Happy New Year's Eve!

I'm soaking a big bowl full of black eyed peas for tomorrow's traditional Southern meal, listening to the Black Eyed Peas, and getting ready for New Year's Eve.

The plans for this wild one include a two hour yoga class, followed by tamales, bubbles, chocolate, and conversation.

Tonight is going to be a good night and that this next year can't help but be the best one yet -- right?

Happy New Year's Eve to you, and you, and you.
xo

Praise the Lard!

This is quite possibly the best gift I gave this year.
And, I must say, my brother looks smashing in his
proclamation of love for lard. Our two Southern Grandmothers
would be proud.

Marinated Hanger Steak Ssam with Ginger Scallion Sauce

One of the highlights of 2009 was two trips to New York to work with my agent on the early chapters of my book. I always stayed at the same place -- a charming brownstone B&B just off Union Square, and I always ate at Momofuku Ssam and Bakery Bar, on 2nd Avenue and 13th Street. I might have eaten at Momofuku too much -- other than a lunch at Union Square Cafe and cannele from Balthazar I can't say I recall any other New York meals. Except for the Shake Shack this July. And lamb sliders at Little Owl, and...

But oh, my Momofuku meals -- they were so, so good. I was more than a bit pleased to unwrap the new Momofuku cookbook on Christmas morning, a perfect gift from my dear friend Suzi. And last night I cracked the cover to make Marinated Hanger Steak Ssam with Ginger Scallion Sauce -- one of the few recipes in the book that does not require crazy ingredients (pigs feet) or amazing prep and cook times.

Ok, that isn't true. After I made my grocery store list I discovered that the steaks were supposed to marinate for 24 hours. But by this point I was hell bent on eating this dish for dinner, so I threw caution to the wind and marinated the meat for only about two and a half hours, and it worked fine. On a whim, we boiled the remaining marinade into a sauce that tasted delicious spooned over the accompanying white rice.

We also threw some shrimp onto the grill, along with a few of the onions, and served it all with the Momofuku ginger scallion sauce and some steamed broccoli. We poured a crisp white and ate and drank and talked and reveled in flavors that hadn't been as present at the table this last week -- green and clean and fresh and healthy, good promises for a new year.

Marinated Hanger Steak Ssam with Ginger Scallion Sauce
From the Momofuku Cookbook
For steak:
2 cups apple juice
1/4 cup light soy sauce
1/2 onion, thinly sliced
5-6 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon Asian sesame oil
1 teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
Four, 8 ounce, hanger steaks
1. Make the marinade: combine apple juice, soy, onion, garlic, sesame oil, fresh ground pepper in a large freezer bag and seal and shake to combine. Add the steaks and seal tightly, marinate in fridge for 24 hours.
2. Light a good hot fire on your grill -- we used a grill pan and it worked perfectly.
3. Remove steaks from marinade. Grill for 6 to 10 minutes total for medium rare, taking care to char the two flattest sides of the steak, which should take about two minutes per side. Monitor doneness closely after that -- depending on how hot the fire is they could be cooked in about 6 to 8 minutes. When they're ready, remove the steaks to a platter and let them rest for at least 5 minutes -- more is fine.
4. When ready to serve -- sauces made & lettuce washed, etc.-- cut the steaks into 1/4 inch thick slices, cutting on the bias. Serve steaks flanked by accompaniments.

Ginger Scallion Sauce
2 and 1/2 cups thinly sliced scallions (greens and whites, from 1 to 2 large bunches)
1/2 cup finely minced peeled fresh ginger
1/4 cup grapeseed or other neutral oil
1 and 1/2 teaspoon soy sauce
3/4 teaspoon sherry vinegar
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt, or more to taste
Mix together scallions, ginger, oil, soy, vinegar, and salt in a bowl. Taste and check for salt, adding more if needed. It's best after 15 to 20 minutes of rest, it will keep for a day or two in the fridge. Makes about 3 cups, easily halved.

P.S. This is a great easy dish -- perfect for a party. Maybe New Year's Eve?
P.P.S. Don't you love my mom's stove? And the light in the kitchen? It makes everything so good!

