For my eighteenth birthday – which fell during the summer in between high school graduation and moving off to college – my dad took me to a fancy dinner at a fancy French restaurant in Richmond, Va.; I believe it was called La Petite France. I had wanted to go there for some time. I will never forget that dinner. My dad, a man of few spoken (and even fewer written (sadly, a trait that I in no way inherited )) words, gave me a watch. He knew that I valued any evidence, trinkets, tchotchkes, what have you, of his and my mom’s marriage (they divorced when I was 3, but have remained close friends to this day). The watch, he explained, was given to him by my mom before I was born. He had worn it for decades. The back of the watch was inscribed with his initials and the year 1972. He also went on to explain his interest in the concept of time – how our perception of it changes. I didn’t really understand what he meant at the time. But then I remember thinking a year was such a long time, and Summer vacations were always forever away. Now, a year is like a second, a blip.
Back in Virginia pimiento cheese was standard fare, especially at my house. More often than not occupying a spot on the shelf in the fridge between Mrs. Marshall’s potato salad, Dad’s egg salad and, well, the mayonnaise. I don’t actually remember Mom or Dad making it, although one or the other did. While this was a place and time where pimiento cheese roamed freely in the dairy section at most markets, I had none of that. Why, you ask? Lucky me, I had only to open the refrigerator and voila! there was pure pimiento ambrosia to be enjoyed most often on soft, white sandwich bread sometimes garnished with a few slices of Hanover tomatoes. But also very tasty on crackers or perhaps smushed into a celery stalk (very Southern). Me, I go for the sandwich, crusts and all.
Well, well, well… To my absolute delight Dixon treated me to dinner on my birthday! Not surprising as it has become our tradition; I take Dixon to dinner on his birthday as well. Included in the tradition is that it must be a new (or, at least, new for us) and exciting spot. We had both been curious about Palate since its opening about a year ago.
* A Brunch Review *
Palihouse is one of the new, upscale hotel/residences that has popped up in L.A. Its restaurant, The Hall, will indubitably attract a host of locals - even without the publicity machine that drives folks to new haunts... Zing! For now, The Hall has managed to stay under the radar but I predict that is very short-lived. Word of mouth, you know.
My dad loves to eat out, perhaps even more than me. He also loves to cook, but when he visits me we essentially design the itinerary around each meal. If dinner has not been plotted yet, we discuss it and decide during lunch.
Okay, I will first state that while I do consider myself to have a somewhat educated and discerning palate - that I am a veritable neophyte in the Chinese cuisine arena. I have always enjoyed the occasional Chinese food night which conjures thoughts of either a delivered dinner where I eat with my chopsticks straight out of the takeout containers while watching the ABC Sunday night movie in my cozies OR dining out in a dimly lit restaurant with neat streams, bridges and fountains inside that serve dishes with words like happy, lucky, delight and family in the title (which I miss... where did those go??).
At the farmer's market today I was very excited to buy some fresh herbs to plant, specifically chocolate mint. My foodtastic roommate, Madeline, and I began a love affair with chocolate mint last Summer when my mom was in town and planted us an herb garden with purchases from the Sunday market. Madeline would make the most wonderful snacks and treats accented with the bounty from our little garden. She especially loved the chocolate mint - which I believe was a new discovery for her. She put it in and on water, tea, coffee (yes, coffee), salads, and toast to name a few. I quite liked it in a Summery pasta salad or chopped up and sprinkled over ice cream.
I love wine.
I love graze-y, noshy, snacky, wine-filled, conversation-heavy evenings. On frequent occasions I love a destination that is not my or one of my friend's houses that can accommodate such an evening. Surprisingly there are fewer options than one may imagine - especially with quality food (I am not talking about a glass of "house red" and wings here). Obviously A.O.C. is a great option but it usually ends up being a whole THING - kind of dressy, kind of expensive, kind of a scene. There is Vinoteca, in Los Feliz, which is lovely. But it's more of a wine bar in a literal sense - a bar that serves primarily wine with an extensive wine list. They do serve food and it's not horrible - but it's not so great either. Mediocre at best.
My mom and her friend, Katie were in town last week. Mom was hell bent on seeing Michael Pollan speak at UCSB, so that's what we did. 8pm, Saturday night, Santa Barbara... But where to eat beforehand? This decision actually had me dithered out for a few days. I am not that familiar with Santa Barbara. I have only driven past it on the way to Los Olivos with the exception of one afternoon, last Summer, where I did tool around the city on a bit of a driving tour. But we moved onto Ojai by dinnertime. I heard of a fantastic taco stand which actually sounded like a really cool idea. However about halfway through the drive there in rush hour traffic on the 101 I realized wherever we were to dine I was going to need at least one glass of wine. The taco stand idea wasn't going to work. Then I remembered that the good, ole Hungry Cat had opened up a sister restaurant in Santa Barbara. Fresh seafood in an oceanside town, great wine list, in a central location, perfect. So we programed our little GPS (whch Mom and Katie named Serena) to guide us to our meal and that - ever growing with importance - glass of wine (or two).
The Hungry Cat here in LA is good. Wonderful, fresh oysters, innovative and seasonal menu, great wine list, and ZERO ambiance. In fact while we were dining there once my mom commented that she felt as though she was IN an oyster. It's very cold, hard and sterile. A lot of concrete. But the food and the cocktails (made with top shelf liquor and fresh squeezed juices and fruit) make it a worthwhile destination regardless. The Hungry Cat in Santa Barbara is another world altogether. It's lovely! In an old building on a corner lot, lots of (casement) windows, beautiful lighting, and much more intimate, this Hungry Cat was already the perfect choice.
