Entertaining

Historically, there are a few things you will never see me turn down:

1) A glass of champagne.

2) A ripe juicy heirloom tomato during summer.

3) Anchovies or Sardines, In Any Format, Any Time Of The Year, No Matter Where

About number three, yep, it’s true. My lifelong love affair with those salty, powerfully fishy flavors of the sea no doubt originated with my dad, who was happy to keep tins of sardines in the house, and when I think back we kids must’ve been a sight to see, eagerly inhaling sardines in mustard or sardines in olive oil with crackers, toast, or just by themselves.

As an adult I was happy to learn that there’s actually a whole world of variety when it comes to anchovies and sardines (two completely separate fish), but it’s a group I’m quick to lump together just because, well, they belong in THAT category. To me, at least.

If they’re on a menu — FRESH — forgettuaboutit. If I’m in Spain, they will be consumed daily. If they’re layered on a pizza (we’re talking anchovies here), I’m in. And my eyes eagerly seek the fine print of menus for the “Our Caesar Is Made With Anchovies, Please Inform Your Server If”, which, of course, I never seem to finish that last sentence. I am so down.

The backstory on the three ambitious, talented men that created Barolo Joe, a catering company and dinner club, is that they all work in the “business,” meaning food. Such a breath of fresh Southern California air – they’re not peddling scripts. The driving force behind it, Joseph Baker, originally from Vancouver, made friends with Abraham Lukaczer, born and raised in Seattle, about ten years ago. Then, through Tar and Roses, they met and pitched their idea to a third partner, Eric Grant, born and raised in Maine, who had been touring with a band for years, but had also done stints in food in San Francisco and Nantucket. These three food and wine enthusiasts teamed up. Barolo Joe was born.

Serendipity is my middle name.

All right, not legally. I don’t have a middle name. My parents were too lazy to give me one. But I do have many serendipitous moments. I had a big one a few weeks ago. Huge. I’m sitting at my favorite restaurant -- at least it’s my favorite when they keep balsamic glazed ribs on the menu.

Digression. This happens to me a lot, so I’m pretty certain it’s a plot: when I love something on a menu, the restaurant invariably removes it. Tar & Roses in Santa Monica will usually have the ribs, but then they won’t. Once, when they took it off the menu, I freaked out. They put it back -- briefly -– then scratched it one more time -- and now it’s back. Finally, I can safely order my favorite dish whenever I want. I probably just jinxed it.

So... I sit down at the bar one night -– not a table -- because I was being spontaneous and forgot to book a proper reservation.

Like most modern day, self-taught chef's I have, of course, heard of The Fannie Farmer Cookbook. First published in 1896, it's currently in its' 13th Edition, which is pretty impressive since Fannie Farmer died in 1915. Granted cooking has changed a lot in the century since she first began inspiring young wives and mothers to create lovely meals at home.

She ran the original "test kitchen" at The Boston Cooking School, constantly reworking recipes until they were just right and eventually included in the cookbook. Who knows what she would make of all our fancy gadgets and time-saving devices, but after reading Fannie's Last Supper, I have a feeling she would have enjoyed the relative ease of cooking in a more modern time.

God knows delivering dinner in the Victorian-era was no small task, as was discovered by the book's author Chris Kimball, the founder of Cook's Magazine and host of America's Test Kitchen.

I have held off writing about this cookbook that I really, really love, because I was worried that I might offend someone.

The cookbook in question, which is much more than a cookbook, is called I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence, and is written by Amy Sedaris. Amy Sedaris, in addition to being the sister of my idol David Sedaris, is an actress best known for her role in “Strangers with Candy.” She is unnaturally funny, has a keen grasp of pop culture past and present, and even if one does not cook, this book is worth reading  just for the “helpful suggestions,” the photographs and the illustrations. In the first chapter, “what a Party Means to Me,” Sedaris gives the following pointers for being a “Self-Realized” person:

-Be unique in a way that is pleasing to everybody.

-Accentuate the positives - medicate the negatives.

-Have a hairstyle that is flattering to some and offensive to few.

-Have access to money.

-Never cry yourself to sleep in front of others.