Comfort Foods and Indulgences

My family is pretty loosy goosy about the holidays.  We’ve reduced the mania to a few key factors- a great night together with some Christmas carols, a $50 Secret Santa gift, and a fantastic meal. It’s simple and perfect.  My dad is normally responsible for cooking the dinner –which is never a disappointment because he is a fantastic cook.  This year, however, my folks had overbooked themselves on Secret Santa day and asked me to take care of the meal.  I was thrilled because I had found a few recipes I was dying to take for a test drive and I knew my family would be eager guinea pigs.

I have not yet had the pleasure of eating in, Nancy Silverton’s restaurant in Los Angeles but that didn’t stop me from buying the cookbook as soon as it was published.  Nancy Silverton has the same passion and dedication to the joy of cooking and eating without being a foodie douchebag that I hope to achieve some day.

Her recipes are always inspiring to read.  When I say this, I mean that as a chef I read her recipes and am automatically designing menus that will blend with and promote the flavors of the food she is describing.  She makes it easy because she understands how simple flavors can be intertwined to create something delicious.

Needless to say, when The Mozza Cookbook arrived in my household I spent hours devouring it, bookmarking so many pages that the book is bloated with post-its.  When the opportunity to cook for my family showed up, I knew my Mozza moment had come.  Almost everything from this menu is from that cookbook.

A few weeks ago, I discovered the simple beauty of a homemade treat: milk oolong, honey & rose water tapioca. There was something so very satisfying about spending an hour in the kitchen sipping tea and handcrafting a simple sweet delight.

Craving the comforting sip of a matcha latte one evening, I decided to remix my first tea tapioca with a bit of the vibrant green Japanese powdered tea. While the first try at tea tapioca was subtly enhanced by the buttery milk oolong tea, this matcha infusion added its pronounced grassy and gently bitter flavor (similar to really wonderful dark chocolate) that balances the rich sweetness of the local honey and floral notes of the orange blossom water. And you can’t resist the rich green color that reminds you of freshly cut grass in the spring.

The trick to avoiding a grainy matcha tapioca is to take a few tablespoons of milk and add them to a bowl along with the 5 teaspoons of matcha. Stir in into a smooth paste to whisk into the heated milk. Just keep stirring throughout the hour and you’ll end up with a smooth, green spoonful.

Seattle is a dream city for a coffee-lover like me. If you type “coffee” on your smart phone’s Google Maps while standing in the city, it will explode.

On a three-day trip to Seattle, I decided I’d hit every coffeehouse that showed up on my map. I made it to nine before collapsing in a petit-mal seizure. By the time I walked into number nine, my hands were shaking so bad that I couldn’t swipe my credit card, so I had to just dump my cash on the counter for the barista to sort through.

Even in Seattle, you can’t survive on coffee alone; fortunately, there is no shortage of croissants, scones, macarons, and other assorted carbohydrates to keep you alive. My favorite were the bundt cakes, of which there were countless varieties in the coffeehouses I visited.  Bundt cakes are homey, comforting treats, perfect to pair with a strong mug of coffee. Or two. Or nine.

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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