Dedicated to the notion that one of the things that’s wrong with the world is that there aren’t enough waffles in it and everyone should sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes order “one for the table”.
It’s about elegance and simplicity. It’s about
having a philosophy about life that extends to the choice of
ingredients, fresh and otherwise, (ecological within reason), the way
you entertain, the placement of flowers in a vase, the careful way you
sometimes scramble an egg or simply butter a piece of toast and
conversely a sort of casual chaos that allows you to whip up dinner for
12, just because you suddenly look up and there are 12 people for
dinner.
Amy Ephron
"What the He'll??"
by Alison Grambs
Like most Americans, I like to complain.
Whatever has irked me - be it a problem at work, a squabble with my
parents, a politician’s latest scandal, a friend’s thoughtless remark,
or just a spontaneous burst of exasperation with my life in general, I
relish in the rant. Also like most Americans, when I’m having a bad
day, I think it only fair to let everyone know it – a goal readily met
thanks to the wonders of text messaging technology. Within seconds I
am able to disseminate my missives of misery to anyone I deem worthy,
invoking references to Satan’s domain to get my point across
effectively.
“WHO THE HELL DOES HE THINK HE IS?!”
“WELL, SHE CAN JUST GO TO HELL AS FAR AS I’M CONCERNED!”
“WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?!”
Yes, it feels good to vent with the tip of my finger. Only trouble is, I have the new iPhone and it doesn’t believe in Hell.
First, I bought a pair of orange crocs. I figured that would be the
first step (ahem …first step!!) toward cooking like Mario.I had to
start somewhere – so why not start at the ground and work up. (---
Never mind)
Oddly, that actually didn’t work, so I was driven to consider alternative ways… like maybe buying his books instead. Mario Tailgates NASCAR Style,
for example. I am serious. Consider the great recipes in that book,
such as Grilled Tequila and Chipotle Rubbed Lamb or Soft-Shelled Crab
Sandwich with Spicy Tatar Sauce! My newest addition, which arrived
today, is Molto Gusto: Easy Italian Cooking the perfect summer cookbook. (I love the farmers’ market in Martha’s Vineyard where I can stroll around chatting up friends and
selecting the wonderful native grown seasonal produce that I will be able to
incorporate into his recipes.)
But, I found an even better way of learning to be Mario. I have had the
delicious joy of watching him work – up close and truly personal: An
auction item from a most worthy
charity – Mariska Hargitay’s Joyful Heart – given most graciously by
Mario. Clearly a perfect though pricey opportunity to learn from the
master! He made his classic white truffle five-course dinner for ten at
our home – and what an experience! What delicious subtle flavors! What
elegant homemade pasta! What divine truffles! What a cool guy.
This weekend in the United States we celebrate Labor Day. A holiday
that originated in the 1880's to give the working citizens of America a
day of rest.
I think for Americans it is a more significant celebration of the end of summer.
It's not Labor Day (or any holiday) unless I have some type of "dip".
It doesn't matter what kind, just as long as it exists in some shape or
form in my kitchen.
Yesterday I was having a terrible salt craving so I opted for something with capers to satisfy the urge. I make this Lemon-Caper Dip
in two versions, low-fat and full-of-fat. Of course my husband prefers
the full-of-fat version but it's easy to make either way and is
only a matter of switching out one of the ingredients.
I made
the lower-fat version this time using yogurt but for the full-of-fat
version just substitute mayonnaise for the yogurt, it's really good
that way too.
There is a difference between jam and preserves. Jam is sweet fruit
you spread on toast. Preserves are a frozen moment in time—a piece of
summer that you can carry with you the rest of the year: high grass,
long naps, warm evenings, your front porch…
My neighbor Mary Wellington makes preserves.
Mary is a farmer. And not only a single-family farmer--a single
farmer. She works three acres of very diverse orchards of Glenn Annie
canyon all by herself, on which she grows over fifty varieties of
fruit. Her preserves were so treasured and ubiquitous at local
farmer’s markets that many people came to call her “The Jam Lady.” Her
Blenheim Apricot jam is intoxicating. Her Blood Orange marmalade is
insane. The red raspberry is well… indescribable.
