MattBites

A New Home

2006-06-04T14:42:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentleman, I'm pleased to announce that I've gotten off my lazy butt and am happy to introduce Mattbites.

You know, it was always something I wanted to do but never got around to it. Six months into my blogging venture and a recent chain of events forced me to sit down with a glass of wine (ok, a few bottles) and make it a reality. If you think I'm pleased with myself you'd be correct. I'm not much for code and programming to tell you the truth.

Another reason for my reluctance to take it to the next level was that I honestly didn't think I'd last this long. I always though "oh geez, another food blog" every time I sat down to post, but 51 entries later I've found a voice for myself and some of the most amazing food folks I could ever hope to meet. The emails of encouragement from all over the world have meant more to me than you can imagine, and the opportunity to review, taste and sample has been extraordinary and so very worthwhile.

Even if it has branded me as that snail guy :)

Because of some blogger issues (I'm keeping a positive attitude here folks) I will keep my old mattbites archives here. I've only recreated a few new ones at mattbites.com but decided against lugging all my posts over there. It's a clean, fresh start and I hope you'll join me over at my new home.

So, in a nutshell, this site (http://mattbites.blogspot.com/), bye bye, no mas.
Mattbites is where it's at.

Happy eating,

matt

P.S. I was spammed pretty heavily here and in the process of creating of creating word notification something went terribly awry. Comments won't work. If you've left any comments here in the past few days I haven't seen them. My most sincere apologies.

Oh, Oyster!

2006-06-03T17:33:00.000-07:00

Don't ask me why but oysters always seem to get pushed into the back corners of my mind when it comes to ideas for appetizers or when I crave seafood. It's not as if I don't love them and that they don't rank high up on my eating scale. Perhaps it's because it can be a tiny bit difficult to find high quality fresh oysters (keyword: fresh), and let's face it, splitting open those shells with speed and finesse does take practice.

Sometimes I wonder how much of a strange kid I was, graciously accepting of anything my dad urged me to try. I remember eating pickled pig's feet with him at the dinner table, devouring hunks of blue cheese on salads and eating raw oysters with tabasco when I was 5 years old. My father knew where flavor was at, and damn it he was going to pass it on! Thanks, Dad!

Thirty years later I still love that briny, ocean-y flavor in whatever form. Fried, baked or smoked, oysters never fail to bring a smile to my face, and when consumed raw it's one of the few foods that just stops me dead in my tracks, temporarily silencing me for a few seconds (no easy feat!), eyes closed, head tilted back, savoring every last bit of complex flavor contained in that shell.

Sometimes salty, sometimes fruity, sometimes creamy, always delicious. It's as if you're tasting the ocean.

Here in the US most of the fresh oysters consumed can be broken down into three basic classifications: Atlantic, Pacific and Olympia. Atlantic oysters tend to be larger with much more defined salinity. Pacific oysters originated in Japan and are much more refined in flavor; some describe them as creamy with mineral notes. And Olympia oysters, from the Pacific coast, are smaller with a much more distinguishable flavor and aftertaste. Within these categories are numerous varieties (Kumamoto, Malaspina, Caraquet, Pugwash, etc.) and all are equally tasty. There a size for every taste, but generally the smaller and younger the oyster the more subtle and delicious.

Ok, now the safety issue. Well, make that safety issues. First, you may have heard that oysters should only be consumed in the months that end in an "R". October, September, you get the picture. No one seems to know exactly where this came from and there are theories, but consider it a tale. I'm eating oysters in June, pure and simple. Now, the second issue should be addressed with honest concern Like all things fun, pleasurable or tasty, eating raw oysters involves some risk. That risk is called Vibrio vulnificus and it's very real. According to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, there were a recorded 282 cases of serious illness between 1989 and 2000 that involved the Vibrio vulnificus bacteria. About half of those cases involved death. This nasty bacteria is found in warm coastal waters and is not a result of pollution and does not affect the color, taste or smell of the oyster. If you're a relatively healthy individual you can bounce back from a case of Vibrio vulnificus, but if you're at risk it's best to skip raw oysters entirely. Or you can cook them completely; heat destroys the bacteria.

Ok, back to raw oysters... are you still with me?

One of my favorite sandwiches is an oyster po'boy, with all its fried goodness on a light bun with tangy dressing. However, when it comes to eating high quality oysters at home, well, I leave them naked. I want to taste as much of their subtle flavor as possible, enhancing them with only the smallest amount of tabasco or mignonette sauce. Of course, if you're going to smoke or fry oysters or devour Oysters Rockefeller you want to start with a good quality oyster, but to dress them up and have the little guys compete with other flavors is just cruel if you ask me.

The freshest way to enjoy oysters involves shucking them yourselves. Anything canned or in a glass jar just doesn't cut it when it comes to freshness. Choose oysters that are tightly closed, discarding any that have opened. Let your nose be your guide. Do they smell fresh? Get a bad oyster and you'll immediately know it's not right. Not an enjoyable experience.

To shuck an oyster you'll need a sharp knife with a good handle, preferably an oyster knife. You'll also want a small kitchen towel to hold the oyster. I'd love to tell you about the time "someone" I know didn't use a towel and ended up with dozen of small cuts on both his bloody hands, but that would just reveal my oyster naivaté. Can't do that! Wrap the oyster in a towel and insert the knife on the bottom of the oyster. You'll need quite a bit of power here, the oyster's muscular grasp on its home is quite impressive. Once the tip is inside the shell gently move it around the entire oyster, loosening the shell. Keep the shell steady and level as you do not want to spill the liquid inside–this is flavor, folks! Once completely opened gently remove the oyster from the shell by cutting through its attachment. It's a fine dance of balancing, cutting, prying and opening, but after a few oysters you'll get the hang of it. And if mess up, eat the oyster! No one has to know.

Enjoy the oysters immediately by serving on a bed of ice. Keeping them as cold as possible is important, too. And enjoy them however you like–with a bit of horseradish, a simple mignonette, a dash of tabasco, cocktail sauce or just a simple squeeze of lemon.

Matt's Super Basic Mignonette Sauce
This French sauce is so easy to create and is ready immediately. You can add a dash of salt but keep in mind that oysters can be very salty. I like to keep it simple.

INGREDIENTS
2/3 cup vinegar (red, white, champagne, sherry, tarragon, use any kind you like)
3 tablespoons minced shallot
1 tablespoon freshly cracked black or white pepper
dash of salt to taste

METHOD
Combine all ingredients and chill. Spoon over oysters on the half shell and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, a scientist or nutritionist. Please proceed with caution and if you have any questions about shellfish, oysters, clams and seafood and their safety please consult your doctor.

Food Secrets Revealed!

2006-06-02T11:48:00.000-07:00

If you know me you have probably told me a few hundred times to keep my loud laugh down or asked me if there was a way to contain and temper my excitement just a little bit. I'm gregarious, obnoxious and the poster boy for the word "demonstrative". Please forgive me.

I like others to celebrate life as well, but that doesn't mean working with me is a piece of cake, either. Work hard and play hard, that's what I say. When I'm art directing a shoot I like it to flow smoothly, and most importantly I want others to enjoy their work. Their efforts translate into a better shoot and that benefits everyone.

Yesterday I asked my stylist to create a big sandwich for a magazine feature on back to school lunches. I wanted it to be fun, not some humdrum boring lunchbox item that seems to appear everywhere around September.

"Make it tall, make it big, make it graphic!" I proclaimed.

What followed went above and beyond my expectations. I mean, I wanted her to have fun and work hard, but with this I was truly impressed. After being dumbfounded by her engineering prowess I asked her if I could reveal her towering structure on my blog, if only to show the work and thought and time that went into making a simple sandwich so, well, not simple.

She gladly obliged me, and I thank her.

I know I've said it before, but here's a big giant bow to the folks behind the scenes who make what you see look simple and delicious. It's not always the case.

My ever so patient assistant and full-time canine companion Chochi giving her approval on the shot. Nothing gets past her.

Matt’s Personal Opinion of Organics And Marketing At This Very Second

2006-05-30T20:20:00.000-07:00

Because I’m up to my eyeballs in the design of a package for a new organic milk and I’ve just finished re-reading The Omnivore’s Dilemma again, I’m opting out of photos and words and giving you an artistic representation of how I feel about the organic industry and those who market organic foods (I believe I am a part of that group as well. Color me guilty as charged.)

P.S. I’m thoroughly qualified to make fun of organics as I started my career with Whole Foods Market many, many, many years ago back in the original location. Keep your angry emails to yourselves, folks. I’m just venting!

In A Pickle

2006-05-29T07:39:00.000-07:00

What is it about vinegar plus ingredients that make me such a happy boy? Is it the complimentary tang of anything that's cured in brine brings? Is it that zippy puckerface that follows after chomping on a pickled cucumber? Or have I just encountered temporary culinary fatigue and needed something loud and strong to shock me out of my lull?

Perhaps it was D, all of the above.

To me, there are just some things that cannot and should not be enjoyed without their pickled counterpart. I refuse to enjoy paté and baguette without cornichon. I frown if a burger doesn't have pickles waiting for me under its bun. A ploughman's lunch isn't a ploughman's lunch without Branston pickle. Pickles, in whatever form, provide that sharp tangy balance that pairs beautifully with the smooth and savory. It's that last crash of a symbol in a symphony, that sparkling sour kick in a bite.

One of my favorite things to do in the pickling department is Zuni's red onion pickles. If you've eaten there and ordered a burger you know what I'm talking about: those zesty,hot pink rings that adorn the side of the burger, lending an intriguing spice flavor that lives between their savory and salty notes. I always ask for extra, will happily pick them off the plates of dining friends, and just about go crazy for them.

Besides, anything that bright in color has to be loved.

Zuni's red onion pickles are quite easy to make at home and don't require the weeks of resting in brine to achieve their flavor (although they do get better with age.) The process must be done in steps and it may seem elaborate, but it's not. Skipping the steps gives you an onion that isn't quite as flavorful and not the same texture. You want them soft but still crunchy, and the multiple cooking delivers just that.

Aside from their unusual hot pink color, the onions really shine in recipes. They're easily identifiable on a burger and don't get lost amidst sharp cheese and smoky patties. They're also equally delicious on sandwiches, with grilled fare, and served with cheese. I love them on grilled sausages, sort of a fancy hot dog, if you will. However you enjoy them, they're definitely worth the afternoon effort and bring a little Zuni home with every bite.

Red Onion Pickles adapted from the Zuni Cookbook

Cooking notes: You'll want to prepare these in a stainless steel pot and use stainless steel tongs or a wooden spoon. Aluminum cookware can leave the onions with an off color and deny you the gorgeous hot pink hue that you want.

Ingredients for about 2 pints
1 lb firm red onions (about 2 medium onions, although you can add more and increase quantity)

for the brine:
3 cups distilled white vinegar
1 1/2 cups sugar
a cinnamon stick, broken into pieces
a few whole cloves
a few allspice berries
a small dried chili
a star anise pod (Zuni recipe says it's optional, I wouldn't skip this part!)
2 bay leaves
a few whole black peppercorns

Method:
1. Combine the vinegar, sugar, and all the spices in the stainless steel pot and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat, cover, and simmer for 3 minutes. Turn off the heat and let stand to allow the spices to infuse the brine.

2. Peel the onions, trim the ends and slice 3/8 inch thick. Separate the slices into rings, discarding any skin and tough bits.

3. Uncover the brine and bring to a boil over high heat. Immediately add about 1/3 of the onion rings and stir them under. They will turn hot pink almost instantly (YAY! says Matt.) As soon as the bring begins to simmer around the edges, about 20 seconds, stir them under again and slide the pot off the heat. Immediately remove the onions with a slotted spoon, skimmer, or tongs and spread on a platter or cookie sheet to cool completely. The onions will still be firm. Repeat with the remaining onions, in two batches.

4. Once the onions have cooled (you can stick them in the fridge to cool them quickly), repeat the entire process, again in three batches, two more times, always adding the onions to boiling brine, pulling them promptly as the brine begins to simmer again, and cooling them completely after each bath. After the third round of blanching, thoroughly chill the brine, then add the pickled onions. This slightly tedious process saturates the onions with the fragrant brine without really cooking them, a process that leaves them crunchy. Zuni notes that without this process you're left with dull, regularly colored onion rings.

5. Place in jars, cover and store refrigerated. The cookbook says they will keep indefinitely, but I've never gone longer than 2 weeks before they're completely gone. Enjoy!

A Sip of Paradise

2006-05-22T20:15:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think I live in paradise. Well, paradise if you omit the 405 freeway, the congestion, smog, the high cost of living and state income tax. Even though Southern California gets a bad rap (and sometimes deservedly so), it’s still filled with great beauty and nature and it’s easy to see why it’s called the Golden State.

For example, on a clear day I can see the ocean to my left and snow covered mountains on my right. In one single day I can swim at the beach in the morning, sweat in the middle of a desert during lunch and throw snowballs in the afternoon and still be home in time for dinner. It’s geographically miraculous and an ever constant source of personal amazement.

Few places in the world have our climate, and this explains why California is an agricultural goldmine. Plenty of sunshine, cool days, mild winters and an ample amount of heat make for luscious environs, and I only need to set foot into my backyard to experience paradise.

While my deepest gratitude goes out to Mother Nature and all that she supplies us I cannot forget another woman who has made my life so extremely special; her name is Pat. You see, Pat is my partner’s grandmother and the original owner of the home we live in. Pat was a homemaker and an avid gardener. She was also a lover of all things tropical and traveled to Hawaii, Fiji, the Philippines, Tonga, Tahiti, Bahamas, Virgin Islands and every place in between. She spent countless hours planting, culling, trimming and beautifying her yard, planting the small cuttings that she brought home from all her travels. I bet she had no idea that 60 years later her grandson’s partner would whisper a little “thank you” each time the season’s first plumeria or peach or nectarine appeared. To stand in her yard and literally reap the fruits of her labor is such a gift, and it reminds me that if you nurture and love and tend to and care for life’s treasures you will be rewarded in ways greater than you can ever imagine.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sometime around 1955 Pat (or Granny as we called her) planted a row of plumeria trees, fruit trees, palms, staghorn ferns and numerous hibiscus trees in her backyard. Decades later they’re still thriving and every year I love collecting the plumeria flowers for fragrant homemade leis. I hate to see those beautiful flowers go to waste! I also discovered how easy it is to make the drink Jamaica from all the hibiscus flowers.

Dried flowers from the Hibiscus sabdariffa are steeped in boiling water and allowed release their color and flavor (the bright red color is due to the presence of anthocyans, the same compounds that give beets their color.) The soaked flowers are given one last squeeze before discarding them and the liquid is strained, sugared and usually served over ice. Jamaica is high in vitamin C and has a tart, almost cranberry-like flavor and can deliver quite a pucker. If you can’t find fresh hibiscus flowers (talk about eating locally!) you can usually find the dried variety in health food stores or Latin markets.

If you find yourself in Southern California during August consider this an open invitation to join us in our small spot of heaven while wearing a homemade lei and sipping Jamaica. Paradise is always much better shared.

Jamaica
I’m not big on formalities but if you’re saying Ja-may-kuh like the Island then you’re just a tad bit off. Say it with me: huh-mai-kuh. There. Much better. Oh, and if you’re female and time traveling from ancient Egypt, you might want to stick with water. Red hibiscus flowers were believed to induce lust to the highest degree and therefore a forbidden drink. More for me!

Ingredients
2/3 cup dried hibiscus blossoms
1 1/2 cups water plus 3 cups
1/2 to 1/3 cup granulated sugar (or more to taste)
lime wedges for garnish

Method
In a saucepan bring the 1 1/2 cups of water and blossoms to a boil. Continue boiling for 2 to 3 minutes. Remove from heat and add remaining water and sugar. Transfer the liquid to a pitcher and set aside overnight. Of course you can serve immediately over ice but the flavors will be better developed if you wait. Garnish with lime wedges.

24 Hours In San Francisco

2006-05-18T18:57:00.000-07:00

It would be silly to say that I too have left my heart in San Francisco considering I feel like such a Southern California boy these days. But every time I go back it reminds me how much I love that place. Memories and experiences–some great, some I'd rather forget–come flooding back to me, instantly transporting me back to the years I spent struggling to pay my rent yet loving every minute of the delicious struggle.

This past visit, although short, reminded me of the magic that I fell in love with the very first time I set foot in that zany city. I was there for a series of meetings, a schedule that would put me in San Francisco for for exactly 24 hours (ok, well, 24.56 hours if you want to split hairs.) And because I don't make it up as much as I'd like I was determined to cram as much food into my short window as humanly possible. Consider it a gustatory race, if you will, a competition with myself in which I was clearly the victor. Damn, for once I won something!

I have neither the writing skills nor the vocabulary to say how amazing San Francisco is. But you already knew that. I mean, nothing I could say could really ever convey how freaking fantastic the food is. And I'm not just talking restaurants, but the culture, environment and the connection. So I won't even try. I'd fail miserably.

My first few hours were spent in meetings, and as much as I engaged in the topic of media buys and grand openings and the value of radio versus print versus versus online advertising, all I could think of was getting out as soon as possible and eating. Should I fake a stomach ache so I could skip out early? No, that's dishonest. How about stare at my watch, sending out invisible signals that I had absorbed as much info as I could and that it was time to bolt for the door? No, I had a job to do. And I did it. But you better believe the second the last meeting was over I ran for the door and hightailed it to dinner.

The meetings went well. I had a nice tour of the new (wait, old) San Francisco Emporium building at 5th and Market, still currently under construction. But when it opens in September it will be quite a stunning place. The 19th century dome on top of the building was lifted and moved last year and just thinking about the logistics of that gives me a headache. No small feat, for sure!

After a day of meetings I met with two of my best friends who put me to shame when it comes to culinary achievements. Wade, a Whole Foods Market veteran and his partner Paul, of the Paul Marcus Wine Shop in Oakland, travel the world eating and tasting and no I am not bitter and do not feel sorry for them one bit and I am certainly not jealous hell no that's not like me I could never and I wish them the best even if Paul says it's hell spending a month winetasting in France oh poor guy my heart goes out to him blah blah blah blah blah. Whew! That felt good! Where was I? Oh yes, dinner. I suppose it's Los Angeles' sad representation of Spanish food that always pushes me towards tapas when I travel and this trip was no exception. I've wanted to try Bocadillos (710 Montgomery Street) for some time and get my urban Spanish fix in an attempt to recapture the long dinners I shared with Paul and Wade when we were all in Spain a few years ago. While Bocadillos didn't have a heavy fog of cigarette smoke and hams hanging from the ceiling like many tapas bars in Spain, it did offer some pretty delicious bites, a nice wine list, and the opportunity to sit and catch up without feeling rushed. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed this sensation in an American restaurant.

Note to self: next time skip everything else and just order one metric ton of Prawns A La Plancha with garlic and lemon confit. Oh jesus.

One of the best parts of my job involves a constant absorption of media, food, trends, tastes and ideas. It's what we do as marketers, and it's the part that makes the long hours worth it. This means that I can unashamedly eat 6 meals a day for the sake of work, snack in between, and when that lady sitting next to me looks at me like I represent everything wrong with American diets, well, I can just smile, knowing I'm doing a good job. Bitch.

