Over the summer I finally made it out to the much lauded Santa Monica Farmers’ Market. While the market lives up to its reputation for having some of the best produce and artisanal food stuffs in Southern California (a popular stop for LA chefs), I found it somewhat lacking in the instant gratification department: not enough food stalls! Ogling over eye-poppingly fresh fruit and veggies does work up quite an appetite, so when we came across Carlsbad Aquafarm’s little stand selling freshly shucked oysters, we figured it would be the perfect snack to tie us over till sitting down somewhere for lunch. A half dozen to test the waters disappeared within a few lip-smacking slurps, and we were soon back for another round. Though they traveled a 100 miles north from sleepy Carlsbad that morning, I think it would be safe to say that they were the freshest, tastiest oysters to be found anywhere in Los Angeles.

These sweet, briny mollusks eventually drew us to the Hollywood Farmers’ Market, where Carlsbad Aquafarm sets up on Sundays. the HFM instantly became our favorite; it still had a great line-up of vendors (some of the same from the SMFM), more food options, and it’s less crowded to boot! Getting a dozen of these babies on the half shell became a market ritual, along with a few pints of Carmela’s excellent ice cream (to take home of course), and some delicious and cheap pupusas salvadorenas from Delmy’s.

This past weekend we arrived early enough to the HFM to make sure there were plenty of oysters to go around (note to late risers like me, sometimes they sell out before 11:30 or so). Unfortunately the market ‘police’ had made their rounds, someone had forgotten their permit, and no shucked oysters were to be had at Carlsbad Aquafarm’s stand. Not much arm-twisting was needed to grab some to take home, and at $10/dozen it’s quite possibly the steal of the century.

Not wanting to feel like absolute gluttons after grazing at the market, we arrived home with a mere dozen of Carlsbad Blondes. The shells were immaculate; not a barnacle, spot of mud, or critter to be found, which speaks volumes about the detail and attention paid to the farming of these oysters. If my memory serves me correctly, the oysters go through a finishing process in filtered or purified sea water to remove any silt, grit, or nasty stuff. Which leaves you with an unadulterated taste of the sea.

My only other experience with shucking oysters involved a very filthy bag of razor-sharp oysters and a questionable borrowed knife at a oyster farm in Tomales Bay (just north of San Francisco). Needless to say, getting those things opened safely and cleanly was not an easy affair. Luckily, working with these oysters was quite the opposite. A quick but gentle easing of the knife (I don’t have a shucking knife, but a butter knife works well enough) into the hinged end, and the lid pops open. Running the knife between the lid and oyster removes the hold of the abductor muscle, and the lid is released to reveal the beautifully plump flesh below. Another quick movement of the knife under the oyster dislodges it completely from the shell; left to rest in a bath of crisp, clear brine.

behold, the mighty (and delicious) oyster

These blondes beg for no more than a scant squeeze of lemon. Mild, sweet, with a splash of the sea. Paired with a crisp beer or cold bubbly, it doesn’t get much better than this. If you’re anywhere near the Hollywood or Santa Monica Farmers’ Market, or even better yet Carlsbad, go get a few dozen these (and the other varieties they also raise). You won’t be disappointed.

A week before I left on my trip to Istanbul, Turkey, I got a surprise email from the lovely Kristina Gill of design*sponge’s in the kitchen with series, asking if I would be interested in submitting a recipe. Of course my answer was a resounding “heck yeah!”. I thought about what I could make, and bounced a few ideas back and forth with Kristina. I fell back on an old standby and told her I would shoot and submit the recipe when I returned from my trip.

After an incredible week in exotic Istanbul, I was completely enamored with everything Turkish; the city, the people, and especially the food. On one of our last days in this wonderful city, we sampled some amazing baklava from the famous Baklavacı Güllüoğlu. They had seemingly dozens of different varieties, but the one I was drawn to the most (and a customer favorite from what I hear), was their chocolate baklava. Thin sheets of chocolate phyllo, layered with nuts and chocolate. Crisp, chewy, sticky, decadent. I was smitten. It dawned on me what I should really make for my post: a twist on that baklava, a chocolate hazelnut version drizzled with cardamom honey!

