the saga of Tom & Connie Odegard, two of the dearest souls on this planet, my adopted west coast parents & mentors. Read on, the news is good!

For those of you who do not, let me introduce you to these two outrageously loving and wise beings who have helped me through thick & thin...

The tale began with a surreal call one morning last April from Tom's niece in Mt. Shasta--there had been an accident, near-fatal,  & the prospects were not good. A semi-truck plowed into them from behind & smashed their Jeep into the median. Oh, god. Both were in the ICU, but in separate hospitals due to the extreme severity of Connie's injuries. The wording at the end of the conversation was, "We don't think they're going to make it."

I don't think my hand has ever shaken as much as it did as I placed our phone back on the cradle. We'd expected Tom & Connie the night before as we're one of their pit-stops back to San Juan Island from Oakland, but thought perhaps that they were tired from the long drive and made an extra stop-over somewhere in Oregon, or maybe they decided to stay an extra day in Shasta. Tom is as old-fashioned as me, but bought a cell phone last year, not knowing how to work half the buttons. (We're two peas in a pod, that way.) I'd thought it odd that we hadn't heard from him, but I wasn't too concerned... How wrong I was.

Over the next weeks I talked to Tom daily in the ICU as he was slightly better off, at least conscious. He faced difficult questions about Connie--what surgeries to approve or not--all under the influence of morphine & who knows what else. How far do you go to save the one you love? Is it for you, or for them?  And what will their quality of life be like if they pull through? 

During those terrible months of uncertainty last spring, Madeleine became a message post for all the friends of the Odegards--and there are many. Poets sent odes, strangers became family as they expressed their love & admiration for these two, prayers went out throughout the globe, a benefit was organized by the San Juan Fire Department to help pay for Connie's physical therapy... The outpouring of love was overwhelming and I am eternally thankful & anxious to report that their recovery has been nothing short of astonishing. Much of this is due to sheer tenacity on the part of both T & C, but I have to believe that the tremendous outcry of hope & support helped mend their broken wings. Thank you all for believing this could happen !!!

For Connie, it's been a long haul to find her way back to us. Months of painful rehabilitation, a loss of mobility & independence took its toll in the form of a deep depression that left her without appetite which seemed unfathomable considering her love of the culinary arts. For Tom, his role became full-time caretaker & nursemaid, a job he dutifully took up but which took a great toll on himself. They were alive, back on San Juan, but everything was much much different now.

And then--through the combined miracle of pharmaceutical pills, herbal concoctions, & TLC, something happened. Consuela Odegard woke up one morning, looked at her husband and said in plain English, "I want a steak."   

I've honestly been wanting to update you all on their progress for months, so I asked Tom to send a picture, any picture of Connie which you see at the beginning of this blog... But having seen this miraculous transformation I hardly felt it expressed the here & the now. So with great joy, I unveil a photo of Connie, one year later.

Tah-dah! This is Connie at her finest, cooking  meatballs ala Lidia Bastianich for us last week after I had tired of sweating over a pot of "long-cooking sugo" that just wouldn't seem to thicken despite hours on the stove. I gave up & sat down to a glass of Pinot Grigio while Connie took over. Umm, she's in her early-70's, I'm in my late-30's... Something's wrong here.

We all have been through a lot of changes over the last year, & none of them have been easy. But what matters most is that we lived to tell the tale and it has a very happy ending indeed. I love you with all my heart T & C! It's so good to have you back...

Take Me Home, Country Roads: The Skagit Valley is a Bounty of Beauty & Killer Cukes!

I love to travel, but would rather crawl behind a rusting tractor instead of looking for the nearest interstate ramp when there's stretches of countryside basted with a glorious gallery of daffodils painted from one side of the road to another.

It pays to go slow.

One of my favorite back road drives is that from Anacortes to Silvana, & now's the time to do it. The pastures are filled with new offspring nudging their mothers alongside the Pioneer Highway, and the tulips should be in glorious bloom (hope all those hail storms & snow didn't inhibit their beauty.) I took this photo a few weeks ago & can't even imagine how beautiful the fields look now...

Many years ago, I was forced to visit a hypnotist to cure my fear of flying after a particularly hairy landing into the crosswinds of the Denver airport, as it's completely impractical to swear off air travel when half you family lives in the Midwest & the other half, in New York.

As a part of therapy, my soft-spoken hypnotist asked me to recall a place of tranquility that I could go to after counting back from one hundred-- perhaps a desert island, a sunset on the beach? After taking the back roads from San Juan Island a few weeks ago, I think I'll place my thoughts here when I fly off to San Fran next Friday for a mega-tasting of vino. Turbulence will be met with blue mountains topped with snow, poplars dusting the clouds, a field of petals below me...

So, if you've got the Tulip Fest on your itinerary these next few weeks or you're thinking of a vacation anytime on the San Juan's, here's three solid reasons to extend your island vibe and take the slow roads home:

1. Silvana Meats- I've heard gushing reviews of this place from customers for years & finally decided to stop in--they were right. With friendly old-fashioned service & great prices for naturally grazed meat, Silvana Meats' owner, John Karlberg, keeps to the three rules his father taught him: "Honesty, quality and giving the customer something they couldn't get at the grocery store." Dry-cured hams, braunswieger (the foie gras of sausage), & true slab bacon are just a few of the temptations here. The best plan is to pack an ice chest for your booty of hormone-free, cut-to-order Northwest meat home fresh from their coolers (wish I'd had one.) Their smokehouse list is simply overwhelming.

