Pacific Moi with Fresh Soybeans, Scallion and Radish Salad, and Soy-Temple Orange Glaze

Oh people, I am in love. With a FISH of all things. Is that bad? I mean, I think I can find room in my heart for one more culinary luv-ah. Move over, bacon... slide a little to the right, bordelaise sauce.... Bloomberg, you stay put, honey. We'll slide that moi right there beside ya. Perfect.

I can't decide how much of my moi-love is about the fish itself, or the double-secret-probation covert ops it took to get this delectable fish out of the Hawaiian waters, onto a plane to the east coast, and into my hot little hands.

First, let's start with some background. Moi (pronounced "moy") is rare for home cooks to come by here on the east coast. In fact, now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever seen it on a restaurant menu here, either. The only place I've seen moi on a menu was in Maui 10 years ago; I didn't order it then, and boy am I kicking myself now. Centuries ago, it was the fish of kings -- and only the wealthy and privileged were able to eat it. Today, it's sustainably farmed in Hawaiian waters and enjoyed by all Hawaiians.

So, how did I get this rare little fishy in my kitchen? Back in February, when I was buying monkfish (ugh, THAT was a disaster of a dish), I told my fishmonger, Scott, that I needed to get my hands on some fresh moi -- not Cryovac™ed and frozen, but fresh outta the water. He laughed and laughed and "there-there'd" me until I snapped his ass back into reality and said, "No. Dude. I really do need some moi. Can ya help me out?" I think right after that he said something like "Fat chance, you crack monkey" and then suggested I book us two tickets to Hawaii to go pick some up -- and believe me, I was tempted.

Over the next few weeks and months, everytime I went to BlackSalt, whether to buy fish in the market or have lunch with friends, I'd pester Scott with my need for moi. He'd say, "Yeah, yeah, I'm workin' on it" which I bought hook, line and sinker (ha!) time and time again. Finally, I said, "Dude. I'm really ready for this moi. Can we get some, or do I have to *gulp* make a substitution?" His reply was: "You're not gonna believe this, but I think I can get us some."

Aw yeah.

There was much back and forth on how we were getting it: where's it coming from // I can't tell you // Are you just gonna hack up some catfish and tell me it's moi // No, really, I know this guy // Oh really; that sounds credible // He's a customer // But is he also a reputable fish purveyor // Not exactly, but he can have some moi flown in because he, like, knows some people // Are you serious and is this legal // Um, I think so // Oh boy, you think so; so when's it coming // I can't say; it will be kind of last-minute // But I'm a control freak and I need to know every detail or else I will have to pace the floor and brush my hair for six hours until it is even more shiny and perfect // Oh, can it, sister // Beep boop boo beep // What are you doing // I'm pressing the numbers on my phone to annoy you so you'll tell me when the fish will be here // Oh fer cryin' out loud, I promise, it'll be any day now // No really, when's it coming // The red dog flies at midnight.

After one or two false alarms and one delivery mishap by the lovely folks at Fed Ex, my phone rang early one morning with Scott on the other end of the line saying the moi had arrived. I jumped out of bed, showered and got dressed, and hauled ass over to BlackSalt to pick it up lickety-split. It was so pretty and lovely before he filleted it for me. Sadly, I do not have a photo of that because I suck and in my haste to get there so quickly, I forgot my camera. Sorry. However, thanks to the good people at the University of Hawaii, I can show you their photo of a whole moi, ready to be cooked and eaten with love:


Gorgeous. And, let's all give Scott Weinstein a big round of applause for providing me with the right fish for this dish so that I didn't have to use monkfish, canned tuna or some shit.

::: clap, clap, clap, clap, clap, clap :::

Nicely done. Now, let's move on to the dish.

The first thing I did was prepare the radish salad. Using my mandoline, I julienned some green onions (not the best-looking cuts you'll ever see -- whoops), carrot and radish:

I put the julienned vegetables in a bowl of ice water to hold them until I was ready to plate.

The next step was making the orange glaze. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this somewhere on the blog before, but I have carpal tunnel syndrome. I'm afraid to have the surgery to correct it (I've heard too many awful stories about how it actually makes things worse), so instead, I make concessions in my everyday actitvities to accommodate it. One of those concessions is buying fresh-squeezed juices instead of squeezing the citrus myelf. I've had the fresh juices from Balducci's before and they're really, really good, so I bought a small bottle of their orange juice to use in this dish. The idea of squeezing enough oranges to provide two cups of juice was painful enough in thought, let alone execution. So, I started with some orange juice, which I reduced over medium heat until it had gone from 2 cups to just under a half a cup:

I removed it from the heat and set it aside while I prepared the soybeans. Now, I suppose I could've driven all the way up Georgia Avenue to the Asian supermarket to find fresh soybeans, but the chance of them having any is usually slim-to-none, and I was driving right past my favorite Japanese restaurant, Murasaki, on the way home from picking up the moi, so I decided to just get the edamame from them so I didn't have to blanch them when I got home -- they were already steamed in salt water.