How My Dad Is Trying to Save the World With Open-Source Machinery
by Colin Delany
From The Huffington Post
Here in the Delany family, we're generally not ones to think small
-- and my father is the prime example. An inveterate inventor who
couldn't stop playing with ideas if he tried, he's come up with some
fascinating tools that might change the way people live in impoverished
areas across the globe. How? By coming up with simple technologies they
can use to make and repair everything from pots and pans to
agricultural equipment, built with materials common around the world.
The essential parts can come from junked cars and trucks, for instance,
which are lying around just about everywhere. Plus, one branch of this
mechanical family tree can also help power a village, charging cell
phones and letting students study after dark by the light of LED bulbs.
Why take this project on? Because the ability to manufacture and
repair machinery is one crucial handicap of most Third World economies
– for instance, you can help people drill water wells all day long, but
if there's no mechanical infrastructure in place to repair it, they're
still helpless when the pump breaks (the parts are likely a continent
or two away, which usually means that they might as well be on the
moon).
Perhaps more importantly, these tools also teach skills, since you
start with the plans and construct the machines themselves using local
materials – and once you've done that, you're on your way to being able
to build anything up to and including a battleship. Note that in some
cases this project revives mechanical techniques that have been
forgotten for a century or two but that are perfect for areas short on
resources other than human hands and brains.
If you’re confused about where to donate to Pakistan (we are)...Here are two organizations,
Oxfam and Unicef, that we’re pretty sure will make it to the ground!
We welcome anyone else’s thoughts/suggestion of where people can donate, as well! Please contact us at
This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it
One for the Table's End of Summer Cocktail Extravaganza
by The Editors
Whether you're cooling off by the pool, by the beach, or on the patio, our homemade drinks will help you enjoy the last official weekend of summer with style.
Art & Soul, located just inside the Liaison Capitol Hill Hotel in
Washington, DC, is Chef Art Smith's first restaurant in DC. Chef Smith,
better known as Oprah Winfrey's former personal chef, opened this new
restaurant as the first Southern restaurant in the nation's capitol,
serving the gamut of traditional but modernized comfort food. The
space—indoors and out—really lends itself to gatherings and parties.
Bold touches of red throughout as well as basic black accentuate the
sophisticated atmosphere. I think it helps show off the traditional
Southern food in an even more modern light.
While I was in DC with Destination DC, I had the pleasure of staying at the Liaison Hotel and dining at Art & Soul on my first night. I was joined by two other bloggers, Cathy
from Gastronomy Blog and Olga from Mango Tomato,
as well as writers from other parts of the country. The best and most
surprising part was that Art Smith himself was there to have dinner
with us. It was truly an experience to be savored and remembered.
Our evening began with Southernized hors d'ouevres and cocktails. First
luscious and creamy fried mac 'n cheese balls. Then small hoecakes with
smoked salmon and caviar. Fried chicken with gravy that were served
between bite-size biscuits came next. Finally seared tuna atop a fried
green tomato with green tomato relish. I never imagined Southern food
could work as such elegant finger food.
In a few days I’ll be hopping on another plane to a place that
promises lots of good food, relaxation, sunshine and wine. It’s a trip
we’ve been planning for a while, but what I wasn’t planning on was real
life enveloping the weeks before and after this excursion. In this case
real life means work, and work means travel, and that means I’ll be up
in the air and away from home for many weeks. When I return it will no
longer be summer but early fall and I can’t help but feel slightly Rip
Van Winkelish about the whole damn thing.
I’ve managed to cram quite a bit of summer in the past few weeks.
Dinners outdoors with best friends, long walks in the muggy streets of
NYC with my blogging family, even one last hurrah at our house just the
other night dedicated to the bounty of figs. Summer is my favorite
season and I just don’t like to see it ending, footstomp footstomp footstomp!
