The Cooking Critic

Maggie wants the world to know she isn’t a mooch. If you look over my posts in the last couple of months, it may look like she’s constantly stopping by on the off chance that something just came out of the oven, and why doesn’t she join me for dinner? But I must set the record straight. Not only did Maggie have Shahan and I over for a meal recently, she, in fact, had me over for dinner long before I ever returned the favor.

Maggie planned the meal, set the date and I said I’d bring an appetizer—the Vegetable-Avocado Salsa I made was an easy choice. I’d been eyeing the recipe for a while; the small picture of it in the upper left-hand corner of my Complete Outdoor Living Cookbook has been beckoning to me for a long time what with its festive colors and all. I even tried once to convince my non-avocado
-enamored mother to make it and bring it to a gathering because I wanted her to report back to me on how it tasted. On top of all this, I also had some Trader Joe’s avocados—despite my love for the avocado, I always have a hard time using up the four that come in a bag, and this salsa was a way to check one of my list. The dish required no oven either, a major bonus due to a recent heat wave and lack of air-conditioning in my apartment.

So I chopped and chopped and chopped the vegetables into fine little bits but left out the avocado initially because it makes the dip soupy if it joins the party but then sits around too long. I called Maggie and told her I’d be a little late because I needed to pick up a jicama on the way to her place. Maggie responded, “A jigga-what?” And I said, “It’s a bulbous, root vegetable that has the crunch of an apple but is mostly flavorless.” “Oh,” she replied.

I picked up my jicama and added both it and the avocado to the dip at Maggie’s place. And we happily munched on the dip then happily ate up Maggie’s red wine-themed meal. I’m not sure how I only just recently discovered intimate dinner parties are a great way to spend an evening, but I did. First we had cocktails with the appetizer, next we had wine with our meal served al fresco on the patio—it included a salad topped with blue-cheese stuffed mushrooms, eggplant parmesan and strawberries soaked in red wine sauce served over ice cream. As far as I can tell, the latter is the perfect summer dessert: wonderful, unusual and no stove or oven required (the heat has made me obsessed with the last criteria of late). After the meal, Maggie read our Tarot cards, which determined Shahan will never ever find love or happiness. I fared slightly better, though the multiple reference to “moving houses” made me nervous since there’s a For Sale sign in front of my apartment complex right now that I’m not pleased about at all. But the tarot cards predicted that in the end I’d be happy with the move. Perhaps my new place will have air-conditioning?

Adjustments: I used a jalapeño instead of a serrano chile but will try the spicier latter next time. And I used frozen corn instead of fresh since I’m on a freezer initiative right now. I ignored the instructions to make your own baked tortilla chips and instead bought some blue corn Tostitos.

Assessment: Shahan called this dip “a winner” and declared it a great fancy alternative to traditional salsa or guacamole. The different textures are wonderful: soft avocados, crunchy carrots and crisp jicama (of course, now I’m looking for recipes to help me use up the rest of the jicama). Be sure to salt and pepper the salsa appropriately since the seasonings help the flavors meld. Also, Vegetable-Avocado Dip is very beautiful. And while this dish wasn’t difficult to make, there is a lot of chopping, so I’m going to say it’s relatively easy with an emphasis on the “relatively.”

People like to tell you the weather is perfect in Los Angeles. This is an out-and-out lie, created, I think, to increase the glamour of a city hell-bent on being glamorous. One of my biggest beefs about Los Angeles (besides traffic and no discernable autumn) is that nights are cool and pretty much always require a jacket, which is sure to ruin adorable summer ensembles. But I had to send my complaints a-packing the other night when we were blessed with a truly perfect warm evening. I, an always-cold person, was comfortable in short sleeves, pants and sandals, and my friends and I got to watch the sun sink below a row of particularly tall palm trees. It was a wonderful night to be an Angeleno, and luckily, we chose the perfect activity for such a night: another picnic/movie outside at Hollywood Forever.

This night also seemed a great chance to hold another round of the Great American Dip-Off since Trader Joe’s dips are a favorite toteable at these events. This week’s contenders: Artichoke Antipasto and Spicy Feta Dip. And the judges: Adam, Maggie, Rob, Shayna and myself.

This match-up was a little bit like watching a game only to see who’s going to compete against your favorite team in the second round. The judges had quite a bit of wine and had difficulty focusing, but then the dips weren’t really interesting enough to warrant our attention, no slam dunks, no fancy footwork. They just plodded along and seemed more or less happy to be in the game at all. Spicy Feta Dip ended up winning 4-2 since Adam voted twice, even though the group generally felt Artichoke Antipasto had more potential. Still, we determined it’s better off as a sandwich spread than as a true dip—it has a strong artichoke taste (as it should) but needs the balance of other flavors to truly appreciate its artichokiness. I recommend spreading some of the antipasto on bread, top with sautéed mushrooms, cover with provolone, then broil.

