The Cooking Critic

I have come to an important conclusion: people are hungry for brunch recipes. What first tipped me off (actually, what solely tipped me off) was the amount of hits my various brunch recipes received from my Easter brunch post. I knew that brunch was a popular activity for many, but I didn’t realize that making brunch was also popular. Far be it for me to deny the public what they want. If they want brunch recipes, goshdarnit, they’ll get them.

While I’m a big fan of brunch myself, I’m not a big fan of cooking in the mornings, or even mid-mornings for that matter, which perhaps led me to my earlier erroneous assumption that everybody preferred dining out for brunch instead of dining in—everybody’s like me, right? I’m exceedingly slow out of the gate when I wake up, and often I can’t be bothered with anything more than eating a piece of fruit. My other staples include: yogurt, banana smoothies (before my blender abruptly died and left me very lonely) and oatmeal with brown sugar, dried cranberries and flaxseed mixed in. The latter is about as labor-intensive as I get for breakfast, until now. Since I’ve determined the world wants brunch recipes, I’ll attempt at least one a month. Yes, I’m doing this for you.

My first once-a-month-public-brunch-promise selection wasn’t difficult. I had some goat cheese in the refrigerator, and I came across a Savory Bread Pudding with Goat Cheese and Ham recipe. It was sufficiently different from the usual brunch recipes, and I was intrigued by the idea of a savory bread pudding, having only had sweet ones before. I’m sure you’re intrigued too. And I hope you’re not scrunching your nose at the thought of goat cheese or bread pudding because I’ve known people to do that before. But I certainly wouldn’t expect that of you. (You’re my favorite by the way. Shhh, don’t tell the others.)

Of course, there was still the can’t-think-in-the- mornings-much-less-cook issue to deal with it, which was solved easily enough by making this a dinner entrée. In fact, it became an impromptu dinner party, very similar to my last dinner party. Savory Bread Pudding with Goat Cheese and Ham was substituted for the Green Beans and Saffron Pasta, and all the other elements remained the same: Trader Joe’s Dips for appetizers, Hearts of Palm Salad as an accompaniment and Raspberry Brownies for dessert. Why mess with a formula that works? And I suspect the reason this dish isn’t pictured in the cookbook is because it doesn’t photograph so well, as I’ve learned. Try not to hold this against it. And don’t laugh at my pathetic attempt to scatter ham evenly. You would think I’d try a little harder knowing I’m going to photograph the evidence later….

Adjustments: As you can see above, I separated the ham and olives into different sections to satisfy dueling palates: vegetarians vs olive haters. Also, I found the recipe could use more goat cheese, ham and olives, but maybe this was because I used a long dish, instead of the deep one called for and this spread out the flavors of the fixins more than usual.

Assessment: Maggie dubbed this sophisticated comfort food, and I thought the olives, goat cheese and ham were a nice sharp/salty/tangy combination. Also, since I get bored easily with the regular brunch fare at restaurants (sometimes I want more options than pancakes and omelets), this dish gets major bonus points for originality. But while not difficult, it is a time commitment with an hour baking time in the oven. If I were to make this again, and I certainly would if I found myself with a log of goat cheese in the refrigerator, I would see how it works cooked up like a French toast sandwich, which would take a lot less time and is basically what it tasted like.

When I invited Maggie over for dinner, I mentioned very coolly in passing, “Saffron will be there.” “Saffron?” she said, just as coolly back, pretending she didn’t care. Then I mentioned green beans, and her cool veneer slipped just a little because, frankly, nobody worries about being cool in front of green beans, and she admitted that she’s on a green bean kick where she likes to cook them up and then salt the hell out of them. Then the conversation turned back to saffron, and she got all blasé since that’s the thing you do when it comes to the most sought-after spice around and said, “Well, maybe I’ll stop by.” And so she did.