I removed them from their pods and put them in a small saucepan with some tomato diamonds, brunoise, and a little bit of butter and heated the mixture over low heat until it was warmed throughout:

I reheated the orange glaze to a simmer and whisked in two tablespoons of butter as well as the soy sauce, and kept it warm over low heat:

I removed the julienned carrots, radishes, and green onions from their ice-water bath, patted them dry and tossed them in a bowl with some minced chives and some lemon olive oil:

Last, but most certainly not least, it was time to cook that lovely, lovely fish:

The French Laundry Cookbook suggests serving pieces that are 3.5"x1", but I made my pieces a bit larger than that because this fish was expensive, and I wanted to make sure I didn't waste a single bit of it. I seasoned each of the pieces with salt and pepper:

I then cooked them, skin side down first, for about 3 minutes, then flipped them over to the fleshy side for just under a minute. To plate, I started with the orange glaze, on top of which went the soybean mixture. On top of that, the moi; and, on top of the moi went the radish salad:
Ooo, ahh... just a little bit... ooo ahhh, a little bit more... ooo, ahh... just a little bit, you know what I'm lookin' for.... baby, please... you're all I neeeeed.....

Nothin' like a little Gina G. dance-mix-love-ballad for my moi.

Let me talk about how full-bodied this fish is. I know that's probably a strange term to use when you're talking about fish, but I don't care. It had heft to it, but wasn't steak-y. It was heavy, but not too fishy tasting. It had enough fat in it that it was silky smooth, but it was also light on the palate and really, really delicious. The skin was crispy and perfect, and I couldn't have been happier. I also really loved the soybeans, but do you know what the hit of the night was? The orange-soy glaze. For as much as we loved the fish (and we all really did), the glaze took it waaaay over the top and turned a grand slam into... um.... a shut-out-filled World Series win, or whatever baseball analogy suits best (I'm crap at sports, so YOU figure something out). There was just enough soy sauce to cut the orangey-ness of the orange, and the consistency of it was perfect. And, the radish salad added a nice, sharp crunchy and cool complement to the dish that, when I read the recipe I though I might not like, but it tied it all together really nicely.

I think this dish is really easy to pull off. If you have your very own Scott, then have him or her pull out all the stops to get some moi. If you don't, TOO BAD FOR YOU. Kidding. (sort of) You could make this dish and substitute some halibut, or maybe some pompano... something with a fatty, almost buttery texture and you'll be set. It is soooooo worth trying, even for the orange-soy glaze on its own. You won't regret it, I promise.

Up Next: Q&A with Carol, Part Deux... and my dinner at Alinea

Resources:
Moi from BlackSalt
Edamame from Murasaki
Produce from Balducci's
O Meyer lemon olive oil
365 organic butter and canola oil
Fresh-squeezed orange juice from Balducci's
Kimlan soy sauce (even though its name makes me think of ChemLawn - boooo)

Music to Cook By: The Little Ones; Lovers Who Uncover. Another KCRW find and a CD from Red Light Management (thanks, guys!). I love their pace and their musicality, and there's just something about these guys that makes it fun to cook to AND fun to clean up to. They recently worked with the guitarist from the Mighty Lemon Drops, which is the band I was seeing at the old 930 Club the night that paragon of virtue Marion Barry was arrested for smoking crack with Rasheeda Moore at the Vista Hotel. Good times.... good times.... anyway, they have a great sound and remind me of Echo and the Bunnymen, which is maybe why I like them so much. I think you will, too.

Read My Previous Post: Hearts of Palm with Purée of Marrow Beans and Field Greens

Hearts of Palm with Purée of Marrow Beans and Field Greens

One of the greatest things about The French Laundry Cookbook is the wealth of stories throughout the book. One of my favorite stories is about John Mood, the purveyor from whom The French Laundry gets their fresh hearts of palm. Mood served in Vietnam, after which he became a commercial pilot following his military service. He then bought some acreage in Hawaii and, with a business partner and fellow grower, turned his peach palm-growing hobby into a full-time business. It's the stuff dreams are made of, and I hope someday to be able to visit his farm because not only would it be a fantastic excuse to go to Hawaii, but because his farm looks so lush and green and fragrant and peaceful.