Check out the full post with more photos and recipe on design*sponge… thanks Kristina and Grace!

special delivery

warmed up, with a scoop of vanilla, oh so good!

If you love to eat, one of the hardest questions to answer is “what is your favorite restaurant?” I often stumble when asked this, but it only takes a quick jogging of the brain to conclude that the place you return to time and time again, will most likely score very high on that list. One such restaurant is Ikko in Costa Mesa, CA. Of the countless times that we have dined at Ikko, very seldom did we leave any less than fully sated, with happy stomachs and content smiles on our faces. Amidst the various orders of sushi, appetizers and small plates, one dish we ask for almost every visit is their radish salad. It’s a very unassuming dish, comprised of batons of crisp, crunchy daikon, herbaceous rounds of red radishes, and bright, grassy radish sprouts. The vegetables are dressed in a lighter-than-air vinaigrette, with a delightful bouquet of floral yuzu juice. The dressing is neither cloying or over seasoned, but serves to perfectly accentuate the mild, cucumber-flavor of the radishes. And to top off, a mound of fried sweet potato ‘noodles’ adds nice color and texture.

When I’m craving a little Japanese at home, I like to make this salad to pair up with bites of sushi. It’s a great accompaniment and contrast to rich and decadent negi toro maki (tuna belly roll) and uni nigiri (sea urchin sushi), both which are also absolutely sublime at Ikko. It’s a fairly simple salad to make, if you can find the ingredients at your local Japanese market. The only semi time-consuming part is making the basil oil (and the fried sweet potato noodles, which I omit), but I do find that it’s just as good without it. So if you’re in a rush, feel free to totally skip this step.

slow drip basil oil... isn't that green just amazing?

I really thought I could make it. The dish seemed so simple; a plate of creamy polenta,  layered with soft, savory taleggio and parmesan, the rich yolk oozed like a golden lava flow as I punctured the egg with my fork. It was sublime, and of course I kept thinking to myself, I could totally do this at home, nothing to it. Piece of cake.

Um yeah. In capable hands, maybe. My attempt at recreating the dish I had at the wonderful Tasting Kitchen in Venice weeks earlier was a total flop. To be honest, I’m not really sure where I went wrong. All I can remember was sitting down with a bowl of this stuff after wasted hours in the kitchen cooking and shooting and not even being able to finish even half of it. It was just blah. So bad, that the previous fond memories of the original were muddled and tainted by the failed copy. I had basically written off the idea until a few days later, while shopping for another dish, I had a light bulb moment. What if I replaced the polenta with risotto? And while I’m at it, add some bacon, because who doesn’t love bacon and eggs. And ditch the taleggio because the wet sock thing wasn’t doing it for me.

Ok, so I ended up with a completely different dish. Every bit as good as the inspiration, if not better. The poached egg goes so well with the cheesy risotto, and the texture of the rice is more comforting than polenta. It is a little more breakfast-themed, which is totally doable on a weekend morning, but if we can have breakfast 24 hours a day at Denny’s, why not this risotto for dinner? Just skip the coffee if you plan on sleeping after.

Mmm… farmers’ market eggs. Get the best ones you can, because it’s all about the eggs!

For cheese, I went with a Comté, or French Gruyere. Melts nicely and partners up well with Parmesan.

There’s that lava flow I was talking about.

I have to tell you about my new favorite pasta. I’m absolutely in love with orecchiette (oh-rayk-kee-EHT-teh), a dimple of a pasta with a funny name. Orecchiette, which actually means “little ears” in Italian, is typically made by pressing the thumb into a small round of pasta dough against a wooden board. The resulting rough irregular shape does resemble a little ear, though the commercially available versions are more uniformly dome-shaped. A good quality orecchiette will have a textured or ridged outer surface, which beautifully clings onto sauce while the saucer-like concave side is perfect for grabbing onto little nuggets of goodness. With its toothsome bite, this pasta eats surprisingly heartily, which also makes it well suited for pairing with vegetables and lighter ingredients.