Saffron is effortlessly cool, and he thinks he’s pretty special because, well, he is. According to The New Food Lover’s Companion, he’s the most expensive spice in the world. And unlike some items where the high price seems arbitrary, saffron actually has a good reason for being so expensive. Saffron comes from a flower that produces only three saffron stigmas per flower. On top of this, these stigmas are handpicked. Can you imagine handpicking saffron? I’ve always maintained that the worst job I ever had was a soccer referee—this claim is questionable since I’ve had my share of bad jobs, but between the fact it was my very first job and everybody loves to yell at you when you’re a referee, it doesn’t seem like such an outrageous notion. Still, I imagine being a stigma-picker is worse. At the very least, it sounds extremely tedious.

But we’ll move away from the plight of the stigma-picker, which I have no knowledge of, and on to meals containing said stigmas, of which I have a little more knowledge but not a lot since I can count the number of times I’ve used saffron on one hand. That number is two.

Basically, saffron is an easy way to impress guests since it’s familiar enough not to be scary but still has some exotic shimmer to it. Sure enough, with saffron mixed in, a dish becomes vibrant, and the taste of saffron is its very own and hard to describe. I’d like to think it has a slightly buttery/faintly floral taste. Of course, I like to think all sorts of things—for instance, that eventually I’ll live in one of those gorgeous houses in Los Feliz and not have to fret over purchasing things such as saffron—so who knows how accurate my description is.

For something not terribly planned out, Maggie and I had a nice little feast with our Trader Joe’s appetizer dips, Hearts of Palm Salad, Green Beans and Saffron Pasta and Raspberry Brownies. As a bonus for any host, none of these dishes were labor-intensive, and the meal as a whole was completely feasible to pull off. Yea feasibility!

Adjustments: Instead of garganelli pasta (a ribbed penne, more or less), I used bowtie because I just can’t justify buying other pastas when I have such an assortment (if an incomplete one) in my house.

Assessment: This dish had a nice flavor heigtened by the kicky pecorinio cheese, and I liked it even better the second day, but overall it was subtler than I would have liked. I also didn’t love the instruction to include “2 pinches of saffron threads”; it wasn’t nearly exact enough for me, a Virgo, obviously. I found myself wondering if my pinch would be more or less than the average pinch. At first I blamed my stingy pinches for the low-key flavor, but I have since read that you need to use saffron within six months for optimum flavor, and saffron had been hanging out at my place for far longer than that. What can I say? I enjoy his company.

I’m going to call this dish “relatively easy” though I have some doubts. It’s not hard, but it took longer than 30 minutes. Still, I think the time might have more to do with the fact I haven’t quite mastered the art of chatting with guests while cooking rather than how long the dish actually takes. As for recommending this dish: I think it’s a good base for exploring saffron but feel free to freestyle cook with this one—no need to be a slave to the recipe. And use fresher saffron than I did.

There’s nothing more American than dips, and in celebration of this unquestionable fact, I’m going to hold an unofficial taste test of Trader Joe’s dips at least once a month. Two dips will face off head to head, and the winner will go to the next round to battle the other winners until there is only one remaining dip champion. For the premiere event, we have Blue Cheese Roasted Pecan Dip competing against Sun Dried Tomato & Pesto Torta. Maggie and myself are the judges; think of us as Paula Abdul and Randy Jackson respectively.

First came the blue cheese dip, a risky and unusual rendition of the creamy dip, and I said, “Yo, dawg, I’ve worked with blue cheese before, and your version worked all right for me tonight.” Maggie’s response was to weep maniacally at how good the dip tasted.

Then the torta took the stage—it was a layered performance of sun dried tomatoes topped with pesto topped with cream cheese, and I said, “The vocals had too many runs for me and you started out pitchy, but you worked your thing.” Maggie told the torta it looked beautiful in that dress.

Then our curmudgeon showed up late to the show—we will call him Simon—and said, “I don’t know what Paula and Randy are talking about, blue cheese dip is thrashing about on stage like a drunk dad at a wedding, and I don’t even taste the roasted pecans in this.” But since Simon came late, he didn’t get a say, and Blue Cheese Roasted Pecan Dip was the unanimous winner.

Assessment: We all agreed both dips are good. They’ve earned their place in the competition and are worthy of party appetizer status, but Maggie and I thought the blue cheese dip was more unusual—it’s also very strong, so you can’t be a blue cheese waffler with this one.

