Rocky Point

Just south of Carmel about 15 minutes is the gorgeous view provided by Rocky Point restaurant. Situated atop the cliffs with waves crashing below and fog reducing visibility beyond 100 feet. Go for the view and the bloody mary, salad in a glass!

Flying Fish

My college roommate Melissa was visiting so we headed to Carmel to make the most of a relaxing weekend. Making the trip, most recently, from Minneapolis (before that, Columbus), it made sense to prioritize a seafood feast on the Cali coast. We opted for Flying Fish, a local favorite right off Ocean Ave. The ambiance was ship-like: wood-paneled walls with wine barrel bar; green copper fish dotting the walls intermittently, not overdone; low ceilings with more used-wood character. Benches for seats of more light wood and glass buoys hung from fisherman's rope netting lent to the natural wooden boat feel.

The owner, sipping sake as he asked us to wait to be seated for nearly an hour, was hilarious and patient. His small restaurant was clearly doing well and he was celebrating. The menu was a collection of irresistible seafood options, but the specials—abalone with pine nut rice and lobster tail with curry rice—had my mouth watering. Convinced this might be the best place to try abalone, I went for it, joking with the waiter about a discount on its exorbitant price tag. At 9:30, the restaurant was still bustling and the waiters and owner kept us laughing and enjoying the close atmosphere.

My abalone was delicious. Its texture, a cross, in my mind, between a large oyster, calamari steak and thinly-pounded veal, was both melt-in-your mouth buttery and shellfish chewy. Beurre Blanc sauce with plenty of lemon gave a jaw-ringing tang to the sweet, almost velvety breaded abalone. Each steak was about 2.5" in diameter, farmed locally versus the huge 5" steaks often seen off the Monterey coast. The size lent itself well to extra breading and sauce per square inch of steak. While this was clearly the highlight of the plate, I must say the pine nut rice was pretty interesting too. Somehow the rice was sweet, almost as if it was cooked in coconut milk, then topped with sauteed pine nuts for that burnt and buttery flavor.
Melissa ordered the peppered rare Ahi, a treat atop angelhair pasta. The Ahi was seared with just enough pepper to add flavor without overpowering the sweet fish. The pasta was submerged in sesame-soy and mustard sauce, a light, sweet and salty broth reminding me of pho. The fusion of California simplicity and freshness with Japanese simplicity and freshness was impressive and really different.

On Yelp, most references were to the interesting appetizer, crispy Japanese crackers with sweet tomato salsa. This was good but not why I would return. Between the cozy atmosphere, the welcoming spirit, and the attention to detail on each dish, it's my top seafood reco in Carmel.

Olive Oil & Lemon Chicken

When I was 18 spending the summer before leaving for college in Greece, I had the pleasure of dinner in my friend Evelyn's grandmother's kitchen. At about 4 in the afternoon, on a day so hot it was difficult to muster the energy to put clothes on, let alone leave the apartment, Yaya invited us to come downstairs to her apartment for supper. Her oven had been on all day cooking this feast, so it was sweltering in the kitchen. I ran down to the convenience store on the first floor to pick up a liter of real-sugar coca cola. What came out of the oven has been seared into my memory as one of the most authentic Greek meals, true to the culture, the flavors of the region, and the dedication to cook at those temperatures on the hottest of days. Potato wedges, crisp and somehow soaked in broth at the same time, surrounded a whole chicken, blackened on the outside and unbelievably tender on the inside. Slices of lemon floated in the broth underneath the chicken and potatoes. The aroma of lemon was unmistakable, but the really impressive factor was the heightened scent and taste of olive oil. I could actually taste the olives. I could taste the bitter, herbal Greek olives through the olive oil so generously coating the chicken and potatoes. It was to die for.

Years later, I still attempt to cook this a few times a year. My best efforts are acheived with drumsticks since the skin allows them to stay in the oven, in the olive oil and lemon broth, much longer than without. I can't fathom how Yaya's oven allowed her to char the chicken so, but I endeavor relentlessly. My latest trick is to slice lemons and place them over the chicken after the dish has been in the oven for a while, covering the meat and infusing with lemon further. I've learned that Yaya deep fried her potatoes in olive oil, something I haven't tried yet, but explains the indellible olive flavor. I try to use no fewer than 5 lemons and plenty of olive oil. Adding onions to the broth is a nice variation too.