As a symbolic gesture I picked up stone fruit at the farmers’ market
the other day, knowing that it could very likely be the last peach or
plum I would buy and cook with at home for some time. Of course I’m
looking forward to what’s around the corner but saying goodbye to stone
fruit always leaves me a bit melancholy. What better way to throw it a
little party than by making a cobbler. I am a Certified Cobbler Freak
and it almost doesn’t matter what kind either. I don’t think anyone can
go wrong with warm fruit, topping and the required scoop of ice cream.
You just can’t.
A canalé is a specialty of the Bordeaux region of France. A
small pastry with a soft custard center and a dark caramelized crust.
They are eaten for breakfast, as a snack, and for dessert. Canalé
is also a favorite neighborhood restaurant. Just a few walkable blocks
from home. Robert and I were there on a recent Friday night. We have
often wondered how the recession is affecting restaurants. It didn’t
seem to be having much of an affect on Canalé this particular night.
The restaurant was full and people were still waiting for tables when
we left around 9:15 or so.
It’s great to see this place doing so well. The food has been called
French-California-Mediterranean. And it is, but some of the menu items
are classic French. Those are the ones I like the most. Like the bouef Bourguignon with buttered noodles I had on my first visit, and the pissaladiere with herb salad. They also have sides like pommes Anna, a very old-fashioned potato dish of layered potatoes and butter; starters like leeks vinaigrette, and brandade,
a salt cod dish originating in the Languedoc and Provence regions of
France.
Matt Kramer is a wine writer who doesn't think much about tasting
notes. Which is not to say that he is short of opinions. Certainly not.
That is what makes him so valuable and, sometimes, so provocative. A
longtime columnist for Wine Spectator magazine (and a friend and former
regular contributor to the L.A. Times Food section), Kramer prefers to
focus on the history, culture, business and personalities of wine,
rather than flowery descriptions.
His books have been mostly lyrically written, in-depth looks at his favorite wine-growing places – Italy, the Piedmont in particular; California and Burgundy. But his newest book, "Matt Kramer on Wine,"
is something different. A collection of his columns from various publications, it's a series of provocative, muscularly argued takes on the state of wine today.
And there aren't many people who can argue like Kramer. He is
well-read and an interesting thinker. He has a knack for coming up with
the perfect telling metaphor and can thread a rhetorical needle in a
way that would make a Jesuit weep for joy.
Where would I be without California farmers? If it weren't for them, I
would never have discovered the sticky, caramel bliss of Medjool dates,
the tropical pina colada flavors of cherimoya, or the simple joy of
munching on raw summer sweet corn. Yes, raw corn.
At first, I was skeptical. Having grown up in New England, I was
accustomed to bright yellow, fat kerneled ears of corn steamed to
perfection and doused with melted butter and salt. But the LA farmer
insisted I taste the raw corn he was offering: raw, white, small
kerneled corn. How could such puny corn possibly be good without butter and salt?
Still, I held out my palm while he filled it with a scoop of raw corn
kernels. With one swift swoop of the arm, I popped the entire handful
in my mouth. It was crunchy, as in snap! crackle! pop! crunchy and
surprisingly juicy. As for the flavor, well, it was natural. Just
unadorned, mildly sweet, old-fashioned corn flavor. I was hooked.
Can you imagine a cookbook with ingredients but no measurements? My
cookbook that I got from the school I attended in Florence many years
ago is like that. So is the cookbook "A Tuscan in the Kitchen". Tuscans are funny that way. Because they grew up cooking without
measurements, they can't imagine why anyone else should need them.
Thank goodness for Divina Cucina's Recipes,
because my ability to write down recipes back in the day was not what
it is today, and I actually appreciate measurements with my recipes.
Judy Witts Francini is an American who has been living in Florence for
over 25 years. She's a fantastic cook and cooking instructor and also has a lovely blog
that really gives you a feel for shopping, cooking and eating in Italy.
When I heard she was publishing a cookbook of recipes, I couldn't wait
to check it out.
The dishes in the book are absolutely what I remember from living with
a family in Florence. Included are the recipes for what local people
actually eat – classic antipasti from the
region, plenty of soups, and main dishes that use generally inexpensive
cuts of meat and poultry. It's real Tuscan food, and not restaurant
food.
