Utter Ambrosia

Thank you, Cannon Beach

2010-11-23T18:47:00.000-08:00

In just under 48 hours I will be giving thanks for all of those things in life that I'd say make me fortunate. Things that I typically try to appreciate more than once a year but tend to let everyday life distract me from giving the nod they deserve. Things like my family, the man in my life, the best circle of friends a girl could ask for, my health, a steady job—you get the picture.

All of those will get their due time in their own way on Thursday. Right now I need to stop and express an outpouring of gratitude to Cannon Beach. Yes, I'm talking to you Cannon Beach. You who slaps me in the face with a healthy dose of relaxation the second I arrive. You who slows my step and makes me breathe, let’s me think more clearly and calms my nerves. Thank you, Cannon Beach.

You’re full of good coffee, maple bars, chocolate dipped krispie treats and pizza I just can't quit. You bring pancakes and French Toast for breakfast and you pour better-than-usual bottles of wine with dinner (and sometimes lunch). You inspire said man in life to make meals that include things like ciabbata crostini with cannellini beans and chanterelle mushrooms, homemade pasta dressed with arugula pesto and roasted tomatoes and Parmesan crusted halibut with not one but two special sauces (buttercup squash puree and red pepper coulis). And then you let me have real ice cream with an impromptu caramel sauce. Thank you, Cannon Beach.

Not just for the stellar food and soothing vibe, but for letting me sleep in, read books and for surprising me with beautiful days full of sunshine when I’m least expecting it. You bring me closer to some of my nearest and dearest, help me build relationships with more recent life arrivals and watch while I fall farther in love. Thank you, Cannon Beach.

And to the two people who have let me come to know their warm, cozy cabin so many times over the past few years—well, thank you for Cannon Beach.

Happy (early) Thanksgiving.

When did November get here?

2010-11-07T13:45:00.000-08:00

Seriously, when did we get 11 months into the year? How are we so far into fall and I’ve barely even noticed? I suppose the usual work, friends and life have been keeping me busy, but so busy that I haven’t had time to sit down and recollect anything since the Labor Day weekend trip to Allium? That seems absurd.

I guess it could have been the tail end of wedding season. I spent a chunk of September and October celebrating and shedding oh-so-happy tears (huge wedding crier here) as dear friends walked down the aisle, pledged their love and commitment to perfect companions and turned the page to new chapters of their lives. There were wedding showers, epic Vegas experiences, adorable grooms and breathtaking brides. Time spent catching up with people who feel like family, trips home (or as close to it as I get these days) and attempts to make up for lost sleep with early bedtimes and later weekend wake-ups.

Somewhere amidst all of the fun and chaos I managed to make my way to a pretty great place in Portland. The day after the fourth and final wedding of the year, my boyfriend and I decided to head into downtown Portland to have lunch and rehash our favorite parts of the weekend. My friend Tes recommended a place in the Pearl—Irving Street Kitchen. She’s the kind of gal that’s sort of effortlessly cool, in the know and has pointed me in the direction of a ton of other legit Portland spots (Nostrana, Park Kitchen, Higgins, etc.), so we were of course going with her suggestion before we left town.

Brilliant call. We were dragging after a long, eventful night that wrapped up a couple of jam-packed months. But the place’s warm, welcoming, wooden booths managed to perk us up, wrap us in their arms and make us momentarily forget that we had a three hour drive home ahead of us.

We had what I’m calling the brunch of all brunches. A breakfast of champions—if people were to call tired, dehydrated, sleep deprived couples who spend a near awkward amount of time considering the menu champions, that is. A mimosa with some sort of berry (huckleberry?) puree got me started, and a spicy, incredible looking Bloody Mary raised the boy’s brows before the shared plates we finally decided on followed. The Bibb Lettuce salad with Rogue Blue Cheese, Braeburn Apple and Radishes came first, followed by Draper Valley Fried Chicken served with Smoked Tasso Jambalaya and Sunnyside Eggs. Oh and then there was that order of Onion Rings with Truffle Aioli dipping sauce. Yes, I said fried chicken and I also said onion rings. (I did mention it was a late night, right?) Was it indulgent? Yes. Was it an over-ambitious order? Maybe. Was every bite of it amazing? Hell yes.

