MORE INFORMATION, PLEASE!

This week I had dinner at Bastide. Lovely atmosphere, great service, good but not outstanding food. Not good enough for the prices they are asking. But there was something else that started irritating me while studying the menu. I felt that something essential was missing there: information about where the products they use in the kitchen come from. Are the eggs from a happy small flock of chickens raised on a sustainable family farm? Are the vegetables local and organic? Has the  beef grazed on lush green pastures all year long? What's the name of the farm? Where is it located? Why do restaurants in Los Angeles not tell their customers about the provenance of the food on their plates? Knowing about all the horrors of industrial agriculture, I strongly feel that I have the right to know where the food I am going to put in my body comes from. Certainly at a place that surrounds itself with a sophisticated air.

PRESERVED APPETIZERS

It seems that nowadays everybody is crazy about preserving food. So you probably know how to make jams, pickles and sauces. I am not going to bore you with another of those typical preserves. While in Europe, I came across a recipe for preserved zucchini rolls with a soft goat cheese filling. I love the idea of having something instantly ready for your guests coming over for a glass of wine or as an appetizer before you serve dinner.

2 small zucchini

salt, pepper

1 cup olive oil

half a bunch fresh thyme

3/4 pounds soft goat cheese

half a teaspoon coarse pepper

1 teaspoon mild paprika

2 tablespoons sesame seeds  

Slice zucchini lengthwise with a mandolin - make them as thin as you can. Season with salt and pepper. Sauté them in a olive oiled pan at medium heat until tender. Add thyme leaves and let cool.

Put soft goat cheese in a bowl. Mix in coarse pepper, paprika and sesame seeds. Place cooled zucchini slices on a clean work surface, spread goat cheese mixture on top, and roll. Rinse a glass jar with very hot water, dry it, and snuggle the zucchini rolls into the jar. Fill with olive oil until covered. Seal with the lid.

Bon appétit!

DUMPLING QUEEN

Call me crazy. I drove all the way to Arcadia (yes, deep in the San Gabriel Valley) at lunchtime, just to satisfy a little craving. After a trip to Europe with great, but exclusively local food, I could not stop thinking of those juicy, delicious dumplings at Din Tai Fung - the obsessive desire probably triggered by another of those yucky airline meals. I had to go. Truth is, I have never been big on Chinese food, but I find those cute dumplings at the Arcadian outpost of the Taiwanese legend simply irresistible. Plus, it has great entertainment value. It is so much fun watching through the huge plate glass the crew of adept dumpling-makers briskly composing golf-ballsized in a meticulously spotless kitchen. The dumplinistas swiftly roll out small circles of dough with a wooden dowel until almost transparent, spooning minced pork, shrimp and vegetables on top along with a spoonful of a heavenly fragrant consommé. Then they start pitching and twisting (just watching makes your head spin) those little guys into shape, placing them in round steel steamers - ten to a serving. Who needs to see a movie? The hostess usually has to drag me away from the huge window pane to seat me (shrieking “you now sit”); only succeeding because I already can smell the steamy juices of my dumplings floating in the air. I usually order nothing else along - no soups, no vegetables, no drinks, except for a little hot green tea. Those dumplings need my undivided attention. I carefully put each one of them on the spoon, add a little ponzu sauce together with the julienned ginger, inhale deeply and then bite through softly. In an almost religious experience, the aromas and juices start dancing in my mouth. Geez, am I happy to back in L.A. Its that magic place where midst of a broad nothingness you can discover truly the greatest treasures on this planet.

CHOCOLATE NIRVANA

My husband went on a business trip to Paris last week and took the time to go to my favorite chocolatier, Pierre Hermé, on rue Bonaparte. He got me a box of tiny chocolate creations, which I slowly devoured lost in reverie. It's been way, WAY, too long since my palate felt that kind of extatic pleasure from chocolate. Brilliance, roundness, intense flavors, the crunch of the brittle coating that gives way as you bite into it...then the chocolate melts in your mouth, it's tender texture triggering a cascade of aromas, a lingering aftertaste that sings in your body as if it were a precious musical instrument! It became instantly clear that I have become too indulgent with what L.A. has to offer in European food traditions, especially chocolates, joining the singsong that after all, there is some decent stuff out there. Truth is, I have not been worthy of my name foodbitch.