2. Snow Goose Produce- Worth the stop as they stock Gothberg Farm Chevre, the best I've tasted in WA state, and their freshly made waffle cones served up with dreamy Lopez Creamery ice cream--a combo that will bring you to your knees. And for other fellow New Yorkers & locavores, don't leave without some of the Glacier Deli-Dills from Pleasant Valley Farms--a discovery I made lunching at Seeds in La Conner--these local picklers have brought the flavor & crunch I crave to the west. Fourth-generation farmer, Mike Youngquist, is trying to keep Skagit growers & migrant workers in business after Bay Valley Foods (owners of Nalley, Farman's and Steinfeld's) just announced their plan to ditch local cukes in favor of those from other states, even outsourcing to India. Ask your local grocer to buy these pickles & support Skagit farmers!!!

3. Slough Food- Okay, so if you've got a little extra time on your hands, start heading for the highway from Anacortes & jog north on Farm to Market road (great name isn't it?) to visit my friend R. John DeGloria. Slough Food is a fabulous gourmand shop at the crook of eclectic Edison, a rural outpost where locals, tourists, and bikers (both Harley & Schwinn) patronize the one saloon & a couple of off-the-wall galleries, respectively. Look for cheese, honey, eggs from Skagitonians, plus artisan wines, Salumi meats, exotic chocolates & the like.

By all means, ask for a taste of whatever looks interesting, put your elbow on the counter and listen to R. John spin stories--it's just plain fun to stock up for a picnic here or a nosh for the ride home. But make sure to visit his buddies at the Breadfarm next door--after you taste their black olive baguette, it's hard to resist going the few extra miles for an experience like this.

Consider the ever-increasing Euro to dollar ratio, a trip to our own Skagit Valley is a relative bargain... We can make a difference by shopping locally-- & you get to tip-toe through the tulips along the way!   

Silvana Meats 1229 Pioneer Hwy, Silvana,  WA, 360.652.7188

Snow Goose Produce 15170 Fir Island Rd, Mt Vernon, WA 360.445.6908

Slough Food 5766 Cain's Court, Suite B, Edison, WA 360.766.4458

Breadfarm 5766 Cain's Court, Edison, WA 360.766.4065

 

Sweet, Sweet Sunday: Punjab Sweets & Valley Harvest Bring Nirvana to Kent!

                                                                                         

Why is it that our days off can so easily be lumped in with the rest of the working week...

I guess someone understood that fleeting feeling when they coined the term, "Weekend Warrior". Before you know it, you're not really sure where the hours went & that's when a co-worker inevitably asks you on Monday, "So how was your weekend?" To which my internal reply has too often been, "Did I have one?"

At some pivotal point after Ken & I met, my now-husband bestowed upon me the wisdom of his five-fold way to achieve a fulfilling day off & I hold it to be true. While I had to date him for years to glean this zen formula, if you're reading this blog, I dare you to try it out for yourself:

1. Read something
2. Clean something
3. Make something
4. Exercise something
5. Learn something

So what does this have to do with this sumptuous drool-inducing photo above? Absolutely everything!

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As well as the five-fold plan works, I think there's one extra element for each of us--a bonus-bonanza so to speak--for an ultimately joyous weekend. For Ken, it might be some completely domestic project like aerating the lawn; for me, it involves hunting down crazy ingredients for an exotic dinner I've dreamed up. It takes two to tango.

So this Sunday morning my husband jumped out of bed nine-ish, while I spent a few more blissful hours dozing in & out of NPR, then read a few more chapters from "Heat" by Bill Buford (the tales of a writer/critic/wanna-be-chef adventures duking it out behind the scenes at Babbo. Good stuff.) For breakfast, we warmed up a couple of tamales from my friends at Villa Victoria in Columbia City (por que no? that's standard fare for desayuno at any bus station in Mexico I've ever waited at), & in between bites we hashed out our plans for the day.

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Ever since finishing the last chapter of "Eat, Pray, Love" on San Juan island, I've had an insistent craving for turmeric, garam masala & chana dal, so we decided to make the trek down the East Valley Highway to Kent for a little Punjabi lunch. The rest of the day's menu would be left up to fate.

Punjab Sweets is not off the foodie-radar by any means, but its geographic obscurity adds to the thrill of the chase for destination dining--you feel like someone whispered a cardamom-scented secret in your ear & you took them up on it.

In fact, the first time we found Punjab Sweets, it was by complete happenstance. I'd planned for us to take an alternative Sunday stroll at Kent's Mill Creek Earthworks Park, but fat raindrops lobbed at our windshield minutes before we hit the parking lot. What else to do then, but look for lunch? And while the many fine taquerias caught our attention, we held out on our grumbling stomachs, scanning the strip malls for the makings of a memorable meal. Fate took good care of us that day.

Ken is a tough critic when it comes to south Asian food after all his years cheffing at the Mandalay, where Microsoft transplants would bring their mums straight off the plane from Bombay for dinner. Imagine their astonishment to find that my Irish/Czech/Ukranian American husband made their Sri Lankan lamb chops when they came back to give their compliments to the kitchen...

I took the photos for this blog while Ken's job was to help decode dishes, like this mysterious rosy condiment ( "Hmmm. Tamarind pulp.") that appeared beside our Dahi Bhalay, a saucy Indian rendition of falafel, only made with lentils & served with a spoon. We've both weighed-in on the soul-food rating scale & this place definitely has a unanimous thumbs up. A thali plate--three entrees of your choice served up in pint-sized bowls along with steaming roti's off the griddle, rice, pickled vegetables & a glistening doughnut of gulab jamun christened in a sugary syrup--will set you back $12.50. Order this & an appetizer, & you're as good as gold for a party of two.

Favorites so far include Baingain Bhurtha, meltingly slow-cooked eggplant with baubles of peas & tomatoes; Aloo Gobi, cauliflower & potatoes melded together with dig-down-to-the-roots flavors of roasted cumin & coriander; their house Daal, urad beans cooked with such love that I could easily substitute it for mac n' cheese as my new favorite comfort food. That's saying *a lot*.