We left maybe a tad sluggish but psyched to have gotten a taste of Portland before heading home, where funnily enough, our first save the date for next year’s wedding season was waiting in our mailbox.

P.S. I'm playing with Picasa, hence the collage above, and it seems to have eaten my old, basic photo editing program. I'm experimenting with how to make the photos sharper once they're uploaded. In the meantime, this group of shots at least gives an idea of what the brunch of all brunches entailed, albeit a blurry one.

Allium on Orcas...

2010-09-17T22:25:00.000-07:00

I spent my Wednesday afternoon in a dentist chair this week. Two and a half hours of my mouth wide open, an uncomfortable dull ache in my jaw and the disturbing sounds of those scary silver "instruments." I had my iPod in hopes Ray LaMontagne and Missy Higgins would drown out the sound of the drill, but sadly, they failed me and I gave them a rest about 45 minutes in. I started then stopped listing to the small talk my dentist and his assistant were making with each other, looked out the window and zoned out while thinking about all of the other places I'd rather be.

My dentist's office is in Ballard and has floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Puget Sound. It was grey and drizzling, and my mind wandered back to a similar view from the table my boyfriend and I had at Allium on Orcas Island Labor Day weekend. We'd gone to spend the night at his family's cabin on Lopez Island but couldn't get that close to Lisa Nakamura's new spot and not check it out.

The weather was less than ideal but the evening itself was flawless. Allium just feels like home. It's on the second floor of what feels like a house, has gorgeous but simple art and woodwork and a warm, comfy feeling. We took our time over cocktails (bubbles with raspberry puree for me, a bourbon sour for him) and the most amazing bread basket this side of Simon in Vegas (another story). We moved on to wine and then lingered over roasted vegetables with a caramelized onion dip, clam chowder and prawn and shitake "patties" that came with a garlic lime aioli and carrot beet slaw.

And we traded plates of Alaskan halibut with artichokes, tomatoes, and fava bean butter and New York strip steak that was accompanied by greens with Oregon Roquefort and a Russet potato gratin that was just bonkers. Absolutely nuts. Later at their adorable little bar, Lisa let us know it was only five ingredients, which seemed both absurd but appropriate at the same time. This is what I love about these little PacNW islands--the ingredients are so tasty it's silly.

The evening ended with more bubbles, our thanking Lisa and her husband profusely for a great night and a ferry ride that seemed just cruel after a few glasses of the good stuff.

I'll be back for anything else Nakamura decides to do with potatoes, dessert and a copy of the brunch menu to keep the dinner menu we kept as a souvenir company.

Anita's Crepes

2010-09-03T20:35:00.000-07:00

It's seldom I get excited about breakfast food. I try. I really, really do. I go into the supposed most important meal of the day with high hopes and an open mind, thinking that the eggs in front of me could be cooked to perfection, potatoes could be well-seasoned or that whatever sweet treat I've let myself indulge in could really be worth it in the end. I often leave disappointed and either hungry for my next meal or angry that I wasted my money on a sub par meal. Most often it's both.

When I do leave the breakfast table happy I feel like I need to tip my hat. Post a little gold star in my brain and belly. I stop and try to figure out what it was that rocked my socks enough to make it different than the morning meals that came before it. Was it the dish? Did I do a better job of ordering? Was it the place? The atmosphere? Did mimosas impair my judgement? Could it have been that I was so hungry that even my napkin would have tasted good if I added enough Tabasco?

I recently left Anita's Crepes in Ballard asking myself these questions. I'd been with one of my nearest and dearest and was full, happy and thrilled that it was breakfast that left me this way. (OK, so technically, it was brunch, but to me the two are one in the same to me given my weekday morning meals rarely consist of more than coffee and the occasional English muffin. Weekend mornings don't often start for me before 9:30 or 10:00a.m., so brunch is breakfast.)

