Tableau Vivante

I’ve been twittering away this morning about this thing or that recipe, mostly because of the proximity of the laptop, which is now playing back broadcasts of KCRW’s Good Food. But also because Sunday mornings are when I marathon cook for hours some preprepped food for the week. JJ and I sometimes don’t get home from our respective daytime pursuits in the mood to heat up the stove and stand in front of it for another 30 or so minutes to quiet the belly grumbles. This is what quiche is for. Or maybe some parboiled potatoes for a quick browning in a pan. Maybe with a glass of sun-brewed black tea. Or a bowl of rice with char sui chicken and cilantro on top.

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Hotty hot hot. Busted out the fan today. We’re running at around 94 degrees today for the high. But at 8AM you could feel it in the air. It was almost itchy warm – like the temp was impatiently wanting to get where it needed to be. I had been lulled into a false sense of comfort the past few market mornings with low hanging clouds and chilly environs. My jeans and long sleeved shirt were soon too much for the Santa Anas that were blowing in.

But still – sparkly blue skies and orchid stained glass.

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A while back a friend of mine asked me what I thought would make the ultimate $100 cellar. Fancy wine’s not cheap and there’s so much good stuff to chose from. I thought about variety and balance. You’d need some reds, of course, but also some whites. You’d want to be able to pair with different kinds of food.

After much deliberation, I came up with the following list:

• Turnbull Estate Grown Cabernet Sauvignon ($34), an amazingly rich, fruit-forward cab that rivals competitors at twice the price
• Mollydooker Shiraz ‘The Boxer’($20), classic Aussie Shiraz concentrate almost sweet with oak vanilin
• Rombauer Napa Valley Chardonnay ($27), heroin for Chardonnay addicts
• Van Volxem Saar Riesling ($17), delicious off-dry lemon and apricot that pairs with almost anything

That got me up to $98. Say what you will, but there’s really no other choice for that last $2: the infamous Two-Buck Chuck itself…

• Charles Shaw Cabernet ($2), smooth and easy drinker consistent across vintages

Okay, new vintages have been released since I originally priced this list and some have gone up. But still, it was a perfect $100. I’m a genius, right?

Then I thought about it some more…

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I really do like it here. At Euro Pane I mean. Some people aren’t as in love with it, but I figure that’s fine – more croissants for me.

Or in this case, crumb topped brioche. And a thickly foamed cappuccino.

And when you finish the drinking part of the cap, then comes the scooping of the leftover, crema-laced foam.  Just thought I’d share.

Sometimes I have morning meetings scheduled out on the westside of LA which make a morning trip to my eastside office a bit of a waste. So instead of yoyoing back and forth, I do a midweek morning pitstop at Euro Pane, which is where I am right now.

Pictures when I get situated back at my desk. Right now I’m enjoying an oven fresh brioche, a cap, and am staring longingly at a box full of Sumi Chang’s chocolate cupcakes. They’re for my assistant in honor of “Administrative Assistant’s Day”.

*I* think it makes me the best boss ever. Sumi agrees.

I’ll be here until 8:30 or so. If you’re nearby, stop by and say hi.

I wish I had more time to expand on what I’ve read this morning.  But I don’t.  Instead I’m going to offer you a brief blurb about why you should read the front page (above the fold, no less, with copious graphics) article in the Los Angeles Times today about low-carbon diets.

Heck, you may not even believe that global warming is a reality.  Yes, even you should read this piece.  Pick it apart.  Dissect it.  It’s a powerful article and I’d like to get a better idea of how much of it is solid and how much of it is standing on one leg on a piano wire draped across the LA River.  In fact, a good portion of it reads a bit like a press kit from Bon Appetit Management Company Foundation (a company foundation?  hm!)  But there are also some fascinating tidbits about agriculture, local food, and all the bits that make up the giant carbon comida pie.  I was riveted.

Does this mean I won’t ever eat imported cheese again?  Will my quiches become guilt-laden tarts of terra turmoil?  As we celebrate yet another Earth Day (look, if it’s one thing Earth Day has taught us it’s that every day is Earth Day), these questions will dance around my brainmeats while I look for solid, factual answers.  This is, after all, a food blog that touts eating local, though not entirely for the carbon-quota.