I'm sad to say that I was unable to procure fresh hearts of palm to make this dish. I tried ordering it from a number of sources as well as through a few chefs locally here in DC, but nothing panned out. I couldn't bring myself to order 100 lbs. of it (one option, and a rather expensive one at that), or wait until October when a different purveyor would have some ready and was willing to send me just 25 pounds (again, still really expensive and not too timely). So, I had to settle for canned hearts of palm and make the best of it. The good news is, even with the canned stuff, this dish is off-the-charts good, so I can't even imagine what it'll be like when I do get my butt to Hawaii someday, take over someone's kitchen, and make this there.

As you know, the dishes in The French Laundry Cookbook are served in tasting sizes. I usually have 6 - 8 people over to try what I make as part of this project, but when I made this dish, my usual crew was on vacation, out of town on business, or tied up with their kids' sports schedules. So, I thought it was a great opportunity to turn this into an entree-sized serving and invite my friend, Kerry, to lunch. Even though we live just five blocks away from one another, we hadn't gotten together in awhile, and our timing was perfect, so we enjoyed this dish for lunch (along with a few glasses of wine) and had a lovely afternoon. If you have the opportunity to schedule a lunch for two sometime soon, you might want to try this dish. You won't be disappointed.

I soaked the marrow beans overnight the night before I made the rest of the dish. That morning, I drained and rinsed them, then put them in a pot with some cold water and brought them to a simmer:

After they'd simmered for a minute or so, I removed them from the heat, drained them and rinsed them under cold water until the water ran clear. I put the beans in a medium saucepan and covered them with cold, homemade vegetable stock along with some carrot, leek, onion, and tomato as well as a bouquet garni.

I brought this to a simmer and cooked it gently for about an hour. After they'd cooled a bit, I drained the beans (saving the liquid, but discarding the veg), and set aside 3/4 C of them for the sauce.

The remaining beans (another 3/4C or so) went back into the liquid and reheated a tad while I ground some homemade brioche into fine, fine breadcrumbs.

I removed the breadcrumbs from the food processor and in their place put the hot marrow beans (I drained them and the liquid went bye-bye), which I puréed, then added the breadcrumbs back in to purée some more:

Then, I added some mascarpone cheese and kept the purée action going:

This is a point at which I debated calling Kerry and canceling lunch because I really could've just eaten this stuff with a spoon. It smelled amazing, and was so silky smooth. But alas, it was not meant to be, because there were (canned) hearts of palm to be filled with this gorgeous stuff.

Hey, at least they're cultivated and not, um, whatever the opposite of cultivated is.

I cut these hearts of palm into pieces that were 1-2" long, then hollowed them out:

Then, because I accidentally sliced my pastry bag with a knife a few weeks ago and haven't picked up a new one yet, I had to put the marrow bean filling in a ziploc bag (shame, shame, shame) cut a hole in the tip and pipe that stuff into these hollowed-out hearts of palm:
(notice how I kept that photo underexposed because it's so embarrassing?)

I put the filled hearts of palm in the fridge to chill while I prepared the bean sauce in which these hearts of palm would eventually sit.

When I bought my black truffles in the winter, I made mushroom stock and preserved one of the small truffles because I knew I'd be making this dish when black truffles were no longer available. Just as The French Laundry Cookbook instructs on page 87, I made the stock, plonked in the truffle, then stored it in the freezer. I thawed it for this dish, and kept every finger and extremity crossed that it would still be good (read: not poisonous or gastric distress-inducing) when I needed it.

It passed the smell test, for sure, and since I've already 'fessed up to loving this dish, I can tell you it passed the taste and non-sickness-inducing test as well. Whew.

To make the sauce, I put the stock in a saucepan with some sherry vinegar and brought it to a boil and reduced it by half. Then, I added minced shallots, minced black truffle, the remaining beans, and some diced heart of palm (I used the centers I'd hollowed out) and heated it until the contents of the pan were nice and warm:

I removed it from the heat and stirred in the tomato diamonds, parsley, brunoise, chives, and a tiny bit of white truffle oil and set it aside until it was time to plate:

Time to finish the hearts of palm! I dunked and dredged each of them in flour, milk and ground up panko and fried them in some canola oil in a skillet. This was a quick process, so I don't have any action shots of it (if I had done so, they'd have burned, and that would be not a very good thing).

To plate, I put a ring of chive oil on the plate (which is barely visible in the photo, if at all), on which I put the beans in sauce. I topped it with some of the hearts of palm, and garnished with the very last pea shoots I had (my chervil looked sad and droopy, so it got das boot):

I don't think I mentioned this yet, and I should be shot for not doing so, but did you know that marrow beans on their own taste a little like bacon? They do. I'm not making it up. Extra bonus points for that because it definitely added a little sumpin'-sumpin' to the dish.