Proprietor Iqbal Dha made a choice not to become another Indian all-you-can-eat buffet, but to create an oasis of made-to-order authentic regional food gleaned from recipes handed down from family in addition to studying under chefs formally in her native land. Everything resonates with freshness, & from reading deeper into Punjab's website, I see that they support Washington farmers by buying their green veg locally--Oh my gosh! An Indian restaurant for locavores! No wonder this food pulls my heartstrings.

And yes, I didn't even wax poetic about their namesake. Fudgey confections imbued with rosewater, cream, pistachios--I highly recommend a sampling from their jewel-like case. We were too dang full this time around to think about dessert, but let me tell you they are worth the trip alone, especially if you have an exotic sweet tooth.

But the soul-boosting-bonus-bonanza doesn't end at PJ's... You need only to look across the street to find a whole other world of ethnic delights: Valley Harvest International Market.

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You like to cook Mexican food? You're in luck. Thai, Vietnamese, Polish food on your menu? Look no further. Wanna make a little African Fufu? These guys have you covered. Valley Harvest is like Viet Wah meets SAARS Market meets Lenny's in Renton (the craziest grocery store of all) with everything under the sun except that they didn't carry candle nuts for the sambal bajak Ken was yearning to whip up.  Well you can't have everything...

Every time I spun to the next shelf, palpable flavors ran through my mind & raced back to cookbooks for hard-to-find ingredients--are we stocked up on amchoor, mole, pierogi & kimchee? Frankly, it's a little overwhelming, but unlike when we spend an hour perusing the wares at "Whole Paycheck", we spent $40 on close to forty items, rather than four.

Kent may bring up notions of hygienic 'burbs, but Valley Harvest is the single-most diverse grocery store I've ever visited. The conversations I overheard from aisle to aisle were like a jazz arrangement of bass-thrums, high-notes, percussion & rhythm layered upon one another in a linguistic ensemble.   

And while I don't recommend traversing the muddy trails at the Earthworks Park which originally prompted our first visit  to Kent (at least this time of year), I whole-heartedly encourage making this foodie pilgrimage that criss-crosses the globe. You don't need a passport, only a quarter tank of gas & a willingness to hit the open road. Do it.

Punjab Sweets:  
23617 104th Ave SE C   Kent, WA 253.859.3236

Valley Harvest International Market:
23636 104th Ave SE   Kent, WA  253.856.8462

Traveling Miles for Mollusks: Westcott Bay Sea Farms

I brake for farms.

Happening upon a sign like this is a bit like stumbling upon manna thrown from the heavens...  "Wait, wait, wait! What did that say?" I scream as if there was a four-car pile-up behind us as we zoom past. "Great. Another dirt road, dead ends, & weird people," sighs my husband when we're on our way to somewhere in the middle of nowhere, do-nothing vacation. And then he admirably puts on his blinkers, turns the truck around & indulges my obsession.

I seriously love this guy...

I also believe that at the end of the day, there's a real joy in making a fruitful connection with someone at the source of outstanding locally-produced vegetables, cheese, meat, bread or the likes, and then make an inspired meal from something just plucked out of the ocean or the earth--it's enough to balance out the uncomfortable moments & a few failed 'Operation Locavore' missions.  Independent farmers can sometimes be quirky, intense, a little in-your-face--mostly in a good way. That's probably why they can keep doing what they're doing when they're up against the odds. They ain't growing soybeans or commodity corn.

So at the beginning of the week here on San Juan Island, we were headed out to Roche Harbor & I saw this sign post. After Ken took care of business in the village, we jagged at a fork down the road through a gorgeous stretch of homes until we came to an unpaved road at the bottom of Westcott Drive & thought ourselves to be lost once again on one of my foodie quests. "I'm sorry, Ken," I apologized in frustration. "My gut told me to take this road." "Yeah, well my gut told me to go down the other road," Ken grumbled as we turned the truck around. "Well, maybe your gut shouldn't listen to my gut next time!" I grumbled as we sped back up the hill. "Maybe my gut's a little crazy!"

So we headed down 'Ken's Guts Drive' and lo & behold it dead-ended at an even more incredibly gorgeous home that perched above the cove with a wooden sign that read, "Private Property. No Oysters Here." Let's just say that we didn't come home with any seafood that day.

Turns out, had we gone just a *little* bit further on Westcott we would have found Westcott Bay Sea Farms, but this just gave me the excuse to drag my 'Feather' (another wounded bird from the working world who came to join me for a few days on my San Juan Island sojourn--  yes, I made her pick an 'island name' for herself) for a field trip where we would pick up some clams & mussels for our inaugural lunch. Really, F., you should be a photographer who documents exotic places as your next vocation if you ask me...

So while Ken was back to Seattle life, Feather & I set ourselves to the task of rounding up some serious mollusks, but I have to say a self-serve seafood stand was a first for me. We headed to the office.

"Is there a scoop?" I asked earnestly. "Nope," The Office Lady said (who reminded me just a bit of the owl in those old "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie-Roll lollipop?" commercials.) "Use your hands."

And so what is that pile of rubber boots for, I wondered to myself but dared not ask. Do we need to go wade out into the bay like a couple of Virginia Woolf's?

Bubbling tanks before us, we each took turns sticking our hands into the ice cold waters for some ultra-fresh catch. "My god that's COLD!!!" "Look at how red your hand is!" "Here I go again, ahhh!!!" I guess I like to torture my guests when they're along for a nice trip to the islands, & oh yeah, a blog.

As we found out later from a friend who lives here, you just lift the baskets out of the water & grab what you want. Thanks Office Lady, you could have told us that much.

