Stories

I'm a rabid fan of elegant epicurean eateries and eating en masse with my hedonistic friends.  Seen at Spago and Drago in L.A., and most often at Orso in New York, lately, due to the economy, we've gone from a monthly to an every two monthly meet up.  

I love these diversions from the routine cuisine of my hood. I revel in the whole fine restaurant ritual: of dressing up in a decades old outfit and making it look like fresh kill with a couple baubles; entering, precariously poised on high heeled boots meant for posing, trying not to teeter as I thrust myself past the other tables following the maitre d' to our huge table; sitting and reacquainting with coteries of two, then three, then more friends in their staggered arrivals.  Then I love the gasping over the menu, watching the waiter recite the specials without salivating, negotiating our deals over who will order what meals and how we'll trade off tastings.  

The flatware, the aromas, our blatant voyeurism watching others eat at adjoining tables, and they show off their choices with lip-smacking 'mmm's,' add to the celebration.  In a later lull, I'll cogitate on memorable meals with poignant nostalgia for a special flavor, feeling, time and the fraternity in sharing it, seasoned with the joy of not cooking or cleaning up.

Of course I’m as broke as the next girl, but as I was waiting for my car to get serviced, I decided to treat myself for having to suffer two hours in Santa Monica. I called a friend and she suggested Huckleberry. I had only been there one other time and the breakfast was completely fabulous, so I was excited to try it again. But on this last visit, the service was verging just on the brink of truly awful (like surprised that the people in line "actually want to order something" awful) and the ready-made salads (which are even more expensive than they are at Joan's on Third) looked as if they had been sitting out way too long and that they might not have been that great in the first place.

My mocha was still perfect – the way the Europeans and Israelis make coffee – the type of coffee that is getting harder and harder to find in LA. However, my friend ordered an iced coffee (which cost her $4 by the way) and when they brought it out (after a fifteen minute wait) it seemed a little watery. For the price of an entire meal from Trader Joe’s, this starving writer wasn't about to get skimped on her much needed afternoon coffee. She marched back in and demanded (by demanded I mean politely asked) for a less watered down coffee. The baristas confessed that they had run out of iced coffee and simply poured hot coffee over ice. They promptly made her a proper iced coffee and after bringing it out to our table told her that the milk and sugar were inside. Call me lazy, but for $4 a cup I don't want to schlep my own add-ins!

It came to me in a Saturday morning Skype. My four-year-old nephew looked into the computer and asked what I had for bweckfist. I said I ate breakfast in the form of a second dinner the night before. His parents laughed. Though that late night enchilada plate from our local Burrito King wasn’t all giggles.

I wouldn’t be hungry until lunch. A pattern was threatening to form. Two nights prior it had been pancakes and bacon from the Burrito King hours after a sushi dinner. Family faces stared at me in the video window for elaboration. I heard myself inventing then blaming it on Post Cleanse Disorder (PCD).

My sister and brother-in-law did the Master Cleanse a month before we did. Leo laughed, feigning pain, “I know what you mean, man.”

Our stomach’s egos were out of check; too prone to temptation. I should also mention I had an accomplice in the Burrito King missions: our buddy H-berg, who claims he can take at least twice as much as me when it comes to things of an intoxicating persuasion, but whom I impressed early in our friendship by demonstrating I could eat at least as much as him. I haven’t revisited the Burrito King for solo midnight pancakes and bacon. These things taste much better in good company.

We all know there are four tastes - salty, sweet, sour and bitter. But researchers have identified a fifth taste and that is umami - the rich, savory taste of some foods. This taste is found naturally in certain foods - very ripe tomatoes, anchovies, parmesan cheese and mushrooms to name a few. It's why fish sauce and soy sauce make fried rice so savory.  

Cooks have known for ages that these foods enhance the taste of savory dishes. It's because these foods naturally contain glutamate. It is why MSG (monosodium glutamate) makes foods taste better. If you like the way adding a chicken or beef bouillion cube (which has MSG in it) enhances the flavor of a sauce or a stew, why not try adding a food that naturally contains glutamate?

It's why Italian cooks often add an anchovy in the beginning when cooking a sauce. Even if you don't like the taste of anchovies, you will never know it is there. It completely dissolves but it adds a depth of flavor you would not have otherwise.  Don't say, "Ew!  I don't like anchovies!"  Take advantage of the glutamate in this food and enhance your cooking - your umami!