The hearts of palm smelled a little farty when they were cooking so I was suspicious about how they'd taste (wouldn't you be?), but when I sliced a little bit of the heart of palm and ate it with the bean sauce? Wow wow wow wow wow! I had set aside the extra hearts of palm on a plate in the kitchen, but brought them out to the table so we could finish them right then and there. I set aside a little bit of the bean sauce and reheated it the next morning and ate it with an egg (over-easy). This dish is going into the permanent repertoire. It was a hit in every possible way, and I think this would be a great one to make if you want to try something out of the book, but haven't yet. The book even suggests a workaround in case you don't have truffle-infused mushroom stock, so there are NO EXCUSES for you not calling a friend, inviting him or her to lunch at which you will serve this and drink wine in the middle of the day and feel like a freakin' rockstar (without the heroin bender or passel of hookers, of course, unless that's your thing, in which case, get away from me).

A+ and smiley faces all around. This one's a keeper.


Up Next: Pacific Moi with Fresh Soybeans, Scallion and Radish Salad, and Soy-Temple Orange Glaze (and no, even though Moi also comes from Hawaii and is next to impossible to find on the east coast, I did not use canned Moi -- I got the fresh stuff because my fishmonger is like the Colombian drug lord of the fish kingdom and found some for me, but without all the murdering and stuff.)

Resources:
Roland Hearts of Palm
Dried marrow beans from the TPSS Co-op
Homemade vegetable stock from my freezer
King Arthur flour
Organic Valley whole milk
Edward & Sons panko
365 canola oil
Vermont Butter & Cheese Co. mascarpone
Produce from Whole Foods
Parsley from my garden
Saveurs white truffle oil
Black truffle from D'Artagnan

Music to Cook By: A little bit of Teitur and some Katy Perry. I downloaded a bunch of their music not too long ago and just dumped all of it into one big playlist. And somehow, it works to have them lumped together -- I'm not sure why. I first fell in love with Katy Perry when I heard one of her songs on the soundtrack of "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" (shut UP!), and I found out about Teitur the last time I was in LA and listened to KCRW on my little hotel room clock radio because I got sick of watching Project Runway reruns.

Read My Previous Post: French Laundry at Home Extra: Q&A with Carol, Part One

French Laundry at Home Extra: Q&A with Carol, Part Deux... and my dinner at Alinea

Okay, so after the first Q&A, even MORE questions came in, so this will be Part Two of Three... but never fear. If you don't see your answer here, it's a-comin'!

Q. How large a complement of pots and pans do you have? The New York Times and food bloggers love to write about how few items a well functioning kitchen needs, but you often have so many pots going at once. So what ARE your cupboards filled with?

A. Great question; and, a few of you submitted similar variations on this theme, so let me try to expand on what I think about this topic in general. I thought when I started this project that I was pretty well equipped, until I realized how many times things get strained or passed from one pan or pot to another. So, because I don't have lots of large containers as many restaurants do, I doubled up on some saucepans and stock pots, as well as sauté pans, too, now that I think about it. I also bought some extra strainers and cutting boards just so I wouldn't have to stop what I was doing to clean the only ones I had. Thankfully, I live in an area of the country where we have many, many places to buy quality kitchen goods at deep discount (I'm lookin' at you, TJ Maxx, Marshalls, and Home Goods), otherwise, there's no way I could afford to have as much All-Clad as I've amassed over the past two years.

I think when food experts write about how few items a well functioning kitchen needs, they're probably talking about how you don't really need all that stupid crap that's advertised that, honestly, I think makes cooking a lot harder in the long run. It's not difficult to properly chop an onion. It just takes practice. Whacking it through one of those onion choppers damages the internal structure of the onion and you lose the taste of it and it also won't cook evenly. So, I'm pro-having enough pots and pans to make complex dishes easier to pull off, but I'm anti-gadget, because I think they're a waste of money. I really had almost everything I needed to do this project -- I just doubled up on a few things so that I could be more efficient and spend more time up to my elbows in good food, not dish soap.



Q. Do you agree with Ruhlman that veal stock is THE fundamental a home cook should implement in their kitchen? Is it really that much better than chicken stock?