Anita's is of course known for it's crepes, but I wanted something savory too, so I followed my friend's lead and ordered the breakfast that included eggs and bacon too. The eggs were in fact scrambled perfectly, which for me means not too soft, not too juicy and not too hard either. The bacon was cut thick but held a perfect crisp around the edges. It was a nice balance for the standout, which was of course the crepe. Mine came light and filled with fresh local peaches and raspberries. The Chantilly cream that topped it made me swoon.

The space is warm, bright and cozy. It was full of little tables and people soaking up a sunny Sunday. We skipped mimosas in favor of coffee, so the bubbles weren't messing with my mind. Nope, I loved this place, and I loved my breakfast. Though, I will say the conversation, giggles and girl time may have made me a tad giddy.

I'll be back for a $15 Friday night wine flight and the crepe with chevre, roasted golden beets and Balsamic vinegar....or maybe the roasted duck with organic baby spinach and ginger-soy-jalapeno sauce...and maybe the champagne mangoes and cream crepe for dessert.

Foodportunity

2010-08-07T13:37:00.000-07:00

My boyfriend's birthday was at the end of June but he just got the rest of his gift on Monday. A couple of days before his big day, I planned a little dinner party (that ended up not being all that little actually) with a few handfuls of his favorite people. He did the cooking, 'cause, well, that's kind of how it usually ends up working around here. It was a great night, but I left thinking that I still wanted to give him something that felt more like an actual gift and less like forced labor.

My post 20 person dinner party budget meant the gift had to be reasonably small and affordable. I debated a handful of options for a couple of days before opting to give him a couple of tickets to Foodportunity, a Seattle food-focused event that's organized by Keren Brown (aka Frantic Foodie) and aimed at connecting people who love to eat. We'd kicked ourselves for not attending the last one when we saw the likes of Thierry Rautureau of Rover's and Luc tweeting from it, and I like the idea of giving experiences as presents. So there you go.

Monday's event was Foodportunity's fourth and its one year anniversary. A few standouts from the list of participating restaurants were Luc/Rover's, Matt's in the Market, Zoe, Cantinetta, Fresh Bistro, a handful of dishes from Tom Douglas' Prosser Farms and the forthcoming Blackboard Bistro. Matt's had my favorite bite of the night--a pork belly bahn mi--and I was pleasantly surprised that a seafood cocktail from Fresh was a close second (both below).

We'd gotten there right around 6:00 when the doors opened and made our way around the room, briefly chatting with a few of the chefs and table hosts along the way. A couple of hours later, we were stuffed and decided to move on to BalMar in Ballard to round out the night. I'm not sure we did the amount of Foodportunity mingling, meeting and greeting we intended...but I'm also not sure I mind ending the boy's birthday celebration by getting lost in our own little cocktail conversations either.

Lummi Love

2010-07-27T19:56:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, I discovered and fell in love with Lummi Island. As a +1 to the boyfriend, I was lucky enough to tag along with him on a weekend wedding full of sun, fun, love and indulgence.

The wedding itself was gorgeous perfection. The bride was nothing short of stunning. The groom was beaming. The venue was amazing. (Willows Inn, if you ever find yourself in the area). The ceremony was intimate, personal and tear-jerking (yep, I cried, despite the fact that I'd only met the couple the night before). The weather was epic. And the food...well, the food was spectacular. Probably some of the best wedding food I've had.

I had a hunch it was going to be a treat when I overheard the officiator introduce herself to the chef as he cruised around the deck during the rehearsal dinner. He introduced himself as Justin, and I thought, gosh this guy looks familiar. I dismissed the small chance I knew who he was and blamed my bad eyesight for failing me yet again. But then, my boyfriend's dad casually mentioned that the guy use to have a place in Capitol Hill in Seattle. Ding-Ding-Ding. I guess my eyes aren't that bad after all. Justin Niedermeyer--the former and premiere pasta maker at Spinasse--was cooking this lovely couple's wedding meal. AWESOME.