Tartine. Oh Tartine Tartine Tartine Tartine Tartine. Based on Amy's recommendation I found myself in the Mission Tuesday morning, just up the street from my old apartment. And I'm kind of glad Tartine wasn't open when I lived there. I'm a chubby guy and Tartine would have easily pushed me into the obese category. Was the line trailing out the door a sign of things to come? Would there be anything in that bakery I wouldn't enjoy? Is it wrong to want to find an apartment and move back just because of this place? Oh, all the questions. But what I do know is that Tartine lives up to its buzz. I just love when someone does something right. It was a perfect experience. Not particularly precious or over the top as San Francisco is prone to doing, it's just a great bakery. 'Nuff said.

After breakfast (well, enough for a week's worth of breakfasts) I headed to the Ferry Building. The shops were just opening but Tuesday was Farmer's Market day. It was painful to be among such amazing produce and know that I couldn't load my bag with the freshest and tastiest fruits and vegetables. I mean, well, yes, I could, but then I'd be boarding a plane and knocking over people with artichokes and turnips and snap peas and flowers. Come to think of it, that'd be kind of funny. Of course I couldn't help myself and snatched up every organic Sorrento lemon I could find. Carrying 6 lbs of lemons around all day isn't exactly comfortable but I'm sure glad I did it. Who doesn't love lemons?

Because I was there for work and traveling with colleages we spent the next few hours cabbing it around town checking out grocery stores. Some nice, some incredibly not-so-nice, I alternated between making notes and checking my watch. I wanted so badly to fast forward to lunch so I could eat again. Remember, I was a man on a mission, and I was going to make it back to Taylor's if it was the last thing I did.

Taylor's Refresher was founded in St. Helena, California in 1949 and was recently named the 2006 America's Classics Restaurant Winner by the James Beard Foundation. Taylor's is the ultimate burger joint and it's hard to pass up the opportunity to indulge in a burger and shake. With a glass of wine. Or three. And fries. And onion rings. And a beer. Sure, this new shiny location doesn't have the same charm as the original one, but that doesn't matter when the food is just as good. I could cry right now.

After lunch I had one last stroll through the Ferry Building, making sure I stocked up on some sweets for the ride home.

I'm looking forward to spending more time on a regular basis in one of my favorite food cities. My doctor probably won't think it's the best idea, but you only live once and there's just too many heavenly bites in San Francisco.

I mean, somebody's gotta eat it, right?

Online:
Tartine
Taylor's Refresher
Bocadillos
Miette Bakery
Ferry Building

Review: Seasoned Skewers

2006-05-18T16:10:00.000-07:00

I just read a pretty fascinating article on Homaro Cantu of Moto in Chicago. Cantu is one of the gastronomical scientific renegades who is attempting to change the way we eat and think about food by fusing the science lab with the kitchen. You know what I'm talking about: menus on edible paper, synthetic champagne, food disguised as shapes that reveal their true identities once bitten, lasers, nitrogen, helium, class IV lasers, I could go on. I can't knock it because I've never tried his cuisine, but something tells me that I'm content with my kitchen and just a few pots and pans. I'm a simple guy.

Maybe it's timing or irony, but the second I finished the article a package arrived on my desk. I opened it to find an assortment of skewers that promise "15-minute flavor". Seasoned Skewers are flavored skewers that are infused with essential oils and herbal extracts in a variety of combinations. You put your unseasoned food on the skewer, wait 15 minutes, and cook.

Oh no, more food magic! I just don't know if I can take it. I mean, what's wrong with marinating the old fashioned way?

Reluctantly I gave the skewers a try. I skewered shrimp, scallops and vegetables on the sticks, waited a bit and grilled.

Can you say amazed?

Can you say ingenious?

I really had one of those "why didn't someone think of this sooner?" kind of moments. It's clever, tasty, all natural, and fat and sodium free, too. The skewers come in Honey Bourbon, Citrus Rosemary, Thai Coconut Lime, Mexican Fiesta, Garlic Herb and Indian Mango Curry. I tried the Thai Coconut Lime and sure enough my food was flavored perfectly. Pretty aromatic, I'd say.

Ok, so it might not be polymer box filled with foam, but Seasoned Skewers sure do the trick when you don't want to do it yourself.

Capirotada

2006-05-12T06:29:00.000-07:00

After my creepy-crawling yet delicious snail experience I have decided to switch gears and go for something a wee bit more familiar, something that didn’t require “farming” and something that wouldn’t elicit sneers and calls of “you’re insane!” I wanted to enjoy something sweet, warm and familiar. I wanted to make Capirotada.

Capirotada is a dish with a rich legacy. Also known as Mexican bread pudding, Capirotada is a dessert with as many variations as you can imagine. There is no one definitive recipe, it’s open to many broad interpretations. Perhaps this is why I enjoy it so much; it’s always different no matter where you go. But no matter where eat it, you can be assured that you’ll find the one ingredient that makes it Capirotada through and through: cheese.

Yes, cheese.

Capirotada is traditionally served during Lent. My grandmother would make it a few times a year or whenever she found herself with a surplus of stale bread, and without fail it would disappear in seconds. There’s something about that savory bite of cheese hidden within the flavors of cinnamon, cloves and raisins. It’s a natural pairing, even if I did think it was strange as a child. Ah, how tastes change, no?

The history of the Capirotada is long and complex. As with many Mexican dishes, Capirotada traces its roots back to the old world, where various centuries-old Spanish cookbooks mention its predecessor. Even further back we see a distant relative mentioned by the Romans entitled Sala Cattaba, a mixture of bread, liquid (more on this later), savories such as vegetables, fowl, meat and fat, and a dressing that made of mint, pepper, celery, pennyroyal, pine nuts, vinegar, honey, water and cheese. Throughout history, this potted bread pudding has changed over time, but it has always managed to keep its sweet & savory element intact.

Fast-forward a couple of hundred years. It’s not clear exactly when the Capirotada made its official crossover into the world of sweets, but legend has it that meat was omitted sometime during the 19th century, mostly for religious observances. It’s this version that you’ll find throughout Mexico–if you’re lucky, that is. José Luis Juárez López, a food writer from Mexico, says that Capirotada is in danger of extinction and isn’t a part of too many food celebrations today. Certainly disheartening.

Present-day recipes of Capirotada can often leave you confused. You’d be hard pressed to find matching recipes no matter where you looked, as ingredients, quantities and preparation methods can vary from cook to cook. There is a general consensus, however, which states that Capirotada includes bread, a liquid, some solids in the form of raisins and nuts, and of course cheese (hallelujah Matt screams!)

Bread forms the basis of this dish. It’s the foundation. As I mentioned earlier, my grandmother always used stale bread as it seems to hold up better. If you’re using fresh bread you’ll want to toast it before using it. Capirotada is usually made with Bolillos, small round loaves of bread found in Mexican markets. Once stale they make the perfect texture for bread pudding.

A sauce must be made to pour over the chunks of bread. This liquid is basically made of water, brown sugar, cloves and cinnamon sticks, reduced to a syrup and strained. Variations include the addition of anise tea or a piloncillo, The piloncillo, a small cone of dried unrefined brown sugar, is the Mexican secret incredient and can be found in Latin markets. To me it’s what makes my Capirotada. You may also notice that Capirotada uses a sugar syrup and not cream and eggs like other bread puddings. But fear not, it’s still delicious.

The beauty of this dish is its personalized nature. I am content with the sole inclusion of raisins, but feel free to add currants, pine nuts, almonds, walnuts, peanuts, even fresh or dried fruit.

Then there’s the cheese. Yes, cheese. A nice cheddar freshly shredded tastes delicious and is more subtle in this dish than you might imagine. Similar to apple pie with a slice of cheddar on top, cheese in this bread pudding really shines and adds dimension. Besides, it’s not Capirotada without it! Other recipes call for Queso Añejo, Seco or Ranchero, but I find a simple cheddar works just fine.

Black pepper, chopped tomatoes, onions and bay leaves can be added. No, your browser hasn’t accidentally taken you to another recipe. We’re still talking Capirotada here, folks. Personally this is a tad bit different for me and not at all the way I grew up eating it. But experiment and try it, you might just like it!

Capirotada
Mexican desserts aren’t famous for their over-the-top sweetness. If you prefer your bread pudding on the sweeter side simply adjust the sugar level in the liquid.

ingredients
3 cups of water
3 large cinnamon sticks
3 to 4 Pilloncillos (if not available you can substitute 1 1/2 cups brown sugar)
3 to 4 oz raisins
4 bolillo rolls (found in Mexican markets) or 1 loaf french bread, cut into pieces
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Method
In a saucepan, bring water, sugar and cinnamon sticks to a boil then reduce and simmer for 10 minutes. Break bread into small 2 inch pieces (if using fresh bread you'll need to toast it beforehand) and place in a baking dish and sprinkle with raisins and half of the shredded cheese. Strain the syrup liquid, removing the cinnamon sticks, and pour the syrup over the bread until well absorbed. Top with remaining cheese and bake at 350 for 20-30 minutes or until syrup is absorbed. This dish may be served warm or cold and topped with fresh whipped cream or ice cream. Enjoy!

A Snail's Pace

2006-05-07T13:34:00.000-07:00

Keeping a garden of herbs and vegetables is one of my greatest pleasures; keeping that garden grow without the use of pesticides and chemicals is on my biggest headaches. It doesn’t matter how on top of things I am, my enemies never fail to secretly invade and set up camp when I’m not looking. Because of this I can’t grow basil, my cabbage looks like Swiss cheese and I’m probably the only person I know with sorrel that looks like lace, elaborate decorative holes and all.

I’ve done the ladybug thing, and they clearly didn’t find my garden as nice as I thought they would and they fled. I’ve tried covering certain plants with protective covering but darn if the pests aren’t creative. I’ve mixed things bugs don’t like with those that they love, hoping to put an end to the endless buffet. Nothing worked. I’ve tried bargaining with them, even telling the snail colony that recently moved in that I’ll trade them a leafy green if they "leaf" my herbs alone. They didn’t listen.

Always one to make lemonade out of lemons (Meyers, thank you very much), I remembered an article I read in SF Gate about a man named Victor Yool and his penchant for snails. You see, this man not only loved serving these meaty mollusks to guests, but he harvested them from his own backyard! BINGO! If my snails were going to eat my greens then I was going to eat them! It’s a cruel world indeed.

After some research and a quick chat with a zoologist acquaintance, I decided to pursue this experiment seriously. I learned that thanks to an Italian immigrant who came to California 150 years ago, the common garden snail is actually the edible variety. I had discovered a goldmind of Helix aspersa in my yard and soon they would be swimming in butter and garlic. And I couldn’t wait.

But wait I would have to. Even though I refrain from using chemicals and pesticides in my yard, I couldn’t be assured that my snow poke pests hadn’t visited a neighbor’s yard and ingested any harmful toxins. I would have to purge them, a process that involved containing them and feeding them greens, corn meal and water for a minimum of two weeks.

Ladies and gentleman, my name is Matt. I am a Snail Wrangler.

For two weeks I had to endure the gasp of friends and the disgust of my partner. It turns out that snails creep out quite a bit of people. But I can’t figure out why. What’s not to love about a slow moving shapeless blob with movie antennae that leaves behind a trail of slime and long, black stringy waste? Apparently tons.

Nevertheless, I forged ahead for the sake of culinary experience.

After my guests had cleaned out their systems they were ready to be processed. I said a small prayer before dunking my mollusks into boiling water, shell and all. There are different schools of thought on what to do here; some methods involve layering snails in coase sea salt which causes them to disgorge themselves before the boiling process, but I went straight for a quick kill.

They cooked for about 10-15 minutes and required a change of water. I also had to skim off the foam that appears on the surface. Once the foam was gone I was ready.
I rinsed the snails under cool water and used a small fork to remove the snail from its shell. This was done with a fine blend of facination and disgust; everything I’ve always wondered about snail anatomy was slipping around in my hand.

Farming snails from my garden and then cooking them gave me a crash course in their anatomy. After a deep breath I decided I didn’t want to consume their hepatopancreas, an organ that functions similar to a liver and pancreas in mammals. This is only a personal preference–some escargot lovers eat the entire thing.

After removing the hepatopancreas I chopped up the remaining meat. My shells weren’t terribly big and I knew I’d never be able to get a whole cooked snail back in so I opted for a nice chop. Into the pan went butter, garlic, parsley, white wine, sea salt and my snail meat, long enough to heat through and cook a small bit of alcohol off. Once done, my snail bits went back into the shell and back in the oven for a few minutes. Once done I topped with more parsley and dug in.

They were just as delicious as could be. Sure, there was unnerving snail foam all over the kitchen. Yes, there was a distinct earthy smell that hung around from boiling the mollusks, but one taste of that buttery, garlicky goodness made this science experience rewarding, delicious and educational.

As far as my garden goes, my basil still may be half-eaten and my parsley full of holes, but it’s okay. The snails may have won this battle, but I’m the one with plenty of recipes in my arsenal.

Disclaimer: You never know where your snails may have been. Because of this please use caution when eating snails from your garden. They may have come in contact with pesticides and you do not want to ingest that.

Product Review: Reynolds Fun Shapes

2006-05-05T12:07:00.000-07:00

I'm a huge fan of anything that encourages kids to get in the kitchen and prepare food. Like many others, I have a less-than-favorable view on fast food in this country and its effect on our waistlines. Besides, so many are far removed from the actual act of cooking and preparing food and I personally find that disheartening. I believe the kitchen can be the center of the home, and cooking and eating together have benefits that can be felt for a lifetime.

When I was asked to review these Reynolds fun shapes my immediate reaction was "Hey, that's cute!" But as they sat on my desk for a while and friends and colleagues saw them I realized that they were not only cute but also worthy of a mention. I gave a few to co-workers with families and the reactions were all the same: they were a hit. And for some parents with sugar concerns, these baking cups and cake pans aren't only for sweet treets. They made great tiny pans for a guacamole-inspired 5 layer dip in the shape of a star, a simple quick pizza as well as egg-shaped cornbread.

Not only are they cute, but they created a kitchen activity that brings people together. Now you gotta love that.

Please remember to recycle.

Thanks But No Thanks

2006-05-04T12:09:00.000-07:00

STYLIST: "Hello Matt. My name is xxx and I am a food stylist. I was wondering if I could drop off my book sometime next week for someone to review."

MATT: "Oh, but of course. I'd love to see it."

STYLIST: "Great. And by the way, your Cinco De Mayo ad from last year was just terrible."

MATT: "Excuse me?"

STYLIST: "Your ad, the one you ran last year, it was just terrible. The food styling and the photography were just awful."

MATT: "Ah, um, well I see. Thank you for calling, I'll check out your book next week."

The End. Literally.

Ladies and gentleman, I don't need to tell you that when you are looking for work you should be as polite and mannered as possible. Bad-mouthing the work of a potential employer as well as other colleagues in your field is a sure-fire way to make sure the big door closes on your opportunity faster than Donald can say "you're fired!"

It's just a thought.

Gone Bananas

2006-05-03T19:03:00.000-07:00

I've been on a banana kick lately. It's not so much out of concern for increasing my fresh fruit intake as much as it is my sheer, unadulterated laziness. You see, after a day of tasting food and writing about food and taking fun little pictures of food the last thing I want to do is see/read/touch/the stuff when I get home. Luckily for me this culinary exhaustion only lasts a few hours and then I start dreaming about gluttony all over again.

When this happens I usually want to go for the easiest, simplest thing possible. Enter the banana. High in carbs but low in fats, the banana is what I consider a remarkable fruit. It's quick, handy, and utterly satisfying, delivering significant amounts of vitamin C and potassium in one compact carrying case. It's my one "go-to" food when I'm over food. It requires no thought, it satisfies and it's better than a mindless bag of salty chips. Ok, most of the time.

I'd like to say that I've tried numerous methods in my kitchen and offer you "the best banana bread!" recipe or "the world's ultimate banana muffin!" instead of the recipe that is at the end of this blog, but I haven't. I'm not much of a baker. But I can tell you this: I can make a mean Bananas Foster. Heaven knows I've got plenty of practice! (I've made it my life's goal to perfect any recipe that utilizes alcohol, you know.)

So tonight, I'll put aside the stack of food magazines that need to be read, I'll stop researching the 12 plus bottles of bbq sauce on my desk for a grilling sauce taste-off, I'll turn off the cell phone and sit down to a favorite of the King himself.

And here I said I wanted something simple for dinner?

The Elvis

I first had this sandwich at The Peanut Butter Company located in the West Village. My friend looked at me in horror when I ate the whole thing and then asked me "How could you? How could you eat that?" I told her it was simple. With my mouth.

Ingredients
Thick sliced bread (wheat works best, methinks)
Peanut butter
Banana slices
Honey
Bacon - optional (preferably thick sliced, just the way the King liked it)

Method
Toast the bread and slather both sides with peanut butter. Yes, slather. Top one piece of bread with sliced bananas, bacon and drizzle with honey on top. Place remaining slice of bread on top and enjoy.

Grab napkins. It's messy.

A Very Important Date

2006-05-01T16:11:00.000-07:00

Sharing good food with friends is one of life's greatest pleasures; having parents who are equally as passionate is a blessing. Wait, maybe that's where it came from? By golly, I think that's it!

Last week while returning from a family function in Arizona, we decided to make a small detour to the date capital of the United States, parents in tow. It was even more special considering my parents used to take us as children through Indio, California on road trips just to get a date shake. The warm, dry weather, the towering date palms and the uber-sweet milkshake made with plump dates will always be one of my fondest memories.

Dates are considered to be the oldest known tree crop to be cultivated. For more than 6,000 years dates have been an important food source, allowing portability, long-term storage and most importantly, sugar and flavor. Originally grown only in the Middle East, the date business in the United States is credited to Frederick Oliver Popenoe. In 1907, Popenoe moved to Alta Dena and opened a tropical plant nursery named West India Gardens. After a few years he sent his sons Paul and Wilson to the Middle East and North Africa in search of tropical plants and trees for the nursery, and around 1913 his sons sent back 16,000 date offshoots from Iraq, Algeria and eastern Arabia. Voila! The date industry was born.

Date trees require quite a bit of heat to grow, which explains their prevalence in Southern California's dessert and parts of Arizona. Although date trees are quite adept at preserving water during the long days of sunshine, they also require immense amounts of water at certain times of the year, depending on the growing stage.

Now on to the tricky part. Modern date trees require "grower-assisted" pollination as Mother Nature can oftentimes be unpredictable. This involves a very high ladder and clearly a lack of fear of heights. After pollination comes harvesting, fruit arm decentering, strand reduction, thinning, ringing, bagging, tying down, and a few other processes that my simple brain can't even understand. Seriously, it's enough to confuse me and make me realize that the sweet, caramelly fruit I love so much actually takes quite a bit of man power to grow. Date trees and growers, you've certainly earned my endless respect. I'll never look at a date the same way.

I'll leave the botany to the professionals, my area of expertise is good old fashioned eating! After conducting a very informal tasting, mattbites has come to the conclusion that any date is a favorite of mine. How could I be so cruel and just pick one?

The abada date, also known as the black date, is dark in color with a very sweet taste and creamy texture. Their appearance is striking–so is their flavor.