A. Yes, I do agree with Michael that veal stock is a key fundamental in the home kitchen, and one that, for a long time, has been overlooked. I understand that sometimes finding veal bones can be a challenge because they're not readily available and sitting in the meat section of your local grocery store. That said, with a few phone calls, you could probably source some, and I think making veal stock is worth the effort because it can be used to create some amazing dishes. You don't have to do it The French Laundry way, and could use this simpler execution which still yields a great end result. As to the second part of this question, you're comparing apples to oranges here, because veal stock and chicken stock are two very different things and used quite differently -- so one's not "better" than another. Obviously, you can't make chicken corn soup with veal stock, just like you can't make a truly velvety bordelaise sauce with chicken stock.


Q. What do you always have in your larder?

A. I was going to take a photo to show you, but because my kitchen is so narrow and oddly shaped, I can't get a good shot of it, so let me give you the list of what I almost always have on-hand (I'm typing this answer from the butcher block in the kitchen as I do a little live inventory for ya): kosher salt, sea salt, pink salt, grey salt, a few different kinds of peppercorns, peanut butter, olive oil, canola oil, truffle oil, lemon oil, about nine different kinds of vinegars, Saltines, wheatberries, quinoa, oatmeal, Cheerios, vanilla beans, curry powder, saffron, raw sugar, regular sugar, light and dark brown sugar, five different kinds of wheat, baking soda and powder, corn starch, tapioca, corn meal, one box of Kraft Mac and Cheese for emergencies, club soda, tonic water, molasses, Karo corn syrup, Old Bay, PAM, Newman's Own spelt pretzels (aaaand, I just ate one and they're stale and chewy -- ew), and a bag of walnuts that got jammed way in the back that I'm throwing away because I think they're about 2 years old. I also have a random assortment of ground spices (cumin, cinnamon, etc.), but I rarely use them, so I think I'm going to have to toss everything (I'm seeing a bottle of dried dill that I'm pretty sure moved here with me when I bought my house 11 years ago) and start over.

It's an interesting time to ask me this question, because about three times a year, I put myself on a food-buying moratorium and force myself to use what I've already got so that I can more easily clean out the pantry and wipe down the shelves before restocking. I'm in the middle of one of these use-it-already! phases, and it's kind of fun and certainly a challenge when all you have left is quinoa, tapioca, and sherry vinegar and nothing in the fridge that goes with any of it. That's when I know it's time to hit the market.


Q. What products (not food-related, but kitchen-related -- for instance, I love Barkeeper's Friend) do you favor?

A. I use Dawn dish soap, Method hand soap, Cascade in the dishwasher, and I use Barkeeper's Friend when I need to. I am obsessed with Goo Gone, and love to get sticker residue off new purchases with it. I also have a bottle of some sort of magic lemon oil that I use on my butcher block island twice a year, and it smells so great. That's about it.


Q. By the way, how in the hell do you keep your stove so disgustingly clean?

A. Hilarious that FIVE OF YOU asked this question, or a variation of it. Here's the deal -- I have this disorder I like to call controlus freakitis, the symptoms of which are as follows: the inability to allow stains or other crap to remain on my stovetop or counters when I'm done cooking; the inability to "close up shop" for the night with dirty dishes left in the sink; and, an obsessive need to maximize the space and efficiency in my dishwasher so that it becomes an integral step in the cooking process. I start all major cooking efforts with an empty and clean sink, an empty dishwasher, and an empty trashcan, and I clean as I go -- meaning as I'm done using an item, it gets rinsed and goes right into the dishwasher. And, the counters and stovetop just get a spritz of whatever cleaning solution I have (usually 409 or Fantastik) and a good wipedown. I actually like the cleaning-up part when I'm done cooking. It's freakishly relaxing and is a pleasure to see the morning after. I'm also one of those nerds who scrubs the shelves of her refrigerator once a month.

You can rest assured I'm not an over-the-top OCD case -- my windows are filthy and I hate cleaning other rooms in my house. Ugh. I just like a clean kitchen. It makes life lovely.


Q. Pristine (minus your own notes) French Laundry Cookbook, or does it hold fond stain memories?

A. Speaking of clean.... kidding. I was so afraid to get my copy of the book all mucked up and nasty in the beginning, but now I'm happy there are blops of sauce and oil stains throughout. The cover is still in decent shape, but the binding is getting a bit ragged. It's in great shape, though. Let me show you what mine looks like:

Now, in contrast, let me show you a photo of my friend, Andy, using his. He's a chef at The Sheppard Mansion, and you can tell he has used his quite a bit for inspiration:


Q. Why no advertising on your site?

A. When Lee Gomes from The Wall Street Journal was working on his story about cook-through blogs, we had a bit of a back-and-forth on this very issue. I didn't start the blog as anything but a fun hobby, so the idea of running ads never occurred to me. As I thought about it more and was approached by some folks to run ads, philosophically, it didn't (and still doesn't) feel right to earn money (even if it would only have been 50 cents a month) replicating someone else's work. Yes, I know the writing is mine, but it just didn't feel like the right thing to do. In the past year, I've been approached by a few big advertising syndicates who wanted to run ads on my site, and apart from the ethical reasons I just listed, I couldn't do it because you can't control what ads run on your site. And really, it's just not appropriate or appetizing when you're reading this blog to see an ad for a laxative for nursing moms, an eco-toilet, or a fast-food chain. So, it's ad-free. For good. I'd rather people donate money to Share Our Strength or a charity of their choosing than have me earn money from cooking my way through this beautiful book.


