Feast Blog

My old friends are well-seasoned in the ritual of my annual Cassoulet. The ritual is simple; once a year, the duck fat flowing in my veins runs thin and like a fine automobile requiring its regularly scheduled quarts of oil, my body begins its craving for this unctuously rich dish, redolent with duck confit, over three pounds of pork products, duck fat, and Tarbais beans. I have written in the past how I came about using my favorite recipe, Paula Wolfert‘s Toulouse-Style Cassoulet. It takes three days to make. It is a labor of love. I have to order specialty ingredients from a local importer, Joie de Vivre. I soak my beans and season my pork. A ragout is made a day in advance and the beans and duck and pork products are layered in the specially-designed bowl by Clay Coyote and baked for several hours.

Fearing my guests won’t have enough to eat, I supplement the evening’s offering with cheese and wine, crudité and charcouterie, stuffed mushroom caps and goat-cheese filled endive studded with port wine- and spice-soaked dried figs and candied pecans, an Alsatian onion tart and caviar. There were desserts and friends. Yes, the evening is truly all about the warmth of sharing the goodness of the richness of great food with the richness of true friendship.

I have truly fabulous friends. They brought the wine; some bubbly to start the evening with, a Moet Chandon Champagne. But then the magic: Without being told it was traditional, every one who brought a bottle, contributed that special juice which is traditional with cassoulet, a California Pinot Noir or a French Burgundy (they are the same grape, after all). From California, we reveled in an ’07 La Crema from Sonoma, an ’06 Domaine Alfred Chamisal Vineyard from Edna Valley, an ’03 Marimar Estate Don Miguel Vineyard from the Russian River Valley, and a very special ’98 Olivet Lane Estate, also from the Russian River Valley. That ’98 Olivet was a close companion with the French ’95 Blagny La Piece sous le Bois.

There has been requests for a second bowl this very cold, wintery season. The fact that San Francisco is experiencing unseasonably cold weather might demand an encore; several friends have considered chipping in for the ingredients, only to divide up the portions for T.V. dinners (it freezes VERY well and I have been known to go through the effort of a second production just for the left-over factor). I was to create a second go-around. In making the ragout for the cassoulet, I was left with a quart or so of the seasoned broth. Not wanting any of it to go to waste, I seared up a few Italian sausages, sautéed some mirepoix with pancetta, and recooked the broth with some Rancho Gordo Yellow Indian Woman Beans. Heartier than the creamy Tarbais beans, the second version of the cassoulet was in some ways, more satisfying than the first — but maybe because I got to relish these leftovers over a few days in the quiet of the apartment without all the pageantry. Just a good friend stopping by for lunch, a mug of eggnot latté, and the cat who knows he gets to lick the bowl when I’m done.

Florio is a little restaurant in my neighborhood that I dine at only once or twice a year. Quite frankly, the menu has always been a bit too restrained for my tastes; generic steak frites and mundane roast chicken. Not bad at all, just dishes I always felt I could create at home. In fact, the times I have gone there I have always enjoyed myself, but was never blown away. But when my older sister comes to visit, Florio is a favorite for her for the very reasons I forget about it; she is a woman who revels in a good roast chicken, craves a hearty steak with fries, and loves its basic goodness.

When she arrived for the annual jaunt up Fillmore Street for pre-Thanksgiving shopping, I tried to steer her towards some other establishments. “S.P.Q.R. has a new chef,” I entreated. “Japantown is just a block away,” I reminded. Nope. She wanted Florio.

Trying to be a bit on the healthier side, I started with a salad of shaved fennel, anchovies, and pomelos. And was I ever surprised. That which used to earmark as staid and mundane was now surprisingly fresh and innovative. Sister Sue had a squash soup which was heightened with fresh wild mushrooms – so creamy and rich and engaging. Continuing in her vein of comfort food, Susan ordered a Berkshire pork Milanese with house-made sauerkraut, fingerling potatoes, and mustard sauce. Pounded thin like a veal cutlet, for $19 this dish was astonishingly good; tender, moist, and with a great crust, possibly made with the addition of panko for extra crunchiness. I was a bit jealous I hadn’t ordered the dish myself.