The Zahidi date is light in color with a firm outside and great sweetness inside. They are certainly not the sweetest dates available, making them good for recipes where you don't want the date to overpower other ingredients.

The Medjool date is a favorite and often called the "King Of Dates". If you're going to eat only one date it would have to be this, hands down. Perfectly sweet with a gorgeous color, large and delicious.

Deglet Noor dates are a bit chewier and drier, making it perfect for baking and trail mixes.

Khadrawi dates are in the middle of the sweetness scale. The flesh of the Khadrawi is moist and soft. Grab a napkin.

Bahri dates are visually stunning; they're almost perfectly round with a rich, vanilla-like flavor. I could eat pounds and pounds of these. Oh wait, I just did.

When it comes to using dates in the kitchen, dates are happy in cakes, muffins, breads, stuffed with cheese or just served alongside a simple cheese tray. Their big sweet taste contrasts well with savory foods, and a few dates go a long long way. My ultimate favorite way with dates involves wrapping them with smoky bacon, popping them into the oven and enjoying them hot. (In fact, it's the real reason I enjoy AOC so damn much, but you didn't hear that from me.) But for the ultimate sweet tooth out there, I can think of no better way to savor the sweetness than in a cold, creamy date shake. One sip and I'm in heaven.

Oasis Date Gardens Ranch Date Milk Shake

1/2 cup seeded, chopped dates (you can use any variety)
3 scoops vanilla ice cream or frozen yogurt
1/2 cup milk

Combine milk and dates in a blender and puree. Add ice cream or yogurt and mix until smooth. Smile.

The Fine Cheese Company

2006-04-18T16:14:00.000-07:00

When I was 18 I had a wise idea; I was going to pack a suitcase, get a student work permit and visit a friend in London for 6 months. I knew the difficulties in working in a foreign country from friends and figured I better jump on the chance to make this cosmopolitan dream a reality. So with passport and a work visa in hand, I hit the UK running.

Like many other 18 year olds, at the time I thought I knew everything and that I could wing it. The phrase "culture shock" wasn't even a part of my vocabulary, and why should it have been? My bravado and wanderlust were going to carry me through my travels, naturally! Boy, was I wrong.

Apparently I forgot to pack my motivation and confidence.

What I discovered was a big, giant, bustling urban sprawl, filled with cars and people living their busy, busy lives. It was quite the opposite of the slow, relaxed Texan pace I knew. I also discovered how to live off of only £3 a day, and most importantly I discovered that I wasn't cut out for a retail job on Bond street. Nothing better than a big giant city to slap a boy into reality!

Of course I wouldn't change my experience for anything. It wasn't until passing through London 13 years later on my way to Spain that I was able to laugh at the experience and see it through a different set of eyes. A set of only slightly more mature eyes – I still have a whole lot of growing up to do and I'm fighting it at every step of the way!

So why am I sharing all this? Because I have regrets. I regret, first and foremost, spending two months in London and never venturing out of my tiny gastronomic comfort zone. I regret having never visited the places I dream about today, from farmer's markets and pubs to places like Neal's Yard Dairy. I regret having gone too young in my life, and I regret biting off more than I could chew. However, I hope to make all these regrets disappear someday, and I hope it's soon.

I've still got a little bit of that wanderlust in me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ok, so I may live on the other side of the planet on the edge of Western civilization, but thanks to importers and modern technology we're all able to enjoy foods from around the world. While I'm talking about England I must include a blurb about The Fine Cheese Company of Bath, England. I was recently given their English Pickles to taste and can I just tell you that my socks have officially been knocked off? As if I wasn't impressed enough by the adorable packaging, man, this stuff is amazing. Meant to be served with various cheeses, these savory and tangy pickles are made with natural ingredients and come in Apple, Plum, Onion and Tomato. A generous dollop of the English Onion on a piece of sharp cheddar (I mean English Cheddar, naturally) sends me out of this galaxy. And their crackers are the perfect accompaniment to cheese. If you can get your hands on the Charcoal crackers, by all means, do!

Now if you'll excuse me I have some almost-empty jars that need licking.

Online at The Fine Cheese Company.

Secret Eating

2006-04-14T07:46:00.000-07:00

It came to my attention as I stood in my kitchen eating an overripe avocado sprinkled with sea salt that surely anyone who caught a glimpse of how barbaric and savage I was acting would surely run away in terror. I mean, I was in my element, I was alone, with nothing more than green debris on my face and a spoon firmly planted in my hand. I'd never show the world how fast I could actually eat an avocado, and I certainly would never admit that had there been two or three I'd have eaten them, too. But I didn't have to worry about that. I was alone, in the privacy of my kitchen, able to let manners and etiquette temporarily disappear.

I was a pig.

Someone once said "We all have something we like to eat in secret." Or something like that. And the more I think about it, I believe that we do all have things we enjoy eating in secret. For whatever reason. Maybe it's an appalling quantity of something we'd never want anyone to see. Maybe it's the most bizarre combination of ingredients. Perhaps it's something so bad-for-you, so trashy, that we dare not give up our food snobbery public image.

To my sisters and female companions that quietly indulge in copious sugar and salt during special times, I salute you.

To my friend who mixes sugar, avocado and sour cream in a dixie cup and eats it when nobody's watching, my hat's off to you.

To my colleage who will eat 2 pints of Ben & Jerry's ice cream in one sitting and then claim his lactose intolerance doesn't allow ice cream, I'm down.

To a certain relative that wraps whatever she can get her hands on in a tortilla and devours it, I love you, Mom. (ooops! no names, matt, no names!)

So my dear friends, I ask you: What do you like to eat in secret? I'd love to know. Come on, open up. Oh, and feel free to comment anonymously, lest anyone thinks you are a glutton like me.

Gimme a Beet!

2006-04-12T07:40:00.000-07:00

We never ate beets growing up; they simply never made their way onto my mother's shopping list. However, I've taken the time to quickly correct that situation and am currently making up for lost time. I've got purple-stained fingers for proof.

Beets, also known as beetroot, often take a back seat in the vegetable world, and that saddens me. Beets are often relegated to a strange shelf of a produce department, way in the back. I've heard friends and customers say:

"Well, even if I did buy them, I'd have absolutely no idea what to do with them."

"If I really wanted them I'd buy them canned. It's much easier."

"Do I look Russian to you? Nyet."

"Beets taste like dirt. No thank you."

"Why is this creepy tattooed guy following me around the produce department? I"m calling security."

I'm ok with being on a one-man mission to sing the praises of beets. Because properly done, beets are so utterly satisfying, so unique and flavorful, that they become something of a superstar on the table. No, trust me on this one. There's nothing like them. That nutty, sweet, earthy, iron-y flavor cannot be matched by any other of Mother Nature's vegetables.

Ok, so if I can't sell people on flavor surely I can sell them on nutrition. Beets pack a nutritional punch and contain compounds that protect against heart disease and other maladies. Beets have betacyanin, giving them that deep purple color, and it's also rich in beneficial flavonoids. Include decent amounts of folate, manganese, fiber, potassium, iron and magnesium and you'll see why beets are the way to go.

(However, beets are high in Oxalates, naturally-occurring substances found in the animals, plants, and us. Oxalates can become concentrated in body fluids and crystalize, so you should consult your doctor if you are prone to kidney or gallbladder problems. I am not a doctor, fyi.)

Beets have the highest sugar content of all vegetables, which not only gives them that unique sweetness but also plays a big part in their texture when roasted. The sugars carmelize, giving them a delicious sweet, roasted taste and shiny appearance. But you don't have to fire up the oven to enjoy them–grate beets into salads or on top of soups, sauté the greens on top of the beets as you would mustard greens or chard, juice them, microwave them, steam them, fry them, mash them, etc.

However you prepare them, be gentle. You don't want to bruise or cut the beet's skin when rinsing them before using. They may seem hearty, and to an extent they are, but treat them with kind hands and let them lavish you with taste and good-for-you compounds.

What's your way with beets?

P.S. How do I state this gingerly? Consuming beets can often leave you with Beeturia, a harmless physiological process that turns, um, well, your "output" red. Not to worry, it's just your body's way of ridding itself of excess pigments found in beets.

Hello, Jicama!

2006-04-10T17:40:00.000-07:00

I must sheepishly admit that ever since the first day of Spring a few weeks ago our grill has not seen a day off. It seems that our menus at home have been created, modified, planned and changed in order to accommodate outdoor cooking. It's not as if good weather is fleeting, at least not here in Los Angeles. But I just can't help it. Grilling is one of life's greatest pleasures. It's the culmination of great food, wonderful company, sunshine, flip flops and a few beers. Or several.

No matter what we've thrown on the grill, there's always one constant: Jicama Salad. I wish I could pinpoint when my love affair with this bulbous root began, but suffice it to say that the cool sweet crunch pairs well with just about anything you barbeque. Grilled fish? It's fabulous. Ribs slathered in sauce? Yep. Smoky grilled vegetables hot off the grill? Of course.

Jicama is a root vegetable that's native to Mexico and South America. It's fabulous both raw and cooked, and the best part is that it happily retains the crunch when cooked. Just peel this less-than-attractive knobby bulb and use it to your heart's desire. It's especially delicious in salads and stir fries.

Jicama Slaw
I adore this recipe. It doesn't require exact amounts of anything (my favorite way of cooking) and always comes out just right.

INGREDIENTS
2 cups shredded jicama
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1 cucumber, peeled, seeded & shredded
1/2 carrot, finely shredded
1/2 cup thinly sliced yellow bell pepper
1 finely chopped shallot
1/4 cup chopped cilantro

METHOD
Whisk together the vinegar, lime juice and olive oil and set aside. With a cheesecloth or a thin towel, squeeze the excess water from the jicama, cucumber and carrots. In a large bowl, combine the jicama, cucumber and carrots with the bell pepper, shallot and cilantro. Toss with the vinegar mixture and coat well, allowing to sit for 15 minutes. Toss before serving.

A Showdown!

2006-04-09T07:28:00.000-07:00

Can I just tell you how much I love DVRs? You know, those big sleek boxes that sit on top of your television that record hours upon hours of television programming, allowing you to watch things you never really cared to watch before but hey, now you can? I've never watched as much television as I have in the past 2 years, thanks to my little slice of technological heaven.

Having my Digital Video Recorder (yes, like everyone else I seem to refer to it as "TIVO" even though Tivo is a brand but I'll leave the marketing lessons to my brilliant friend Olivier) has let me finally reacquaint myself with the Food Network and every investigative reporting-style show ever broadcast. But that's not always a good thing. I've come to the conclusion that with the exception of Alton Brown the Food Network exists to create and exercise their use of puns. It's food programming taken down to its lowest common denominator, blanched out and pan fried till it's salty, crispy and unidentifiable. All the history, difficulty and mental nutritional value has been removed. To think there's a "Food Network" that doesn't travel the globe, interview the movers and shakers of the food world nor show where food comes from is beyond frustrating to me. I honestly believe they can do better. Sure, they've showed me how twinkies get their injection of frosting and where red vines and m&ms come from, but please people, give me a break. I want some real food, damnit.

(Did I wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something? Geez, Matt!)

I've accepted the fact that I should not expect too much from food television programming now. I've seen a few episodes of Bravo's Top Chef and probably won't be watching it again. Food and Reality don't seem to mix too well in my book, and that's ok. I mean, I want it to work, I really do. It's just sometimes it's a bit lackluster.

However, I must say I am looking forward to NBC's Celebrity Cooking Showdown. Finally, a show that won't pretend to be anything else but what it is: a showdown. God I love that word. Showdown. But here's the premise: celebrities will be paired with famous chefs, have a culinary "boot camp", then prepare a meal under strenuous conditions. How can you not love that? Besides, the show stars Govind Armstrong of LA's Table 8, one of my favorite places in town. And he's one hell of a great guy. What's more, according to my secret source at NBC, the competition heats up and one celebrity ends up needing stitches! INJURY! BLOOD! SHOWDOWN! There are a few other tidbits I'd love to reveal right now, but this is a food blog, not a gossip blog. Some times are better left unsaid.

So needless to say I might just actually skip my DVR and watch, real-time.

If I remember how to do that.

Review: Heineken Premium Light

2006-04-07T06:12:00.000-07:00

My bottle of Heineken Premium Light arrived in quite beautiful packaging, complete with product info and a nice opener. I'm a sucker for nice packaging, but as I opened the silver flight case I thought to myself, as many people do: Light Beer? What do I know about Light Beer? Other than Amstel Light, I couldn't think of a time where I've actually enjoyed sitting down to a beer that attempts to offer flavor while going easy on the alcohol, calories and carb content. But I was going to go into this with an open mind, even if I heard the purist rants of my brother-in-law in the back of my head.

(My brother-in-law, a professional brewmaster, has been making beer for over 20 years. Hello, Jim.)

I devised a very informal blind taste testing with a few friends. I told them they'd be tasting two light beers and one regular beer. We talked about Heineken's "luxury light" category, which I still don't quite understand but I believe it to be an area where people want quality and flavor and want to "socialize without sacrifice." I have yet to understand this marketing concept, I think it might have been easier to just say "Hey, we're Heineken. This is our attempt to get into the premium category with a light beer. Taste it and let us know what you think." Oh wait, I think that's what they said to me. But I digress...

As it turns out, the beers sampled (Heineken, Amstel Light, Heineken Premium Light) were all very easily identifiable, the latter through the process of elimination. The verdict? It's good. Now, you may not enjoy it if you favor giant hearty big dark beers, but I must say that I prefer my sips on the lighter side (which is why I've always been a big Hefeweizen fan). Lighter in color and body than even Amstel Light, the Premium Light has a great flavor, light body, is still very Heineken, and would pair nicely with food. Will I order it and drink it when I'm out? Absolutely. I've got an expanding waistline I'm trying to keep in check.

Product Reviews

2006-04-07T06:08:00.000-07:00

After a few PR inquiries and emails from companies (as well as clearance from the HR Department of my day job!), mattbites has decided to review products. Now, these reviews are not the same as my regular postings where I go crazy over a piece of cheese or drink a new cocktail and then blog all drunk about it and embarrass myself later with typos and grammatical errors and whatnot. No sir, these are different. I'll always let you know when something was submitted, I'll review it honestly, and I will never accept payment. Ever. Money has a tendency to change things, not always for the better, and this is supposed to be fun, people! Besides, I already gots me a day job, yo.

All Natural

2006-04-05T12:55:00.000-07:00

A bottle of 7-Up came across my desk today for work. I'm not a big soda drinker so I didn't think anything of it until I looked closely and noticed a small band underneath the familiar 7-Up Logo.

"7-UP. Now 100% Natural."

I remember a time in my early 20s, ringing up customers and stocking shelves at the original Whole Foods in Austin, Texas. Organic and natural foods were from another planet, where brands like Ah Soy and Amy's were staples and you'd never see a mainstream, conventional brand even come through the receiving back door.

How times have changed. Whole Foods is no longer that little hippie grocery store on North Lamar, and retail behemoth Wal-Mart has announced their large-scale effort to court the organic and natural shopper by increasing their natural category.

Is this a good thing? I have mixed feelings.

I believe in food in its most pure, unadulterated state. I get organic. I prefer foods free from additives, foods that have been minimally processed. But I can't help but feel that major food manufactures are simply jumping on a bandwagon for the sake of sales.

Full disclosure: I am still in the grocery business. I do not mean to bite the hand that feeds me. It's just all so interesting to me.

Considering that the organic trade is the fastest growing category of foods in the retail sector I suppose all this makes sense. There was a time when eating natural and organic meant filling your body with pure, balanced, good-for-you foods. You weren't overloading on sugar and hydrogenated fats because that simply wasn't the profile of the category. But now it seems several companies are revamping their ingredients list so that they can be seen in a new, natural light.

Consider this: Silk Soy Milk is from Dean Foods. Cascadian Farms is owned by General Mills, Colgate-Palmolive recently bought Tom's of Maine. Kraft owns Boca Burgers, and Unilever recently introduced organic Ragu. Hormel has a new line called Hormel Natural Choice, and Frito Lay Natural & Organic has been available for some time.

So I ask: Is this a good thing? Is organic less important because it's backed by a large food comglomerate? Is it better because more people are eating natural and organic foods? Or are they just eating the same unbalanced foods but this time they're non-gmo, non-hydrogenated and less processed? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Egg & Potato Chip Tortilla

2006-04-05T11:21:00.000-07:00

Along with relatively good health and a wonderful loving family, I have been blessed with some of the world's most amazing friends. Not only do they put up with my shenanigans and crazy-loving ways, but they think of me when they travel and bring me fun stuff. Case in point: my friends Paul and Wade.

If I didn't love these guys so much, I'd probably be incredibly bitter and jealous (read: ok, I still am, damnit) that my friend Paul was the only person I know who was able to pick up the phone and easily secure a reservation at El Bulli. Without the wait. Yea yea yea, it's all who you know, I realize, but hey, I'd like to know them too. Is that too much to ask for?

Paul works in the wine business and is my regular wine sage. It's hard to be angry or jealous with someone who gives you hours of advice and lets you raid their wine cellar when you visit. So I'll be nice about this.

Oh, back to the gifts. Sensing my seething envy, these guys were thoughtful enough to schlep back Ferran Adria's El Bulli Cookbook for me along with his book Cocinar En Casa Con Caprabo y Ferran Adria. While apparently nothing can match the experience of dining at El Bulli, just getting these books from them comes pretty damn close, if you ask me. I know I haven't said it enough, but guys, thank you.

Trying to make my way through the cookbook reminds me of my 8th grade science class. Unfortunately I was too busy passing notes to pay much attention. But Adria's book Cocinar En Casa has been such a great read filled with interesting ways of preparing dishes using creativity and everyday grocery store items. (Incidentally, this book was developed in conjuction with the Spanish supermaket chain Caprabo and is available in Spain.) I've discovered a new favorite–his take on the classic Spanish tortilla using potato chips. But I ask: do I really need to find another way to incorporate potato chips into my diet?

Egg & Potato Chip Tortilla
Was I Spanish in a past life? Oh wait, yes. Nevermind. Anyway, the Spanish Tortilla has got to be one of life's most basic pleasures. It's always perfect, any time of day, and always hits the spot. This recipe uses potato chips in place of the regular potatoes and can be prepared in minutes. I must thank Food & Wine magazine for the translation.

Ingredients
4 large eggs
2 cups crushed potato chips
2 tablespoons finely chopped Serrano ham
2 tablespoons finely chopped piquillo peppers
freshly ground pepper
1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil

Method
1. Preheat the broiler and position a rack 8 inches from the heat. Beat the eggs in a medium bowl. Transfer half of the beaten eggs to another bowl, stir in the crushed potato chips and let stand until slightly softened, about 5 minutes. Add the remaining beaten eggs, Serrano ham and piquillo peppers and season with pepper.

2. In a small nonstick overproof skillet, heat the olive oil. Add the egg mixture and cook over moderately high heat until the bottom is set and golden, about 3 minutes. Transfer the skillet to the broiler and broil for about 2 minutes, or until the top of the tortilla is golden and the center is slightly jiggly. Slide the tortilla onto a place, cut it quarters and serve.

on the web
Paul Marcus Wines
El Bulli

A Monday Meme

2006-04-03T13:20:00.000-07:00

Ok, so a few of you know I'm relatively new to the food blogging world. As I was telling my food blog idol Melissa at Traveler's Lunchbox this morning, it's definitely a labor of love, but being a part of the great online community makes it all worth every single effort. It's incredible.