Join the Club

John and I first discovered Club Jalapeno in Carmel when we spent the day at the Monterrey Bay Aquarium years ago. Over rocks margaritas and mole enchiladas, we spent a really nice dinner with some good friends. Since then we've been back a number of times, I've brought a group of girlfriends and had far too many margaritas and my parents, for tostada lunches. Most recently, my mom recommended a dish I hadn't tried yet, the house specialty. Now it's rare for me to go for anything other than enchiladas, especially when mole is involved. But the chile relleno sounded fabulous: poblano pepper stuffed with chicken (not cheese!), lightly fried with mole sauce (yes!), raisins and currants (what?) The experience was delightful. Spicy and sweet, the dried currants and raisins added exotic flavor to the already decadent savory cinnamon and chocolate sauce. Someday I must learn to make mole from scratch. I've heard there are no fewer than 20 herbs and spices in each recipe, of which everyone has a different one. I like everything on the menu at Club Jalapeno, but this must be my new favorite. I can't wait to savor it on a cold, winter evening!

No Photo Available!

Returning from New Zealand I was keen to share my new-found interest in lamb. I read a great recipe in Mindfood (a fantastic down-under publication) so set out to find the recipe online back in SF. Sure enough, no recipe for lamb meatballs with soft polenta could be found online...so I did what I should have done from the start, I set out to create my own recipe!

I hand-mixed a pound of ground lamb with an egg, breadcrumbs, finely-chopped onion, salt and pepper. Making little balls, I rolled them in flour before placing in a skillet of hot oil to brown. Meanwhile, I simmered a roll of hard polenta in about 4 cups of white wine, 2 bay leaves and 4 sliced mushrooms. The polenta slowly broke down into a stirrable paste while the wine cooked off. When the meatballs were sufficiently browned, I lifted them out and placed them atop the polenta concoction. The lamb was not nearly as light in flavor as the lamb in NZ, though the onions and white wine were nice accent flavors. I adore the texture of soft polenta but you really need to buy soft polenta, it's not nearly as delicious when you cook hard polenta down, even with all that wine! I do like the alternative to rice or pasta it provided though.

Oh and lastly, the photos are available. I just can't post them. In Chris' words, it looks like a dog's breakfast!

Tribute to Nana

What I remember most about Thanksgiving at Nana's was that she insisted on making every single family member's favorite dish, even if it meant cooking enough food for an army! My favorite dish was the turkey appetizer, which I can't imagine a Thanksgiving without. I love Nana's attention to detail: pimento draped over the dried squash stem for the turkey's snood (yes, that's a real thing!)

Romantic Evening Out

On my very first visit to San Francisco (well, my first visit to John's new apartment in SF, coming from Seattle) we saved a little French Restaurant up Union Street for our last evening together. Chez Maman had recently opened, was staffed with French cousins of the famous Chez Papa, and had about 8 tables. We were seated before the sun went down in a cozy window seat. As the sun set, candles lit the peach-colored room, prolonging the colors of a sunset. Simple Buddhist metalwork and mirrors decorated the space, with an open kitchen filling the room with warmth and cooking smells.

Over goat cheese salad, mussels, frites and a bottle of Burgundy, we savored each romantic minute. The goofiest part of the meal was a man sliding next to me on my bench and telling us we appeared very much in love—that he would know, being a great film director. Who knows who this freak was, we couldn't help laughing and enjoying the compliment.
Since then, this tiny brasserie has been our favorite place for a romantic evening. We almost always bring a bottle of wine, in fact twice we've brought in bottles from Fixin that I had given John in celebration of his time in Dijon. Candlelight, the romance of people softly speaking in French, smoke from the open kitchen ringing the ceiling and a glass of Burgundy are indeed the makings of a perfect evening.

On our last visit, we brought a bottle of Prevail '04 and sat close to the kitchen. Really every table is close to the kitchen, being such a small and cozy space. Each meal kicks off with the crustiest french bread with the softest inside slathered in salted butter. We both ordered the onion gratinee which can't be missed here. A small brown crock is filled with rich, buttery onion soup, a generous slice of bread, and enough gruyere to bubble and melt overal all sides of the bowl. The serving is the perfect size with nearly equal parts onion soup and cheese! Each bite is a texture adventure with melted hard cheese, soggy dense bread, slippery sweet onions and salty broth. It's the quintessential soup for a foggy, misty San Francisco summer day.

We first sampled the escargot on our second or third visit, and have yet to pass up an order since. Served in a porcelain escargot dish, each divot contains a tender morsel with loads of melted butter, large pieces of chopped garlic and finely chopped parsely. Each bite is indulgent and you wouldn't imagine savoring snail in your mouth but you do—you chew slowly and can't help but dip your bread back into the melted butter and garlic.