My Brother's Paella

My little brother made this amazing paella for dinner on Christmas Eve. When I asked him about the recipe, he smiled and said it was "all in his head."

But after his years spent diving into the throes of the Spanish language and six months living in Spain, I'd argue this recipe is more firmly implanted in his heart.

Sometimes the best ones can't be written down, and that's just fine with me.

Holiday Sweets & Treats

Sweets for the sweet on Christmas Eve.

Winter Lentil Soup

As I am writing this I am staring out the window at piles and piles of fresh snow. Goodbye California, Hello Utah! And this was the soup that got me here -- it kept me warm and healthy amidst the stresses and debauchery of early December. You simply can't go wrong with lentils and greans: so wholesome, so good.

My soup is based on a recipe for Lentil Soup with Chipotle Yogurt I saw a couple of weeks ago on Sprouted Kitchen. I fully intended to make the soup just as the recipe was written. But Whole Foods was out of fennel. And then my pantry was out of cumin. And I had sour cream instead of yogurt...

Soon the recipe was becoming my own. With the added paprika it became smoky and earthy and dark, very wintery. Swirling in sour cream at the end seemed so decadent; it was a beautiful and very healthy soup.

I ate it for days and days and put some in the freezer. I can't wait to return to it in the new year.

Winter Lentil Soup
2 Cups Lentils (French or Black Beluga)
1 Yellow Onion, Diced
1 tbsp. Olive Oil
1 Cup Brown Rice, Cooked (any whole grain will work)
6 Cups Organic, Low Sodium Vegetable Stock
1 heaping teaspoon Spanish paprika
1 Large Bunch of Kale, Chard or Combo of Leafy Greens
Salt/ Pepper
Sour Cream, for serving

1. Cook your rice or desired grain and set aside. Boil about four cups water, and boil the lentils for 20 minutes until cooked. Add water as needed. Drain.
2. In a large soup pot, saute the yellow onion and the fennel in the olive oil for about 8 minutes, or until just starting to turn light brown. Add the stock and paprika. Bring the heat back up to a gentle boil, about 10 minutes.
3. Add the lentils and the brown rice and simmer about 10 minutes. While you are waiting, stem your greens and slice them into thin strips. Taste the soup for salt and pepper, add seasoning as desired.
4. Turn off the heat and add in the greens, stir. The greens will wilt in the hot soup, and avoid overcooking this way. Top with ample sour cream, good salt, and fresh pepper.

Holiday Market

I was all set to describe the lovely lentil and brown rice soup I made the other day; it has balanced my intake of wine, chocolate, and cookies for the past few days. But then I found these colorful photos from my trip to the Ferry Plaza Farmer's Market on Saturday. Isn't it amazing that what is in season is vibrantly red and green?

It was a perfect San Francisco morning: foggy at first and then clear with blue skies and sunshine. I arrived at the market early, got my Blue Bottle coffee and wandered. The market was slow to get busy -- a blessed, blessed thing. Usually it is packed with throngs of people and that is what I expected on the Saturday before Christmas.

But people must have stayed out late or had too much to drink. Only the stalwart foodies were out. I bought some apples, pears, and clementines and chatted with a friend picking up his Christmas goose.

Then, just as the market started to get busy, I bought a muffin and escaped to a bench to watch the morning unfold. I've been a little slow to get into the spirit this year but my market trip did a good job of putting me in the mood. It almost made me wish for a California Christmas.

Maybe some day.

Un-Silent Night

We are in the time of the year when alcohol is flowing. I have been to a holiday party or two, out for drinks, had mimosas for breakfast, and sipped a hot toddy. Whatever I am doing, it seems to involve alcohol. Home has begun to feel like a place to dry out and catch up: eat something healthy, take my vitamins, rest and be quiet.

But sometimes in those quiet moments, I find myself craving a big glass of wine. I am in a red phase, deep, dark, inky red. It goes so well with the food of the season. But it is also a nice, austere dessert wine. I pour a glass, turn on the holiday tunes and get to work writing, or wrapping, or making my holiday to-do. Before I know it, the glass is done and I am warm and content.