I didn't get the full story on how he ended up at this place but know it has something to do with him hunkering down for a bit after traveling to Italy. And to be frank, I didn't care why he was on that that little, idyllic island--I just thought it was amazing to be eating the guy's food for a wedding I was already adoring.

The even better part? The bulk of the meal was sourced with ingredients from Lummi. I've known local, farm-to-table meals have a different, most often better taste than dishes that were made the other way around for awhile (much love, Alice Waters). But this meal slapped me in the face with a tasty reminder. Some salmon from the Sound. Some greens from one of the many nearby farms. Some bread that was made in the kitchen earlier that day. Some lamb that was raised on the island. All of it incredible.

And yes, Niedermeyer of course did a pasta. It was a spinach-filled Cannelloni that was rich and crispy and tender and savory and...sigh, perfect. But the taste that's still making my mouth water is the roasted cauliflower, made with olive oil, salt, pepper and red chili flakes. It really is the simple things with me.

I tried a bit of everything and was so full I could barely do a second glass of champagne, a rarity for me, as I think I've been clear that I love my bubbles. A lot.

Unfortunately, I didn't get any shots of the food (or the rest of the wedding, for that matter). A memory lapse meant I left my camera on the bed at the farmhouse where we stayed. I did get a few shots earlier that day of the scenery though, which I actually think are more important in this case. The food was definitely a standout. But it was sharing it with some pretty incredible people, during a weekend I felt seriously fortunate to be a part of, in a place that looked like this, that really made it an experience:

It's Been Awhile....

2010-07-12T20:29:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's been awhile since I've posted anything. But no, I'm not going to detail all of my excuses for my little leave of absence. They're not that great, and I also honestly just don't really feel all that obligated. It basically comes down to not liking the idea of writing something when I'm not feeling creative, motivated or inspired. I don't feel compelled to post something for the sake of posting, or because feel like I have to because I've pinned myself into some sort of schedule.

Now, I know that I'm breaking one of the core "rules" of blogging with that mentality. I'm supposed to post frequently. I'm supposed to post often. But I don't like the idea of attaching a feeling of must-dos to something I consider a fun hobby. I've got enough of those elsewhere in my life.

To be clear, I am oh-so-thankful for and envious of the real bloggers out there. People who do post everyday and manage to keep it interesting and worth reading each and every time. And honestly, getting lost in a week's worth of Cupcakes and Cashmere, Eat Drink Pretty and Smitten Kitchen posts makes my Sunday mornings.

Anyway, this space hasn't really been about volume of posts. It's been about sharing the food related experiences that move me enough to jot them down before I forget them.

And, well, it's been awhile.

I blame it on France. France and all of its amazing, delicious indulgences. Its cheese, bread, crepes and patisseries. Its chalk board menus and its open-air markets with special salami, bright and bountiful produce and macaroons. Its cafe au laits, croissants and cafe culture. Its prix-fixe meals, giggle-inducing lamb chops, Joel Robuchon potatoes and picnics in perfect parks. France and its real butter, surprising obsession with pizza and all of its carafes of Chablis, Rose and Sancerre.

I've never eaten as well as I did in Paris, Lyon and Provence. It felt new and I felt lucky. I had aspirations of chronicling each and every meal, taking and sharing pictures of all of the beautiful presentations and documenting flavor profiles, because, as I said above, that's what this space has been about for me. But once I got there, I kind of just lost myself in all of it. I shot photos where I felt it appropriate and tried to journal as many meals as I could.

I've been asked a couple of times what the best thing I ate was. I could probably narrow it down, but I don't really want to. Though, I did pick a few of my favorite photos taken during some of the most memorable days.

Scanning back through these photos has in fact given me a shot of motivation. A little jolt of inspiration, happiness and gratitude. It was a vacation that makes me crave more new adventures that are similarly foreign in more ways than one. The sign of a good trip, I'd say. Hopefully it won't be awhile until I have more of those to share.