So after the drive back to Green Hollow, Feather began to settle into her temporary nest as I prepared a late lunch for us--a recipe I've seen Ken prepare many times over, but since he's so good at it, I'd never made it all on my own. Thank goodness I'm often his sous chef so I had an idea of the proportions & pulled a rabbit out of my hat. Or maybe it was an oyster...

All I can tell you is that these were absolutely the freshest, sweetest, tenderest clams & mussels I've ever eaten. It would be hard to do them wrong. And I'm so proud to have done them right, Office Lady. I wish we could have taken you back to the cabin for a few glasses of wine & a bowl of Portuguese fisherman's stew. Heck, you might have taken the rest of that gloriously sunny day off, only to hand out copies of my recipe on our next visit. Salud!

Portuguese Steamed Shellfish ala 750 ml

750 ml was a fanciful little wine bar down in Portland's Pearl District that Ken & I discovered years ago which has since now come & gone... Too bad since they perfected the art of cataplana, a Portuguese steaming vessel in the shape of a clam shell. Legend has it that fisherman would cook up their catch right on the beach after getting off work in the Algarve, a region where free-thinking conquerors caved in to pork-loving ways. Maybe the fishermen kept a little linguica in their pocket & a classic dish was born! Here's my off-the-cuff San Juan version:

Serves two hungry chicks on vacation

3 pounds mixed clams & mussels (clams soaked for a bit, mussels de-bearded)
1/2 a shallot, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
glass dry white wine or Manzanilla/Fino sherry
1 tsp zested orange peel
3 generous pinches saffron, crumbled
2 knobs butter
2 Tbs chopped Italian parsley

Get a knob of butter sizzling in a shallow saucepan, then throw in your garlic & shallot, taking care not to brown them but cook until they become fragrant.

Have your white wine or sherry ready to rescue your garlic from bitter over-browning, & pour it into the pan, creating an appetite-inducing smell. Add your stellar shellfish, crumble saffron with your fingers into the pan along with some orange zest, & place a tight-fitting lid on top, checking from time to time until almost all shells burst open (there might be a few duds.)

Sprinkle with parsley & serve with hearty bread for soaking up the nectar.

Westcott Bay Sea Farms: 904 Westcott Drive   Friday Harbor, WA 98250

360.378.2489

 

A Very Un-New York State of Mind

Everything has come together like a Buddhist's knot, interwoven with joy, sorrow, & most importantly strength.

I'm back. "Back from where?" you might ask. "Back to the Spanish Table?" No. "Back from some exciting wine trip to ...?" No, I haven't been anywhere exotic for years, sorry all you folks who lived vicariously through me. "Back to your little Cape Cod house in Skyway where your old black cat of a cat named Eek comes to greet you when you pull up in the driveway in your '86 Mazda?'' No, sorry Eek, I'm not back yet from my sojourn. I'm visiting a place I haven't been for awhile-- my self. I think I can give you a P.O. Box number in a couple of days...
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Now before you think I'm getting all new-age-y on you, you need to know that I was on the path to becoming a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker (upstate that is) before I made my way out to the San Juan Islands fifteen years ago. I remember the day when some recently graduated friends from college moved out to Orcas Island, & came back to the cornfields of Geneseo showing off pictures of hikes at Mt. Baker--I literally thought it looked like an iceberg poking through the heavens. "Not a bad place to flip burgers," I thought to myself as a graduating English major in the 90's not looking for a tenure track. "I'd rather read 'Gravity's Rainbow' in between orders at the deep fryer." And that is exactly what my boyfriend at the time did, at least.

I scored a coveted position checking groceries at the The Homegrown, the only natural food store on the island.  The beginnings of an illustrious career in food retail where my biggest worry was eying a fillet so as to cut an exact pound of salmon, making sure that the locals were taken care of, & that you rang up the tourists as sloooowly as possible so they went just a little buggy, just enough to get them a feel for island time.

So while on a little island-hopping pilgrimage to Orcas this week, I was woken up by the realization that the pre-school kids that I had read stories to on their little Waldorf mats (another of my varied string of off-season jobs) are graduating college this year. Good lord, how time flies.  But in walking around Eastsound, I was astounded by how many faces I recognized, & how much stays the same on these islands, even though I've traveled the world & back. 
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Friday night, we unloaded a week's plus sundries from Ken's truck here at "Green Hollow" (the name our dear adopted family Tom & Connie have aptly given their bog-surrounded haven on the SJ's), while a thunderous choir of frogs belted out a spring symphony of welcome. We started a fire in the wood stove, plonked down on the love seat, opened a bottle of wine & sighed a deep sigh of relief. I knew I was home again.

The next day, on our usual walk out to Three Meadows (one of my favorite walks in the world), we circled back at the y on the crossroads, the thatched barn that's become our touchstone, wrapped our arms around one another at the sight of a couple of trumpeter swans dipping in tandem for their lunch. "I haven't felt this happy for years," my husband said, clutching me with such sureness that no wind of uncertainty could blow us over.

At Green Hollow, I sleep late, read, write, walk, cook, clean, connect, chop wood, write, cook & clean again. No "Top Chef Chicago!" on cable, no ipod, no cell phone service, just me & a bunch of loud-mouthed, utterly wonderful band of toads that fade into dreams where saffron-robed Buddhist monks come to sit in a circle & ask me to teach cheese-making on the reservations of Eastern Washington. What's next? Who's to say exactly all that life has in store for me, but I'm happy. Really happy. Hallelujah, my friends!

(Recipes from much cooking soon to come... Thanks for sticking in there with me!)

Love, xOxxoXX

Catherine a.k.a. Ms. Proust

Signs of Spring: A Trilogy of Thought

3/02/08

 Sometimes I feel the act of blogging is a confessional of sorts, only there is a computer screen between us rather than one of those ornate shrouded booths in which a shadowy figure waits anonymously to absolve us.