Read it.  Discuss it.  Comment on it.  It’s worth chewing on.

When I wandered out into the wilds of our backyard this weekend, I noticed that the oregano was popping up all over. I had planted it years ago and since then it has required absolutely no prodding from me to produce. Fresh oregano = tasty meatballs in my book, so I made a nice big batch and included them in today’s lunchings. As usual, click through for details.

It wasn’t really until I opened today’s lunch that I realized how homey it is – a sort of meat and potatoes thing with a peanut butter and honey sandwich for dessert (thanks for the idea, Allez). Very comforting.

Mole. Moh-leh. Ai, Mexico. Gracias for this wonderful sauce.

I grew up with mole, that spicy, chocolaty sauce often reserved for birthdays, first communions, and weddings. Mi Tia Gloria served it at my engagement party. I order it at La Fiesta Grande as a side for carnitas. I put it on rice. I mix it into frijoles. I scoop it onto chips and couple it will some cooling guacamole.

Mole is right up there with Christmas tamales, New Years Day menudo, and my grandmother’s fideo as one of the foods that reattach me to one half of my cultural heritage. When I lived back east, I would try to carefully smuggle back a jar of Doña Maria and a carton of Ibarra chocolate after each family visit. Now that I’m back in L.A. again, I’ve got plenty of mole within arms reach.

Also within reach are the plethora of local Spanish radio stations that pepper the dial with accordion-laced cumbias. So for this food-minded Latina, mashing a cumbia up with lyrics about mole is a pretty fun prospect. For this, I thank Lila Downs. The song came out a while ago, but I haven’t shared it nearly enough. I loves me some Lila (her Agua de Rosas is also one of my favorites). Maybe you will too.

EDIT: hmmm the embedding isn’t working…so follow the link instead.

I’d been hosting my photos on the tiny corner of cyberspace that Earthlink affords me as part of a basic account. Apparently, in addition to a megabyte limit for storage space, there is a monthly gigabyte limit for traffic to that space. It had never come up before.

Well, it took one very kind introduction here, a seemingly harmless link, and about one day before Earthlink sends me a nasty email (okay it was polite, but still). It seems I’m bumping up against this month’s viewing limit with a week and a half yet to go. The dreaded “Page Not Currently Available” looms. So instead of writing something new I spent the weekend creating a Flickr account, uploading everything there, and meticulously hand-editing all my old posts to update the image links.

Our generous host doesn’t know her own strength!

In part because of this predicament, I’m flattered to be here. In gratitude I swear an oath: I will eat and drink for you! Oh, and subsequently I’ll do my best to post something interesting about it afterwards. Yah. That, too.

Under every foil cap, an oenological adventure awaits…

- inspector vino

Another cool, crisp spring morning. The 90+ degree anomalies aren’t all that bad, but I do have a greater appreciation now of how that dictates a farmer’s workload as we head into the summer fruit harvests. More on that later.

I got there way later this morning. Well, late for me anyway. Sometimes the bed is just too perfectly warm, the husband too perfectly cuddly, and the motivation too perfectly lax. I didn’t so much as sleep in as ignored the morning as it slipped by. For reference, I usually get up sans alarm at around 5AM. Today, feet touched floorboard at around 7AM. Made a few lists. Watched some BSG (Ron Moore, I totally dig your writing, but dang. This episode hurt.) Ate some leftover pizza. By the time I was out the door, it was around 9AM. Shocking, I say. Shocking. Much as I’m not fond of crowds, I do get a kick out of the conversations going on. Early morning market goers, like myself, seem to be more food-focused.  Friendly, but gabbing is generally limited to what looks good and who has seascapes out. The later crowd is definitely more social. Collections of strollers form suburban campfires where friends and acquaintances come and go, sharing info and sneaking peaks at each others’ market baskets.  It’s a more relaxed group.  Invitations are exchanged.  Dinner parties are planned.  I just liked watching the tides change.

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