Life's Been Full & So Am I

2010-06-03T20:37:00.000-07:00

So I've been away. For a month now, looking at my last post. Things have been hectic, and life has been all over the place...figuratively and literally, actually. I left a job, started another, took some time off, went to the Oregon Coast and spent a couple of weeks abroad. And I've been without a computer!

But I've been having a blast--meeting new people, seeing cool stuff and tasting some absolutely amazing things. Life's been full and so am I. I'm getting the computer situation sorted out this weekend, so more to come soon.

Best of Intentions

2010-05-03T22:36:00.000-07:00

I use to have a recipe book that was covered with a black and white asparagus print. The book was optimistically purchased after I moved into my first post-college apartment with one of my oldest friends. I remember when and where I bought it. I was in a bookstore downtown on a Sunday afternoon I spent musing about how our tiny two bedroom in SE Portland would provide a perfect backdrop for brunches, cocktail parties and special roommate dinners.

The book moved with me to Seattle, where I dreamed about buying the ingredients for the recipes I'd started to collect at Pike Place Market. I was certain my new living companion would happily benefit from all the cooking I was going to do. From Queen Anne to South Lake Union (SLU), SLU to Eastlake and back again to Queen Anne, the book bounced from one tiny kitchen counter to the next. I spent years stuffing the thing full of recipes I'd ripped from magazines, printed from the Internet or scribbled down during phone calls with family.

In all honesty, I probably only made a handful of the dozens of recipes that spilled out of the book's pages. It seemed every time I decided to make something special I'd find a different recipe that seemed better. And then I came into a rather large collection of past issues of Bon Appetit, Food and Wine and Gourmet (tear) and got lost in them. The book was admittedly a victim of neglect.

I had the best of intentions though. Still do. But now it's gone, disappearing after the latest move. I've searched the apartment and think it probably got recycled with a box of old InStyles. While I realize I could probably easily pull some of its contents--like the recipe for a maple Dijon glaze (one of the recipes I actually made, a whole three times)--from the Internet, I still feel I'm in need of a way to keep some handwritten replacements. Online recipes for things like my mom's sausage stuffing or my grandma's chocolate chip pumpkin bread won't do, so my darling sister is now going to have to recite and send the details for the versions I grew up loving.

I found these cute vintage-looking recipe cards from Rifle Paper Co. via a Bon Appetit tweet that seem like a pretty perfect start (over):

But I still need something to house them. Tasting Table is pushing Moleskin's recipe journal, but I'm not sure it's for me. So I'm putting it on my list of possible Paris or Provence purchases during my upcoming vacation later this month. Some might call the idea of a recipe book obsolete. But I love the thought of it, especially if it comes from a trip that will in theory yield a story as good as the recipes.

*Photos from Bon Appetit and Rifle Paper Co.

Mistral Kitchen

2010-04-22T21:38:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I worry that if I don't jot down my thoughts on a delicious experience soon enough that I wont remember what it made it so great later. That I'll forget why I fell silent for a few seconds after taking a bite or what it was about a certain dish that left me craving it hours after determining I'm full beyond belief.

I thought that might be the case with Mistral Kitchen given I went weeks ago. Not so.

I can still feel the little kusshi and Chelsea Gem oysters coming off the shell and into my mouth. I can still see the beautiful bed of fennel that the Hamachi Crudo came on, despite the fact I was too distracted (by the scene, the open kitchen and/or maybe even the waiter?) to snap a picture. The acidity from the lemon squeezed over a simple arugula salad with cremini mushrooms and Pecorino is still prickling my tongue, and I'm still awing over the mixture of textures that came with a dish of perfectly seared scallops with black quinoa, creamy puree and halved grapes. And the perfectly cooked veal chop--the one with the truffle mushroom relish and potatoes that might as well have been whipped butter--well, that still has me salivating.

I'll be back for a seat at the bar, a go with the prix-fixe menu and perhaps even a special occasion at the chef's table.

Feeling Fortunate....