The truth of the matter is, I don't care to have a myspace page that bares my naked soul, nor a "cheese sandwich blog" where I spare no detail about every morsel I ingest. George Perec handled that task with originality, may he rest in peace.

In sitting down to write today, I found myself inexplicably envisioning stepping into one of those ancient twin telephone booths the likes of which Michael Corleone might have confessed his own transgressions in some part of the Godfather trilogy.

The conversation went something like this--

Me:  "Bless me father for I have sinned."
Priest: "Tell me what's on your conscience..."
Me:   "Well, for one,    I haven't blogged in a month."
Priest: "Go on..."
Me: "I'm uninspired, blocked, I've barely cooked. I can't seem to get out of bed in the morning because of work, nothing fits, every day I have nightmares. In other words, I'm a mess."
Priest: "My child, you're simply depressed. Call your mother & tell her you love her. Give your husband a kiss on the forehead. Go for long walks, get back in the kitchen, back on the keyboard & let us take care of the rest.
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3/03/08

Today, I woke up feeling a little bit lighter even after waking early, a few hours of stress-filled dreams filtering in & out amongst listening to my husband's breathing & our cat's contented morning sighs. Today, I actually felt like unearthing our kitchen table from the rubble that has consumed it over the last month. Today, I read 80-some pages of "Eat, Pray, Love" (much thanks to Kathy E. for lending it to me!) held hands on the Cedar River Trail with my husband, ate tacos at El Rinconsito with throngs of boisterous Mexican families, bought poblanos, limes, snapper, fresh tortillas & banana leaf for a Monday Mexican feast, made myself a pretty fine margarita, & wrote this. Not a bad day's work, in fact, a pretty good day off.

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3/10/08

This Friday is my last day at Spanish Table. A heart-wrenching decision after nearly six years of meeting some of the most amazing customers, chefs, bloggers, etc. etc. etc., who have inspired me beyond belief. I am emotional, reflective, anxious, & in the best of moments, excited to face the unknown which is also full of new beginnings. I wish I wasn't such a Cancerian as we so despise leaving our shell!

Miniature daffodils are sprouting in our upper terrace here in Skyway... The bulbs from gardeners of past are pushing out of the earth in unexpected places, & I take heart in their tenaciousness, as I've done nothing but to appreciate them & the coming of spring. While I was sitting on our deck this morning, soaking in this respite of sun, I saw one small white crocus that decided to spring up in the midst of our war torn lawn where moss is battling it out with the grass, which honestly looks like the surface of Mars.

I loved it, that slender stalk so beautifully pinstriped with purple, so valiantly choosing its own course, whose petals held strong against this morning's rain. "You & me, little guy," I said to myself. Here's to  me & you...

Recipe for Happiness: An Urban Omelette & a Glass of Wine

Were it not for a fateful Saturday afternoon hawking wine & paella pans in the basement of Spanish Table years ago, I might not have met mi compañero de alma -- and were it not for falling for a literary-inclined chef, I might never have encountered Elizabeth David.

Now, I can't imagine life without either.

An excerpt (preferably read-aloud) from Ms. David's culinary manifestos is usually a good cure for decompressing after a hard day at the office, so to speak, especially when dinner is dawdling on toward 9:30 while some Sardinian polenta recipe refuses to firm up.

So it seems perfect that while walking in circles amidst the newly chic outcropping of condos sprouting from the concrete in downtown Portland, we returned to an old-familiar in the Pearl, Blue Hour, for an omelet & a glass of wine. As a rule, I very seldomly order breakfast dishes when dining out, but after passing our plates across the table I definitely regretted not following my love's lead.

Taleggio & truffle tucked inside a crepe-like buttercup yellow envelope -- sensational! With each forkful, I felt perhaps a bit like Ratatouille's seemingly icicle-hearted critic, Anton Ego, melting before a classic dish, elevated-   yet tied to the apron strings of memory.

And while spring seemed miles away from the bitter wind that swept us into this lofty space, the neatly coupled daffodils on the table & towering vases of golden forsythia brought me several months closer. I was reminded to remind myself of one glorious vernal Sunday morning that Ken & I spent on our little back porch in Madison Valley:

We cracked the shells into a skillet, tuned toward that perfect
music of browning butter, egg         

A recitation of Elizabeth's essay on the porch --

    "It should not be a busy, important urban dish but something gentle and pastoral  ...   
almost primitive and elemental..."

An omelet in each hand   two glasses of rose balanced

between us,     overlooking our lilac tree in full bloom

the quiet concerto of honeybees         drunk on sweetness,
hemming us into the morning with their wings.

I hope that a few gloriously golden-yolked local eggs (truffle or not) will inspire some poetry of your own... Bon Appetit!

OMELETTE MOLIERE from Elizabeth David's An Omelette and a Glass of Wine

Beat one tablespoon of finely grated Parmesaen with 3 eggs & a little pepper.

Warm the pan a minute over the fire. Put in half an oz of butter. Turn up the flame. When the butter bubbles & is about to change colour, pour into the eggs.

Add one tablespoon of very fresh Gruyere cut into little dice, and one tablespoon of thick fresh cream. Tip the pan towards you, easing some of the mixture from the far edge into the middle. Then tip the pan away from you again, filling the empty space with some of the still liquid eggs. By the time you have done this twice, the Gruyere will have started to melt & your omelette is ready. Fold it over in three with a fork or palette knife, & slide it on to the warmed omelette dish. Serve it instantly.

Madeleine Hits the Road! A Former Vegetarian Faces Her Fears in Portland

If you don't already know my secret...

I once was a vegetarian.