After I started blogging I wondered when I'd get tagged for a meme. I waited anxiously, quietly, wanting to be part of this invisible baton-passing that is a meme. Self indulgent? Absolutely. But you also find out things about people you'd never find out otherwise. And then to my surprise 4 came in one week. So without further delay, I'm going to attempt to tackle them here, in no particular order, over the next few weeks. I hope you don't get too bored.

The Recipe Collection Meme

Where do you obtain the recipes you prepare?
Because of my work I am incessantly reading, clipping, jotting and hoarding recipes from just about every source I come in contact with. Magazines, cookbooks, friends, authors and contacts keep my brain full of things to try.

How often do you cook a new recipe?
Several times a week. Sometimes they are nothing more than just tasting a simple recipe, other times they can be rather elaborate. Weekends are generally reserved for those kind of recipes; nothing makes me happier than locking myself in the kitchen and experimenting.

Where do you store your favorite recipes?
My favorite recipes are stored in a few places - I'd hate to lose or misplace them. Printed copies go into a binder in my home office as well as a folder in my work office. They're also stored on my computer in a database for quick and easy reference.

How large is your recipe pile? Is it organized? How?
At home I tend to keep 10 to 20 of my most current and new cookbooks close by, and when I run out of space they go into "the library". I am blessed with a large production area & library room at my office for 15 years worth of magazines and cookbooks. I couldn't even count them if I tried.

As far as being organized, let's just say mostly :)

What is the oldest recipe in your to try pile?
The oldest recipe would have to be a traditional mole that I have carried with me for at least 12 years. I have a mental block when it comes to preparing food my grandmother made; I know I will never match nor come close to her expertise and it stops me from trying. But one day, one day...

Are you really ever going to make all those recipes in your to try pile?
But of course! I don't know if you know me and my partner, but heck, we're big boys. We can eat!

But seriously, yes. As a marketer it's my job to promote food and come up with ideas; testing recipes is part of the process.

Do you follow a recipe exactly or modify as you go?
It really all depends. If I bake I never veer from the method - it's crucial to be exact. Otherwise, some modifying occurs, especially if I am substituting certain ingredients for work.

What is one new recipe that you're scared to try?
Hands down it would be Barbacoa de Cabeza. Barbacoa, or slow cooked cow's head, is one of the most tender and amazing things I've ever tasted. It's served with onion and cilantro on tender handmade corn tortillas. I'd love to learn how to do it, yet knowing I'd have to personally remove the eyes, ears and tongue? I'm simply not that brave.

And to those friends I tagged, I apologize. Or say "you're welcome". Depending on your personal views :)

Dreaming of Spain

2006-03-31T14:55:00.000-08:00

My love affair with Spain borders on the absurd; tears form in my eyes when I talk about my past visits, when I email or call my Spanish friends I'm always left choked up, and eating anything Spanish at home only serves to temporarily satisfy me but always leaves me longing for more.

This longing is exacerbated by the fact that Spain has been in the culinary hot seat for several years running now. But I'm certainly not complaining. One can't open a magazine or talk about food trends without acknowledging Spain's strong pull, and one need not look any further than WD-50 or Alinea to feel the influence of Roses' El Bulli.

Grocery shelves are being filled with Spanish items like never before, from Marcona Almonds to Zamorano cheese to Sherries and Riojas. And they're all hot sellers, too.

This is great for fans of Spanish cuisine, but what makes it all the more painful is the fact that for some time some of Spain's best foods could not legally be imported into the United States. Because there was not a Spanish slaughterhouse and curing facility that met the US Department of Agriculture's standards, items like chorizos and Jamón Iberico could not legally be imported in the United States. There have been a few American facilities like La Tienda of Williamsburg, Virginia and La Española of Los Angeles making Spanish foods, and while they're of the highest quality and quite delicious, there's nothing like the real thing.

Luckily, the Spanish and American governments have approved the first facility in Spain that will produce Spanish hams for domestic importing. We're still about a year away from tasting true Jamón on American soil, but what a happy and delicious day that will finally be. I'm bound to start crying all over again.

Pa Amb Tomaquet
Why is it some of life's greatest pleasures are the most basic? Out of everything I ate in Spain the first time I visited that I just can't stop eating regularly is Pa Amb Tomquet, known as Catalan tomato bread. It can be enjoyed on its own or served with anchovies, serrano ham, manchego cheese or capers. It's simplicity at its finest and always hits the spot.

Ingredients
4 slices of thick French bread, a good crusty kind
1 very ripe tomato, sliced in half
1 clove of garlic, peeled and halved
extra virgin olive oil, to drizzle
sea salt

Method
Toast the slices by grilling or in a toaster. Rub the toasted slices with garlic halves and tomato halves. You want to really work the tomato into the bread, leaving you with a moist, pink surface. Discard the tomatoes, drizzle the toast with olive oil and sea salt and enjoy immediately.

Pizza On The Grill

2006-03-26T06:28:00.000-08:00

Pizza. It's such a subjective food. In this country I've seen the discussion of thin crust versus deep crust turn violent. I've seen people terminate friendships over toppings. And I've seen intelligence whittle down to one-syllable expletives over the origin of pizza. It's a battle that I quietly and politely escape, watching from the sidelines, offering nothing more than silence.

I'll keep my mouth shut, thank you very much.

Of course if you ask me I'll happily tell you, in detail, that my favorite type of pizza involves the thinnest of crusts, no more than 3 toppings usually, baked quickly in the highest of temperatures. To me, pizza doesn't have to be a 40-minute affair that's baked in a pan big enough for paella, deep-dished to high heaven with 13 pounds of sausage and peppers and enough gooey cheese to clog the arteries of a small army. Don't get me wrong, I lived in Chicago for many years and can eat my weight in deep dish. But at home it's a different story.

It wasn't until my first few visits to Europe that I realized how spontaneous, how simple and pleasurable a small, quick pizza can be. However, recreating the perfect crust and combination of unique ingredients proved to be a bit challenging. I was willing to give up the experience of eating with friends while staring into the Mediterranean ocean and drinking wine (somehow my backyard doesn't quite compare), but damnit, I wasn't going to give up the flavor. I was on a mission.

Three ovens, 4 pizza stones and two BBQ grills later I do believe I've come close.

It's all about the grill.

As it turns out, pizzas baked in high temperatures and dry heat taste the best. There's a reason why pizzas are baked in big brick and stone ovens, and until I win the lottery and have one installed in my home, I'm sticking with my BBQ grill. BBQ Grills reach a much higher temperature than home ovens, and it's this temperature that makes all the difference in a thin, crunchy delicious crust or a sad, chewy one. And in case your wondering, no, it doesn't make your pizza taste like a big giant BBQ'd slab of ribs, but come to think of it, that wouldn't be all that bad!

Pizza protocol for outdoor grilling is a slight bit different. You can't simply load up toppings on your crust and call it a day. No, it doesn't work that way. A grilled pizza crust must be brushed with olive oil, grilled quickly until nice large bubbles appear, carefully flipped and repeated. You'll have to really keep an eye on it too, as it only takes a few minutes over medium heat. Once you've done this you can place your toppings on the crust, but I'm not that daring. I remove the crust from the grill and add my ingredients off of the flame. Ouch.

If you're using sauce, it pays to heat it up a little bit before it hits the crust. Add your ingredients, and remember that less is definitely more. Once dressed, place back on grill, close the cover and cook for 3-5 minutes. Check underneath the pizza after a few minutes for desired doneness. The crust should be a nice, brown color. And if you're using herbs, they can be placed on top right before serving so that they don't become back and burned. (Although I've noticed that due to the high heat of the grill and the very short cooking time it's ok to add herbs before grilling. They'll be just fine.)

I'm not an exact type of cook and that is why these are all basic guidelines without a recipe. Besides, everyone has their favorite dough recipe and preference for pizza toppings. After all, it's fun to experiment, isn't it? If you make a mistake (as I have thousands of times), well, just eat it. You'll be too busy to argue about the history of the pizza with your mouth full.

Eating It All

2006-03-25T07:15:00.000-08:00

"You can't be an art critic and not like yellow. The Tibetans train themselves to like everything equally. Being unable to get pleasure from a large variety of foods is akin to only being able to have sex in strange circumstances."

My my my. I've been at this blogging thing for a few months now, and I am so completely humbled by the emails and comments and connections I've made. It's a dream come true to connect with others from all over the world who are passionate and fanatical about food. It's great.

However (there's always a big however, it seems), as I peruse and absorb food blogs from all over the world, one thing strikes me as peculiar, odd, and just plain creepy: the avoidance of a certain ingredient or type of cuisine.

"Things she will not eat: raw tomatoes" (or insert gelatinous fish or tripe or aspic or stinky cheese, what have you)

"I can't stand Chinese food" (if this person is referring to the msg-laden Chinese-American restaurant food then I understand. Have they any idea of the breadth of Chinese cuisine? Tsk tsk)

"Raw oysters freak me out. It's a texture thing."

Man, I don't get it. Barring food allergies, sensitivities to certain ingredients and personal ethics, I can't for the life of me think of avoiding anything in the sake of flavor and taste, let alone not trying it at least once. Of course I have preferences for certain ingredients (my palate has an affinity towards strong, intensely flavored foods), but to skip something just because of texture or mental roadblock really confuses me.

Full disclosure: I don't care for marzipan. I'll eat it but it's not my favorite thing. The compounds in artichokes cause my lips to swell, but that doesn't stop me. Live crickets, chicken feet and cow eyes aren't on the top of my delicious list, but sure, I've had them and enjoyed them. If we are to really savor life and experience new things, well, why draw that invisible line in the sand?

What won't you eat and why?

Blue Cheeses

2006-03-23T20:43:00.000-08:00

For those who scoff at the very idea of blue cheese (let alone the aroma and taste), I say too bad for you. You're missing one of life's greatest, most flavorful pleasures. Yes, you really are. No, I don't need to hear how it tastes strange, how it makes you feel as if you're eating soap, how it's too strong, how it's simply too weird, nope. Don't wanna hear it. You see, some of us embrace all the things that others may not like; it's the intensity, the explosion of flavor, the history, and –most importantly– the penicillium roquefortii that we crave.

And boy do we crave it.

Let's go back a few years. As with many of the world's great culinary treasures, the discovery of blue cheese is the subject of legends. We do know this: someone along the way (some say a shepherdess) left some cheese in the caves of Roquefort, came back and found it teeming with bacteria. Sounds scary, doesn't it? Absolutely, and I'd like to buy her a beer!

Today, blue cheese is made by injecting bacteria into cheese and letting nature do its thing. Sometimes it comes from a starter batch and mixed in. It's this bacteria that gives it its blue-veined appearance, and in the case of some of my favorites, a blueish-green hue. And blue cheese is truly a global product, being made all over the world.

So go ahead, make that face. You know the one. The one that says you can't stand it. That face you make when you could care less about hiding your disdain for blues. Because according to my sources, Americans purchased and consumed over 52 million pounds of domestic and imported blue cheese last year alone; I think I'm in pretty good company.

* * *

What turned out to be a short blurb about one of my favorite blues turned into something much longer as I cannot help but sing the praises of blue cheeses. Below are a few of my favorites that I've been eating as of late.

Shaft's Ellie's Vintage 2 Year Aged Blue
Get this: this cheese is born in Wisconsin, brought to California and aged for 2 years in an old gold mine tucked in the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Wow. Yowza. Holy smokes. How this cheese can be aged for that long and yield a creamy, tender bite is beyond me.

Rogue Creamery Smokey Blue
Awarded the coveted Best New Product in the World Award at the Specialty Food Trade Food Show in New York, Oregon's Rogue's Smokey Blue is so mindblowingly fantastic that you can't help but swoon and feel lightheaded from the first bite. This traditional blue is smoked overnight in hazelnut shells, resulting in a pale straw-colored creamy cheese whose bite is balanced by the flavor of smoke. Such a beautiful cheese.

Cabrales
"One of the world's most striking cheeses" says the importer of this famous blue that takes its name from the town where it's made. Made from cow's milk and sometimes a mix of sheep or goat's milk, Cabrales in undeniably Spanish. It's a bit sour and tart, and when I want to melt a blue this is the one I grab. Made in limited quantities using traditional farmhouse methods. When I die I hope my soul goes to Asturias.

Bleu d'Auvergne
From Southeastern France, this blue is creamier than Roquefort and is utterly delicious. Give me a baguette, a hunk of this, a pear and I'll be on my way, thankyouverymuch.

Point Reyes Original Blue
Is it the California coastal fog? Is it the raw milk from the cows that graze on the land? Is it the salty Pacific Breezes? It's most likely a perfect combination of all of the above that make Point Reyes Original Blue cheese so utterly delicious, not to mention California's only classic style blue cheese. This is the blue cheese that I give to friends who aren't quite sold on blues. It's clean, always consistently delicious and has a wonderful firm texture. I think I'll go enjoy a bite right now - it's always in our fridge.

So Stylin'

2006-03-22T14:57:00.000-08:00

I spend anywhere from 3 to 6 days every month art directing photo shoots for work. If basic math serves me correctly that's about 72 days a year. Each day lasts around 10 hours, and that adds up to around 720 hours. Seven hundred twenty hours. 720 hours of standing around, fussing, getting splattered, primping and playing with food. 720 hours of lighting decisions, camera angles and correct cropping. And 720 hours spent with a food stylist.

I've written about food stylsts before in my blog, hoping to shed some light on a fascinating yet under-appreciated skill in the food industry. Their jobs go unrecognized, yet their work is all you see. They make the foods and the drinks you see appealing, appetizing, delicious and, most importantly, sellable. They lug around the ubiquitous 4-ton tackle box that's ready to go at the drop of a hat. They have the patience of Job, the skill set of a chef, the ability to work under a ridiculously insane amount of pressure, satisfying every whim of the oftentimes fickle Art Director. They're the ones that make me look good. And they do all this with a smile on their face.

(Well, most of the time they do.)

A good food stylist is a wonderful ally; a great food stylist is indispensable. The truly successful food stylists can command a pretty penny for their day rate, but when you break it down, it' s worth it. One bad move or lack of preparation on a stylist's part can be a headache as it only slows down the photographer and the shoot. And that is certainly no fun.

I've seen stylists create an elegant still life diorama out of ugly cheese, fashion a thirst-quenching margarita without ice, and prepare an thanksgiving meal in 20 minutes - thanks to their tools of the trade. No, I'm not saying it's slight of hand or an effort to fool the consumer, but it certainly is magic. And it's fascinating.

To my friends and food stylists, I thank you for making my world beautiful and delicious. I love you guys.

Endless hugs and gratitude go to the amazing Beth of Food Fanatics for the best looking cocktail shots I could ever dream of. You are amazing!

Corzo: Tequila Goes Upscale

2006-03-22T07:09:00.000-08:00

Two alcohol postings in a row? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's been that kind of week.

I must admit that it was the stellar packaging that first drew me to Corzo tequila. Bold, elegant, reminiscent of a giant perfume bottle with an off-center spout, Corzo's bottle and packaging materials stand out from the rest of the run-of-the-mill tequila bottles. And in a highly competitive spirits market this is important. (As a side note, the designer in me uttered the usual "but of course!" when I learned that the entire packaging was designed by star designer-to-the-fashion-industry Fabien Baron.)

Corzo is a super-premium tequila from Bacardi. While on a tour and meeting with Bacardi years ago in Miami for a small freelance assignment I learned that the world's largest, privately held family-owned spirits company didn't have a successful tequila brand in their portfolio. It was hard to comprehend. No tequila? After a few years in development it looks as if Corzo will attempt to change that.

The process of making tequila isn't easy. It's long, labor intensive and oftentimes results in inferior products. It's no wonder why people clutch their foreheads and say "no tequila, please". But the truth is, just like everything else, quality does matter. Corzo uses only the heart of the agave plant from the Los Altos region of the State of Jalisco, Mexico's primary agave growing region. Corzo features twice the agave per liter than other premium tequilas. In fact, it's the only tequila I know of that distills after aging, resulting in a smooth, refined taste that begs to be sipped and savored.

Ok, it's beautifully designed, backed by the big wallets of Bacardi, and made by a patented process. But how does it taste? Even better than it looks, if you can believe it. Corzo Silver is the only variety I'd include in a cocktail, and that's not because it's not good by itself. It's great by itself, with notes of citrus and vanilla. Corzo Reposado is aged in oak barrels, giving it notes of oak and honey. It's truly delicious and begs to be sipped neat. Corzo Anejo is incredibly smooth with much more character than its younger siblings and should be enjoyed slowly. I wasn't able to find out how long the Anejo is aged but suffice it to say that however long, well, it's perfect.

As with all spirits, please enjoy in moderation!

The Gin That Made Me Love Gin, Again

2006-03-19T18:17:00.000-08:00

If memory serves me correctly, it was a bon voyage party 10 years ago when I last enjoyed gin. Goodbyes, laughter, tears and gin fizzes flowed freely to the point that everything because one big giant blur. I can't remember much, but I do remember a hangover that made me curse my mother for ever giving birth to me and cursing the man upstairs for giving us free will. How else could I explain a night of being a willing participant indulging in cheap gin, glass after glass after glass? At that fateful party I not only said goodbye to a good friend but I also said goodbye to a spirit that has not touched my lips ever since.

It was a work assignment involving Hendrick's Gin that ended my gin hiatus. I'd noticed that gorgeous squatty bottle for some time but assumed it was filled with that juniper-laden venom that always made me hurt. Oh, the label can claim it's different, but I wasn't fooled. But because I had to write a few paragraphs about the wonders of Hendrick's I thought it would only be fair if I tasted it. My customers deserve it.

Gin, welcome home.

Hendrick's is a small batch gin distilled in Ayrshire, Scotland, and it is anything but ordinary. Crafted with high quality botanicals makes a huge difference, but it's the infusion of Bulgarian Rose and cucumber that sets it apart. While the first initial notes are quite strong as they are with most gins (which is why it's rarely sipped by itself), Hendrick's reveals a beautiful and intriguing aftertaste. It's hard to put your finger on it but you know you are drinking something different, so intricately flavorful. This stuff rocks.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some drinking and catching up to do. After all, ten years is a long time.

Rosemary Salty Dog
This recipes comes from Enoteca Vin in Raleigh, North Carolina by way of Food & Wine Magazine. Muddled rosemary adds intrigue and imparts a marvelous flavor to this herby graperuity classic.

Ingredients
1 grapefruit wedge and kosher salt
one 1-inch piece of rosemary sprig, plus 1 sprig for garnish
1/2 teaspoon sugar
2 ounces fresh red grapefruit juice
1 1/2 ounces gin
ice

Method
Moisten the outer rim of a martini glass with the grapefruit wedge and coat lightly with salt. In a cocktail shaker, muddle the 1-inch rosemary sprig with the sugar. Add the grapefruit juice, gin and ice and shake vigorously. Strain into the martini glass and garnish with the rosemary sprig.