We began the way I always begin at The Hungry Cat - with a dozen mixed, raw oysters on the half shell. They always have very fine and fresh oysters and tonight was no different. I could easily have a meal of only dozens of oysters and wine. Yum. I noticed on the fruits of the sea platters there was sea urchin (Uni is my most favorite item to order at sushi) but it was nowhere else on the menu. After inquiring I learned that for a mere $16 a sea urchin could be mine to enjoy! I've never had it served any way except over rice, wrapped in nori. Wow. This crazy, spindly, imposing creature appeared in front of me served over ice with house-made crackers, lemon and sea salt. It was so fresh and so delicate - such a contrast with it's armored and dangerous exterior - so decadent, so wonderful. Also such an experience! Both my mom and her friend, Katie were fascinated and impressed, had never had sea urchin before. I am so Team Sea Urchin...
I paired the oysters and the sea urchin with a glass of Chateau Durasse Bordeaux Blanc ($38, $9) which was nice if a little powerful for the food it accompanied (I should have just had a glass of prosecco or Sancerre).
I then ordered the grilled flatbread, smoked veal and confit tuna remoloulade ($15), my mom had the local halibut ($12) and Katie ordered the famed Pug burger ($14). Honestly my flatbreads were kind of heavy, salty and oily, Mom's halibut was fresh and delicious but the portion was tiny - almost a sashimi-style presentation. Katie's Pug burger was great. It's really a fantastic burger - enormous, and served with avocado, bacon & blue cheese. This burger, named after chef - owner David Lentz's dog, Pug, is hugely popular and has received much press as one of the best burgers in LA.
We all enjoyed our experience and our food quite a bit. I still think The Hungry Cat is most ideal for raw bar items and cocktails, but this branch in Santa Barbara has the ambiance factor down as well.
The Hungry Cat
1134 Chapala St
Santa Barbara, CA 93101
(805) 884-4701
www.thehungrycat.com
I recently noticed I have a Meyer lemon tree growing in my yard. I'm not as dense as that makes me sound. I just moved into a new house a few months ago that has a lot of grounds and quite a few nooks and crannies. I did notice the lemon tree at first but as it's not really in my daily path, kind of forgot about it. Then one day I needed a lemon and remembered... the lemon tree! Then when I went out to it I looked closely and saw it was Meyer lemon tree. I was elated! Even more exciting is that right now is smack in the middle of Meyer lemon season. Bliss. Big, grandiose plans, ideas churning, thinking cap on. Meyer lemon ice cream or Meyer lemon tart a la Alice Waters? A steamed artichoke with a Meyer lemon aioli? Meyer lemonade?
So many choices. So many lemons.
Before I could realize this romantic notion of spending two days straight dressed in my cozies, listening to jazz in the kitchen, with the lemons and my elaborate plans for them, my mom came to town. Not to make Mom coming to town sound ominous in any way - she actually loves to cook and bake and we even had plans to bake bread while she was here.
After settling in, some shopping, and some Chateau Marmont time we hit the Sunday market and settled in for a day of KITCHEN.
On a very rainy Sunday night, with myself having suddenly fallen all sicky, icky, coldy and fluey (and I never get sick, seriously) we baked the bread which turned out fantastic, I prepared bacon-wrapped dates for noshing, some sauteed kale, and a roast chicken with fennel and Meyer lemon. Some friends flitted in and out during the cooking and eating (everyone loves my mom) and we all had a snuggly, cozy, rainy, Sunday night filled with food, friends and family. Everything was delicious.
After Mom left to return home (with the bug she caught from me) I threw what was left of the chicken into a pot and made a wonderful stock that put me on the path to wellness. This dish is truly one that keeps on giving.
Roast Chicken with Meyer lemons
INGREDIENTS
1 small chicken (4 pounds), washed and dried
4 Meyer lemons, divided
2 teaspoons kosher salt
3 medium fennel bulbs, trimmed and sliced thinly crosswise
8 garlic cloves, peeled and halved
2 Tablespoons olive oil
Black pepper
DIRECTIONS
About an hour ahead, remove the chicken from the refrigerator and bring to room temperature.
Heat the oven to 425 degrees. Slice 2 of the lemons paper thin with a knife or a mandoline. With your fingers, carefully loosen the skin from the meat on the bird. Insert 5 or 6 lemon slices underneath the skin. Put any unused slices and the ends of the lemons into the cavity, and rub the salt over the chicken.
Cut the remaining 2 lemons into 8 wedges and scatter them in the bottom of a shallow baking pan with the fennel and garlic. Place the chicken on top of the fruit and vegetable-ness. Pour the olive oil over the bird, then season with a few grinds of black pepper.
Roast chicken in the oven for 30 minutes. Lower the heat to 350 degrees and roast for about 20 minutes longer, or until the meat is firm, the skin is golden, and the juices run clear (a thermometer placed into the thickest part of the bird will register 165 degrees). The vegetables and fruit will have started to caramelize.
Let rest 15 minutes, then serve with the roasted lemons and fennel.
"We are living in a world today where lemonade is made from artificial flavors and furniture polish is made from real lemons." ~Alfred E. Newman