We tried a new appetizer of baked cambazola. I'm not sure I've ever experienced such an ingenious take on your usual cheese and bread plate. A ramekin filled with pungeant melted cambazola, the creamiest of creamy blue cheeses was served with toasted slices of baguette sticking out of it. The baguette already immersed was just soggy enough to serve as a vehicle to getting the melty magnificence into my mouth. And better yet, an entire roasted bulb of garlic allowed me to smooth a clove, glistening with olive oil onto the toast AND THEN dip it into the cambazola! Unreal.

For my main I devoured a deliciously tender pork chop soaked in wine and mustard grain sauce over a bed of brussels sprouts. The sprouts were cooked in the same mustard sauce and were much tinier than usually thick, leafy bulbs. The taste of the whole thing was like being in the countryside surrounded by mustard fields. There was a peppery scent, not too strong, that made me think of pink peppercorns in trees.
We shared a soft nutella and banana crepe for dessert. I always forget how nutty nutella is, in addition to its chocolately smoothness. There was just the right ratio of nutella to crepe such that each bite was not overpowered by chocolate and the batter taste of the crepe was front and center.
Polishing off the Prevail, we toasted to another lovely meal at Gamine (the owner bought it from Chez Papa and changed the name, but not the menu!)

Boulette's Larder

On a sunny morning in San Francisco, I can't think of a better place to meet a friend for brunch than the Ferry Building. I met Dalynn with the sun shining and we headed straight for Boulette's Larder to sit in the shade with a gorgeous view of the Bay Bridge. Usually merely stocking visitor's pantries with delicious treats, on Sunday they do table service on their bay-view patio.
We watched as each table ordered heaping plates of challah toast with housemade jam and sugar-dusted beignets. It was a tough choice but we went for the beignets. They were so light and fluffy, like custard pillows with just the slightest sweet from the soy sugar. Though quite obviously deep fried, they were so airy I couldn't help but pop them into my mouth in single bites. We split our main dishes: I couldn't resist the prosecco-cured salmon over creamy, citrusy tzatziki and Day went for the fried eggs with tomatillo salsa. The salmon was thick and slippery, half raw half smoked texture with a hint of lemon from the prosecco. Pairing salmon with tzatziki was interesting, though the Greek sauce was much creamier than usual when it's watered down by cucumbers. This was rich, thick, made with Greek yogurt and a lot of mint. The effect with the salmon was what summer tastes like—mint and lemon, cool and creamy. Day's eggs were interesting, they looked puffy like poached eggs and crispy like fried ones. I started to wonder if someone was cracking eggs into a deep fryer but the visual wasn't pretty. Okra and cherry tomatoes complemented the eggs in a pool of green tomatillo salsa. I've never eaten okra that hasn't been pickled before, it was rather good! They were warm, maybe briefly sauteed, and the seeds weren't as slimy as you find in the pickled variety. The salsa was delicious, a very smooth, citrusy sauce paired perfectly with eggs.

My Best Fajitas Yet

Not sure it's obvious that I could survive on Mexican food alone. I know. It seems like my palette is not one to be restrained. This is the exception. We eat fajitas about as often as possible, it's the simplest way to combine the best of Mexican fare, in my opinion. Fresh bell peppers, onions, guacamole, salsa, sour cream, beans, cheese, and sometimes, when I'm especially ambitious, Spanish rice. This past January I devoured the best fajitas of my life in Puerto Vallarta. At first, I thought the chicken and mushroom feast of fajitas on our first night in town were unmatched, but at Pipi's, the shrimp fajitas changed my life. I think it's a combination of the garlic overdose and tequila that knocked my socks off. That and the giant margarita I was consuming, the handmade tortillas, and the shrimp so fresh they must have been local. That aside, I thought, I can recreate this! I started with fresh shrimp from the organic store and chopped up a substantial pile of garlic. I remembered the chunks of garlic in Pipi's sizzling skillet and chopped chunkily. Rather than let the onions and yellow bell pepper steam in the pan before adding the meat, I put everything in at once. Even the garlic didn't go in the pan until the oil was glistening. About 4 minutes later, we had curly pink shrimp with al dente vegetables and raging garlic. I generously doused the crackling pan with tequila before serving up. I haven't mastered the setting-the-skillet-full-of-tequila-on-fire trick yet (ok, I haven't even been practicing) so the flavor would have to do. I barely added any other spices to let the garlic and tequila flavors do their thing with the shrimp. Loaded up some tortillas, sprinkle of cheese and sour cream...My best yet, if I don't say so myself!