As a kid, I'd beg to be excused from the dinner table, only to flush a napkin full of whatever Mid-Western preparation of meat we were served. Scandia meatballs studded with caraway seeds caused a gag reflex both my sister & I bond with to date; any unscrutinized moment at the table had me wrapping up whatever limb was on my plate & stuffing it under the radiators. What a discovery it must have been for my well-meaning mom when she finally unearthed those meat mummies while vacuuming the dining room. Thank goodness we can all laugh about it now--I think...

Before my days of working for a store that glorifies a meat-obsessed culture, I'd occasionally crumble before a glistening Reuben, or a particularly handsome plate of salumi. I was a "waffler", as friends politely called me--if the food was good enough, I gave up any moral positions I held in favor of a forkful of some memorable meat. Indeed it was a particularly handsome plate of veal Parmesan that made me give up the ghost, but even so, I've instinctively towed the line which makes it difficult to be the reviewer & foodie I've always hoped to become.

So as I continue to shed my childhood bias toward flesh, I need to ask--is this the year of parts? Maybe it's spill-over from 2007, but while the Hudson Valley-purveyed pork belly creations at Momofuku in Manhattan are splashed all over the major foodie publications, Portland establishments such as Le Pigeon (where we have reservations this weekend for Ken's birthday feast) are championing the more extreme: pig's head mac n' cheese, beef cheek bourguignon, and of course, pigeon, with liver crostini. Oh my...

While I have no desire to go back to my college days as a plus-sized bread & cheese-tarian, I still have some work ahead of me when it comes to fully appreciating & partaking in the culinary renaissance of utilizing an entire carcass of heritage pork, rather than designing meals around a gargantuan globe of heirloom zucchini. Ken says I would probably eat just about anything if it was ground up into a sausage link & he's mostly right. God knows, I don't need to add some meat on the bones (figuratively), but when I learn to eat the former (literally) with relish--that would be a big day indeed.

So wish me luck this weekend, & send any suggestions as to what shan't be missed in the PDX, you chowhounds. I'll check in one last time tomorrow morning, but will make notes for our next foodie voyage.

Happy Birthday, Ken--Yahoo! 

Maybe I should give you a wifely gift certificate for "one roast chicken in your future"...

Calling All Locavores! Celeriac Recipes Are Welcome Here

Uglier than horseradish, tastier than a turnip...it's celery root!

Every year Ken & I anxiously await Seattle Tilth's Edible Plant Sale, along with throngs of local gardeners, to bring our vegetable plots back to life. We carry away arm loads of heirloom tomato starts, fledgling Bright Lights chard, Lacinato (a.k.a. dinosaur kale) for making caldo verde, the Portuguese potato soup which is a comforting staple at our house throughout the seasons.

But the real fun comes from the odd men out, those risky vegetables such as haricot vert (skinny succulent French string beans), romanesco (an Italian architect's version of broccoli), and this past spring we decided to give celeriac a go after drooling over the mayonnaisey remoulade photos in Thomas Keller's Bouchon cookbook. Would fall provide us with a bumper crop of bistro delight?

This summer's mercurial temperature swings frankly sucked for vegetable gardening. The bean plants were unfortunately dwarfed by the delicata squash's elephant ear-sized leaves, yielding a mere forkful if that. The romanesco struggled bravely, eventually bolting into tiny nodules with the exception of one minute head which I managed to sauté up with some olive oil as a meager side for some tagliatelle bolognese. But as I broke into the sodden soil last Monday, I remained hopeful that my shovel would strike gold, as we'd waited a patient nine months to reap these roots.

Not exactly the softball-size tubers I'd seen recently at the Ballard Farmer's Market, our Skyway celeriac were more akin to golfballs as I stripped away & away at their protective layers, but with six in all, I'm hopeful to at least scrape together a two-serving gratin or such... But as I scoured our cookbooks, I found that celery root is unloved, ignored by most of the culinary community compared to say, sunchokes which are a hot ticket at locavore joints like Lark.

Maybe my friends from the Village Vegetable can help me savor our precious handful of harvest, or perhaps, you??? Let's hear it for Apium graveolens!

You Didn't...

Yes I did.

I just did something that my husband would never do in a thousand years, I'm pretty sure--I ate leftover sushi. Do you think less of me?

I mean, I was really hungry as I had been out in the yard this morning harvesting one lonely romesco that is starting to look like a shooting star, five pathetically golf ball-size celeriac we planted in May that I decided to give up on (I left the scrawniest one in the ground, because who knows, maybe it'll make something of itself), and a couple handfuls of our volunteer mystery potatoes that are so adorable, I can't believe they came from our own backyard.

So there was a plate of sushi sitting in the fridge from the blogger party, & I guess it had my name on it. Ken sometimes jokes that I must have been born in the Depression era of the 70's as I am unable to throwout food or plastic containers if there is even the slightest possibility that I could put them to use. Maybe it's because I grew up in a household where we would cut that piece of mold off the block of cheddar & call it good, & a little fuzz on top of the jarred spaghetti sauce could be easily rectified with a quick swoop of the spoon. After all money doesn't grow on trees...

Hey, it's why I believe that when we travel to places like Mexico or for god's sake even Portugal, I stay well & Ken gets Montezuma's revenge. I'm just building up a third world resistance, see, based on what's in the back of my fridge.

Not only am I the Pasta Princess, but also the Queen of Leftovers.

(And by now you're probably wondering, boy this Madeleine chick is quite chatty lately, what gives? I think I'm back--my writer's voice is, anyways, because this feels so good. Look out!)

Spanish Comfort Food for Three Kings & Eleven Bloggers!