My favorite preparation of orecchiette is simply with Italian sausage and rapini (also known as broccoli rabe). The combination came to me while perusing my local market as I was trying to let the freshest ingredients inspire the dish. Here I was thinking I was being creative and resourceful, to later find out that orecchiette with sausage and rapini is quite a classic pairing. So much for originality, but hell, it sure is tasty.

The key to cooking with orecchiette, in my opinion, is to make all the ingredients similarly sized. In this dish, the ground sausage meat, diced onion, and chopped rapini are all easily picked up by the dimples of the pasta, cradling flavor with every fork or spoonful. On the topic of flavor, the semi-one pot nature of this dish helps to build layers upon layers of it. The sausage browns first, then the onions get sauteed in the pork fat. The rapini and garlic gets cooked in the same pot as well, the steam from the leaves helps pull off the fond or brown crusty bits. A generous handful of cheese at the end lends richness and an extra hint of salt, while the lemon-scented breadcrumbs adds a nice textural contrast and a bright citrusy note. If you’re pressed for time, skip the breadcrumbs but do add the lemon zest to the dish.

I do have to admit that I haven’t tried making orecchiette any other way, though many ideas come to mind (with gorgonzola and crumbled bacon, cold with pesto and ripe cherry tomatoes, or a with rich hearty bolognese). I’m just content for now to have it this way, because it’s so good.

In Southern California, we’re blessed with a relatively mild and short winter season. Incredibly, while the rest of the country may still be under a blanket of snow, here it’s already warming up to the low 70s during the day. That doesn’t mean a nice, piping mug of hot chocolate isn’t welcomed in the early morning hours, or late at night (in my case, since I’m not much of a morning person).

Inspiration for this drink came from an amazing hot chocolate I had at a bar after a day of snowboarding at our local mountains. It was so incredibly rich, creamy, and comforting I found myself enjoying it more than the pale ale I had ordered for myself. After returning from my trip, I had to try recreating it at home.

For richness, I used whole chocolate instead of cocoa powder. I’m sure cocoa powder would have been fine, but the combination of bitter dark chocolate and creamy milk chocolate just seemed more indulgent and sinful. The addition of lavender was inspired by the lovely latte and waffles drizzled with chocolate lavender sauce from Café Medina. At this point you’re probably thinking, gross, I don’t want my hot chocolate smelling like soap. Trust me, with just the right amount, it’s wonderfully soothing and relaxing.

Give it a shot, and let me know what you think!

A bowl of steel cut oatmeal, blueberries, brown sugar. And no, I don’t actually read magazines in the morning with breakfast, but I do surf my favorite sites

For someone who loves to eat, I often have very little in my refrigerator. At last check there was a half carton of eggs, a few styrofoam boxes of leftovers, some plain Greek yogurt, and more things than I care to admit that are way past their prime. It’s times like this that I rely on my pantry for a quick and easy meal that doesn’t require a trip to the market. There’s always a consistent supply of canned tomatoes and dry pasta in my cupboard. A few heads of garlic are also always on hand, which store well in the dark with the previous two ingredients. A few snips of basil from the garden and you have the makings of spaghetti marinara. Bottled Kalamata olives and tinned artichokes make great additions as well, when you desire a little more textural and flavor contrast.

It’s really quite simple. Start the water boiling for the pasta. You can basically have the tomato sauce done by the time the water boils and the noodles are cooked. Fifteen minutes tops. About the same time it takes me to drive to in-n-out, wait in the drive thru, and drive home. And it’s healthier to boot as well.

The last time I was in Yosemite I was the young tender age of thirteen, on my 8th grade class trip. That fun-filled week in the great outdoors, the awe-inspiring scenery, and the camaraderie and experiences I shared with my friends, classmates, and teachers left an indelible impression on me. I had always made it a point to return, and despite the relative closeness of the park I had never made it back in all those years.

After a snowboarding trip earlier in the year, our friend Judy suggested that we join her on her annual summer camping trip to Yosemite. Excitement was met with anticipation; I could hardly wait to visit Yosemite once again. Of course it was a no-brainer that food would be a big part of our trip. There wasn’t going to be freeze-dried, prepackaged food in our camp. Especially having to sleep in less than ideal conditions, foregoing the creature comforts of a shower and real bathrooms, and being scruffy and dirty day-in-day-out, there had to be something to look forward to.