Except that I had ordered mussels. From Totten Inlet, this was offered as a starter for $13.50 but with my salad opener, I wasn’t worried that I had under-ordered. And then the mussels arrived. Crowned with an aïoli-topped crouton, I have to admit that I have never seen such engorged, fleshy, monstrously huge mussels. There is no way to get around the sexual innuendo of these bivalves, but beyond the obvious shape, the taste elevated the experience to one of ecstasy. They were tender and rich, a clean white-wine broth combining with the garlicky sauce of the aïoli to create a creamy milkiness akin to… well… Okay, I suppose saying the dish was orgasmic is going to far, huh? Enough said.

Suffice to say I have a new fondness and respect for Florio. It is far from staid and sedate. I have found a new gem in my neighborhood to bring friends. And a last word on service: Exemplary.

There is no irony in the fact that what could be considered my most memorable Los Angeles meal in recent history was not spent with a fellow foodie. I wanted to go somewhere special with Tony, who was my childhood friend and easily one of the most influential people in my early life. We hadn’t seen each other in over 27 years so it was important for me to find a restaurant that would be indicative of great Los Angeles food, offer a wide selection, and that was near to the L.A. County Museum of Art, where we met prior to dinner. The irony is that Tony didn’t care for much of the food at all — but that is no reflection on AOC whatsoever. Tony is a guy who genuinely prefers Dennys. Oh well. Besides being an amazing evening with an old friend, it gave me some astounding left-overs for my few days at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium.

Right off the bat, we ordered the largest cheese plate possible, five cheeses for $25; Besace du Berger (goat), Vermont shepherd Major Farms (sheep), Sottocenere Veneto Italy (cow), Casatica di Bufala Bergramo Italy (buffalo), and Bayley Hazen Jasper Hill Farm Vermont (blue). An exceptional selection which was loved by me and nibbled at by Tony. Well, he at least likes cheese.

For the main courses, I ordered for us to share the Duck confit and shell bean stew with ham hock, Clams, sherry, chanterelles and garlic, and a salad of apple, persimmon, pecans, and Roaring 40s blue. I also couldn’t resist a side of farro and black rice with pinenuts and currants. There is no way I could pick one favorite dish over another, but writing this now — a few weeks later — the taste of the clams and chanterelles still haunts me. From the wood-burning oven and served in a cast-iron skillet, I can’t recall ever having received such unctuous shellfish served thus with mushrooms before. So rich and with the crusty toast to sop up the garlicky sauce, even Tony appreciated the sauce without being a fish eater.

I thought he would like the duck, but it was too rich for him. For me, it was a great example of how to elevate a cassoulet knock-off. Served with the creamy beans and tender duck, were finely turned and fresh root vegetables. Granted, I only had a few bites when the dish was served hot, but it made for a great cold dish the following day and I could sense how well prepared the dish really was. The fresh salad was completely consumed by both of us, clean apples and bright persimmons. Also, the farro and wild rice was probably unnecessary during the course of the meal (except that I loved it), but was also an exceptional left-over. Perfectly seasoned and not a mis-step during the course of the meal.

Now I will give Tony points for having a sweet tooth and we shared an Ibarra chocolate cake with spiced pepitas and dulce de leche ice cream. If only I could have had left-over of this as well. Obviously prepared to order, the spiced pepitas made a warm chocolate cake on a different level; rich, yes — but moreso than just a good, warm chocolate cake. The dulche de leche ice cream provided a creamy counterpoint; a bit sweeter than than dark cake.

A word on service; we were seated in a smallish room upstairs, away from the main dining room. It could get a little loud, especially when the bridal shower at a nearby table got a bit more rowdy than desired. But we stayed well beyond the time when anyone else was seated in the room and the service continued to be superlative. They guided me on the dishes that I would be taking with me, since I did not have refrigeration. Everyone, from the bussers to the waitress, were excellent.