Q. What are your favorite inspirations for cocktails to pair with meals? I'm always curious about the mixed drink concoctions of dedicated cooks. And/or what's the best Keller/wine pairing you've had so far?

A. I'm glad you asked this question because I definitely have an opinion on this issue. I love when I go out for dinner and there's a knowledgeable sommelier who can help me figure out what wines go best with certain foods, because this is an area I really don't know a whole lot about. However, what I don't like is when people (whether it's restaurant staff, friends, associates, or salesmen) become "that guy" about wine and go on and on and on about vintages and years and weather conditions and notes and nose and all the other terms that just make me go cross-eyed because really... I just want to enjoy what I'm eating and enjoy the wine I'm drinking. I don't need a twelve-minute lecture or explanation -- just make a suggestion, give me two VERY SHORT reasons why, and let it go. I'll ask questions when I'm ready, but chances are I've already lost interest because I really just want to taste it and see how I like it (this pet peeve also comes into play when you get stuck with a server who just feels the need to explain in great detail every item on the menu as if you can't read *cough*my waiter at Hook a few weeks ago *cough*).

Now, on to answering the question at hand. I don't pair cocktails with meals. Before dinner, along with some little things to nosh on, I usually serve wine or offer an apertif -- such as my longtime favorite of Lillet blanc with a splash of club soda and a thin slice of lime or orange. During dinner, I offer both a white and a red (because I have friends who have allergic reactions to one or the other, and would prefer a white wine with steak as opposed to, oh I dunno, ending up in the ER in anaphylactic shock). And after dinner, coffee. If I'm having a party where the focus is more on the bar with heavy hors d'oeuvres, then I have all the classics on hand to make traditional drinks: martini (gin-only), Manhattan, Side Car, etc. I can't stand this current trend of mixing a bunch of crap in a shaker and calling it a "-tini." Drives me crazy.

As for the best Keller/wine pairing I've ever had, at Per Se, we had a lovely wine with the cheese course that was just delicious... but here at home, I just serve whatever I have on-hand if anyone wants anything, because I'm not really serving these tastings in a full menu -- they're just one-offs, most of the time.


Q. When it comes to food-related books (not cook books), what are your must reads? I’ve always loved cooking but I never really read about it until I picked up Ruhlman’s first book a few years back. I read it in a few hours and it really solidified my dream to give up corporate America and do what I really love. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get to fulfill that dream but I love to read about others who do.

A. It's no secret that I am a fan of Michael and his writing. I also really love Russ Parsons' books How to Pick a Peach and How to Read a French Fry. I refer to Harold McGee quite a bit when I want to know more about the things I'm reading in some of these books, as well. Here are some of my favorites: Appetite for Life; The Apprentice; Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant (one of the best covers, ever); Like Water for Chocolate (the book is so much better than the movie); A Cook's Tour; Comfort Me With Apples; and probably the very first food-related book I ever read, What's For Lunch, Charley. I have a huge stack of other food-related books I've been skimming, and stopping and starting, but sometimes I just get fooded out and need to read about something else. When I travel, I love to take along one of Kimberly Witherspoon's great compilations because they've got great short stories by and about so many great chefs -- it allows you see another side of their lives.

I have to confess that many of the policy- and issues-related books about food and food culture sometimes get to be a little too much. They're incredibly well written, don't get me wrong, and they pack a powerful punch that gets people to sit up and take notice on the issues they may not think about day to day. It's just that I deal with policy and politics every single day of my life with work, and when I want something pleasureable to read, these kinds of books just don't top my list.

If you're interested in food books that other people love, there's a Chowhound thread about it that might be of interest.




Q. My question revolves around movies. Some food movies are great (Mostly Martha, Big Night, Dinner Rush); some, eh, not so much (Simple Irresistible with Sarah Michelle Gellar as a chef (!), No Reservations). Are there any scenes that inspired you during this magical ride as much as the music you cook to?