2010-04-17T09:45:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned before that I benefit from my boyfriend's culinary endeavors. I happily serve as a subject when he's recreating a recipe, deciding on a dish and figuring out the best way to please a group of people's palates. Countless random weeknight dinners have come from a test kitchen of sorts, and it's fun to later watch the people a menu was intended for enjoy, savor and thank him for whatever it is he's made.

Since moving in together a few months back, I've discovered it can be just as if not more fun to make semi-selfish meal requests for myself. Case in point. It's a wet Sunday night. I'm watching and trying to decide if Sunshine Cleaning is the most depressing or uplifting movie ever, and I say I'm craving something sweet. Instead of letting me grab a piece of chocolate, he tells me to stay put, heads into the kitchen and makes this:

Sauteed bananas with brown sugar, a chocolate marshmallow sauce and sea salt. He had a bite and I had the rest.

A few days later, I mentioned I was headed to the gym after work and half-jokingly asked if he was making me "a light, savory meal" (this term gets thrown around a lot, I think it makes us feel better about eating something that usually doesn't end up being all the light) for dinner. The answer was a nonchalant "sure," but when I came home to Whole Foods bags and his immersion blender on the counter I knew I was in for it. Half an hour later I had a plate of crusted halibut on top of a spicy pepper sauce and roasted carrots and parsnip in front of me.

Even better? He does the dishes too. Here's hoping my bi-weekly deep clean of our little apartment (ahem, both bathrooms?) reminds him I pull my weight around here.

Worth the Wait...

2010-04-05T20:28:00.000-07:00

I've lived about three blocks from Paseo for the past two plus months and finally got my act together to go. No clue what I've been waiting for. I guess the epic lines were keeping me away. I've cruised by for about eight consecutive weekends now, wondering how good the food must be to have around twenty people patiently waiting, often in the rain, to edge their way into the tiny building with the aluminum (?) roof. Could those big, bountiful sandwiches be that good?

Most definitely.

Patience was put aside this past weekend, and the boy and I walked up the street and took our place in line. It was only sprinkling so I thought OK, not too bad (I'd also come prepared in my wellies). 15 minutes later and we were close to the front of line. Not too bad at all. And then we realized we'd forgotten to bring cash. Amateurs.

I kept our spot in line while the boy made a mad dash for an ATM. I ended up letting people in front of me when I got to the front. It was getting awkward, so I finally just went to the back of the line. Idiot. The boy was back about three minutes later with cash, a look of severe disappointment and questions about my decision making ability when he realized we now had another 15 to go. And then we found out the guy working the register was awesome and that I could have just ordered and paid when the boy got back. Insert more disappointed, questioning stares in my direction here.

But all was forgiven when we wrapped our hands around those sandwiches. We over-ordered, going with the Cuban Roast (amazing, marinated pork shoulder that lives up to the "succulent" description on the menu), Chicken Breast and an order of beans and rice. All of the sandwiches come on these big, toasty baguettes that are dripping with aioli, spilling over with caramelized onions and peppered with jalapenos. Oh, and don't forget the corn on the cob.

I left conflicted. Not because I couldn't decide if I liked it (loved it), but because I was so incredibly full but still wanted more. I dreamed about the Cuban Roast for the rest of the day and into the night. I might have gone back for Easter brunch if they were open on Sundays.

So worth the wait. Now we'll just have to see how long I'll be willing to wait for a second trip.

What I Love (and Hate) about Sundays

2010-03-30T22:28:00.000-07:00

I have a love/hate relationship with Sundays. I spend half of them angry and pouting about my blessed weekend being over, cursing myself for all of the things I didn't and wont get done and dreading the sound of a Monday morning alarm clock. The other half are spent basking in the light and free feeling that comes with wide open mornings and having no plans other than to make myself happy. Doing only the things I want to do. Taking my time with at the grocery store, cooking real meals and going to bed ready to face the work week because I've had a healthy dose of me time.

Sundays as of late have been all about the latter. They've been the epitome of lazy with noon wake-up times immediately followed by greasy but delicious pizza, pajamas and movies like The Hangover watched from the comfort of the couch (necessary and appropriate after a previous night's Bayless inspired gathering).