Gadgets Galore

2006-03-18T13:28:00.000-08:00

It was a container of my favorite smoky Pimenton De La Vera that came crashing out of the pantry when I was looking for a vanilla bean that made me realize I've gone insane and needed an intervention. Simply put, my pantry is overrun. Sure, I could blame this compulsion on my day job, but truth be told I'm a little obsessive at times. After some rooting around I rediscovered a small arsenal of extra virgin olive oils from practically every country you could imagine, vinegars made from fruits I've never even heard of and enough sauces and marinades to fill an olympic-sized swimming pool. Mind you, these were items I swore I needed and would use at one point or another, and damnit, I just couldn't stand to get rid of them.. for heavens sake they were still good. But then the rational mind kicked in– that's it, I said, no more! I will attempt to keep a tight clean ship around these parts and lighten up. Heck, winter is on her way out, I should wise up and get a jump on my Spring cleaning.

With pantry doors open I proceeded to begin my purge. So far so good. Giving away baskets of condiments to friends was the easy part. I knew these items were going to good homes. But then suddenly, looking around my kitchen, I suddenly felt a general sense of uneasiness, a nervous tingle developed in the pit of my stomach and tiny beads of sweat began to appear on my brow. Oh my god, please, no, don't.... don't make me.... I can't.... I won't.....

The gadget drawer.

Oh, The Gadget Drawer. Well, it's more like 4 gadget drawers. Also known as the place where kitchen utensils go and die. Or just hang out. Permanently. A place where orphaned wooden spoons eternally wonder if they'll ever find a mate. A place where kitchen shears stack up upon each other once their blades go dull. A land of rusty vegetable peelers, lone measuring cups, cracked egg timers and mix-matched chopsticks go to live. And die.

I knew what had to be done. And I knew I was the man to do it. However painful it was going to be, I rose to the challenge, put on a brave face and purged the kitchen gadgets that no longer worked and that I no longer needed. All of a sudden I felt a sense of liberation, the unease began to disappear as I placed each old tool in the recycling box. And you know what? It feel great.

All this spring cleaning was good for me. It made me realize that no matter how much I collect things, I've got a small trusty set of gadgets and devices that I cannot do without and I shouldn't ignore them. They need me. They love me. So the next time I feel the urge to buy that fuscha silicon whatchamathingie or my 127th set of cheese knives, I'll remember that less is always more.

Matt's Top Ten List of Things He Couldn't Live Without In His Kitchen

10. Molcahete. Quite possibly the most low tech item I own, it probably also has the most history, not only in my kitchen but also culinarily speaking. Made of stone, this morter & pestel gets a regular workout, mashing garlic, spices and making my collection of chunky sea salts a bit more usable. Couldn't live without it.

9. Kyocera Ceramic Knife. Ok, so it looks like it should be taken to a picnic, it's light, white and feels like plastic. All similarities stop there, though. Produced in Sendai, a small city in southwest Japan on the island of Kyushu, this knife simply kicks ass. Made of high tech zirconium oxide, this material is second in hardness only to a diamond and lasts years without sharpening. I wish I could say the same for my expensive metal knives.

8. Zyliss Cheese Grater. I don't know how many of these I've gone through over the years, but for a cheese lover they are indispensable. I love you, Zyliss!

7. Microplane. I'm a citrus freak. The snappy zing of lemon or lime makes me happy. Adding lemon zest to muffins, roasted chicken, dressings and Caprese salads adds that sparkling quality that cannot be created by any other ingredient. Having a zester makes it easy, and it also works great with ginger.

6. Wine Openers. "Hahaha you should really put 'wine opener' on that, babe. I mean, that's totally something you use EVERY SINGLE DAY at home, if you know what I'm saying. Remember that time you couldn't find it and you freaked out because you you forgot that you put it in the picnic basket for the Hollywood Bowl and you were about to grab a screwdriver to push the cork in because you said you really wanted a glass of wine? Man that was funny, good times you guys".

Yea, very funny Adam. Real funny. (yet true.)

5.Silicon Ice Trays. I couldn't help but notice the perfectly square bar ice in my cocktails in Barcelona. Three beautifully formed cubes in a Collins glass was pure perfect simplicity. I had to recreate this at home, and my quest led me to Sur La Table where I found these cute little silicon ice trays. My friends laugh at me over my excitement, but put two cocktails side by side, one using bar ice and the other with those ugly malformed automatic ice machine ice cubes and tell me which one you'd like to drink. Yea, I thought so.

4. Kitchen Thermometers. I test many recipes for work and accuracy is always important. My other half, the man with the sweet tooth to end all sweet teeth, is always talking about hard and soft ball stages when he makes candy. Enter the thermometer. Checking temperatures for doneness and readiness isn't something that can be easily guessed and a thermometer gives you that assurance. I can't stress the importance of this enough. Unless you're a superhero. Or a psychic. In which case you can just use your mystical powers.

3. Egg Timer. If I had my grandmother's intuition I wouldn't need this. I would know when my eggs are ready at every at every point in the boiling process. However, I am not my grandmother but a boy who must rely on this drop-in timer so he can have a perfect soft-boiled egg with truffle butter and toast. God I love technology almost as much as I love eggs.

2. Silli Silicon Brush. Nothing irks me as much as the feeling that no matter how hard I try I cannot get a basting brush clean. Well, as clean as when I bought it. As a result, I kept buying new ones. Until I got my Silli brush. It's a small brush with silicon bristles and it makes basting and brushing a cinch. Olive oil, butter, bbq sauce, anything. Plus I love the name.

and my #1 favorite kitchen gadget...

1. Adam . My partner and the best husband anyone could ever wish for. He's a dishwasher/handyman/cook/baker/guinea pig, all wrapped up into one beautiful tattooed package. And he cleans up my messes and experiments with a smile on his face. Now if everything in the kitchen were this good.

That Loveable Ugly Duckling

2006-03-13T06:52:00.000-08:00

Once considered the ugly stepchild of Mexican cuisine, Tex-Mex food in recent years has finally garnered some respect and adulation. Robb Walsh, the Houston Press's restaurant critic and author of Legends Of Texas Barbecue Cookbook and co-author of A Cowboy In The Kitchen and Nuevo Tex Mex, finally sheds some light on a widely undefined and misunderstood cuisine. It's not Mexican, it's not American, it's from Texas–and it's much more than just cheese enchiladas.

Robb Walsh covers the Mexican Pioneers of the sixteenth century, who first brought cattle to Texas, and the Spaniards who brought cumin and garlic. He talks about the Chile Queens of San Antonio. Combination Plates, tacos, margaritas and flan, and I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. Time to get busy with at least one of the 100 recipes included in this book.

This book has very special importance to me. As a Tejano (that would be a Texan of Mexican decent) it's wonderful to read the history of the foods I grew up eating and loving. It's also a pleasure to see how Robb Walsh has taken these larger-than-life characters, recipes and historical events and weaved them into a great book that is sure to become a favorite of mine.

If you're a food history buff or a Tex-mex lover then this is a read for you. It's not fussy, it's not pretentious, but it's a thoroughly delicious look into one of America's first regional cuisines. It's soul food to the highest degree.

BLT ASAP

2006-03-08T13:19:00.000-08:00

History has had its shares of true bona fide sandwich lovers. There was Hillel the Elder who served lamb and bitter herbs between two matzos. There was John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich, who wedged a bit of beef between two slices of toasted bread so that he wouldn't have to leave the gaming table. Even fictitious personalities got into the game; Dagwood Burnstead was known to pile quite a bit of meat and cheese between a few slices of bread, giving us the beloved Dagwood. And then there was Dee of What's Happening (yes, I am a child of the 1970s), whose answer to life's daily predicaments always involved running to the kitchen to make a sandwich. When the tough got going, well, Dee made a sandwich– a philosophy I don't think is all that bad myself.

Sandwiches are so varied, so customized, so beloved that it would be impossible to blog about them in any depth at all. I could talk about pining for grilled cheese sandwich night at Campanile. I could talk about eating the best Cuban I've ever had in my life in Miami. I could wax poetic about the pleasures of a Vietnamese sandwich complete with baguette, cornichon and paté, but I won't. Instead, I want to talk about one of life's most simplest of pleasures, the culinary trinity that makes me salivate just from thinking about it.

Bacon + Lettuce + Tomato.

I wish I could offer and absolute statement here, saying that the combination of these three ingredients make for my favorite sandwich, but truth be told I am way too crazy for just about anything between two slices of bread. But if I had to pick, nothing puts a smile on my face quicker than smoky bacon, thick juicy slices of ripe tomatoes, crisp lettuce and generous amounts of homemade mayonnaise.

The beauty of a BLT is that its open to a wide range of interpretation. Adding avocado creates a California BLT (or BLAT, a rather non-tasty and unfortunate acronym). A BLT tastes just as amazing on toast as it does your run-of-the-mill white bread, but of course a sandwich constructed on artisan or specialty bread will always taste better. And a BLT is only as good as its ingredients. When it comes to bacon, I skip the cheap stuff and go for the thick stuff - you want the bacon to count in this sandwich, don't you? And if you can get your hands on delicious, fresh tomatoes then knock yourself out– A BLT with mealy tomatoes is a shame beyond shames. And when it comes to lettuce, I prefer green or red leaf, but you could easily add anything you have on hand. But remember, freshness counts!

And now to my favorite part: mayonnaise. Growing up it was always the jarred stuff, which does the job but comes no where close to the flavor of making it yourself. Of course I'm lazy and go for convenience, which in my case means Lemonaise from The Ojai Cook. I've held off ranting about this stuff for some time but I feel a posting dedicated to this stuff quickly approaching! But I digress... Mayonnaise is the ingredient that brings all these things together, without it you're just eating a dry sandwich. Unthinkable!

Sitting down to a BLT is such a tasty and simple experience. It's almost humbling in a strange way; it's not fancy, it's not fussy but it's always delicious.

I think it's time to enjoy a BLT ASAP!

Nevat

2006-03-05T11:59:00.000-08:00

Striking. Tasteful yet subtle. Sweet and tangy. I could go on when describing Nevat,
a soft-ripened goat's milk cheese from Cataluña. Made by Josep Cuixart, he uses only his own milk and the milk of neighboring herds to make this hand-formed cheese, and it's processed the same day he gets his milk. Just like Brie, Nevat is injected with penicillium molds allowing it to ripen from the outside in, giving it a deliciously creamy texture in the center.

Nevat must be tasted to be believed. The bloomy white rind gives way to a very subtle, sweet and soft cheese on the inside with a noticeable finish that ends in a pleasant tang. I'm big on cheese condiments and pairings, but something as unique as Nevat should be enjoyed as simply as possible to appreciate every single nuance this cheese possesses.

Because of Nevat's soft nature and the fact that it is indeed a living, breathing cheese it can be a challenge to locate as it's not as hardy as a Manchego or Zamorano, but trust me on this one: it's worth it.

Artichokes

2006-03-02T16:24:00.000-08:00

My first foray into a closer relationship with artichokes began as a work assignment. Drive to Lompoc, California, chat with a farmer, get some pictures and get back to Los Angeles without becoming a part of the daily human-and-metal gridlock. Coffee in hand, I raced up the 5, beating traffic and made it with a few minutes to spare.

Until that point, I categorized artichokes as one of those foods shrouded in history, enjoyed by Romans and Greeks but not necessarily an everyday part of my kitchen. Spiky, thorny, gorgeous yet inhospitable, my little mind was about to be opened to the joys of this thistle.

I spent the day with Steve Jordan. Steve is a man who knows his chokes. In fact, his level of knowledge is quite intimidating. Serious, polite and quiet, Steve is a forth generation California farmer who has been growing artichokes for over twenty years. California grows the majority of artichokes consumed in the United States, and they've been grown here since the 1800s when Italian immigrants brought them to the west. The coastal weather of areas like Lompoc and Castroville are perfect for artichokes, and here they thrive like crazy.

Steve maintains over 550 acres of green and purple artichokes, and when he's not tilling and toiling the land he spends time in Italy, the artichoke's country of origin, to meet with other artichoke farmers and share ideas and information. He's even a member of the global artichoke congress - who knew?

I always thought an artichoke was an artichoke was an artichoke. Boy, was I wrong. Steve actually spends many years nurturing, testing and growing various types of artichokes, many of them starting from European seedlings and spending time in his lab before making their way to the field. It's important to note that his artichokes are not genetically modified, thank goodness. If he discovers a variety he likes and believes can do well commercially then he plants it, although it takes anywhere from 2-7 years before it will end up on our tables. Over the years he's developed green and purple artichokes like the Campania, Fiesole and Lyon and he's always on the lookout for new, delicious varieties.

Then there's the taste. An artichoke fresh from the field is like a green gift from heaven, full of delicious, grassy flavor that is delicious by itself, even raw. Lightly steamed, drizzled with extra virgin olive oil, drawn butter or a simple aioli and I could skip just about everything else and be a very happy man.

I'm happy to say that artichokes are now a part of my regular routine. Steamed, baked, stuffed, grilled or dipped, you basically can't go wrong with a hearty, fresh artichoke. I think those Romans were on to something indeed.

Bloody Mary

2006-03-01T13:50:00.000-08:00

10. It’s the drink that eats like a meal.

9. Next to a Screwdriver and Mimosa, it’s one of the few cocktails you can enjoy in the morning without raising alcoholic suspicions.

8. You can skip lunch and still eat.

7. Because I have a bottle of great vodka at home that will spoil and go bad very, very soon. (If I repeat this enough you might believe me.)

6. Horseradish.

5. Because tomato juice is packed with vitamins and is good for you.

4. Anything with a big celery stalk in it is fun.

3. Because I have yet to savor the ideal Bloody Mary. Practice makes perfect, you know.

2. Because it’s easily customized; anchovies and garlic stuffed olives, anyone?

1. Because it’s really been one of those days.

Tasting Irish Cheeses

2006-02-28T13:28:00.000-08:00

Cheese.

Of course we all know you cannot say it without smiling. I actually cannot say it without salivating. The actually origin of cheese varies, with some food historians claiming it was first created in the Middle East, others in Greece and France. I am not a food historian so I won't offer any insight, although I do find the story of the Arab Nomad pretty romantic. After having filled a saddlebag with milk for a long journey across the desert he was surprised to find that the contents of the bag had separated into curds and whey. Did I mention the bag was made from the stomach of a young animal, giving the process the enzyme it needed to make the cheese?

I don't know about you, but hot milk under the desert sun isn't exactly my idea of refreshing. Couldn't he have just taken along a mai tai? Oh wait, then there'd be no cheese. Nevermind.

Ireland hasn't always been in the forefront of my mind when it comes to cheese production. Shamrocks, single malts and ballymaloe always came to mind, but cheese? English Stilton, Cheddar and Cheshire have always been favorites, so you can imagine how shocked I was that I wasted so much time getting to know the cheeses of Ireland.

Bad Matt! Bad Matt!

Boy, I had a lot of catching up to do. And catching up I did. I called up my friend Loren, got a few Irish cheeses together and had a small tasting. Definitely love at first bite.

Matt's Tasting Notes
Because of Ireland's climate, dairy herds graze on fresh pastures every 12 months. This results in rich, creamy cheese that is bold, assertive, and downright delicious.

Vintage Irish Cheddar
It's no secret that my personal flavor profile includes strong, full-bodied tastes and a love of strong, savory ingredients. Vintage Irish Cheddar was right there with me. It's been aged for 12 months which results in a rich, rounded flavor and smooth body. I could eat my own body weight in this stuff.

Dubliner
Kind of hard to pinpoint, this one. A harder cheese similar to cheddar but with an almost-nutty aftertaste like a softer Swiss. I read that it makes for a great grilled cheese sandwich (insert Pete Wells joke here) and I can see why. Delicious with a capital D.

Tipperary Irish Cheddar
Quick, get this block of cheese out of my hand now! I think this is the perfect snacking cheese as its creamy texture just melts in your mouth. A bit sharper than the Vintage Irish Cheddar I tasted.

Cahill's Whiskey Cheddar
When I say this was one of the most unusual things I've tasted in quite some time I mean it. Visually it's just as striking too, with a beautiful chunky mosaic pattern that is the result of Irish whiskey blended with cheddar. There's no missing the flavor of the whiskey at first bite, giving way to the tangy taste of the cheddar after a few seconds. And then there's the aroma of this cheese, too. Wow.

Green-Waxed Balleycashel
Big, green and striking, the result of the wheel being dipped in green wax. Creamy and soft, one of the lighter flavored cheese in this tasting.

Cashel Blue
Ok, so apparently Jane and Louis Grubb have been making this cheese since the 1980s and I'm just tasting it today. I'm embarrassed, ashamed, and on a mission to catch up. This is Ireland's only blue, lighter, softer and milder than its blue cousins around the world. I'm going to stop gushing about this cheese because I harbor a secret bias in favor of blue cheeses. I can never get enough.

Of course this isn't an extensive list of Irish cheeses, just the ones I could get my grubby little hands on. Know of any favorites you can suggest? I'd love to know. And if you live in Ireland and have an empty couch, well, I'm always available. I'm the perfect guest!

Frito Pie

2006-02-26T07:45:00.000-08:00

I've gone through great lengths to not let my professional culinary experience get the best of me. No amount of food tours, international travel, trade shows, dinners and tasting panels will ever go to my head, no sir! (Ok, written down it sounds exciting but trust me, it is a job.) Underneath the exterior of a man who tries his best to live up to his corporate image is a professional dork of the highest order. If you don't believe me I've got photographic evidence of me in a wig with, er, um, nevermind. Back to the food, the real reason why I keep this blog.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I find it necessary to step away from my professional life and get back to basics. And when I say basics I mean the tastes and flavors that i grew up with on the gulf coast of Texas, however-bad-for-you and trashy they may be.

Enter Frito Pie.

I was prompted to write this entry about my beloved Frito Pie because just today I was talking about it with a co-worker. I went on blabbing for about 6 minutes about how it's been forever since I've had one and how if I had my druthers I'd eat my weight in fritos and chili and get fat (ok, fatter) and never leave the house and wear torn up sweatpants and a wifebeater and drink nothing but Big Red and become a giant blob of a human being–all with tattoos, of course. After my co-worker let me gab nonstop (thanks, Sandy!) she turned to me, stared me straight in the eyes and asked:

"WHAT THE HELL IS A FRITO PIE???????"

Ok, people, if you keep a vegan blog, a blog focusing on healthy eating or living, or have any type of political agenda against bad taste or junk food then now is a great time to point your browser to another web site. You see, Frito Pie is so wrong that it's right, so bad that it's good, and that makes me very, very happy.

Just like margaritas and caesar salads, Frito Pie's origins aren't completely clear and have been debated for many years. Everyone seems to stake their claim to its invention, but in this case I could care less. New Mexico, Texas, Jupiter or Mars, it could be from Heaven as far as I'm concerned. Just keep them coming.

Ok, enough already. What exactly is a Frito Pie? A staple of county fairs, drive-ins, bake sales and ballparks for decades, Frito Pie nirvana is created when an individual serving-size bag of Fritos is spit open along the back and topped with chili, grated cheese and chopped onions. You may encounter different methods such as baking all the ingredients like a casserole but be assured that you're reading nothing more than good old-fashioned heresy.