Our winner, Spicy Feta Dip, true to its name, was mildly spicy and very feta-y, and some people said, yeah, sure, I’d serve it at a party. But Maggie and I decided later that these people were wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. While it’s a perfectly acceptable dip, and we probably wouldn’t shun it altogether at a party, it just doesn’t make sense to invite Spicy Feta Dip when there are so many other better dips out there. In short, expect Spicy Feta Dip to get stomped in the next round . . . unless there’s another equally weak bracket.

P.S. You must put Over the Edge, Matt Dillon’s first movie, on your Netflix queue, the movie we viewed at Hollywood Forever. It’s part actually-funny, part dated-funny, even though it’s primarily a drama. And I pictured it here, since I forgot to take a photograph of the dips before we tossed them.

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.

My idea for an Easter brunch started out harmless enough. I saw the Weekend Cookbook Challenge was having a bloggers’ brunch round-up, and I thought something along the lines of “Brunch! What a lovely idea. Perhaps I will have a few friends over, and I will serve them brunch.” Between this original small-scale notion and sending out an Evite less than a week before Easter, the idea had ballooned into inviting nearly everyone I know in the Los Angeles area. And while I generally think I’m capable of fitting more tasks into a day than is humanly possible, I had no delusions about being the sole supplier of a meal for thirty people, which was a pleasantly surprising showing for a last-minute shindig. So I described the brunch as “potluck-ish” and at the risk of sounding bossy, told people exactly what we needed for a diverse spread (egg dishes, fruit dishes, salads, etc.) since I was afraid otherwise, most would just stop by a bakery beforehand, and all we’d have was a diverse array of muffins.

I think it turned out well:

The day before the brunch, I whipped together this ridiculously simple Fruit Dip (cream cheese, marshmallow fluff, orange juice and orange zest) that I’ve made countless times. It was sweeter than I remembered, and I might use lemon juice instead of orange juice to cut the sweetness next time or try out one of the other many fruit dip recipes I have lying around. (Yes, I am in possession of multiple fruit dip recipes. No, I do not think this is strange.) But the crowd said nice things. Then again, it was a nice crowd. Alie thought the dip was a great summery addition, and Audrey described it as dipping fruit into a creamsicle.

Next I mixed and rolled Sausage Balls, another easy one. It’s possible that the term “Sausage Balls” doesn’t sound particularly pleasant or edible to you, but they are “a surprising animal” according to David Friedman, the biggest Sausage Ball cheerleader I know. Here’s another way to think of it: a little round biscuit with sausage and cheese baked in. Doesn’t that sound infinitely better? And despite the fact that the crowd kept giggling at Sausage Balls’ ridiculous name, they ate them and proclaimed their love for them. And here’s a tip: my mother was talking to a woman about her Sausage Balls (this is a perfectly normal conversation in the South since everyone makes Sausage Balls there) and how they can cook up dry. The woman said she rolls her balls more loosely to keep them moist, and I found this works. And on that note, we now move on to Orange Chocolate Salad but not without a giant picture of a Sausage Ball first:

I first noticed Clementine Chocolate Salad when Running with Tweezers posted it for the last Weekend Cookbook Challenge. Though I was drawn to it and had half-heartedly considered making it, I couldn’t commit. But when Adam showed up on my doorstep with a sack full of oranges as a thank you for my feeding Pants the cat while he was away, I determined the oranges were a sign from God telling me to make Clementine Chocolate Salad but with navel oranges.

This dish looks simple, but I encountered one problem after another with it—sometimes that happens when you feel pushed for time. I doubled the dish and spent 20 minutes grating chocolate, which is very very boring, and still had only half as much chocolate as I needed. As it turns out, I hate grating chocolate. I will never grate 3.5 ounces of chocolate again. I will either buy it pre-grated (if this product exists) or hire someone to do the grating for me (anyone want that job?—it doesn’t pay, but there’s free Orange Chocolate Salad in it for you.) Then I made the vanilla bean syrup, which was only three ingredients but more trouble than I imagined. On my first try, I cooked it too long trying to get it golden as instructed and ended up with basically Vanilla Bean Jolly Ranchers. So I tossed my creation and made the syrup again, taking it off the burner soon after the sugar dissolved instead of attempting anything golden for fear of wasting more vanilla beans.

Despite the hassle, it was a wonderfully elegant dish that would be especially good at a bridal shower, and people loved the fact that the words “chocolate” and “salad” were used together. But next time, I think I’ll try the version with the fresh mint instead of the chocolate (though the crowd loved the taste of chocolate and oranges together) since I prefer whacking at mint with scissors to grating chocolate.