Just came from the soft opening of Nombe…

I started with a pretty amazing offering of Brussels Sprouts served with mint and yuzu. I don’t miss the fact that SPQR isn’t serving Brussels Sprouts any more. These were incredibly fresh and the combination of mint and citrus awakens the palate and is comforting at the same time. I also ordered the sashimi sampler and couldn’t be happier; toro, sake, hamachi, and another.

Being adventurous, I of course ordered the “challenging” dishes; chicken hearts yakitori, beef heart served with onion and bonito flakes. The chicken hearts were perfectly grilled and so tender — which can frequently be ruined with over-grilling. The beef heart was served in chunks; rare and rich.

As I was finishing, because this was the soft opening, the kitchen sent out a few tastes for those of us sitting at the counter to taste; grilled black cod and the pork belly. The grilled black cod was intensely rich and complex with the pork belly providing that unctuous, fatty decadence.

Yes, it was a soft opening. The opening night is not for a few evenings but based on an early test, this will be a consistent favorite for me. Sozai was hard for me to get to and I will desperately miss Chef Nick at O Izakaya, but getting the best of both worlds is a stroke of brilliance. Bravo!

My last evening in the L.A. area was blessed with a surprise visit by O.C. friend, Joan. She showed up as I was tearing down my booth at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium and after a very long day of peddling my wares, I was anxious to get some fresh air and just stretch my legs. We walked the Santa Monica Promenade which I had not been down in almost a decade. Not really surprised but slightly saddened to realize that all the independent shops had all been replaced with large, corporate chains. Even chain restaurants. There was a brief debate about dining at a Houston’s just because the wafting smell of grilled animal flesh was so enticing — but the wait was not and so we kept wandering. I was thrilled to see my favorite local British pub, Ye Olde King’s Head, was still alive and surviving and as we wandered close to consider it for dinner, we spied a small restaurant directly across the street, Bar Pintxo at 109 Santa Monica Boulevard.

We were incredibly lucky to snag a spot on the bar as minutes later, waiting diners were lining up behind us, waiting for a coveted seat at the very small, intimate establishment. I asked the waiter to bring me a glass of his favorite red wine. “Light or meaty?” he asked. Oh, definitely big… I was served a lovely ’06 San Roman-Prima Toro. Perusing the menu, I wanted to make sure I ordered enough veggie items to share and probably ordered one too many as Joan had to leave right as the food started arriving, leaving me to battle the onslaught of food to arrive. We were automatically given a bowl of really exceptional olives which certainly whetted the appetite. Spinach was a given as I adore sautéed spinach with garlic and this version also included pinenuts, apples, and raisins. This was on the more vinegary side, but still very fresh and bright.

I liked that a number of small plates were available, including the simple bites of tronchon with membrillo at $2, “parfait” of foie with caramelized onions and apples for $9, and dates wrapped in bacon with cabrales cheese for $5. The dates were amazing; just caramelized to that point of enticing sweetness juxtaposed with the saltiness of bacon. A neighbor on the bar had something I had to ask about and then order; a pumpkin salad with pomegranate seeds. Served with wilted greens and thinly sliced cheese, this was a delightful concoction indicative of fall flavors. The pumpkin must have been steamed for it was obviously not raw but still had a lively crunch to it. The last special I couldn’t resist was a selection of baby octopus served with fingerling potatoes and fresh garbazo beans. So often the heads of the baby octopus are removed and here they were still part of the presentation. So tender and rich, it killed me that I wasn’t at the restaurant with four people as I certainly wanted to taste more of the impressive menu, but was far too full to continue by myself.

The restaurant *is* small and rather loud. The service can lag a bit but I didn’t mind; it is obvious they are busy and they certainly are not slacking in their attempt to serve quickly. There were only two servers and while an extra pair of hands might have made things a bit faster, it also would have made the small space that much more crowded. I say go early and be patient. I would also suggest a party of three or four to get that many more tastes. They were slicing jambon I would have loved to have tasted and I watched them grilling some stunning large shrimp which smelled amazing. Very fresh ingredients and extremely well-prepared — moreso than any tapas restaurant I have been to in recent memory.