As with all recipes of high quality pedigree, Frito Pie's ingredients and proportions do matter. I believe it's most authentic when prepared with canned chili without beans, and Frito Pies must be made with Frito-Lay brand corn chips. Anything less and it's not a Frito Pie. A scoop of chili is sufficient as your goal is to not drown the chips but slighty coat them, leaving them crunchy.

Ok, at this point I know what you're thinking: man this sounds absolutely atrocious and horrible and packed with sodium, artificial ingredients, saturated fat and I can't wait to try it! Seriously though, I won't fault you or get angry if you leave hate mail as I realize that regional "specialties" aren't for everyone. We can't all love cheese curds from Wisconsin, a grinder from New England, or even Poutine from Quebec (Wait a minute, I love all those things so scratch that point I was feebly attempting to make.)

Tomorrow I'll return to my world of artisan foods, but tonight I'll be indulging my inner Texan and damaging some arterial walls. I'm off to the kitchen, y'all!

Frito Pie

Ingredients
Fritos Corn Chips
Chili (without beans)
Grated Cheddar Cheese
Chopped Onion

Method
Heat chili and pour on top of Fritos. Top with cheese and onions. Because it's usually served on the go I have omitted exact amounts needed. It's always to taste, it seems. This recipe can also be prepared with vegetarian chili with delicious results. It's really the Fritos that make it so bad for you.

Lucky Charm

2006-02-25T08:25:00.001-08:00

Remind me when I've had more coffee to talk about a neighborhood here in Long Beach that houses a group of transplanted Irish families that have lived in California since the 1970s. Remind me to write about coveting invitations to their homes for dinners and parties because it makes me feel like I'm with my large family, and also remind me to tell you the story of how my Irish elders beat me hands down in the game of dancing, drinking and laughing into the wee hours of the morning.

Just Remind me.

Lest you think I'm generalizing (because I am), I just want to make it clear that I adore the similarities between Irish family get-togethers and those of Mexican families. There's music, tons of aunts and uncles and cousins running underfoot, plenty of food and drink, and endless boisterous laughter. We get tequila, they get whiskey and beer. Sometimes we both mix it up and act a bit crazy. Ok, a LOT crazy. To me, the one biggest thread that seems to run between both of these events is the unspoken feeling of togetherness. It's that moment in time where we all revel in a shared experience, celebrating the bonds and unions of friends, family and generations.

Can you tell I miss my family back home or what????

St. Patrick's Day may be a few weeks away, but I'm all about starting my celebrations early. And especially since I'm not the world's best baker – I'm not even a decent one – I figure I'd give myself plenty of time to ~~ruin~~ perfect my soda bread recipe.

(Incidentally, the bread photographed above wasn't my own creation and contrary to some traditionalists it does contain currants, but I did take the photo and I did eat every last crumb.)

I'm not good at debating nor arguing when it comes to food; that's why you'll never* hear me fight over organic vs. conventional, vegan vs. animal products, etc. Food is a highly personal choice based on so many factors, who am I to say one way is better than another? There will be no diatribe about the authenticity of Irish Soda Bread here, heck, I'm not even Irish! With that said, here's a very basic recipe from Bon Appétit Magazine. Caraway seeds are a nice addition here but certainly not necessary.

Ingredients
4 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons caraway seeds
1 cup raisins
1 3/4 cups well-shaken buttermilk
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Method
Preheat oven to 375°F. Butter and flour a large baking sheet, knocking off excess flour.
Sift together 4 cups flour, baking soda, and salt into a large bowl and stir in sugar, caraway, and raisins. Add buttermilk and stir just until dough is evenly moistened but still lumpy.

Transfer dough to a well-floured surface and gently knead with floured hands about 8 times to form a soft but slightly less sticky dough. Halve dough and form into 2 balls. Pat out each ball into a domed 6-inch round on baking sheet. Cut a 1/2-inch-deep X on top of each loaf with a sharp knife, then brush loaves with butter.

Bake in middle of oven until golden brown and bottoms sound hollow when tapped, 35 to 40 minutes. Transfer loaves to racks to cool completely.  Makes 2 (6-inch) loaves.

* The lone exception is BBQ. As a Texan, well, we do it best. I will hear of nothing else.

Truffle Love

2006-02-22T16:16:00.000-08:00

To say that truffles are an acquired taste for me would be an understatement; I can't ever think of a moment when these heady gems crossed our family table growing up. Truffles and Tex Mex don't normally hang out together, you know. It wasn't until I became an adult that I had my first taste of the powerful fungus, and if you'll allow me to be dramatic for just one second, it literally knocked me off my feet.

Much has been said about the beauty and rarity of truffles, so I'll go ahead and leave the praise and culinary history to the professionals. By now you probably already know they are fungi and that they are harvested by dogs and pigs in Italy, France and the Pacific Northwest of the United States. You probably already know that they can fill a room with their aroma, but did you know that I know a Fed Ex driver who curses and swears each time he makes a white truffle delivery? Hey, I could think of worse smells for the inside of a delivery truck, can't you?

I eased myself into the flavor of truffles by going slow and easy. Any time I'd see it listed on a menu as an ingredient I'd order it, and over time I stocked my pantry with artisan truffle oils, both black and white, as well as truffle salt. But the real blessing (or challenge or curse, however you feel about them) came when I was given a few whole white and black truffles to photograph and play around with.

My little gems arrived in small containers packed in arborio rice, a very standard transportation method. I knew that they were fresh and wouldn't last long, but I honestly hadn't anticipated the strong smell they'd impart on just about everything in my kitchen. Everyday my partner would ask "when for the love of God are you going to use these evil things and get them out of the damn house???" If he felt that strongly about them then I can only imagine what a truffle farmer must deal with, but that's an image I have day dreamed about many times over. You see, I've grown to love that distinctive smell and the unique taste, and I just can't get enough.

The next few days were spent experimenting. Because I actually had fresh truffles in my grubby little hands I took the advice of a chef friend and cooked them as little as possible, adding them shaved with fluffy scrambled eggs, on top of fresh angel hair pasta, and added last minute to creamy mushroom soup. Perhaps my favorite way of using them was in risotto; starchy Italian arborio rice is a natural with truffles and even seemed to satisfy the palate of my non-truffle-lovin' boyfriend.

Sadly, my truffle experience was shorted lived. My boyfriend's patience ended and the truffles had to find new homes, but little does he know I have one well bundled and tucked away safely in the back of the freezer. We'll see if he ever notices.

Risotto Cacio Di Bosco Al Tartufo

Ok, get ready for a double punch of truffle goodness here. This recipe features Cacio Di Bosco Al Tartufo, an Italian cheese made from sheep's and cow's milk. It's studded with tiny specks of truffles and is pure heaven. If your local market carries it then you should by it. Seriously. Serve this risotto with a few slices of fresh truffle on top and you'll push it over the edge. Heaven, if you ask me!

Ingredients
1 small yellow onion
1/2 stick unsalted butter
5 cups chicken broth
2 cups arborio rice
1 cup grated Cacio Di Bosco

Method
Peel and finely chop the onion. Melt the butter in a large 4-to-5 quart saucepan over medium heat, stirring regularly. Add the onions and cook until translucent, stirring often.

Meanwhile, heat the stock in a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Adjust the heat as needed to keep it simmering gently.

Once the onions are cooked, brown the rice by adding it to the onions for about 3 minutes over medium heat, stirring constantly. Once browned, add the simmering stock to the rice and onions, 1/2 cup at a time, stirring constantly. Keep stirring until the rice absorbs the liquid (it will go from soupy to dry). Continue to add the liquid to the rice in batches, constantly stirring and scraping the bottom of your pan so that no rice sticks to the pan.

Taste the rice with a fork to test doneness, about 20 minutes. The risotto should be soft but not mushy. If it’s crunchy, continue cooking and adding liquid. If you find yourself out of liquid, don’t worry; heat up another cup of stock or use hot water if necessary. Once cooked, add the cheese and stir well to melt and incorporate it into the rice. Serve immediately. Serves 4 to 6 people.

'Nuff Said.

2006-02-21T14:07:00.000-08:00

A Berry Bounty

2006-02-20T14:58:00.000-08:00

It was one of those perfect California mornings along the coast: bright, crisp and breezy, the kind of day that starts a bit chilly but gives way to downright hot, sunny weather. The kind of day that invigorates you, letting you warm up with Mother Nature, not too fast, not too slow, but just right.

As it turns out, it's not just my idea of ideal weather but also the perfect environment for growing strawberries.

I was in Oxnard, about 45 minutes north of Los Angeles, to meet Mike Ferro of Saticoy Berry Farms. Mike's family has been growing strawberries in this area for three generations, and knows just about everything one needs to know about these beloved berries. Mike has 325 acres of land and produces around 1,200,000 packages of fresh strawberries between January and May. After the fresh season the Ferros supply another bounty of berries for the cannery process, and it's these berries that make their way into commercial jams and preserves.

It's mind-boggling to realize that 83% of strawberries eaten in the United States are grown in California, and even more astonishing to realize that this fragile, short-lived berry is a $767 million dollar industry in California. Saticoy's strawberries are hand-picked and packaged in the field, cooled down quickly and then sent on their way domestically and internationally to locations like Canada, Mexico, and even Hong Kong. Quite a distance for this little berry!

Nearly 90% of his 325 acres are planted with the Camarosa variety berry, a variety that Mike believes tastes better and has a higher durability factor. Of course he could expand his acreage and grow an easier berry in order to make more money, but he believes in leaving that job to the big wigs. Being relatively small suits him just fine, and one bite of his Camarosa strawberry proves that he's right on track.

Strawberry Panna Cotta
Strawberries don't last long. In fact, Mike Ferro joked with me that if someone finds a way to make them last longer than 7-10 days then he's out of the farming business as soon as possible! With that said, I believe they are best savored as simply as possible; their amazing strawberry-ness gets lost when buried under too many ingredients.

This panna cotta is about as easy as it gets. Top with strawberries that have been macerated in a bit of sugar and a good balsamic vinegar.

Ingredients
3 cups sliced strawberries
1 3/4 cups low fat buttermilk
5 tablespoons granulated sugar
2 1/2 teaspoons unflavored gelatin
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup whole milk

Method
1 . Blend buttermilk, sugar and sliced strawberries in a blender until well mixed. Strain the mixture through a fine sieve into a bowl to remove the solids. Discard solids.
2. In a small bowl sprinkle the gelatin over the milk; let it stand for 1 minute.
3. In a small saucepan heat the heavy cream until it simmers, careful not to boil or overheat. Once heated, remove from heat and add milk & gelatin mixture and mix well until dissolved.
4. Whisk the cream mixture into the strawberry puree and pour into small ramekins. Cover and chill the molds in the refrigerator for at least 8 hours.
5. To serve, dip the molds in warm water for a few seconds to loosen the panna cotta; invert them onto plates and remove the ramekin. Top with sliced strawberries and enjoy. Serves six.

Buenos Aires

2006-02-16T15:08:00.000-08:00

Preface: This story and our excursion to Argentina could not have been possible without the assistance of Thiago Magalhaes. Thiago graciously provided me with endless suggestions, notes and recommendations for our trip, and there's simply no way I can repay the favor nor show my gratitude enough for making it an experience of a lifetime. If you are lucky enough to call him a friend then I must say you are truly blessed. T, we love you.

It was an article in May 2005's Saveur Magazine that prompted me to make a plan and finally visit a city that I'd always wanted to explore. Buenos Aires has always facinated me, in part because of the country's rich history, the blend of cultures from Europe and South America, and the people. Regal, glorious, quaint, progressive and lovely, the reason we chose Buenos Aires above all was for one simple reason: we went to eat.

And eat we did.

After a long, grueling flight from Los Angeles to Buenos Aires with a stop in Washington D.C., we touched down in chilly brisk winter weather. It took us only a few minutes to get settled before we were off having our first light lunch. We'd received fair warning about the late night culture and eating schedule and knew we wouldn't be sitting down for a meal for quite some time so we decided on a light lunch at a restaurant called Campechano. Milanesa, thin steak dipped in egg and flour then fried, papas fritas, a wedge of lemon and a bottle of vino blanco from Mendoza satisfied us while we shopped and walked through La Recoleta. Our afternoon wouldn't have been complete with a visit to the highly-recommended Freddo for ice cream. Freddo, with outlets throughout Buenos Aires, serves some of the most delicious helado I've ever had. Chocolate Amargo, Crema Tramontana and Dulce De Leche helado never tasted so good.

After a leisurely afternoon checking out the sites and an even longer nap we headed over to Casa Cruz for a late dinner. Listed as one of Conde Nast's Hot Tables for 2005, Casa Cruz's former warehouse space has been converted into a dark, lux, rich elegant room reminiscent of an old gentleman's club. Pure Swank deluxe. A creative modern menu featuring eclectic entrees, we sampled the Ojo de Bife that was topped with a dollop of fried mayonnaise (yes, you read that correctly... FRIED MAYONNAISE!). Fried potatoes arrived on the side and took the shape of small fingers, and I enjoyed a delicious Provolone Soufflé. We weren't too crazy about the Tierra del Fuego king crab as an appetizer, but our perfectly mixed Manhattans before the meal made up for any and all shortcomings that Casa Cruz might have faced. I've read many negative reviews online about Casa Cruz's service and food, but our experience couldn't have been better. It was so nice we returned a few nights later and did it all over again. Let's hear it for gluttony!

Friday got off to a delicious start with cafe con leche and medialunas. Why on earth I can't find cafe con leche in Los Angeles served this way or the way I have it in Spain is beyond me, it's enough to make me want to cry. After a visit to La Casa Rosada and the downtown area of Buenos Aires we ended up in Puerto Madero. Shops, cafes and restaurants line the docks of this once seedy area and in recent times it's become quite the tourist area. Making a restaurant choice in Buenos Aires can be difficult – there's so much good food – but luckily our friend Thiago recommended one of his favorite places in this part of town, a restaurant called Bahia Madero. Do you ever have one of those perfect meals, where the food, company, environment and moment all come together? That's the best way to describe our lunch. It was a sunny, warm day, the perfect temperature, and our meal was exemplary. When it came to wine we focused on Malbec and Torrontes primarily; I wanted to soak in as much of the experience as possible. At lunch we had Alamos Malbec from Mendoza with was just right with rich pasta. I'm a firm believer that there are very good inexpensive wines out there, and to me it was hard to find something I didn't like from Argentina.

Friday night we headed to Capitana for dinner, located in the very hip neighborhood of Palermo Viejo. The service was agreeable, the food was nice but not incredibly noteworthy. Again, we stayed true to our carnivorous nature and ate steak and sweetbreads. I found myself more impressed with its modern, open space and beautiful front window. Definitely a nice place to have a drink with friends.

Saturday's lunch at La Baita had to be perhaps one of our most favorite meals. La Baita is a very small corner Italian restaurant that manages to fill up rather quickly, even for lunch. A beautiful antipasti of olives, artichoke hearts, sardines and eggplant started our meal. From there we had Bife de Lomo, Lasagna au gratin, and Crespelles de centolla–French crepes that are stuffed with crab meat and topped with cream, cheese and prepared gratin-style. This single dish has appeared in my dreams multiple times. No kidding.

For dinner we stopped by the restaurant at the Bobo Hotel, another 2005 Conde Nast pick. This small and elegant boutique hotel surely didn't disappoint with its creative and delicious menu. I thoroughly enjoyed the room, the service, and really loved my stuffed rabbit with a confit of potatoes, spinach, port sauce and braised endive. My other half jumped right into his sirloin medallions with a center of tomato, manchego, cadamom and onion that's wrapped up in philo dough. What on earth is not to like about that? After our meal and cocktails I was beginning to think it was impossible to get a bad meal in Buenos Aires.

Sunday morning came and we needed to switch gears. We realized we had indulged so extravagantly, so lavishly, that we decided to go the simple route for most of the day. A simple breakfast followed by pizza at Filo a few hours later seemed to get us back on track. With over 4,000 pizzerias in Buenos Aires we were glad for the point in the right direction. We spent Sunday running around, visiting La Feria de San Telmo and trying to walk off our new well-earned pounds. All this was clearly in vain though, as dinner was a second visit to Casa Cruz (didn't I say we were going to take it easy today?) It must really be saying something if you're immediately recognized by the host and wait staff of a restaurant and it's only your 4th day in town. And then I wonder why I'm overweight.

As our quick trip to Buenos Aires was coming to an end I realized we hadn't enjoyed a typical Argentinian Parilla. It seemed that we got sidetracked by a very vibrant restaurant scene and extremely creative chefs but there was no way I was going to miss what brought me all the way down there in the first place: grilled, smoky tender steak. Because this country does it better than anyone else, there are steakhouses on every corner. My mind went numb trying to decide where to go but luckily I had recommendations from Thiago and a few locals. With that decision made for us we went to La Caballeriza in Recoleta. A chain restaurant featuring a vast selection of grilled meats and sides, I must say that it was almost too much at one time. And this is from a boy that grew up on barbeque! Of course none of that stopped me from enjoying asado de tira, bife de chorizo, papas a la provenzal and my new favorite artery-clogging dish, Provoleta. Provoleta is a thick slice of provolone that has been aged for at least 30 days. The cheese is brushed with extra-virgin olive oil and grilled until lightly browned and melted, then served topped with sprinkled dried oregano. Needless to say it was delicious and was devoured in about six seconds.

Because we spent only a few days in Buenos Aires we never had the chance to make it to any estancias and the wine country, where I understand Argentina's true beauty shines. As soon as the long, cruel and crowded flight is but a small memory–and I lose the extra 10 lbs I gained in South America–we shall return and do what we do best: eat and drink.

Campechano Larrea 1541
Freddo various locations throughout Buenos Aires
Casa Cruz Uriarte 1658
Bahia Madero Alicia Moreau de Justo 430
Capitana Uriarte 1616
La Baita Thames 1603
Bobo Hotel Guatemala 4882
Filo San Martin 975
La Caballeriza Vicente Lopez 2024

Spring Asparagus ... Sorta

2006-02-14T14:00:00.000-08:00

Because I design and create for the retail environment I find myself working many months in advance. This can be frustrating at times, especially if you're trying to muster excitement about grilling sauces and it's 40 degrees and dark and chilly outside. Maybe this is why I enjoy Australian magazines so much; the inverted seasons seem to reflect the disjointed season that I must transplant myself into.

(But wait - that means their editorial staff works in advance, too, which means they're writing about winter in summer which is my winter which means I'm working on summer..... oh jeez, now I've gone and confused myself.)

My family and friends have grown accustomed to holiday gift baskets and candy canes floating around my house in August, coming over for Thanksgiving treats in July and barbecuing in January just for the sake of a photograph. It's fun and confusing, especially for someone who truly believes in eating seasonally. But hey, it's my job and I love it.

As frustrating as it can be there's no time I enjoy being out of sync more than right now. To me, February means spring is right around the corner, bringing longer days, the promise of tender spring vegetables, a bevy of nice holidays centered around food and an excuse to play croquet on Sunday afternoons (of course, if you're on the East Coast this might be hard to envision considering last weekend's snow storm.)