Next I made a Caramel Coffee Cake, something that sounds far more complicated than it is. All you do is throw yeast rolls in a greased pan, mix together some dry butterscotch pudding and spices, throw them on top of the rolls, then top with melted butter. If you ever make this, you will look at what I just described and think that I must be crazy for insisting that it will turn into a gooey Caramel Coffee Cake. You have to let it rise overnight, and in case you have any reservations about letting the butter that it’s topped with sit out unrefrigerated for hours, Real Simple, one of the premier butter authorities in the world, says it’s okay in their discussion of food myths here (click the link and scroll down.) Evidently, there’s enough salt in salted butter that you can always leave it out, and it will still be fine. As for the coffee cake, when the yeast rolls have risen the next day (appropriate for an Easter meal, no?) into a doughy mass, you will still think I’m crazy for claiming you will have coffee cake after it is cooked. But trust me and put the pan in the oven, let it cook, take it out, flip it out on a plate, ooh and aah, then thank me. I will not hold it against you that you thought I was crazy. Here it is half-eaten, slightly blurry, poorly lit and not nearly as pretty as it is in person (sadly, pictures were an after-thought). But by the end of the party it was gone except for one slice. An excellent sign. Sarah Kate described Caramel Coffee Cake and Orange Chocolate Salad as “can’t-go-wrongs.” I’m thinking about adding that as a category to my blog….

All the day-before prep work complete (sorry for all the jumping around in time), I rested on the seventh day, meaning I tried to sleep around midnight but could not, thinking of all the cleaning and additional food prep work I had to do before 11 a.m. At least I got the coffee and tea station (a transformed IKEA bookshelf) set up in the living room, which I am very proud of because it prevented overflow in the kitchen area and kept the guests happy and caffeinated:

The morning of brunch, the show got under way with minimal sleep and the much-appreciated help of Melissa and Trixie, who assisted me with everything from moving furniture to peeling oranges–somehow the latter turned out to be more difficult than the former. Proof:

As it turns out, Melissa, though a gifted writer and quite adorable, cannot peel an orange to save her life. The above is an example of an orange peeled by Melissa. I had to fire Melissa from her orange-peeling duties and give that job to Trixie who went about scoring them first and making them look more uniform than I thought possible.

However, Melissa was able to redeem herself by expertly opening a bottle of champagne, and she was an immense help with our last-minute assembly of Gorgonzola Grits (another quick dish, but it requires nearly constant attention during its ten-minute prep lifespan), a recipe I got from a Junior League cookbook. I made one with chicken broth, as the recipe told me to, and another version with No-Chicken Broth (the name of the brand) for the vegetarians. I had used the actual chicken broth to poach a chicken earlier in the week, and so, it was an extra-chickeny chicken broth. The grits made with this broth had a very powerful, salty flavor. It made for robust grits—perhaps too robust. But flavorful and unusual in the best sort of way—I’ll just go with a tamer chicken broth next time. The vegetarians loved their less-salty version, one claiming they had converted her to gritsdom and another describing them as “half city/half country—the Donny and Marie of breakfast.” (The No-Chicken Broth made much yellower grits than the real-chicken broth, in case you were wondering about the color difference.)

Soon Mike and Meghann arrived, then Tim, Danielle and Kysa with coffee pot in tow, and it became a rockin’ party from there with people enjoying their mimosas:

and bringing more delicious brunch foods than I knew existed. To give you a sense of what was present, I’ll describe my leftovers. For dinner that night, I had Marissa’s French toast casserole, Sarah Kate’s deviled eggs (with caviar!), Melissa’s spinach salad and a puff pastry stuffed with mushrooms and cheese that magically appeared near the end of brunch. (I have no idea who brought it). For breakfast I had Meghann’s egg casserole and Maggie’s cheddar dill scones. Lunch was Christiane’s quiche, my grits and Shayna’s stuffed cream cheese French toast. For a dessert break I’ll have chocolate cake (Sarah’s?) and/or Leslie’s peach cobbler. And already I’m eyeing the leftovers and imagining what I can create with them—some sort of tart with the fruit dip and strawberries? A cake with a layer of those vanilla meringues? Lucky for the people playing poker at my house later this week….

>>Buy Open House: A Culinary Tour by The Junior League of Murfreesboro.

Dill Dip isn’t the most memorable food. People eat it with their veggies, enjoy it, but it’s not as if a few days later they’re telling someone, “I had the most amazing Dill Dip the other day.” Dill Dip is doomed to live a life in the shadow of the preferred Ranch Dressing. Such a shame, because Dill Dip is infinitely more interesting and complex than Ranch Dressing. Ranch Dressing may be the head cheerleader and Homecoming Queen of the dip world, but Dill Dip will end up going much further in life.

Assessment: So easy, so good. Besides serving with vegetables, you can smear this on a BLT, or create a tuna salad sandwich with it.