The French Cafe

Hardly a cafe, Auckland's prized French Cafe was touted the best restaurant in town before and even more so when I arrived in New Zealand. With reservations later on in the week, each restaurant seemed like a prelude to the eventual masterpiece we would encounter. Finally, on Thursday night, charged by a day of rehearsals and approvals, we made our way.

I kicked things off with a champagne cocktail at the bar, infused with rhubarb syrup that made the smell odd but the taste delicious. Once at our table, our producer ordered some rich Cabernet that led me straight to the lamb main course. In fact, nearly the entire table ordered the butternut pumpkin cappuccino.

I need to go on a tangent here. There's something you should know about New Zealand. They are OBSESSED with foam. Need to special-up some pancakes? Foam. Flavor the scallops? How about foam. Bean puree? Old news. Foam. Seriously, kiwis, enough with the foam already. Isn't that so 2006? Yes, it's nice when it's one foray on the entire menu for seafood so delicate only the barely-there addition of foam needs complement. Dehydrated passionfruit foam is overboard. Do I even need to point that out? Apparently, yes.

Back to the butternut pumpkin cappuccino. We're talking silky, wintery squash soup (I think it was "custard" on the menu) with salty smoked bacon and, you guessed it, maple-hazelnut foam! At least they're calling it a cappuccino so you know what you're getting. The soup arrived in stemless O glasses which pretty much forced us to sip the soup rather than jam a spoon in there.

For my main course, the pink lamb, I was floored by the presentation. The plumpest lamb cutlets I've ever seen were glazed with red wine sauce over a dollup of—this is impressively fresh—soft white almond polenta. This was to die for. I'm already a huge polenta fan, but give me soft polenta with its unique smooth-yet-granular texture and add to it the vanilla-nutty flavor of blanched almonds and I'm nearly in heaven. I literally would have licked my plate had I not been entertaining clients.

A perfectly roasted tomato and deep fried buffalo ricotta dumpling rounded out the display. Never underestimate the power of these perfectly-selected sides. I have chosen many an entree by its show of complements. In this case, I chose superbly for both. The lamb was tender, pink, and again, not like the lamb I've had anywhere else in that it lacks the overpowering gameyness I often associate with lamb.

I would highly recommend this being your first dining choice in Auckland. If you've gone once, I wouldn't be surprised if you chose to return every night visiting! It really was amazing, even better than everyone kept insisting.

Spicy in Southie

Invited to Chris' friend's grand loft for dinner in Southie, we brainstormed a delicious spicy chocolate torte for our dessert contribution. Then Chris actually went and found a recipe (bor-ring). I always wonder why my baking is rarely on target, perhaps it's this idea of a recipe...

• 10 oz. of semisweet chocolate, roughly chopped (or use a bag of chips like we did)
  
• 7 tablespoons of unsalted butter, cut into pieces
• 5 large eggs, room temperature
• 1 cup of sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon
• 3/4 teaspoon of chipotle chili powder
• Dash of cayenne pepper
• Pinch of salt
• Powdered sugar for dusting (optional)

Chris melted the butter and chocolate in the microwave and whisked it all up so quick we barely noticed he'd left the dinner table. When the cake came out of the springboard pan 20 minutes later (at 350º) we were speechless. Blade offered up a cooling rack as pattern for the dusting of powdered sugar (who has a flour sifter on hand besides Dame Martha?)

We paired a cool mango ice cream with the spicy chocolate, a suggestion from my friend Sherry who recently blended mint into mango sorbet to counteract a spicy torte.
Dinner was fabulous as well. I watched as Blade impressively tenderized pork cutlets with a real meat pounder. He proceeded to fry up the Schnitzel and top a chopped radicchio, lemon-thyme and tarragon salad. The barely-there salad dressing was the same concoction he used to pour over the pork: fork-smashed anchovies, lemon zest, olive oil and salt. Green onions sliced ultra thin added a little spice to the salty, lemony dish. I attempted a tinto de verano (sparkling lemonade and red wine) for everyone with dinner.

Market Breakfast

Inspired by my proximity to Pike Place Market and the resulting fabulous brunches I used to create in Seattle, I recently woke up itching to get to the market where I could gather ingredients for a unique morning meal. Smoked salmon, fresh dill, still-warm walnut bread, brie and chicken sausages rounded out my basket. Icing on the cake (nearly literally) was some lavender honey I drizzled over the broiled brie toast.