This last Sunday was one part lazy with a splash of productivity and a heavy hand of indulgence. Waking up at 10:30a.m. for no other reason than to eat eggs with mojo and chives, bacon and homemade hash browns; curling up on the couch to finish The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (good read, by the way) and ending the night with Indian take-out and The Invention of Lying made-up the lazy portion. The splash of productivity included a quick drive into the office for a forgotten power cord (frustrating), scrubbing the kitchen after a Saturday baking extravaganza (more on that to come) and paying bills over a glass of Oyster Bay Sauvingon Blanc.

The indulgence was in between and really wasn't much of a splurge (unless you count the Indian food, which I probably should). It consisted of a cup of coffee, an itty-bitty doughnut and a newspaper. The thing is I'm not supposed to have coffee right now. Doctor's orders for the next three weeks. And I love coffee. Hot coffee with milk and sugar sipped slowly from a big mug that I can wrap my hands around is complete luxury to me. I felt like I needed something special, so I had it anyway. Shhh. I nibbled a perfect little cinnamon and sugar Mighty-O donut with it and lingered over both in the cafe at Elliot Bay Book Company while reading the paper. A hard copy, which I feel like I rarely feel in my hands anymore. I then moved upstairs and spent an hour wandering through the travel loft, the cooking section and selected a couple of fun new paperbacks (Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat Pray Love and Ruth Reichl's Sapphires and Garlic--I'm behind, I know).

A simple, uneventful day that was pretty perfect for just that reason. What's your favorite way to waste a Sunday?

Beloved Bayless

2010-03-24T20:10:00.000-07:00

There's a lot of love for Chicago-based celebrity chef Rick Bayless in my apartment. We're still celebrating his win on Top Chef Masters, and a Frontera Grill menu is proudly displayed among a collection of others on a bulletin board in the kitchen. His show, Mexico--One Plate at a Time, is on the regular DVR rotation, and I can't get over how active this man is on Twitter. OK, so I haven't actually eaten at one of his restaurants (the menu is a souvenir from the boy's trip to Chicago awhile back), but I swear I've been able to taste his food through the screen. Plus, the guy just seems so genuinely...nice.

So It felt right to theme a little housewarming party after him. We had a few friends over for Bayless inspired menu last weekend that included chipotle roasted peanuts, chillied peanuts and pumpkin seeds and popcorn with Bayless' mojo de ajo (slow roasted garlic oil), also known as "liquid gold." I was slowly but surely slinging Topolo margaritas as folks walked in the door, and we served both black bean queso fresco and creamy chipotle shrimp tostaditas (bite-sized tostadas) before brava steak and duck carnitas.

The credit for all of it goes to my boyfriend. He did an amazing amount of prep and cooking in 24 hours, and the food was incredible. The duck carnitas were superb, which just might have had something to do with a smidge of the fat it was cooked in. It was amazingly tender and rich, but a chunky tomatillo-avocado salsa made it taste bright.

My minor contribution was a mango lime ice. The suggestion actually came from Mr. Bayless himself on Twitter (highlight of my boyfriend's life, as he put it). I'll be honest that I probably made making the stuff more complicated than it needed to be. It took me forever to juice the limes, I was caffeine deprived and got frustrated fast when pureeing the mangoes made a huge mess (my bad for filling the processor bowl too full). But I'll say the end result was pretty cool. They were like cups of slushy. But not like the Sno-Cone ice. Almost like a sorbet. And definitely a nice little palate cleanser after all of the savory treats.

We even had an appearance from the celeb chef himself. Kind of. Well, OK, as close as we're probably ever going to get to him coming to dinner.

Cheers.

Refreshed

2010-03-19T22:46:00.000-07:00

Like a lot of those who grew up in the PacNW, I fell for Cannon Beach at an early age. We'd go for the day when I was younger. Cannon meant a day trip, picnic meals and kites. It meant saltwater taffy, sandy shoes and waffle cones.