It seemed fitting that I had to do some asparagus stuff over this past weekend. While I realize it's not quite asparagus season for everyone, I was able to get my hands on some relatively good bunches of delicious asparagus. While they're certainly not Spring's best they still managed to remind me why I love eating this vegetable. While there are so many ways with these slender stalks out there, I tend to appreciate them most when they are prepared very simply. I could eat oven-roasted asparagus drizzled with extra virgin olive oil and a quick grate of lemon zest on top every day and never get bored. But perhaps my favorite is when they're grilled or griddled and topped with Gribiche. How I can't wait for Spring!

Asparagus with Gribiche Sauce

Quickly cooking asparagus over high heat gives it a smoky, deep flavor. Top it with Salsa Gribiche, an easy combination of eggs, dijon, herbs, olive oil and capers. Simple and divine.

Ingredients
For the sauce:
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 hard boiled egg, finely chopped
1 teaspoon capers
1/2 tablespoon chopped Italian parsley
1/2 tablespoon fresh chopped tarragon
salt and pepper to taste

For the asparagus:
1 bunch asparagus
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Method
1. Whisk olive oil, vinegar and Dijon mustard together. Once blended, add chopped egg, capers and herbs and season with salt and pepper to taste.

2. Heat olive oil in a large saute pan until very hot, until almost smoking. Place asparagus in hot oil and cook until slightly charred. Top with Gribiche sauce and serve immediately.

A Mission Statement

2006-02-12T18:14:00.000-08:00

I am prompted to write today because of an article written by Pete Wells in Food & Wine Magazine. It touched off a small discussion on another site that I read called Food Musings and it got me thinking: I'm new to this whole world of food blogging. Do I really need to subject my stuff in an already overly-saturated cyber market of food writers? Clearly there are others who do a much better job (and of course I think no one does it better than Melissa at Traveler's Lunchbox and Aun at Chubby Hubby). Am I really just going to waste bandwidth talking about what I had for lunch? Gee, I hope not. With that said I decided to put together my first Mission Statement, if for no reason to just make it clear why I do what I do.

Matt Bites Mission Statement

1. I am passionate about taste, flavor and quality.
I always have been and always will be. I've dedicated my career to it.

2. I believe those who farm, grow, harvest and create high quality food and products have a story that deserves to be shared.
Hopefully I can do a tiny bit of justice and tell their story thanks to the access provided to me by my job.

3. Food Connects People.
It has since the beginning of time and always will. In our current world we need this more than ever.

4. I sincerely value the merits and actions of those who promote and believe in good food.
Students, chefs, bakers, writers, photographers, stylists and cooks all really rock my world.

5. I don't enter contests.
Designer Bruce Mau says "Don't enter award competitions. Just don't. It's not good for you." This not only applies to this site but also to my day job. I'm a self-taught everything and while recognition is appreciated it's not my motivation.

6. Irreverence is my middle name.
Ok, it's really "Benjamin" after my father but it might as well be "goofy".

Oh, and on the occasion I'm truly moved to write about what I had for lunch, please, go easy.

Happy Valentine's Day! (a/k/a the Trashiest Drink I'll Ever Admit To Drinking)

2006-02-11T13:58:00.000-08:00

Oh, Spain spain spain. El Bulli Basque Blah Chorizo Pimenton Spain Spain Spain. Serrano Croquetas Mahon Zamorano Cava Rioja Morcilla Lomo Spain Spain Spain. Spain Spain Spain.

There, I feel better.

Lest you think I'm being sarcastic, I am not. I love Spain. Let me say it again: I love Spain. It's where my family's ancestors are from, genealogically speaking. And I'm proud to sport a crazy long and OLD Basque surname. I love my Spanish friends and I love the way Spanish people welcome me into their homes when I visit their glorious country, sharing long meals with me that go deep into the night.

With that said, I'd like to veer just a little bit off the path of Spain's culinary hotness and talk about something so trashy, so silly, so Spanish: Kalimotxo.

Kalimotxo (pronounced Calimucho) is one of those things that I secretly love but never admit to drinking outside of my close circle of friends. It's a concoction of cheap red wine, ice, syrup and Coke and enjoyed in the Basque country. Yes, you read that right. A glorified wine cooler, vulgar and crude. AND I LOVE IT!

Like all regional specialties, what goes into a Kalimoxto changes wherever you are at. Add lemon-lime soda and it becomes Pitilingorri, use orange soda and you have yourself a Txurrimuski. Made with white wine and your Kailmotxo becomes a Kalitxuri! FUN!

The irony in all this is that I am not a soda or Coke drinker at all, and in fact I don't care for syrupy sweet things too often. I do love a good homemade Sangria, so it stands to reason that I'd dig a Kalimotxo on a long-summer day provided there are no cameras or food purists around.

Skip the fancy-schmancy this Valentine's Day–I know I am! Serve up a big plastic 2-liter of Kalimotxo, eat some Popeye's fried chicken and wrap your greasy arms around the one you love. Remember, we can return to high-class eating and drinking tomorrow. Cheers!

Kalimotxo
This delightful beverage must be made with bad red wine. You wouldn't mix a bottle of the good stuff with Coca Cola, would you? I didn't think so. Also, don't get fancy with the soda here and do NOT shop your generic aisle; YOU MUST USE COKE®! I add a splash of raspberry syrup because I got it like dat. Suck it up, buttercup!

Recipe
Red Wine
Coke
Ice
Splash of Raspberry Syrup (if you like)
Lots of ice.

Method
Mix it up to your liking. Serve with aspirin or ibuprofen the next day.

Note to my Wine Pedant friends, including retailers, tasters, importers and vintners: Zip it. Can it. Hush. Silencio, por favor. I know what you're thinking and you're right. Just today I ask you to keep your lectures and gasps and fainting spells to yourself. Is that too much to ask for?

Reflections on Zuni, 10 years later

2006-02-11T09:56:00.000-08:00

There's really no reason for this posting. I haven't been in a few months, I have no immediate plans to visit San Francisco other than photographing some cheesemakers in the Bay Area in the next few weeks, and I'm no restaurant critic. But what I am is a man madly in love with the food, the experience and the legacy of Judy Rodger's Zuni Cafe. And it's been 10 years this month that Zuni has etched its delicious goodness into my consciousness.

I should let you know that I'm not a restaurant groupie. I do like checking out the popular spots to see what the fuss is about, but I don't believe food needs a celebrity investor and its own limited edition tableware in order to be enjoyed. Most of the time I just like to keep it simple. Simple man, simple pleasures... that's me.

Enter Zuni. For those who may not have ever been I have no doubt you've heard or read about it at some point. It's a Bay Area institution, wait, a California institution. It opened in 1979, which is ancient in restaurant years. Zuni has been the recipient of countless awards, even gathering rave reviews to this day, like her 2004 James Beard Outstanding Chef Award. My guess is that she does it by letting the food speak for itself, featuring honest, high-quality ingredients. The menu is a bit eclectic but keeps its roots in Mediterranean, and there's absolutely nothing on that menu I don't love passionately or have ever been disappointed by.

My first experience at Zuni was in 1996. I was 26 years old and had just taken a job as a designer in San Francisco. It was a reverse shock to leave a Chicago winter and step into a west coast February, but I loved it and knew there was no turning back. I contacted an old friend who just left a job at Zuni to pursue his music career, and he suggested we meet at the cafe to catch up. I'd only read about Zuni at that point but was clearly excited – no, THRILLED– to experience it firsthand with someone who knew Judy, the menu and the staff.

We hugged and laughed and talked about Austin (where we were both originally from) over fresh Malpeque oysters and cosmopolitans at the bar. After my third cosmo (hey, I was in my 20's, I could do it then!) I summoned up enough courage to ask about everything else on the menu. And it was at that single moment that my life changed. You see, my friend Mark could sense what I was asking and threw caution to the wind and proceeded to order a caesar, house-cured anchovies with parmesan shavings, shoe string fries, a burger with gruyere and pickled onions and Zuni's famous roasted chicken, just for me to taste. I was officially inducted into the world of Gluttony at that point, and I savored every minute of it.

After we rolled out hours later I felt as if I had found a home away from home. Over the next 5 years of living in San Francisco I found any and every excuse to eat at Zuni. I've even celebrated my birthday dinner at Zuni every year. And no, I was never tired nor bored. I found I could have a mimosa and breakfast and read the paper with a friend on a Sunday morning at Zuni, or take my visiting friends and family for long, delicious laughter-filled dinners. But the culmination of my obsession came when I accepted a position in Los Angeles and had 4 different friends take me out for a farewell dinner on four separate nights. Yes, people, it was Zuni four nights in a row. What can I say?

I once remember a 9-year old girl telling the adults at the table what she recommended from the day's menu; she ran down almost every single item, describing its preparation and ingredients and whether she suggested ordering it. I wonder where that girl is today, probably off cooking and writing somewhere. But it was at that point that it made me realize that Zuni is much more than a quirky California restaurant but a place where we can connect with each other but also with the food; that seems pretty rare if you ask me.

Zuni and Ms. Rodgers, how I love you so.

Leaving Well Enough Alone

2006-02-09T14:34:00.000-08:00

As Valentine's Day fast approaches I'm reminded of the perils of marketing high end food as an occupation. It's today's article in the New York Times that prompts me to blog.

"Terroir. Origin. Single variety blend."

No, I'm not talking about wines or whiskeys. I'm talking about chocolate.

Before I go one step further I should just say that I plan on going against the grain here. I plan on taking a stand against the need to "fussify" and make precious something that was fine just as it was. I plan on a departure from my professional career, if only temporarily.

Can we just leave chocolate alone, people?

I think I'm relatively knowledgeable about chocolate. It's my job to be. I know the basic percentages of cocoa solids in the dark, bittersweet and milk varieties. I understand chocolate liquor. I grasp the growing, harvesting and production methods used. I appreciate the blends created by food artists the world over. I can taste the difference between Michael Recchiuti's chocolate and a Mars Bar. But darn it to heck, I just can't get my little brain around all these single-variety, single-origin and exclusive-derivation terms. To me, they amount to nothing more than smoke and mirrors, the basics of food marketing 101: make it fancy, slap a feel-good story on it and the people will come.

As a marketing professional and advertising director, well, I'm guilty as charged. You see, I'm guilty of pushing a concept that I don't really stand behind, and I'm still waiting for someone to change my mind. Until then, stay far, far away, you Chocolate Sommeliers!

It seems like I'm in relatively good company, though. There are a few food professionals and chocolatiers who don't buy the hype. They believe that the bean's origins don't indicate quality or flavor once they're roasted, conched, tempered, blended and mixed. ""The art of chocolate-making is in blending. People who think just about percentage or just about origin stop tasting and just focus on some kind of concept that is constantly changing," says Robert Steinberg, a founder of Scharffen Berger chocolate here in California.

I guess I can't blame people, though. It seems that all of us are constantly chasing the next big thing, trying to predict, buy, market and push what's next on the forefront. Heck, we did it with mojitos, with pomegranates, with cupcakes, with hot sauces and olive oils, chocolate had to be next, naturally. Go ahead and eat your fancy chocolate, but please don't let it become something else it need not be.

Ok, off my soapbox and back to my day job. I've got a case of amazing single-origin bars from Venezuela, 70%, if you're interested. You just have to taste them!

Heaven from Down Under

2006-02-07T21:26:00.000-08:00

Every once in a while I find a line of products that really knock my socks off. In typical Matt-style, I go overboard, hoarding cases and boxes of said product, eating it until I can take no more. Then I start all over again. Somewhere in between I force friends and family to listen to me rant and rave, pushing bites of this week's new flavor right down their throats. Sometimes I'm met with acceptance, usually it's with resistance, unfortunately. It seems not everyone wants to share my love of high-quality anchovies in glass, or perhaps they don't get excited over Shaft's Ellie's Vintage Blue eaten alongside every meal for a week. Come on, people, work with me!

If you know me you know how much I love cheese. You also know that I always have a ridiculous amount of it left over from photo shoots, tastings, samplings, etc. I believe that a cheese tray is one of life's greatest gustatory delights, but you can't just lob down a chevre or blue when friends come over and call it a day. Of course not. One must offer contrasting tastes and textures: that's where Valley Produce Company comes in.

I can't remember if it was last year's Fancy Food Show or a chance meeting of the taste buds, but I do know that ever since I tasted (read: devoured) Chris Smith's line of condiments I considered myself a loyal follower. Chris Smith started Valley Produce Company in late 2000 in Australia's Yarra Valley. Chris, a chef by trade, had a vision for high quality oils, honey and condiments and before long his dream became a reality. To say he's the hardest working man in self promotion would be an understatement, and this man travels the world telling his story and sampling his goods. Unfortunately his award-winning oils haven't made their way to the US just yet, but luckily we get to enjoy his Fruit Pyramids, which if you ask me, are the best things this side of heaven. A slice of his pear & hazelnut fruit spread with a bite of brie? I'm drooling as I type.

Then there's his Truffle Infused Honey. This is the product that causes everyone to react the same way the first time they taste it. First there's silence, then the eyes rolls back as a wave of pleasure takes over, a temporary state of bliss kicks in which is followed by a "OH MY GOD I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT". Trust me, it happens every single time. Even for those who don't particularly care for truffles. It might be so good because Chris personally hunts for truffles in France himself (ok, he has a pig that helps him, seriously). Or it might be because there are a few ounces of sliced truffles in each jar. Or maybe because the honey comes from bees from his own farm–is there anything this guy doesn't do? Whatever it is, this honey is something I cannot do without. Drizzled on a pungent blue cheese and enjoyed with fruit makes me a very, very happy boy.

Oh, back to that bit about hoarding boxes and cases of stuff. If you're too far away to stop by my house for some cheese, wine and a tasting of Valley Produce Company's line of products, I urge you to hunt this stuff down and experience it for yourself. It really is that good.

Figs stuffed with blue cheese and wrapped in proscuitto drizzled with truffle honey

Ingredients
15 figs
8 slices of proscuitto cut in half
200 grams blue cheese cut into 1x2cm rectangle
Valley Produce Company Truffle Honey

Method  Cut a star in the top of the fig and stuff the blue cheese in the fig. Wrap in the proscuitto and secure with a tooth pick. Bake at 180.c for 10 min on a greased tray and the figs Should be soft. Drizzle with the truffle honey and serve immediately. Serve on a plate with rocket (or as we Americans call it arugula).

Peace, Love and Granola

2006-02-04T14:00:00.000-08:00

I've always thought it was a bit funny that I got my start in the advertising business at Whole Foods Market. Well, that's not so funny in and of itself, but I started at a time when the company was very, very small and not quite the big flashy natural food conglomerate that it is today. We were all branded as hippies, and granola was not only something we sold but also a not-so-pleasant adjective used to describe the shoppers and employees. I wasn't a peace-loving vegetarian exactly, but I never found it quite fair to use granola as an insult. Oh, some people!

Fast forward 15 years later. While I still may dabble in meatless alternatives from time to time and partake in all things tempeh and tofu on occasion, granola is still a part of my world on a regular basis. Next to oatmeal in the morning, granola is to me the perfect breakfast, snack and all around crunchy companion. Add fruit and it's a meal; bake it into bars and it's an amazing dessert. It's never mysteriously complex but always hearty, and that might be why it's often maligned as a god-like food for the birkenstock and vegan set.

Making granola at home is easy, and it lends itself to experimentation quite well (disclosure: I am not a cook with an exacting nature; a dash of this and a dash of that has always been my M.O. and also the reason you'll never ever ever see me baking). This is one of my regular recipes courtesy of Whole Foods, and next to guacamole, it's probably the only thing that's dairy-free and vegetarian that ever comes out of my kitchen!

Nutmeg & Almond Granola

3 cups old fashioned rolled oats
3 tablespoons oat flour or whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup slivered, blanched almonds
1/2 cup good quality honey
1/3 cup sunflower oil or canola oil
1 teaspoon almond extract
1/2 to 1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg, or to taste
1/8 teaspoon sea salt

Blend the oats, flour and almonds together in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together the maple syrup or honey, oil, almond extract, nutmeg and salt. Add to the oat mixture, stirring well to coat.

Place mixture on a large cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Bake for one hour, stirring and turning granola over half way during baking to break up lumps. Allow the granola to cool completely then store in an airtight container.

Serve with milk, soy milk, yogurt, or fruit. Or just eat plain out of hand. You can't go wrong.

MMMac & Cheese

2006-01-23T15:46:00.000-08:00

You know, it's probably because I am currently on a "severe caloric restriction program" that everywhere I turn I am incessantly reminded of one of god's gifts to mankind and maybe my most favorite food item on earth: cheese. Perhaps it's the universe's way of reminding me that patience is a virtue, gluttony is #3 on that chart I don't like to look at, and everything should be appreciated in moderation (yea, right). Well, the wise sage who wrote those things probably didn't understand the love contained in a small bite of artisan chevre, the unending pleasure in the sharpest of blues, and the unconditional love of a true cave-aged gruyere. I can assure you that they didn't have a wheel of Mimolette in their fridge left over from a photo shoot, either. Why else would they say such hateful things?

It wasn't an article in January 4th's edition of the New York Times entitled ""The Winter Cook: Macaroni and Lots of Cheese" that led me to jump the dietary ship. It wasn't my co-worker telling me that she's perfected the perfect crunchy topping on her homemade mac and cheese. Folks, the reason I'm sure to put those lost pounds back on is really all Martha's fault. Yes, THAT Martha.

This morning while enjoying oatmeal WITHOUT anything and a banana I turned to page 26 of Martha Stewart Living and read an article on cheese. Oh Martha, aren't you cute standing there in front of that counter of cheese, those wedges and slices screaming out to me saying "EAT US MATT! WHO CARES IF YOU'RE FAT - YOU ARE MARRIED AND WE'RE SO CREAMY!". Yes! Martha, I'd love to hear about you devouring "an entire wedge" of Mimolette while you were a young lady traveling in Paris. Sure, I'd like to read about the proper ways to serve cheese while I consume a vegan breakfast at 7am. Go ahead, add insult to injury, I certainly don't mind.

That's it. As of today I'm letting that glorious piece of cheese come out of my fridge and shine like the superstar that it truly is. I'm going to enjoy it for all its worth - in multiple servings, even. I'm going to put on sweat pants and jump into a big, warm comforting bowl of mac and cheese, and I will bury my face in it unashamedly. I will rinse my lips with a good red wine and sleep like a baby, diet be damned.

Mac & Cheese with Parmesan Crumb Topping
It was a surplus wheel of Mimolette that led to the creation of this recipe last year. Yes, it has an insane amount of cheese– invite the family over. Mimolette, the French cheese produced in Normandy, is basically a mature Edam. Nutty, rich, fruity, it gets its color from a natural dye known as annatto.

Ingredients:
1 lb macaroni
12 tablespoons unsalted butter
6 tablespoons flour
1 sprig of fresh thyme
4 1/2 cups milk
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/2 lb Mimolette cheese, shredded
1/2 lb Grafton 4-year aged cheddar, aged
For the topping:
1 cup dry bread crumbs
1/2 cup grated Parmesan
2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Method:
1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil and add the macaroni. Cook until tender and drain well. Heat the oven to 375 degrees and butter a 9x13-inch baking dish.
2. In a saucepan, melt butter over medium heat and then add the flour and thyme, stirring constantly. Slowly whisk the milk into the butter and flour until smooth and blended. Raise the heat to medium high, whisking constantly until boiling. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes until thickened, then lower the heat and simmer for 10 minutes, stirring constantly.
3. Remove the thyme sprig and pour the sauce into a large bowl. Add the shredded cheese and stir until it begins to melt. Add pasta and toss together, then pour the entire mixture into the baking dish.
4. Toss the breadcrumbs and parmesan with the melted butter and spread over the top. Bake about 40 minutes, until sizzling and lightly browned.