But there's a little problem: opening an entire bottle can be such a commitment. For example -- last night I wanted a single glass of wine to sip at while watching Annie Hall and folding laundry. But my plans for Sunday and Monday were in flex, and opening an entire bottle just for myself seemed like such a waste. I could go out for a glass, but I couldn't take Annie. I could drink tea instead, but I really wanted wine.

I went out for a walk to think about it. It was crisp and cold and there were lights up everywhere. I passed a packed restaurant almost every block. Everywhere people were gathering to celebrate the season-- there wasn't room for me at any of those restaurants or bars. That was ok.

I ended up at my favorite local market, staring at full sized bottles of wine like a child on the candy aisle: longingly. And then a little red can caught my eye. It was Sofia Blanc de Blanc. In a brilliant marketing campaign the Niebaum- Coppola people have packaged this sparkling wine in candy-apple red cans that are vaguely reminiscent of the Tab soda my mother used to drink in the 80s. But this little package is filled with ever so much more fun.

The Sofia can is small and cute and shiny. There are curly ques and it comes with a little red straw. It was like my own private holiday party in a can. It was exactly what I wanted.

I went home, cracked open my sparkling and stuck in the petite straw. The wine was imperfect in comparison to the French champagnes I love and covet, but for this night, the holiday party for one featuring a guest appearance by Annie Hall, it was perfect.

Wines to Heal Heartache

Hi Friends,
Christmas is one week from today. I will be in Utah with the snow and my family, eating generous portions of hot strata and Christmas bread and drinking too much coffee. I know it will be lovely.

But today, I feel like I drank one too many gin and tonics last night, and ate a greasy burger, and a couple too many squares of very dark chocolate. I am a little sad, and even my new Chanel glasses that I need for reading and working on the computer can't cheer me up.

Still, I wanted to share a little something: my recent writing from Palate Press.
I'd love it if you read it; and I'd love it even more if you offered your favorite wine suggestions. You know, the bottles that help perk you up when you are having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

xoxo

Strata: A Holiday Tale & Recipe

This post appeared on The Kitchn yesterday. Thank you Kitchn!

I am not exactly sure what most people eat for breakfast on Christmas morning. There is often a lot of talk about dinner: roasts and hams, traditional side dishes, and glittering desserts. But the day has to start somehow; you can’t dig through stockings and unwrap presents on an empty stomach. And it’s Christmas, so it better be special. That means no bowls of cold cereal or skimpy slices of toast.

For as long as I can remember we have eaten the same breakfast every Christmas morning: my mother’s savory egg strata, citrusy ambrosia made from my Southern Grandmother’s recipe, and a wreath shaped bread stuffed with walnuts, cinnamon, and raisins, drizzled with vanilla glaze, and doused with red and green sprinkles, an annual gift from a dear friend.

My Mother prepares the strata, essentially a savory bread pudding with eggs, sausage, and cheddar cheese, the day before and bakes it on Christmas morning. My Dad wakes up early, lights a fire, and queues some holiday music. It is hard to say what wakes me first: the eggy, cheesy smell of the strata, the noise of coffee percolating, or music and the sounds of rustling paper as the dog pokes her nose into the presents.

As a child we were encouraged to “eat a little something first” before starting to open the gifts. This didn’t work then, and it doesn’t now. Even as a group of adults, we still eat buffet style, loading up a plate in the dining room before sitting around the tree to poke through stockings and presents. We lounge and pick at the breakfast food all day. My brother eats seconds and thirds of the strata, I always have at least two hunks of the sweet holiday bread. And several cups of coffee. And, eventually, a big nap.

By the end of the morning it is usually afternoon. We marvel at the fact that the breakfast platters have been picked clean, stare at the papers and ribbons strewn across the living room, and ponder taking a walk in the snow. “Fresh air would be good, right?” someone always says. “After all, it will be time for dinner soon.”