Applications: You can serve this dip with crackers, apples and pears, but here’s a way to turn it into an easy, elegant appetizer: smear baguette slices with a thin layer of blue cheese dip, fold a layer of prosciutto on top, top with pear wedges, sprinkle with brown sugar and toast in the oven.

Sooner or later, people begin to expect baked goods of me. My monthly poker game started about a year ago with no such expectations, but some brownies there, a strawberry lemon curd pie here, and suddenly my reputation is sealed, one that has followed me around nearly my entire life. If I show up without food, people are disappointed. And I hate to disappoint.

Since there have been no brownies present at the last few poker games, a fact the guys like to remind me of often, I decided to make the fudgiest brownies known to man in order to make it up to them. Mission accomplished.

Adjustments: I don’t have the 11×13-inch baking pan called for, so I used my 11×9 one and a muffin tin for the extra brownie mixture. Still, it was hard to guess how much of the mixture should go in the pan and how much in the muffin tin. I guessed as best as I could, but when the 30 minutes cooking time was up, I added on 10 more since the brownies were still slightly wobbly in the center. Eventually, the brownies set, but I could never get the toothpick to come out clean–my mother had the same experience with these. That’s just the way things go sometimes when baking super fudgey foods. Still, what I call “fudgey,” others may call “undercooked.”

Assessment: When I made Raspberry Brownies before, Dave Crocco dubbed them the best brownies he’s ever tasted. As far as I know, he doesn’t go around saying that about every brownie he encounters. But they aren’t for the lily-livered—they’re more of a cross between a brownie and a piece of fudge, so be prepared for the dense chocolate intake you’re about to experience when tasting these. A layer of tart raspberry jam helps cut the chocolateness.

There are some recipes that you will glance at and consider every time you thumb through a cookbook, yet they will never make it to your kitchen table. Honestly, I thought that would be the fate of Hearts of Palm Salad. It was interesting, but didn’t seem interesting enough to purchase ingredients I normally don’t. While I like to try new foods, I’m also keenly aware that I don’t know what I’m doing when I work with them, nor do I really know what to expect.

Then came a five-day stint with my family in Mississippi where a kind neighbor with a poultry farm (yes, I know someone who owns a poultry farm) treated us to chicken ‘n dumpling, chicken Tetrazzini and chicken salad sandwiches. I loved indulging in the heavy Southern foods, but by the time I came back to California, I was ready for something light and leafy. Once more, Hearts of Palm Salad caught my eye. Since I bore easily when it comes to salads, the idea of adding of an unusual ingredient like hearts of palm was actually appealing, and really only more so because I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. Strangely, it is what it says it is, which is the heart of cabbage palm tree—its edible core that looks not unlike a bamboo shoot. They come canned since fresh is nearly impossible to find, and since they’re soft and perfectly straight, it’s hard not to feel like a pro when chopping them up.

The flavor of hearts of palm is much like an artichoke. In fact, if you can’t find or don’t want to pay for the sometimes pricey hearts of palm, a marinated artichoke makes a good substitute. Still, I prefer the palm’s heart because it’s not as pungent. It’s got the tang without the overkill, and the texture is nice and soft with no worries about chewiness that the marinated artichoke sometimes troubles me with. Not to say the artichoke is generally troublesome. Normally I find him quite sophisticated and charming. But you don’t have to work as hard with hearts of palm who’s always laid back and never fussy. You get all the class but none of the stress of feeling like you’re socializing outside of your bracket.

Adjustments: The recipe calls for “salad herbs,” and I’m not sure if this was a vague suggestion to use whatever herbs you feel go with a salad or if there were a specific set of herbs designated for salads or maybe even a product, like jarred fines herbes. A quick Internet search provided no conclusive evidence, so I used fresh dill, which tasted good.

Assessment: This is a flavorful, spunky salad that’s not substantial enough to be a main dish but is a great accompaniment to just about anything because of both its taste and the ease in assembling it.