We arrived at our campsite in Yosemite National Park’s Hodgdon Meadows in the late afternoon, with cars brimming with supplies: coolers and bags chocked full of food and snacks, tents, chairs, sleeping bags, and yes even an Aerobed. We were definitely not ‘roughing it’. After unloading all our gear and fumbling with our tents, a fire was started and we got down to business.

The first night’s menu would be cedar plank wild Atlantic salmon, prosciutto wrapped asparagus, fire-baked potatoes, and roasted corn on the cob. Our friend Gordon brought his soy glazed chicken legs. The beautiful whole salmon filets were brined the night before in a simple solution of water, salt, brown sugar, black peppercorns, juniper berries, cloves, and a good handful of fresh dill. The brine helped keep the salmon deliciously moist during grilling, and the infused flavors of the spices, brown sugar, and dill were complimented by the sweet cedar smoke.

There’s no better way to wake up after a brisk night among the towering pines than with the wafting smells of breakfast: sizzling bacon, fresh eggs, buttery potatoes, and nose-perking coffee. It was probably more work than most people would bother with so early in the day, plus all the dishes that needed to be done without running water and a sink, but in my opinion totally worth the effort. It was a perfect start; fuel for the day’s activities.

We spent the day in Yosemite Valley, which was a good 45 minutes away from our campgrounds. We experienced some of the same incredible views we encountered upon entering the park the afternoon before: the grand and larger-than-life granite faces of El Capitan and Half Dome, steep valleys and canyons dotted with evergreens, misty waterfalls, and beautiful verdant meadows. We wandered around the valley floor for a bit, and cooled off in the crystal waters of the Merced River before returning back to camp.

Dinner later that evening was Korean: Marinated boneless short ribs, spicy pork, kimchi, rice, and some Korean lager. This meal was well suited for camping; everything was bought from the Korean market already prepared, and we packed the food in zip-top bags that fit easily in the cooler. The rice was precooked at home, which was quickly reheated with a little water and a few minutes over the fire. Totally simple and oh so satisfying. We followed the BBQ meal with our favorite nighttime activity, a little quality time around the fire. No distractions, just good ol’ conversation with friends before retiring for the night.

On the third day, a couple of us went on a short hike. We originally wanted to hike the infamous and challenging Half Dome, but due to our lazy, late start, we decided to only head up to Vernal Falls. The lure of a relaxing afternoon picnic on the banks of the Merced was way too strong; any farther of a hike would have taken too long and we would have missed out on the fun times on the river.

We saved the most simple meal for our last night: grilled bratwurst with caramelized onions. By now we had emptied out most of the perishable items in our cooler. It was time to go home.

Camping in Yosemite was an absolute blast. I’m happy to report that despite the crowds and sheer amount of people sharing the park at the same time, Yosemite today is relatively close to how I remembered it. The beauty, grandeur, and mystique of the park still continues to amaze and I’m sure next time I won’t wait so long to return. And I know next time we’ll eat well once again.

The dreaded summer heat has finally quelled here in sunny Southern California, the days are milder and the nights cooler. Though I highly doubt we’ve seen the end of the hot spells, as it’s common for another warm blast or two to sneak in before fall finally stakes its claim. The tomato plants however, are definitely over the hill, with few fruit remaining on the vines. Therefore I figured it would be nice to capture a few more photos with the available supply.

I made a beautiful dish of tomatoes with buffalo mozzarella and garden herbs and flowers this past weekend to share with some friends, and didn’t have a chance to snap up a good photo. So I recreated the dish, this time with a less colorful array (used up all the yellow and dark red tomatoes already) and with creamy burrata in place of standard mozzarella. The tomatoes and cheese were dressed simply with Maldon sea salt and cracked black pepper, with a good glug of extra virgin olive oil and a few flecks of dried red chili. Young tender leaves of basil and its flowers were plucked from the garden, along with some oregano, peppery arugula, and their respective blooms. I’ll definitely miss the tomatoes when they’re gone, but that’s the beauty of seasonality: the excitement and anticipation of the return.