I didn't really think much about food and what went into making a
nice meal until I was somewhat forced to learn how to cook when I was
laid off (again) about ten years ago. I needed something to do with my
free time and felt like I should contribute something to the household,
since I was no longer bringing in any dough, so to speak. While I had
certainly thrown things together over the years, this was a new quest
to eat better and see if time and effort really made a difference. I
know that seems ridiculous, but I honestly had no frame of reference.
My mother always did all the cooking when I was growing up, preparing
hearty meals from scratch for her family of six. Of course, this was in
the days where the whole family sat down to dinner every night and you
had to finish everything on your plate before you were excused and then
were promptly put to work cleaning up the kitchen. It was her domain and we ate what was prepared. Now I got to choose what graced our table.
With a subscription to Cooking Light and The Betty Crocker Cookbook
in hand I began to create and in time to actually innovate and uncover
the joys of foods I never thought would ever enter my mouth. One of my
biggest revelations in the intervening years has been the deliciousness
of the olive. I am addicted to everything about this "fruit" and now
instead of picking them out of things I put more on. I think I could
actually subsist on crusty bread dipped in e.v.o.o. (at least for a
weekend).
Cobbler Lady: Pam Wright finds a recipe for business success
by Jenn Garbee
From the LA Times
With the chicken-salad sandwich lunch rush looming, Pam Wright wastes no time sprinkling just enough water on the butter and flour mixture on her countertop to bind the pie dough. The owner of the Cobbler Lady in Leimert Park gathers up a butter-speckled ball and
rolls it out in quick strokes, then dangles the dough over one corner
of a small rectangular aluminum pan, letting it buckle generously into
sporadic folds on top of the peach filling.
"Customers always ask for more crust, so I experimented to get the most
in there without drying out the filling," she explains, adding that she
slips a layer of dough into the middle of each fruit-filled pan to lend
a dumpling-like texture to the filling.
A blue-ribbon-worthy presentation is not Wright's goal. She's weathered
one too many sour business deals over the last 20 years, including a
failed restaurant that left her penniless (and homeless), to worry
about how a wrinkle or two in the crust might appear.
"How many hipsters does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"
"It's a really obscure number. You wouldn't have heard of it."
Since starting my dance company, my affiliation with hipsters has grown
exponentially (and it wasn't exactly non-existent before). So instead of
fighting it, I've decided to fully embrace all the customs and habits
of this (increasingly less) rarified group of moustache sporting, shower
shunning, flannel-wearing, beanstalk-bodied ugly ducklings. To
accomplish this, I consult my sister, who, while she is much too
beautiful to need to hide behind hipster affectations, is an expert on
all things Eastside and off-the-beaten path.
So when I found out that my new favorite band, Essay, was playing in Silverlake, I asked Anna where we should have dinner.
I didn’t miss him all winter. Everytime I spoke to our mutual friends, who I guess he got custody over as I was limited to phone time with them, they would tell me he was being cold, sort of erratic, he was being exceedingly difficult. In some form or another he was costing them all money. He was not as exciting as he used to be.
But now that it’s summer, I noticed a change in their voices. They’re all clearly laughing with him again, enjoying his company, discovering new aspects of his personality. I am not jealous, per se.
I do have someone else, someone way more suited to my personality. Someone who’s made me a little bit blonder, and a little bit tanner, and a hell of a lot healthier, but there’s still a separate heartbeat consistent for my first true love, and sometime in the middle of the night, when I know he cannot hear me, I’ll tell him: “New York, I miss you."
1 cup cornmeal
1/2 cup self-rising flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup buttermilk
1 (8 ounce) can creamed yellow corn
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 cup shredded Cheddar cheese
chopped jalapenos, 2-4 depending on how much heat you like
Like most Americans, I like to complain. 
I have always wanted to cook like Mario Batali.
the perfect summer cookbook. (I love the farmers’ market in Martha’s Vineyard where I can stroll around chatting up friends and
selecting the wonderful native grown seasonal produce that I will be able to
incorporate into his recipes.)
This weekend in the United States we celebrate Labor Day. A holiday
that originated in the 1880's to give the working citizens of America a
day of rest. 