RIVERA DOWNTOWN - LATIN ELEGANCE

I have to admit that I never found Latin American cuisine, above all Mexican, especially enticing. Mainly because I feel that the dishes consist of too many overcooked ingredients and form some kind of mish-mash. But also because for me the seasoning often doesn't feel right, almost bland. Now, you will tell me about those nice and spicy chillies. Yes, they add spice, but a dish also needs to be balanced. So, where is the salt? I have never figured out why Mexican cuisine uses so little salt. With all this in mind, I drove to Rivera Restaurant - a modern Latin Restaurant - in Downtown L.A. And I must say, that I was pleasantly surprised. Chef John Rivera Sedlar has captured the essence of L.A. - Latin Culture meets Modernism. He understands that the city is at its best, when it stays true to itself, not pretending to be something it isn't, copying other cities and other cultures. The dining experience was lovely, because you could taste love and passion in the dishes. How poetic the flowers pressed into the tortillas, how thoughtful the words stenciled with spices, and how fun the small portions that give you room to taste many different dishes! Their execution, though, wasn't flawless. Interestingly, one of my soups and one sauce were overly salty. Just the opposite of my other Latin experiences. And the chocolate torte, I had for dessert felt mostly buttery, meaning fat, instead of giving away a rich chocolate flavor. While I wouldn't call the cooking 'brilliant', it is inventive and delicious.

CHILLED BUTTERMILK CUCUMBER SOUP

This is one of my favorite summer recipes. It's deliciously light and super refreshing:

3 cucumbers

2 cups of buttermilk

12 basil leaves

3 slices of smoked salmon

4 teaspoons pumpkin seed oil

 a dash of lemon juice

a pinch of sugar

salt, freshly ground pepper

Peel the cucumbers, cut lengthwise in half and take the seeds out. Cut them into small cubes. Let the cubes rest for about an hour, drain. Pour Buttermilk into a bowl, season with a pinch of sugar, salt, pepper to your liking  and add a dash of lemon juice. Add the drained cucumber cubes and blend in a mixer. Taste and adjust seasoning. Let it cool in the fridge. Tear some basil leaves into pieces and cut smoked salmon into slices. Pour the chilled cucumber soup into cooled bowls or soup plates, decorate with basil leaves, salmon and drizzle a little of the dark green and nutty pumpkin seek oil on top. Serves 4.

THE SUPER SALAD

Last time I was in New York I dined at the very lovely Restaurant Commerce in the West Village moaning with delight. I closed my eyes when my teeth crunched through what I call the perfect salad. It was a blend of the freshest, crispiest salad leaves you can imagine (the delicacies must have been handpicked only minutes before serving), and equally fresh, heavenly aromatic herbs, lightly, I repeat LIGHTLY, coated with a very simple vinaigrette. Ah! Unfortunately, the blissful state didn't last long. All of a sudden, I remembered, that I had to return to L.A., the land of super salads, he very next day. Let me explain. For some reason the only thing that seems to come to mind to salad makers in SoCal is "more is more". No need to tell you, that I do not think highly of that concept when it comes to food. But in salads it is truly disastrous. The super salad usually comes in an oversized, deep plate that some eager hands have loaded with a pre-packaged (pre-washed, pre-whatever) salad mix (those salad mixes ALWAYS have a couple of limp, slimy leaves hanging in there). Then they happily grasp a huge bottle of pre-prepared (here we go again!) dressing and pour like there is no tomorrow - with the ultimate goal to drown the very last salad leaf. Usually, the dressing has a fancy name like honey-mustard or dreamy-creamy. Then they generously toss things like maple-syrup-roasted pecans on top along with the ubiquitous dried cranberries. But no, they are not done yet! What about some crumbled feta cheese or sliced mozzarella? AND bacon strips? Maybe some diced citrus fruit? Yeah, why not! Sounds so sophisticated. Gimme a break! I have no idea what bit me yesterday when I met a friend at one of the premium super salad places in town, the Alcove in Los Feliz for lunch and ordered - a SALAD! I must have been out of my mind. The moment the waiter put the plate under my nose I moaned. This time in despair. It could be so easy, guys: take the freshest leaves, add a little vinegar, oil, salt and pepper, all perfectly balanced, and toss and toss.