A. Without a doubt, a huge inspiration is the feast scene in Big Night -- the drama, the big reveal, the table of friends -- I just love the whole movie. It's a great cast, and probably in my top 5 favorite movies of all time. Mostly Martha (the original) is a great film, as well. And, I also watch Babette's Feast from time to time, as well as Bread and Tulips. Some may disagree with me, but Tampopo made me want to rip my ears off, and I found Eat, Drink, Man, Woman and Tortilla Soup just not my thing.

I actually like movies that incorporate food into the storyline and give it a symbolism that you don't really even get, or think about, until long after it's over. Rebecca Epstein has a great list on Gastronomica's web site of the roles that food has played in movies.


Q. What kind of cook were you before you tackled TFL cookbook? Did you debone, fillet, etc. before or just as part of the experience?

A. Before my grandmother died ten years ago, she used to joke with me that it's too bad women today didn't do the whole "setting up house" transition with their mothers when they left home after high school (or college) and got married, because she was convinced that the only thing I knew how to make was macaroni and cheese, with the occasional hot dog. Not long before she died, she and my grandfather came to my house for Sunday lunch, and I think she almost fell out of her chair when I actually pulled together an entire meal from scratch. So, that's a very roundabout way of saying that before starting this project, I wasn't a very technically advanced cook (I'm still not), but I also wasn't microwaving stuff or hitting the prepared foods bar at Whole Foods. I was somewhere in the middle.

I always liked to experiment in the kitchen, but it really wasn't until I started working from home seven years ago that I could set aside the time to cook when I wanted to. I had decent knife skills, I could flip an egg without a spatula, and I had a pretty good handle on the basics, but also knew I had plenty of room to grow. That's why this project has exceeded my expectations beyond anything I could have imagined -- it's really pushed me waaaaayyyy far beyond my comfort zone, and it's made my everyday cooking that much easier.

I'm not great at deboning or filleting, but that's why there are lovely people in the world called butchers and fishmongers. I like to let the experts handle the things that I would otherwise screw up, and therefore potentially ruin a lovely piece of meat/fish/what-have-you.


Q. What is the best ingredient/technique/recipe you've discovered since starting this blog?

A. Without question, the best ingredient/technique/recipe I've discovered is none of those three things, per se. The biggest takeaway or lesson has been all about patience, communication, and focus. Have I used ingredients in new ways as part of this project? Yes. Have I cooked things I've never cooked before? Yes. Has my opinion on certain foods changed? Absolutely. But it would be way too difficult to try and narrow it down to one or two things and call them the "best." It's much bigger that that, for me. I'm not at all patient in my everyday life. But in the kitchen, I've been able to be more patient, and really focus on what I'm doing so I can see how food changes color and smell and texture and taste throughout the process. And, doing this blog has really reinforced my notion that more often than not we really need to step away from the computer and enjoy the company of others when it comes to food. There are so many amazing food blogs, web sites, and forums out there -- but I so much more enjoy getting out to the markets and getting to know the folks who grow the food I use... and I really love cooking these dishes because it means that at least once a week, I have a house full of people I get to eat, drink, and laugh with, which is perhaps the most important thing of all, for me.


Q. What is it you most love about cooking?

A. Two things: solitude, and togetherness. I love to cook alone. I really do. I have many well-meaning friends who, when they come over, would love nothing more than to pick up a knife and start chopping, or stir something in a pot, but I love to be in the kitchen alone when I cook. It's just my thing. Depending on what I'm making, I do enjoy having my friends hang out in the kitchen with me, chatting away and drinking a nice glass of wine, but because of my controlus freakitis (see above), I prefer to cook alone. Now, when it comes to the whole eating thing, there's nothing better than sitting down at the table with friends as they chatter and talk and laugh and pass the food around to serve themselves, and then ............ complete silence, as they take their first bite. Sometimes, it's a nail-biter, especially if I've tried something new, but I love it when they take absolute pleasure in what I've made. It's so gratifying.


Q. With your obvious love of music, which 5-10 albums do you think French Laundry At Home fans should have on their iPods?

A. You're joking, right? This is almost impossible to answer. Let me give it a shot:

Boston; Boston
Styx; Paradise Theatre
Deee-Lite; World Clique
Green Day; Dookie
Beastie Boys; Licensed to Ill
Ella Fitzgerald; everything she ever recorded
Louis Prima and Keely Smith; everything they ever recorded
Prince; Purple Rain
Howard Jones; Dream Into Action
Janet Jackson; Rhythm Nation
Lyle Lovett; Joshua Judges Ruth
Madonna; The Immaculate Collection
Steve Miller Band; Greatest Hits
Whatever compilation has "Jam on It" by Newcleus on it

.... yeah... this isn't working, because I'm leaving so many great artists, songs, and albums off the list. That's why I think iTunes is so wonderful, because I can create playlists of whatever I want. Sorry, I tried to answer this one. I really did. It's just too hard.