Christmas Breakfast Strata
From my family to yours; enjoy!
6 slices bread, preferably a dense Italian style loaf, cut 3/4 of an inch thick
1 pound pork sausage
1 teaspoon prepared mustard
1 ample cup shredded cheddar cheese (it’s Christmas, go big with the cheese!)
4 eggs, slightly beaten
1 and 1/2 cup whole milk
3/4 cup half and half
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
dash of nutmeg
1 teaspoon Worchestershire sauce

Trim crust from bread and fit it into the bottom of a 10 by 16 baking pan. Brown sausage and drain off any excess fat. Stir mustard into sausage. Spoon sausage evenly over bread, and sprinkle with grated cheese. Combine remaining ingredients (eggs, milk, half and half, salt, pepper, nutmeg, and Worchestershire sauce) and then pour over cheese and sausage. Bake at 350 for 25 to 30 minutes.

This can be made the day before and kept in the refrigerator. Allow extra time for baking if it has been refrigerated.
Serves 4 to 6 people.

Christmas Breakfast Strata

Curious about this? Head over to The Kitchn today to find the recipe and learn more about the breakfast strata my family eats every Christmas morning.
Thank you to The Kitchn for letting me do another guest post!

Cauliflower with Almonds, Capers, and Raisins

Gramercy Tavern in New York City is one of my favorite restaurants in the world. I have only eaten there once, for lunch, on a cold February day in 2007. I dined with the man that would become my literary agent, representing and shepherding me through the book writing process.

Our meal was perfect: perfect wine, perfect service, perfect food. The funny thing is, I don't exactly remember what I ate. I was too busy trying to appear smart and elegant. I felt I had to be savvy enough to convince this fellow I was a young writer worth taking a chance on. Luckily he did not see me nearly slip in my boots and fall on the way to the bathroom. Luckily he felt I was worth taking a chance on.

I know one thing I did not have for lunch at Gramercy Tavern on that February day: cauliflower. Even if I was a fan of cauliflower at the time (and I wasn't), a side of milky florets would have hardly seemed the right choice for such a potentially life changing meal.

Cauliflower is a better weeknight dish, which is when I made it. I was interested in this recipe solely because of the Gramercy Tavern connection. Though I like cauliflower, I hardly ever think of it passionately as I stroll the grocery store aisles.

But oh my, this cauliflower was divine. It was such a simple dish to make but tasted so decadent. I ate it several times again that week, always over fresh pasta with a splash of olive oil across the top for extra slipperiness and oomph.

After making this Gramercy Tavern dish at home, I long to return to the restaurant. I'd sit at the long wooden bar, order a glass of good French wine -- or two-- and a heaping plate of cauliflower. Yes, it is that good.

It is a dish that proves that sometimes the simple things are best, that memory is a great instigator of hunger, and that meals shared with friends are sometimes the best of all, even if you can't remember what you ate.

Cauliflower with Almonds, Capers, and Raisins
From Michael Anthony, Gramercy Tavern.
Another reason I was drawn to this recipe was the personal story behind it: When Chef Michael Anthony met his future wife, he was horrified to learn she did not like cauliflower. He set out on what he called a "cauliflower operation," creating five dishes to woo her and help her change her mind. This is one of the dishes. It would woo me, that's for sure -- but only if a suitor doubled the almonds, raisins, and capers in the dish. In my opinion there were not nearly enough.