The pizza craving is a difficult urge to resist, as I have documented before. On one particular day, visions of pizza danced in my head and then visions of me eating a few slices at Hard Times Pizza soon followed. This didn’t seem like such an unreasonable thought but was a little excessive when my refrigerator was chock-full of goods from a recent grocery store run. So I figured I’d sensibly use what I had on hand while simultaneously fulfilling my pizza craving as best I could. The result? Turkish Pizza Turnover.

Turkish Pizza Turnover is very cleverly named since it really resembles a quesadilla more than a pizza. As much as I like quesadillas, pizza has some sort of primal pull on me—sometimes nothing in the world will do except a big cheesy slice of pizza. Turkish Pizza Turnovers aren’t that cheesy and don’t have an ounce of red sauce. Some might even describe them as healthy. Actually, I don’t know if some would, but I would—my standards for healthy are pretty loose. Still, when the primary ingredient for a dish is a vegetable—in this case spinach—I think I have something resembling a solid argument.

Adjustments: I’m sure the homemade dough described in this recipe is delicious, and it doesn’t look hard. But I was on a quest to use up my lavash, and since the resulting homemade bread in the picture next to the Turkish Pizza Turnover recipe looked identical to the lavash in my refrigerator, there’s was really no question about what to do. So lavash was used and mascarpone cheese omitted since I didn’t have any. In retrospect, I wish I would have thrown in a little mozzarella or Monterey Jack since cheesy pizza was what I was craving, but oh well.

Assessment: This was a nice change from my typical lunch fare. It reminded me of a flat spanakopita. But unlike the other spanakopita taste-alike I made recently–Greek Chicken Strudel, which was so time-consuming that in the end it just wasn’t worth the effort–this dish was an easy thrown-together meal, and so, gets my endorsement. But it’s something more for yourself than a crowd. Stick to the puffy store-bought spanakopita for the latter.

Either Shahan Sannossian or a character from one of his stories once said, good lavash is hard to come by. Actually, I’m sure he or his character put it far more eloquently than that, but the general idea of it stuck with me because I had never really considered lavash before. In case you have gone through your life lavash-less, it’s a thin, soft, flat bread used in wraps and often coming in large squares—it’s also called Armenian Cracker Bread and is not unlike the flour tortilla in many ways. According to Shahan or his character, lavash likes to become stale almost immediately (perhaps because it’s related in name to the cracker?) Anyhow, I tucked that bit of information about staleness away, and when I purchased some lavash recently for a picnic outing, determined the only solution to prevent stale lavash was to use the lavash in as many meals as possible pronto. A sensible solution indeed.

BLT Wraps with Tahini Sauce is one way to consume lavash, a recipe I’ve tried before. Instead of mayonnaise, perhaps my least favorite condiment and a traditional BLT accompaniment, this sandwich makes use of a slightly spicy tahini concoction (tahini is just ground sesame seeds, btw.) So you get your summery BLT but with some exotic flavor interplay.

Adjustments: I just shook in some red pepper flakes rather than measuring it out with a teaspoon since I prefer spiciness to remain a hint rather than a full-on flavor. I fried up prosciutto instead of bacon since that’s what I had on hand.

Assessment: Good, but something to do with leftover lavash rather than something to purchase lavash for.

Nothing says summer like watching old films in a cemetery; at least that’s how the saying goes here in Los Angeles. For the uninitiated, this could seem bizarre or morbid, but really it’s just good old-fashioned fun among tombstones. Nothing creepy about it.

Hollywood Forever Cemetery, a beautiful old cemetery where many a Hollywood star is interred, has officially opened its doors for Saturday night outdoor movie screenings hosted by Cinespia, and my friends and I were some of the many people charging the gates at 6:30 in an attempt to get a prime spot. Here, people picnic, watch old movies and sit in an open grassy area a safe distance from any tombstones. This particular Saturday, we watched The Maltese Falcon, drank fine Claret and cheap Cabernet Sauvignon, ate cheese, strawberries, grapes, snow peas, salami, Trader Joe’s Mango Fandango fruit salad, Lavash Wraps with Hummus and Honey-Roasted Turkey, Cranberry White Chocolate Cookies, and Broiled Coconut Cupcakes (but not mine—I’m on a cupcake hiatus.)