Today marks the last of the Christmas holidays in our household, as it is the Epiphany (or Three King's Day as we say,) & that means the tree comes down tomorrow before every last needle falls to the floor & completely carpets our hardwoods in a messy winter wonderland way. But before that happens & the post-holiday blues can take hold, we've had a flurry of celebrations to attend--last night, Ken's company party, tonight, the Spanish Table's annual shindig, & in between, a Seattle food blogger round-up organized by Keren Brown (a.k.a. the Frantic Foodie on Seattle P-I's Reader Blogs.) Dios Mio, that's a lot of eating!

Staring blurrily at the fridge this morning in my bathrobe, I tried to get a grip on how I was going to accomplish a blogger-worthy dish in the next few hours with ingredients I had on hand, despite the fact that I had stayed up until 2 am the night before thumbing through cookbooks until I couldn't hold my head up. I was up against a few challenges--for one, we live in a culinary no man's land, where the only two grocery stores within a reasonable walking distance have opened & closed within a year of existence, and the next nearest grocery would cost me at least a half hour round trip; secondly, I truly believe that you have to be hungry for anything that you're about to make or else the dish is sure to fall flat, and nothing I had picked out the night before had any fervid appeal.

So with those factors muddling in my cook's brain after opening & reopening & opening the fridge again as if a magical ingredient would suddenly appear in the butter tray, lo & behold I came upon a startling answer to my cook's dilemma--Spanish macaroni & cheese--hallelujah! BUT, I was going to have to come up with my own recipe, and quick, a risky venture when making a first impression on the blog squad.

When the Spanish Table was in its old location, there was also Margot, a quick-witted sarcastic Capitol Hill hipster who blessed us with a brief stint in the deli by keeping our staff & lunch regulars well-fed and entertained during her tour of duty. She was famous for telling customers things like, "If you really wanna be Spanish, you would just nail that chorizo to your wall!", but remains legendary for her Spanish macaroni & cheese which she managed to make with only a microwave & soup cooker in our bare bones kitchen. The staff would always fight about the order of lunch breaks on those M & C days, and Margot was forced to make one batch of her crack-mac for the customers & a separate cazuela's-worth for the staff as none of us could keep ourselves from eating less than two to three helpings. In fact, there came a time that Margot pulled the plug on our noodle-loving staff & went back to only feeding us a dozen variations on lentil soup in order to lower our growing cholesterol intake. "It's for our own good," she reasoned with us gently like some sweet Jewish grandmother, knowing full well the powers that her dish contained.

On my recent trip back to NYC, Ken & I peered inside the foggy windows of a crowded smallish restaurant on a leafy street of the East Village painted nearly the color of Kraft macaroni & cheese. Inside, we saw looks of elation on the faces of people digging into their mini cast iron skillets while we had reservations to keep at a far fancier dining spot... "It's all mac n' cheese!" we squealed in front of S'Mac  which indeed serves eleven different kinds of macaroni & cheese, from the Gruyere with slab bacon, the Brie with roasted figs, & the Manchego with fresh fennel. And so it seems, everyone loves a good mac n' cheese--why not elevate it in a humble way?

I owe Margot for the inspiration, but feel proud that I pieced together my own version for the blog potluck just in time as it got some rave reviews from the likes of Keren, Italian Woman at the Table & blogger Paul Redman, a chef instructor at the Art Institute of Seattle. Not only did today's gathering inspire me to keep up with writing in 2008, but to venture past the constraints of cookbooks & create more original recipes that reflect the experiences of what I've learned by taste & smell, from the dinners I've enjoyed in life's travels to experiments in our own little kitchen in Skyway: a truly exciting endeavor on the road to really being a chef, not just a good cook.

Saffron Fideos con Chorizo y Piquillos en Cazuela (Spanish Macaroni & Cheese)

1 lb fideos (the elbow macaroni-like variety)
3 Tbs butter
1/4 cup flour
4 cups milk
2 pinches saffron threads
2 cups grated sheep's milk cheese (like Manchego)
1/2 a small onion, minced
6 oz Spanish-style chorizo, minced
1 jar piquillo peppers, cut into strips width-wise
pimenton, for finishing

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F.
Boil the fideos in salted water according to the package directions or until al dente. Saute your minced onions in butter over medium heat in a saucepan until softened, about 5 minutes.
In the meantime, warm the milk with the saffron on a gentle heat.
Whisk the flour in with the onions, stirring constantly for 5 minutes, then quickly add the warmed milk & whisk vigorously. Keep at it until the sauce has thickened & reduced but is not completely stiff, about 10 to 15 minutes. Add more milk if necessary.
Take off the heat & mix in the chorizo, cheese, piquillos, & season with salt to your liking. Add your fideos, transfer mixture to a buttered casserole & bake approximately 30 minutes. Sprinkle the top with pimenton & dig in! 

2008 Trends I Can Appreciate: Spain is IN Again (Was it Out?)

Now you were probably beginning to wonder where I was going with all the Italian talk in the last few weeks, but never fear, I still have one giant culinary foot planted firmly in the food & wine of Iberia. And while I wonder when the day will come that the world will tire of tapas only to move on to the next frontier, & all the paella pans that we sell at Spanish Table will come to rust in the cabinets of restless ethnic adventurers, I am most pleasantly surprised to see that our local food icons have a definite crush on Spain.

Last week Span Tab received major kudos from Greg Atkinson, (acclaimed NW culinary consultant, trend-forecaster & Bainbridge Island pioneer) in a KUOW in-store interview that really captured the listener's attention judging by all the folks who told me their were dialed in to hear the show. Then today one of catering diva Kathy Casey's henchmen turned up at the shop with a list of ingredients in hand for her to play with in the kitchen--apparently they're cooking up recipes that even a deprived housewife in Tacoma could make successfully while entertaining.