Confessions of a Saltoholic

2006-01-19T13:49:00.000-08:00

A heavyweight in the annals of food history, the tiny little element known as sodium chloride has played a valuable role in culture and societies the world over. Ancient Chinese folklore tells of the discovery of salt, it's been valued by ancient Hebrews and Greeks, used as currency by Romans, and been the subject of countless tales and fables.

Our bodies need it, animals (man included) crave it, plants use it, too. But the pleasures it brings to the palate can't be ignored, either. Salt not only enhances the food we eat (not to mention preserves them), but it also intensifies their flavors, oftentimes suppressing unpleasant flavors like bitterness. It can balance a recipe, make things sweeter, create a contrast and oftentimes tone down something that may be too sweet (cake frosting immediately comes to mind). Without salt things just don't sparkle. Or at least that's how my tongue sees it.

Salt comes from two sources – the land and the sea. Most of the salt on the market today is mined, coming from large deposits left by dried and evaporated salt lakes throughout the world. Table Salt, a refined salt with additives (such as sodium iodine) as well as other ingredients to keep it free flowing, is widely used in cooking and flavoring. Kosher salt, with its additive-free coarse texture, is used by some Jews in the preparation of food and by those who prefer its large texture and crunch. Rock Salt is less refined as other salts, often leaving many impurities behind, not to mention that greyish-blue hue. Sea salt is the result of the evaporation of sea water, a time consuming method used throughout history (and also my personal favorite).

Much to the disappointment of my mother who strived for balance in all things, I am a bona fide big-time Salt Freak. I travel with my own, make sure I keep my stash with me at work, and have enough in my kitchen to preserve a herd of animals. Not satisfied with just one variety, my pantry is full of red salt from Hawaii (the clay from the earth in which its harvested imparts a bright red color), Australian salt harvested from 5 million year old lakebeds, American pacific sea salt smoked over alderwood, Welsh salt harvested from water from the Menai Strait, and Bali sea salt that's smoked over coconut shells and kaffir lime leaves. Not to worry Mom, I'm making sure that I don't enjoy them all at one time.

Below are four of my favorite recipes that feature salt as an integral part of the dish. All are relatively easy, but make sure you use a high quality salt. I think it makes all the difference in the world.

Salt-Crusted Rockfish with Arugula

This recipe comes from Chef Jose Andres. I've substituted trout on a few occasions, it's just as delicious. And anything with arugula (also known as rocket) is a-ok in my book.

Rockfish:
1 (3-pound) whole rockfish, scaled, with fins removed (known in Spanish as Besugo)
Leaves from 2 sprigs fresh rosemary
Leaves from 2 sprigs fresh thyme
4 pounds coarse sea salt
Water, as needed
Freshly ground pepper, as needed
Arugula:  Spanish extra-virgin olive oil, as needed  1 pound arugula  Fleur de sel, garnish

Make the Rockfish: Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. In a bowl, combine the rosemary, thyme, and salt with enough water to form a paste. Spread a layer of the salt paste, about half of it, on the bottom of a baking dish. Place snapper on top of the salt paste. Carefully spread the remaining salt paste over top of the snapper, being careful to cover it completely. Bake fish for 25 minutes.

Meanwhile, make the arugula: Heat a small amount of the olive oil in a skillet over high heat. Quickly saute the arugula until wilted. Sprinkle with salt, to taste, and set aside.

To Serve: Break the salt crust along the sides. Remove the upper crust from the fish taking care to keep the crust whole. (If you break the upper crust or crack into the fish from the top, the fish will turn out salty.) Gently remove the fillets. Arrange the arugula around the edge of the platter and drizzle the fillets with olive oil and season with pepper. Sprinkle fleur de sel over the top.

Lemongrass Lemonade

Ever since discovering this recipe I have a hard time going back to standard lemonade. The addition of the pinch of salt make this drink sparkle.

1 cup sugar
2 stalks lemongrass, bruised slightly with side of knife and cut into 1/2-inch pieces
3 cups water
1 cup fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup fresh lime juice
pinch of sea salt
2 cups ice
1 lemon, thinly slices

In a small saucepan, combine sugar, lemongrass pieces and water; bring to a boil and stir to dissolve sugar. Lower heat and simmer 20 minutes. Remove syrup from heat, let it rest for about an hour. Strain it into a glass pitcher. Just before serving, add the lemon and lime juices and salt to syrup mixture. Stir well and add ice. Garnish with lemon slices.

Preserved Lemons

It seems many food bloggers I read are enchanted by this recipe; after I made a few batches I can see why. With its endless uses, this Moroccan recipe is packed with flavor, and the syrup tastes heavenly in a Bloody Mary. Not that I drink them alot. Yea, right.

5 lemons
1/4 cup sea salt (more if needed)
1 cinnamon stick
3 cloves
4-5 coriander seeds
4-5 black peppercorns
1 bay leaf

Quarter the lemons and place them into a large non-reactive bowl. Mash sea salt into the flesh of each piece, releasing a bit of lemon juice. Once you've done this to each piece, layer the mashed lemon pieces into a sterilized mason jar with the other ingredients. Top with extra salt if desired. Once sealed, let the lemons cure in a dark place, turning daily to mix the ingredients. The lemons should be ready to go after 30 days. To use, rinse the lemon under cold water, discarding the pulp and flesh. Preserved lemons will keep for up to one year.

Lemon Rosemary Salt

To me this is the perfect condiment. It's lemony, herby, salty and delicious. Great on roasted chicken and a natural on lamb. I dig it on popcorn, too.

2 tablespoons minced fresh rosemary
2 tablespoons very finely minced lemon zest
2 tablespoons sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Combine all ingredients thoroughly and enjoy.

Food & Growing Up

2006-01-12T14:31:00.000-08:00

I love food. I love everything about food. It's what I do. It's who I am.

Growing up Mexican in Texas, I developed a passion and appreciation for food, realizing that the kitchen was indeed the center of the house. It was the center of our house. To my family food meant love, and sitting down to a meal was a way to share and connect with each other. It's a philosophy and tradition that I still hold dear today.

I owe my palate and passion for culinary adventurousness nature to my mother and father. Being first generation Americans connected us to old tastes and traditions of Mexico, but it also made for a delicious culture clash of ingredients, methods and stories. It wasn't unheard of to sit down to a dinner of corned beef and cabbage with a side of beans and rice, and I've learned that anything–from a frankfurter to peanut butter and jelly–always tastes better wrapped in a tortilla.

I thank my beautiful mother for teaching me what fresh produce, meat and seafood is all about, and shunning processed canned and overly manipulated foods packed with sugar and salt. I like to think her culinary artistry has genetically trickled down in some way to me (as the oldest of 13 children she knows her way around the kitchen, and her days in catering and as a chef only prove this). I thank my wonderful father for his love of cheese, and it's also a reason why at any given moment you'll find no less than six types from all over the world in my fridge. And while I still can't do it quite like he does, he also taught me how to grill. I doubt I'll ever reach his level of mastery.

Mom and dad, if you're reading this, thank you for giving me the opportunity to be myself on every level and to gorge myself at every turn...and, for creating a home filled with endless love, sweet music and spicy enchiladas. I love you both more than words can possibly express.

Winter Citrus

2005-12-19T21:11:00.000-08:00

winter citrus collage
Originally uploaded by MatthewA.

If you're anything like me, your relationship with citrus fruits usually went no further than the occasional twist in a martini or fresh lime juice for homemade margaritas (do you see a pattern here?). Sure, they add zip and zing to just about everything, have been used by people the world over for hundreds of years and prevented traveling sailors from coming down with that awful Barlow's disease, but seriously folks, how exciting could citrus fruits REALLY be?

It was a work assignment a few years ago that made me fall in love with winter citrus.
I had to put together a small winter citrus guide, complete with recipes, history, varieties and flavor profiles. I ate my way through cases of Meyers, crates of clementines, bags of pomelos, devouring key limes and kumquats and everything in between. Rest assured this boy wasn't ever gettin' scurvy, that's for damn sure. What developed after that project (along with a permanent sour puckerface) was a true appreciation of citrus. I experimented in the kitchen, testing and making things like Texas Grapefruit Pie ('twas horrible, don't ask, and I'm even from Texas), homemade limoncello, Moroccan-style preserved lemons, Mexican candied orange slices, satsuma dressing, grapefruit pomander, the list goes on. I squeezed, juiced, zested and baked myself to a Vitamin C nirvana. Some things were quite delicious, other recipes were ruined by citrus' uncanny ability to bully just about everything else it comes in contact with. Live and learn, live and learn.

The color of citrus fruits only develop in climates with a cool winter, which is why a huge percentage of American grown citrus comes from California, Texas and Florida. Winter citrus is beginning to trickle in now, and some of the more unique varieties are coming to market as we speak, so it's time to get in the kitchen and start experimenting. Out of everything I tested, one salad recipe became a favorite in our house, and during the peak of winter citrus season I can't help but prepare this at least three times a week. I'm obsessed with it. My friends laugh at me and wonder how on earth something so simple can yield such spectacular flavors, but come on people, it's from Alice Waters, one of the pioneers of fresh, simple California cuisine. If you make this and don't like it, well, I just don't know what to tell you. You'll make me sad.

Alice Waters's Avocado, Grapefruit, and Curly Endive Salad with Citrus Dressing

6 small heads curly endive
1 large shallot
2 tablespoons white wine or champagne vinegar
1 lemon
1 orange
Salt
2 grapefruit
3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
3 avocados

Wash and spin dry the curly endive. For this salad, use only the
blanched hearts and save the green leaves for cooking greens.

Peel the shallot and dice it fine. Let macerate with the vinegar, 1
tablespoon each of lemon juice and orange juice, and a pinch of salt.

Cut away the grapefruit peel, all the pith below, and the membrane
around the grapefruit flesh. Then cut the sections free, carefully
slicing along the membranes. Peel a little lemon and orange zest and
finely chop enough to make about 1/4 teaspoon of each.

When you are ready to assemble the salad, whisk the olive oil into the
shallot mixture. Add the orange and lemon zest and taste. Add more
olive oil or lemon juice if necessary. Cut the avocados in half
lengthwise. Remove the pits. Using a sharp knife, cut the avocados
into lengthwise slices about the same size as the grapefruit sections,
keeping the skin on. Scoop out the slices with a large spoon. Toss the
curly endive and grapefruit sections in a bowl with about two thirds
of the dressing. Taste the salad and add more salt if necessary.
Arrange on a platter or individual dishes. Distribute the avocado
alongside the endive and grapefruit, season them with a pinch of salt,
and drizzle the rest of the dressing over them.

Serves 6

Matt's notes: I prefer bibb lettuce (also known as Butter or Boston Lettuce), as the endive texture can be a bit too curly and then you have dressing all over your mouth. Oh heck, just skip the greens altogether and eat the grapefruit and avocado tossed in the dressing. Lord knows I've done that a thousand times.

Norman

2005-12-13T07:48:00.000-08:00

Norman
Originally uploaded by MatthewA.

A question I often get asked when talking with friends about my work is “You seriously really use a food stylist? What on earth do they do and can I get that job”? Well folks, it’s true – there are people that get paid (quite handsomely, I must add) to make everything you see in photos and on television look picture perfect. A common misconception is that it’s all trickery, that a stylist’s toolkit is filled with rubber, foam, fake food and dulling spray; well, those are only a few things in there. It’s a fascinating career, requiring the skills of a chef, a stylist, a magician and a whole lot of patience. I sat down with Norman Stewart, a friend and a food stylist that I work with to ask him a few questions about his career and working with food.

Norman is quite a character, to say the least. Born and raised in Britain, Normal started culinary school at the age of 16, realizing at an early age that French cuisine was his passion. After graduation he spent over 10 years as a private chef on a 67-million dollar yacht (don’t you feel sorry for him now?), sailing the world and feeding celebrities, dignitaries, art dealers and royalty. He gave up the sea and moved to New York where a chance meeting with a photographer introduced him to the world of food styling and he’s been doing it ever since.

Norman’s work in print and broadcast is extensive, and he’s worked with some of the world’s leading photographers on campaigns. He currently has a centerspread in this month’s Vanity Fair magazine featuring the cast of Nip/Tuck and a very wobbly turkey. You may also know his work from the Got Milk? Campaign. Who else do you think paints those milk mustaches on celebrities?

Q. Norman, you’ve been a food stylist for 12 years. Who have you worked with?

Bon Apetit magazine, Gourmet magazine, Target, K Mart, Vanity Fair magazine, anywhere there’s food in a shot I’ve probably done it.

Q. What do you enjoy the most about your job?

I get the opportunity to work with some of the most amazing photographers. Annie Liebowitz, David La Chapelle, Norman Jean Roy, to name a few. I worked with Herb Ritts for many years before he passed away.

Q. You work in Los Angeles and New York City. With all your knives and tools, how do you get your toolkit through airport security?

I only travel with a small few essentials; the rest I buy when I get there.

Q. What are your current projects?

Well, I just finished another Got Milk campaign in New York featuring Elle McPherson and recently did an album cover for a reissue of a Herb Alpert CD. Do you know the cover of “Whipped Cream & Other Delights”? It was a recreation of that image, but I decided to use shaving cream on the model. Oh, the places I had to make sure it covered! I had my fingers EVERYWHERE!

(It’s at this point that Norman, in his very animated style, tells me where he had to apply the shaving cream and then uses a string of very “interesting” words. My mom reads my blog, so out of respect, let’s just say it was pretty graphic and hilarious.)

Q. What’s the most unusual thing you’ve had to do as a stylist?

It was an album cover for Meat Loaf, the singer. I had to make a steak as big as a pool table. It was made out of tons of cut steaks glued together and then covered in fake blood. It was absolutely disgusting.

It sure sounds like it.

A Jump Start On The New Year's Resolution

2005-12-05T13:54:00.000-08:00

donuts
Originally uploaded by MatthewA.

(a/k/a yea right but I gotta try anyway)

I thought I'd try to get a tiny little jumpstart on the new year by revisiting and rediscovering my gym membership. I've put on an undisclosed amount of weight (twenty pounds but you didn't hear that from me) ever since getting married and after a recent clean bill of health from my doc I figured I should do something about it.

Of course diet and proper nutrition fits into the losing-weight equation. I don't eat terribly; in fact, I'm not a big fast food person. But when you are around food, day in and day out, testing recipes and tasting new things, well, it gets hard to discipline oneself.

I've compiled a list of things that won't be a part of my world in the next few months.

1. DONUTS
OH MY GOD I LOVE DONUTS! I LOVE THEM I DO I DO!!! But as far as sweets go they just aren't the smartest choice, simply not enough bang for their caloric buck. Goodbye, Krispy Kreme.

2. BEEF
It may be what's for dinner, but not MY dinner. I've got a cholesterol level to keep in check, and after last summer's trip to Argentina I've already made my annual quota for beef consumption.

3. CARBONATED SODA BEVERAGES.
I actually don't drink Coke or Pepsi or Sprite at all but I wanted to put something on my list that I could easily adhere to.

4. SAMOSAS
See, life just ain't fair, y'all. I've recently discovered a take-away Indian restaurant that is directly between my home and office and they have amazing, delicious samosas that I love and dream about and want to hug. They're truly that good. I guess I'll find a new route to work.

THINGS I PROMISE TO EAT MORE OF:
1. Raw vegetables
2. Nuts
3. Brown Rice
4. Salmon, especially during peak seasons
5. Beets

Hey! I just noticed something! If I add cheese to numbers 1-5 I might actually stick to it my list. YAY I am so happy now!

2005-12-05T13:09:00.001-08:00

Burrata

(The following is a short piece I wrote last year after tasting burrata for the first time. What's scary is that the only way I could stop myself from eating it everyday was to write about it. I'm currently in Burrata recovery and celebrating my 12-month anniversary. I think I'm gonna be just fine.)

An Open Letter To My Paramour

I don't really know the best way to address this, so I guess I'm going to jump right in. I've been relatively silent about this because I didn't want to hurt your feelings, but I can't keep this bottled up inside me a moment longer.

I want to break up with you.

Please, just hear me out. I want independence, I want to move on, I want to be free to see others, and above all you must know it's no reflection on you. In fact, I'll only speak good things about you to family and friends, and I'll remember our times with a smile on my face.

Burrata, I remember the day I met you like it was yesterday. Until that point I'd never met a cheese like you; a fresh milk cheese with a soft, buttery center made from fresh cream and unspun mozzarella curds, all living inside that luscious firm mozzarella casing. You really knocked me off my socks that first time. Never had I met a cheese so young, so fresh, so relatively new. It was love at first sight. And taste.

Our first few dates were simply amazing and they are times that I will treasure for the rest of my life. Do you remember that time this past summer we hung out with those heirlooms and olive oil? Absolutely delicious. Or how about that time we met up with those toasted filberts and haricot vert? Magical. But the best times we had were just us alone, extra ingredients not allowed. I realized I didn't need anyone else but you and I think that's where things went south.

Please don't take this the wrong way, but I kind of feel suckered into your charm and good taste. Sure, our dates 3 or 4 times a week were fine at first, but I just can't do it anymore. Do you realize the pressure your 5-day shelf life puts on me? Do you even know that I've been totally ignoring all other cheeses since we met? I'd usually hang out at least once a week with Zamorano and Cabrales, but I've all but shunned them for you. Stilton won't even return my phone calls. And I know for a fact that Dry Jack wouldn't even consider me a friend anymore. I'm not telling you this to make you turn sour, I'm only saying it because I want you to realize the powerful hold you had on me and my tastebuds. But not anymore.

I know this isn't easy and we're bound to run into each other in the future. Please know that I don't have any bad feelings about you, in fact I do look forward to seeing you at the occasional dinner and cheese tray. And if those sweet, fresh milky memories come flooding back into my heart, go easy on me. With your flavor, it's the least you can do.

I'll always love you, my sweet Burrata.

Matt

2005-12-05T12:43:00.000-08:00

Yet Another Food Blog?

Well folks, I'm afraid so. You see, after years of failed (read: lazy) attempts at blogging I have decided to give it one last shot. I won't even pretend to to come close to the upper echelon of food bloggers that bring us delicious tidbits on a regular basis. Instead, this blog will be about the things that strike my fancy, food news and products and menus that I encounter on a daily basis, in regular life and my travels. I do hope you'll enjoy it, and for god's sakes, leave comments and say hello!

About me...
I've been a professional food-freak for over 15 years, starting my career in marketing with Whole Foods Market in the early 1990s. I've since moved on, all the while wearing many hats (writer, creative director, art director, recipe tester, stylist and photographer, to name a few). I'm still in the food business, loving each and every day. I get to taste, write and dream about food...what's not to love about that?

I'm a very lucky boy.