While I love potluck picnics and their snacking tapas quality, sometimes all the little bits of food don’t feel like they add up to a substantial whole. I thought I’d try to avoid that this time with the lavash wraps, which the group gobbled up. The wraps were no trouble at all to make and very portable—a perfect picnic food.

White Chocolate Cranberry Cookies from From the Pantry were a tasty twist on the traditional Chocolate Chip Cookie. While I would certainly make these again if my kitchen housed white chocolate chips (a rarity) and dried cranberries (a staple), I have to say I’m a bit of a purist when it comes to the chocolate chip cookie—I prefer my chocolate leaning toward the dark and bitter side as opposed to light and sweet. Brandon can attest to this since when I visit his place, the Hershey’s Dark Chocolate Miniatures disappear, and I leave in my wake a mass of untouched Mr. Goodbars, Krackels and Hershey’s Milk Chocolate.

Here is my photograph of White Chocolate Cranberry Cookies. I like to call this image “Late Afternoon Light on Freshly Baked Cookies.” I’d like to call it that, and so I shall.

Sunday was a series of unfortunate food events for me. It started at a café with a spinach, mushroom and cheese omelet that was filled with grit from spinach not properly washed. I actually spit out a bite (discreetly, I’d like to think) because there was so much grit, my food was noisy.

From there I went to the L. A. Book Festival, saw a churro, wanted it, determined I didn’t need it, then decided if I wanted a churro, I should get one. So I did. I took one bite and realized I didn’t feel like a churro after all. But I hated the idea of throwing it away as much as I hated the fact I had to pay $3 for it in the first place, so I felt compelled to eat the whole $3 thing. (For those unfamiliar with churros, as I was before moving to California, a churro is basically a cinnamon/sugar-coated fritter stick.)

Next was a youth-themed 30th birthday party that included a cotton candy machine, addictive Guacamole-flavored Doritos, KFC popcorn chicken, a bouncy house and some children, which, evidently came with the bouncy house as far as I can tell since they didn’t come with anyone in our party. While a day bouncing then relaxing in Griffith Park was a wonderful way to spend one of the first warm Sundays of the spring, the cotton candy and popcorn chicken only heightened the slumpy feeling inside of me that emerges when I’ve eaten poorly all day long.

While the children repeatedly asked for soda and the adults lounged on blankets, I contemplated dinner, which had suddenly become very important–something healthy was essential and using the shrimp in the freezer preferred. I thought about Broiled Shrimp and Spinach Salad but discarded that idea when I recalled my fresh dill was now frozen from a little overzealous refrigeration. By the time I got home, I had decided on California Fish Stew, a dish that had impressed me a couple of years earlier, but, due to how rarely shrimp is stocked in my house, I had not revisited it since.

Everything went according to plan. I had my light, flavorful, quickly made stew and a salad to accompany it. I watched half of Good Night and Good Luck before falling asleep. I slept well. A good soup can do so much.

Adjustments: Fresh oregano for the dried since that’s one of the few herbs in my garden I’ve managed not to kill, canned tomatoes for the fresh and only shrimp for the seafood—I don’t normally have fish and mussels around. Since my shrimp was cooked and frozen, I defrosted them in lukewarm water for fifteen minutes, then put them in a bowl and poured the soup when done over top to warm them without cooking them further.

Assessment: This soup actually turned my day around. It’s a nice combination of fresh herbs and pepper with a sharp kick from the wine. However, my previous efforts had better results since I didn’t use the ideal wine this time around—I used a somewhat fruity blend already opened and chilled in the refrigerator. A dryer white wine is better, and this is no place to toss in some Charles Shaw since wine is the main ingredient of your broth. I recommend Sterling Sauvignon Blanc, which is dry, affordable and good as an ingredient or drinking straight out of the wine glass.

I especially loved the warning that’s in italics at the top of this recipe: “Have the ingredients prepared and near the stove, because this fish stew cooks in just minutes.” I loved even more that this was true.