There is a difference between jam and preserves. Jam is sweet fruit
you spread on toast. Preserves are a frozen moment in time—a piece of
summer that you can carry with you the rest of the year: high grass,
long naps, warm evenings, your front porch…
Here in the Delany family, we're generally not ones to think small
-- and my father is the prime example. An inveterate inventor who
couldn't stop playing with ideas if he tried, he's come up with some
fascinating tools that might change the way people live in impoverished
areas across the globe. How? By coming up with simple technologies they
can use to make and repair everything from pots and pans to
agricultural equipment, built with materials common around the world.
The essential parts can come from junked cars and trucks, for instance,
which are lying around just about everywhere. Plus, one branch of this
mechanical family tree can also help power a village, charging cell
phones and letting students study after dark by the light of LED bulbs.
Art & Soul, located just inside the Liaison Capitol Hill Hotel in
Washington, DC, is Chef Art Smith's first restaurant in DC. Chef Smith,
better known as Oprah Winfrey's former personal chef, opened this new
restaurant as the first Southern restaurant in the nation's capitol,
serving the gamut of traditional but modernized comfort food. The
space—indoors and out—really lends itself to gatherings and parties.
Bold touches of red throughout as well as basic black accentuate the
sophisticated atmosphere. I think it helps show off the traditional
Southern food in an even more modern light.
In a few days I’ll be hopping on another plane to a place that
promises lots of good food, relaxation, sunshine and wine. It’s a trip
we’ve been planning for a while, but what I wasn’t planning on was real
life enveloping the weeks before and after this excursion. In this case
real life means work, and work means travel, and that means I’ll be up
in the air and away from home for many weeks. When I return it will no
longer be summer but early fall and I can’t help but feel slightly Rip
Van Winkelish about the whole damn thing.
A canalé is a specialty of the Bordeaux region of France. A
small pastry with a soft custard center and a dark caramelized crust.
They are eaten for breakfast, as a snack, and for dessert. 
Matt Kramer is a wine writer who doesn't think much about tasting
notes. Which is not to say that he is short of opinions. Certainly not.
That is what makes him so valuable and, sometimes, so provocative. A
longtime columnist for Wine Spectator magazine (and a friend and former
regular contributor to the L.A. Times Food section), Kramer prefers to
focus on the history, culture, business and personalities of wine,
rather than flowery descriptions.
, the Piedmont in particular; 
and Burgundy. But his newest book, "
Can you imagine a cookbook with ingredients but no measurements? My
cookbook that I got from the school I attended in Florence many years
ago is like that. So is the cookbook "A Tuscan in the Kitchen". Tuscans are funny that way. Because they grew up cooking without
measurements, they can't imagine why anyone else should need them. 
I didn't really think much about food and what went into making a
nice meal until I was somewhat forced to learn how to cook when I was
laid off (again) about ten years ago. I needed something to do with my
free time and felt like I should contribute something to the household,
since I was no longer bringing in any dough, so to speak. While I had
certainly thrown things together over the years, this was a new quest
to eat better and see if time and effort really made a difference. I
know that seems ridiculous, but I honestly had no frame of reference.
My mother always did all the cooking when I was growing up, preparing
hearty meals from scratch for her family of six. Of course, this was in
the days where the whole family sat down to dinner every night and you
had to finish everything on your plate before you were excused and then
were promptly put to work cleaning up the kitchen. It was her domain and we ate what was prepared. Now I got to choose what graced our table.
With the chicken-salad sandwich lunch rush looming, Pam Wright wastes no time sprinkling just enough water on the butter and flour mixture on her countertop to bind the pie dough. The owner of the Cobbler Lady in Leimert Park gathers up a butter-speckled ball and
rolls it out in quick strokes, then dangles the dough over one corner
of a small rectangular aluminum pan, letting it buckle generously into
sporadic folds on top of the peach filling.
I didn’t miss him all winter. Everytime I spoke to our mutual friends, who I guess he got custody over as I was limited to phone time with them, they would tell me he was being cold, sort of erratic, he was being exceedingly difficult. In some form or another he was costing them all money. He was not as exciting as he used to be.