And while I put in a necessary stint on the treadmill upstairs attempting to work off some winter fat, my husband prepared a gorgeous meal (mostly from the second Moro cookbook, Casa Moro) in an hour which is simply unheard of in our household. Therein lies the secret of Mediterranean cooking--if your larder is stocked & a game plan is in place, a multitude of healthful dishes can be enjoyed without the cook breaking a sweat (even though I was upstairs!)

I'm always more sated by a meal of small tastes with smart flavors & believe you eat less when your palate is satiated before your stomach starts looking for more excitement at the bottom of the bowl. As Ken says, "You're no one-pot meal girl!"

With a deft hand in the kitchen, Ken prepared a Moorish cauliflower & chickpea salad that inspires veg-love, a classic shrimp, chorizo & garlic saute, pan-seared duck breast marinated in blood orange juice then finished with a dusting of smoky pimenton, & 100-mile oven-roasted Yukon gold potatoes with Jerusalem artichokes bought at the Ballard Farmer's Market. The more I reflected on our meal, the more I realized how accommodating the repertoire of Spanish meals are if you subscribe to seasonal eating. While I certainly can't qualify garbanzo's from the Rioja as fitting into the 100-mile diet, I am not alone in the world to possess a passion for the heartier-side of legumes until the first pods of peas & favas appear as the first vestiges of spring.

And so on these first days of January which seem eons away from the late-night dinner parties that transpire on our deck, we celebrate the humble potato, roots & earth-bound tubers, greens, beans; a good "glug" of grassy olive oil to give us a taste of the vernal (can't wait for the premiere of Jamie Oliver's new locavore show on Food Network); a bit of charcuterie & cider-washed cheese on the plate with bread from a local hearth. Really, a diet that has been evolving for centuries--how wonderful to connect on our own terms, in our own time.   

 
Chickpea, Cauliflower & Preserved Lemon Salad adapted from Casa Moro by Sam & Sam Clark

• 1 small cauliflower, stalk & leaves discarded, broken into small florets
• 1 jar drained & rinsed chickpeas (Picuezo brand garbanzo are oven-baked & utterly superb)
• half a preserved lemon, rinsed, inner pulp removed, finely chopped (1 heaping Tbs)
• 1 Tbs lemon juice
• 3 Tbs EVOO
• 1 Tbs zaatar (a blend of savory, sumac & sesame seeds)
• 1 1/2 tsp cumin seeds, roughly ground

Whisk the lemon juice, oil & spices together in a bowl & check for seasoning.
Blanch the cauliflower in boiling salted water for a couple of minutes or until tender. Drain well. Put the drained chickpeas, cauliflower, preserved lemons & coriander in a large bowl. Pour on the lemon dressing, season with a little salt & pepper, & mix thoroughly.
Well done, chaps!

Festa Italia 2007: A Retrospective Feast for the Eyes

If you are reading this, first & foremost, thanks for being a part of Madeleine--I enjoy every message & glance at my writings as I am glad to share a passion for a world less hectic, more authentic, with you. As we're already salivating at the prospect of next year's menu's, here's some favorite shots of Italian moments from 2007 (click on the images for a better view)

Salumi galore gathered from Brooklyn to Schenectady's little Italy shared with Italian friends &  family.

Heaven comes to those who wait... Standing in line for two hours for Brooklyn's best pizza. (Somehow we got ours before the striped lady & the L.A. couple ahead of us. YES!!!) The best moments I spent in NYC.

Dinner with bro-in-law David O'Hara 's favorite restaurant in the Bronx's little Italy, Dominick's, where the wait staff looks like goodfellas & they don't give you a menu...

Okay, so who couldn't wait until we took pictures? All of us I guess. When it's good you've got to dive in! David, you're a lucky dog, living in the Bronx. Can't wait to see you again! 

A taste of the old world at the Calabria Pork Store on Arthur Avenue... Unfuhgeddable!                                                                                                                                                                                            

This is as good as it gets--Calandra's Cheese. The ladies in line all seemed a foot shorter than me & spoke only Italian. God bless the Bronx.

Madonia Brother's Bakery where I discovered prosciutto bread & felt like the smallest lady in the room. Darn! They didn't give away that recipe in the Arthur Avenue cookbook, but I saw one in Elenora's Kitchen whose brother incidentally worked at a bakery on Arthur Avenue. Hmmm... Could it be Madonia?

Mike's Deli, the epicenter of Arthur Ave. As soon as we walked by the counter, the guy behind it said, "You look hungry!" & indeed we came back hungry at the end of our tour. These sandwiches came back with us on the plane, the best travel food imaginable. Hey, if they make sandwiches for Yankee Stadium, why can't they cater for American Airlines??? I'd trade frequent flier miles for their sandwiches, anyday. Check out the glimpse of broccoli raab in the deli case.

Inside Arthur Avenue's  thriving market... Feeling like a proud New Yorker at Mike's Deli, I was given away by my inherited mid-western accent: "Are you from Chicago?" But I moved to Schenectady when I was five! Give me some pasta fazool, already...

But let's not forget Schenectady's little Italy. Thanks to my mom, I always get to take a taste of home back with me. Perreca's makes one of my favorite breads in the world, old world-style.

Schenectady is
apparently on the up-swing, so I hope places like this will continue to exist without getting run-over by condo developers. Walking in to Perreca's, the smell alone makes me want to move back east--an incredible perfume of slow-cooked zuppas, artisanal breads, & sandwiches my mamu couldn't resist...

Could somebody please tell me what this is bread used for?

Our last shopping spot was Garofalo's, founded in 1909 by our friend Fran Loeffler's family. The service was surly, cameras were definitely not welcome as we found out, but a few shots we took might give you reason to plunder their stash.

This is where the old-timers come, & beware anyone