1 head cauliflower, trimmed of leaves
1 and 1/2 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons fresh soft breadcrumbs
1 tablespoon plus one teaspoon extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons whole almonds
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons golden raisins
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar
1 tablespoon capers, rinsed and drained
1 teaspoon finely chopped parsley
1 teaspoon finely chopped tarragon
1 teaspoon finely chopped chives
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cut cauliflower from top to bottom in one-inch slices. Place a large ovenproof skillet over low heat and add one tablespoon butter. When it has melted, add bread crumbs and toss until toasted and golden brown, about 3 minutes. Transfer crumbs to a plate and wipe out pan.
2. Return pan to medium heat and add one teaspoon of olive oil. Add almonds and toss until lightly browned, 2 to 3 minutes. Season lightly with salt and pepper to taste. Transfer almonds to a plate, let cool, cut each almond into three pieces* and set aside.
3. Wipe out pan and return to medium heat. Add remaining one tablespoon olive oil and cauliflower slices. Saute until lightly browned on both sides. Transfer pan to oven and roast until tender, about 12 minutes. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan over low heat, melt remaining 1/2 tablespoon butter and add raisins, vinegar, and 1 tablespoon water. Simmer until raisins are plump and soft, about 5 minutes; drain and set aside. In a small bowl, combine almonds, capers, raisins, parsley, tarragon and chives. Season with salt and pepper, and toss to mix.
4. Arrange roasted cauliflower on a serving platter. Spoon almond-herb mixture evenly on top and sprinkle with toasted bread crumbs, serve immediately.
Yield: 4-ish servings
* Yes, believe it or not, it is possible to cut those roasted almonds into 3 pieces.

Contigo: With You

Sunday was a gray and cold day in San Francisco. By late afternoon I had done all the cleaning, writing, and on-line shopping I could do. I was going a bit stir crazy and decided a little jaunt and some fresh air was the perfect escape. It was not until I heard the door clicking behind me that I realized my keys were still inside. Just then, it started to rain.

Thankfully I was locked out with my journal, a good pen, and a box full of holiday cards. I made a few phone calls and discovered I had about five hours to kill before someone could come and rescue me. My stomach grumbled in protest. I went first to a coffee shop for tea, journal writing and Sunday New York Times reading. This did not take up nearly enough time.

Next I walked up the slick streets lined with lights, watching shoppers and shopkeepers. I stopped in front of Contigo, a small restaurant that seemed to be glowing from within. This was where I was going to have dinner.

Contigo means "with you." It is a small Spanish style tapas bar and cava cave. Unlike some hot and happening San Francisco restaurants, this place feels intimate, friendly, and neighborhoody; the kind of place you could easily find your self dining once a week.

Since I was eating alone they sat me at a the wine bar in the middle of the restaurant. They had just lined the molding with fresh greenery and the place smelled divine. When I told them I was locked out they smiled, then moaned, then poured me a large glass of rioja.

"What a perfect place to be," my waitress said -- and I agreed.

I ordered the soup -- lentil, pepper, and broccoli rab, and bread. As I ate I watched the restaurant fill up. It was early December so people were already starting to gather for holiday meals and friendly re-caps of the past year.

After a French press pot of Blue Bottle Coffee it was almost time to go home. But I was encouraged to stay. "Sit as long as you want," the waitress did. So I did, just a few minutes more, but long enough to marvel at how very unfortunate experiences can sometimes morph quickly into something beautiful.

Will Work for Coffee -- or Money.

As a poor writer I am frequently searching craigslist for jobs or gigs that allow me to work, make some money, and still have lots of time to devote to The Book. The other day I saw an ad for the making of a "coffee documentary." They asked for a statement about coffee and the role it plays in my life. In return (if chosen) I would get $450. Sounds good to me.

Here is what I jotted down this morning and sent off to the film makers. What do you think?

As a non-Mormon born and raised in Salt Lake City, Utah, coffee was a source of confusion and angst. Mormons disavow caffeine in any form and in the early 80s were inherently skeptical of those who did not share their faith and its practices. The mere sight of the coffee percolator on the counter top was enough to inspire pained looks, and in some cases, meant the end of a friendship. Who could be friends with a girl whose parents drank coffee?

Coffee ruled in my home; there were stiff pots brewed every morning My mother drank it all day, realizing only later that the not-so-subtle spike made her jittery in the afternoon and unable to sleep at nights, two side effects that may or may not have subtly influenced her mothering skills. As a little girl who was sometimes unable to sleep, the sound of coffee brewing meant the evening ten o’clock news was about to come on: my father always enjoyed a cup before bed. It is safe to say that I grew up thinking that if you sliced my arm open, coffee would flow.