North End Identity Crisis

What does a Peruvian-Italian restaurant make you think of first? My first thought was pisco and prosecco, but then, that's where my mind was at last Thursday night at Taranta in Boston's North End. After a couple beers at Bukowski's savoring Unibroue's La Fin du Monde, we walked over to the Italian district for some Italian-ish fare. Apparently the owner is Peruvian and Italian, so rather than choose a dominant cuisine—as if that would somehow increase flavor or creativity integrity—both are generously represented in each dish.With  splendid results.

Chris recommended the gnocchi, which John is rare to resist. In this case, lamb ragu over cassava root dumplings was a mouthwatering twist on an Italian favorite. In order for the three of us not to order the same thing, I went for the orechiette with spicy sausage and broccoli rabe. I'm pretty sure the only sauce on my pasta was olive oil, something I'm always impressed by when it's done right. Maybe some white wine as well, it was all very light and contributed well to highlighting the Abruzzese sausage.

Being a weeknight, we had the best table in the house right next to the window. While I imagine most of the Italian food in the North End is authentic and delicious, Taranta was great and unexpected. They offer cooking classes, including a cooking challenge option with a TREASURE HUNT. Um, who doesn't love a food challenge? This would be the greatest team building exercise.

For us, basking in our post-pasta stupor, Nero d'Avola in hand, we were content just to people watch and grill Chris on his love life.

Coffee-rubbed Sliders

Given the opportunity to cook with Chris, opt for something challenging, time-consuming, conversation-worthy, and, ideally, never-before-attempted, to reduce the probability of failure given the lack of comparison. Our last night in Boston, we bought ingredients for hamburgers with a coffee rub. Chris had grand tales of coffee-rubbed steak that sounded spectacular, but the idea of adding jalapenos and onions to ground beef before the coffee rub sounded better yet.

We prepared the rub with about 3 TB coffee grounds, chopped ginger, brown sugar, cumin, plus salt and pepper. After dicing up onion and fresh jalapeno and mashing them into the hamburger meat, I coated the mini-burgers and Chris put them into a castiron skillet. Our initial decision toward sliders rather than burgers was actually driven by there not being a single hamburger bun left at the grocery store! Cute little egg brioche buns were a great alternative.

While I was mixing up the burgers, Chris was taking the watermelon he'd infused with gin out of the fridge and cutting it up. In between tending to the skillet, chopping bell peppers and cucumber for salad, and slurping chips and salsa like it was my job, we bit into the summer fruit that was deliciously gintastic. Really, you could barely taste the gin. He had cut a hole into the whole watermelon days before and turned a half-bottle of gin upside-down into it. Over about 24 hours, the alcohol infused the fruit so that it was barely more liquid than normal. I love a meal whose prep time can be the most enjoyable part.

The coffee rub supposedly enhances the flavor of the beef rather than act as exclusive condiment, so we slathered on salsa, garlic mustard, blue cheese and tomatoes. They paired perfectly with whisky and ginger beer. Then, up to the roof for fireworks!

How Have We Not Talked About This?

The universe, aka my brother, revealed the Omnivore's Top 100 List to me this weekend, and I am flabbergasted that I have never been exposed to this before!! How genius to give purpose to adventurous eating. As if I wasn't inspired enough by writing about eating for you, I have even more motivation. I have a feeling we will be discussing this far into the future of my eating/blogging.

I've been engaged with a local list, San Francisco's own 7x7 The Big Eat SF: 100 Things to Try Before You Die with near obsessive enthusiasm. My first pass at the list, I had only encountered 5 of SF's top treats! As you can imagine, either based on my OCD when it comes to lists, or because the idea of a food challenge that results in tasting the best of SF regardless whether I win or lose, I have been at this full throttle. I'm up to 9/100. I'm actually shocked we haven't already talked about this. I'll be sure to devote some time to this list exclusively in the near future.

Now, Omnivore's list is much more achievable. And affordable. I tried to find the original original list, which I believe is the following from the Very Good Taste blog. They even suggest that food bloggers post the list on their pages and highlight the foods consumed. I've actually done that below.

What this really makes me want to do is establish my own list, a self indulgence for sure but one that I could spend the rest of my life basking in the glow of finishing and thoroughly enjoying. I can't say I'm eager to try Haggis off the Omnivore's list but I must because it's on the list.

The Omnivore's Hundred
1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant. (I’ve done a tasting menu at Aqua, which is a 2-starred Michelin restaurant!)
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

63 isn't too bad, but it's fun to imagine the challenge of those other 37!