Comfort Foods and Indulgences

One of my favorite memories growing up was going to the Dodger games. For most people, they looked forward to a Dodger dog, a bag of peanuts (from the peanut guy who still, to this day, throws peanuts to everyone), and a frozen malt. Dodger games were a high priority, but eating at the stadium was not on our family’s agenda. Our tradition was either dinner at Little Joe’s or a French Dip sandwich from Philippe's, with a side of pickles, and a bag of chips. Yup…so good.

Sadly, Little Joe’s is no longer around. When I was pregnant with Eli(17 years ago), I CRAVED their salad and their raviolis w/bolognese. As I write this, I can still taste their signature recipe on my tongue. Oh, how I miss that place; the tacky red booths, sawdust on the floor, the bread, and the “take out” deli where my dad and I would buy boxes and boxes of raviolis to freeze for future meals.

Little Joe’s may be a part of my past, but Philippes is still a huge part of our present. We have broken tradition a bit. Philippes is not simply a pre-game meal. It’s where we go when they have a day off from school(sometimes taking the metro directly to Union Station) or a late night snack. NO ONE makes a French Dip sandwich quite like Philippes. It’s that good. So when I bought my slow cooker a few months back, French Dips were high on the list.

American bison are an important part of the prairie ecosystem and after a decline almost to extinction around the end of the 19th century, today there are many ranchers working hard to bring them back. I enjoy cooking and eating bison (sometimes referred to as buffalo).

The brands I've tried thus far have all been grass fed, lean, raised in a more sustainable manner and well, delicious. You may be able to find ground bison at your supermarket and it's pretty easy to use in recipes that call for ground beef. Bison steaks however are another story.

Because most bison is grass fed, it's leaner, like grass fed beef. Considered a highly nutrient dense food, it's lower in calories, fat and cholesterol than even chicken, it has 40% more protein than beef and is high in iron, omega 3 fatty acids and vitamin E. Without rich marbling, it needs more tender loving care. Wild Idea Buffalo recently sent me some samples of their products.

From the L.A. Times

In Italy's Piedmont region, where polenta may be better loved than anywhere else on Earth, the cornmeal mush is a food of the fall. When the air turns crisp with the first frost and people await the arrival of snow, housewives labor over their cooking pots, stirring, stirring as coarse meal slurried in water gradually thickens and becomes sticky and delicious. To serve, it's poured out onto a wooden board in a rich golden puddle like a harvest moon.

Cesare Pavese wrote about it in "The Moon and the Bonfires," a nostalgic novel about a Piedmontese expatriate's return home: "These are the best days of the year. Picking grapes, stripping vines, squeezing the fruit, are no kind of work; the heat has gone and it's not cold yet; under a few light clouds you eat rabbit with your polenta and go after mushrooms."

We do things differently in Southern California. In the first place, fall can be even hotter than summer. Here polenta belongs to these damp chilly days of winter.

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It happened like this… I was standing on the northeast corner of Broadway and whatever street waiting to cross.  I was running to shop or cook or finish some errand that must must must get done quickly so everything else can be done quickly so that I can get on to the next thing and then the next and then fall asleep so that more stuff can get done tomorrow. I was staring at a pick-up truck heading in my direction.  It was the only car on the road for that moment, the only thing halting my progress, and right before it got to me it suddenly made a turn WITHOUT ITS TURN SIGNAL ON.  I could have gone!  I was waiting for seconds for this fucking truck to pass when it wasn’t even passing!!!  My life is disappearing before my very eyes and this selfish asshat doesn’t even care.

The injustice. The indignity. The NERVE.

I made a sound in response, alone on that street corner, like a groan/ moan/ wail of agony so dramatic you would have thought my child was being ripped from my breast.

But then I stopped.  And I heard myself.  And I was ashamed. There is a possibility I’ve let this season get the best of me.