Despite all this, I did not become interested in caffeine until college, even then I used it only as a way to stay up late and study. It usually didn’t work as well as I’d hoped. After college I moved to cold and rainy Seattle. This is where the love affair began. We’d collectively stop work at about ten in the morning and walk together to a sleek coffee shop with delightfully fogged windows for a frothy cappuccino or strong cup of joe.

Nearly ten years later, I am hardly myself in the mornings without my cup of coffee; hardly happy in the afternoon without the occasional pick-me-up, and relish a short, neat espresso at the end of a long dinner.

My coffee indulgences are completely dependent on what is paired with it; I hardly ever drink it alone. Lattes are drunk along side thick slices of toast, muffins, or oatmeal; black coffee goes with cereal and eggs. I like a cappuccino in the afternoon alongside a mildly sweet biscuit or slice of tea cake. I fleck my cappuccinos with cinnamon and raw sugar that I don’t stir entirely into the espresso. I like the crunch of the sugar and the subtle sweetness of the milk as I lick it from the spoon. After dinner is the time for an espresso with a dollop of whipped cream if I am feeling particularly decadent.

I like rich, dark coffee with notes of dark chocolate and spice. I like it hot or cold, depending on the weather, and as brewed coffee or espresso depending on my mood. Those coffee drinks? I don’t care for them, unless I am on a road trip; under that duress I have been known to crack a can of pre-fab coffee or two.

Coffee, coffee, coffee. I am still fairly sure that if you sliced my arm open, the brown stuff would flow.

Signature Cocktail

One of my 2009 new year's resolutions was to find my signature cocktail. I haven't done a very good job. I have found lots of cocktails I like -- anything summery with fresh mint and lots of lime juice springs to mind -- and discovered a deep love for Cognac.

But I have yet to find the sort of cocktail that I can order in any situation -- fancy bar, dive bar, airport bar, and be happy with what is delivered. Indeed, I am picky. I don't want my signature cocktail to be too girly (no cosmos), and try as I might, I can't stomach a martini, no matter if it is made with gin, vodka, or lots and lots of olive juice. And did I mention that my signature cocktail has to be easy to make and identifiable to even the thickest of bartenders? This means no Greyhounds, Bourbon Planners, or Sparkletinis for me.

Really, a nice glass of champagne does me right nearly any evening. But not every bar out there offers a nice glass of champagne. Hence, my need for a signature cocktail.

The other night, facing my cocktail conundrum yet again, I ordered a Gin and Tonic. I was delivered a smooth, not too juniper-y drink with just the right amount of lime. It was delicious. I remembered I like gin and tonics, I just don't like gin and tonics that are so light on the tonic that they might more aptly be called "gin with a twist of lime."

Could the slightly boring yet vaguely elegant gin and tonic be my signature cocktail? I was hoping for something slightly more exciting, but a girl can't have everything she wants, can she?

Can she?

A DIY Food Manual

Culinate.com just published my review of the do-it-yourself cook book 'Jam It, Pickle It, Cure It' by Karen Solomon. This is such a fun cookbook. If I didn't already own it it would absolutely be on my holiday wish list. There are so many fun things that you can make in your own kitchen (flavored liquors, graham crackers, marshmallows, rosemary crackers, yum!) Get in there and get cooking!

Read the review here.

Welcome to the World

Little Thatcher arrived at four forty nine this morning, December third, two thousand and nine. Isn't he beautiful?

I spoke to his mother when he was only three hours old. She sounded exhausted, but so happy.

"Has he eaten yet?" I asked.
"No," she replied. "But he's trying."

Right out of the womb we eat. On the day we are born we have the first of many glorious meals we will share with our dearest family and friends.

I have spent all day thinking about this new little being. Isn't the world amazing?

Nothing I have done today compares to this little miracle. But what a reminder to eat, and drink, and enjoy. This is what life is all about.

From the NY Times: Back to the Land

You must check this out:

In Pursuit of Happiness: Back to the Land

It is a meditation on Thanksgiving, and food, and family, and making and sharing food with the people around you.

It is so beautiful and completely made my evening. I'm so glad I cooked for myself tonight; it is one of the best things one can do.

xo