Q. Did you have huge 80s permed hair and acid-washed jeans to go with your fine music selection?

A. Whoever asked this must know me well. Yes, I had a perm. Yes, my permed hair was held in place with many cans of AquaNet. I only had one pair of acid-washed jeans in my lifetime, and they were also pleated and had pink ticking. They, sadly, did not have laces up the side, or those awesome cut-out hearts.


Q. Who did you think was hotter, Andy or Paul in OMD?

A. Neither one of them floated my boat, actually, because I was too in love with Stewart Copeland (nerd alert!) and the lead singer from A-Ha.


Q. What's your culinary holy grail (besides cooking thru TFLC)? A food item, a dinner cooked by someone, a piece of equipment?

A. I was just talking about this question with a friend of mine, because I think my answer would have to be something I wouldn't have said a year or two ago. Before I started this project, I think my answer would have been "dinner at The French Laundry," but now that I know that's going to happen and now that I've had my world view of food changed pretty dramatically over the past two years, I think my culinary holy grail would be to own a few acres of land on which I would plant the most amazing garden, as well as have a few chickens for eggs and for eating. I'd love a normal-sized farmhouse, with an upgraded eat-in kitchen and a large dining room with a long table and many, many chairs so that I could throw some great dinner parties. Oh, and unlimited funds to make all this happen so that I could just plant, grow, cook and eat all the time, without that pesky thing we call work getting in the way.


Q. Not having slogged through the archives yet, have you found any techniques/combinations that you could forget about? (I'm channeling my own go at FL's eggplant caviar [with blinis and peppers] that yielded only so-so results.)

A. What do you mean you haven't slogged through the archives yet? Don't you know it's a great procrastination tool while you're at work? I know it's cliche, but I really did learn something from every single dish I've done here. Granted, some of the lessons were that I didn't like a particular ingredient, or that I was able to change my mind about something (yay, oysters!), but ultimately, there's nothing I'd dismiss or completely forget about.


Q. What will you blog about after you've finished French Laundry at Home?

A. I'll soon announce what my next project will be, but there are some other things that have to fall into place first. The Travel Channel's Andrew Zimmern wrote about me on his blog not too long ago, and wondered if anyone would be daring enough to cook his or her way through the upcoming Alinea book. Without revealing too many details too soon, I can tell you that doing just that is on my agenda as part of a bigger project I'm currently developing and plan to launch in the fall. I've known about the Alinea book for some time now and have been anxious to see the final product. And, now that I've eaten at Alinea, it's all the more exciting, and personal, and something I really look forward to doing.

So with that, I'd like to spend a little time telling you about my dinner at Alinea. As you may or may not know, Alinea's chef/owner is Grant Achatz, who once worked at The French Laundry. Grant recently won the James Beard Award for Best Chef, and The New Yorker recently ran what I thought was a really beautifully written piece on Grant's culinary background, his approach to food, and his recent battle with tongue cancer. What I love about Grant Achatz is his inventiveness, creativity, and risk-taking -- all of which are imbued with a sense of culinary familiarity, if that makes sense.

For instance, take a look at the menu my friend, Claudia, and I were served:
None of those flavors are strange, and very few were new to me... nearly everything listed on that menu was something I'd eaten before. But.... I'd never eaten these flavors in quite this manner. For instance, we've all probably had a caprese salad: slices of fresh tomato, slices of fresh mozzarella, fresh basil leaves, with a drizzle of olive oil, salt and pepper. Now imagine a plate being brought to the table, then gently placed in front of you as the server describes the frozen mozzarella foam, the tomatoes prepared seven ways, the basil ice cream... honestly, there was a part of me that wanted to roll my eyes at the frozen mozzarella foam, but I couldn't. I really couldn't. Why? It was so damn good it made my head explode and my eyes roll back into my head. It was really fun and inventive and just off-the-freakin'-charts good.

We got the chance to meet Grant that night, and it was an honor to meet the man behind such a wonderful meal. It's funny, but he looks quite serious and stern in his photos, but he has one of the most engaging smiles I've ever seen. His kitchen was humming, but in a very quiet sort of way.

In all, it was a really fun night that opened up my palate in ways I hadn't done before. My friend, Claudia, took some photos and did a more thorough write up. Me? I'm still processing it and trying to find a way to describe it without solely relying on gutteral sounds and comic book action hero noises. I can say this: I came home from Chicago the next day looking at food through yet another whole new lens.


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