Some but not all of that changed as I got older. Throughout college, I forced Cannon on new friends who were more familiar with beaches than coasts. At that point, the trips involved fewer pieces of taffy and more pints at Bill's Tavern. Cannon and I lost touch for awhile there but reunited in February '08 when the boy brought me to his family's cabin for the first time. I fell in love all over again. Funnily enough, that was also about the same time I realized I'd completely fallen for the boy. Coincidence? Yes, actually, but undoubtedly one of the many reasons I smile when I think about going to the cabin for the weekend.

Cannon means different things now than it did when I was little. It means I've worked hard and the getaway feels better deserved. It means a longer drive (it's four plus hours from Seattle) full of Splendid Table and Bill Simmons podcasts. It means getting in late, going to bed early and waking up rested.

It also means way better food and a special bottle of wine these days, as was the case last weekend. I was battling a cold and worried it wouldn't be the weekend I wanted. I was wrong. I woke up feeling refreshed and ready for some actual sustenance after a week of broth, tea and juice.

So I indulged. And imbibed. Highlights included snacks like cantaloupe brought down from Sosio's at Pike Place Market. Some of the first of the season apparently, and it tasted like fresh, juicy candy. Amazing. Slices from Pizza a'fetta for lunch. Always.

Cheese, prosciutto and crackers started off the evening along with a close but disappointing (for me, at least) game of Scrabble. But not just any cheese. The hard was a basque and the soft was heaven in the form of quadrello di bufala. Dinner itself was an arugula salad of tomatoes, crispy shallots, chives and a vinaigrette with a main course of braised lamb, farro with beet greens, hedgehog mushrooms and rainbow carrots and a bottle of Six Vineyards Pinot Noir. Lovely.

I also took got my hands on a maple bar from Cannon Beach Bakery I mentioned craving and worked it off with a little beach hike followed by a healthy dose of reading and a whole lot of sleeping. Refreshed indeed.

Getting Away

2010-03-12T10:55:00.000-08:00

I'm headed to Cannon Beach for the weekend. The boy's family has a cabin there, and we've been going every few months since we got together a couple of years back. I've most recently been pushing for it after especially busy times because the place and town relaxes me like nothing else. Right now, I've got one of the worst colds I've had in years, and my hope is that the fresh, salty air and downtime will help kick it to the curb. Massive amounts of water, sleep, Airborne, tea, orange juice and Dayquil aren't working.

I'm going to be one grumpy girl if I can't taste some of my favorite Cannon Beach treats, like a maple bar from Cannon Beach Bakery, a slice of pepperoni from Pizza a'fetta and whatever beautifully braised piece of meat the boy whips up as part of the special meal that's become somewhat of a tradition for the second night we're there.

Fingers crossed. Have a happy weekend people.

Cute Little Crab Cakes for an Even Cuter Couple

2010-03-11T23:28:00.000-08:00

I've been keeping an old issue of Bon Appetit handy for about a year now. It's the April '09 issue, and I've got about six recipes from it tabbed. The cover is bright yellow and features this beautiful, fresh looking salad that makes you crave spring. Other standouts are recipes for Tagliatelle with Baby Vegetables and Lemon-Parmesan Sauce; Ramp and Buttermilk Biscuits with Cracked Coriander; Mini Crab Cakes; Pasta with Peas; Asparagus, Butter, Lettuce and Prosciutto and Vanilla Bean-Coconut Cupcakes with Coconut Frosting. Is your mouth watering yet? Mine does every time I open the copy.

I've been waiting for the right time to bust one of these out. Last weekend brought an engagement party for the adorable Mr. and (soon-to-be) Mrs. Roberts, and Seattle showed up with some incredible weather for the occasion. Sun, blue skies, warm air. Ideal. I'd offered to bring some snacks and decided it was the perfect time to finally give one of these spring-inspired recipes I'd been saving for who knows what a whirl.

Dessert was covered, and the pasta dishes seemed awkward for a cocktail party. The biscuits didn't feel right. And so I went with the crab cakes. They were bite-sized and looked kinda cute in the photos. They also meant I got to buy mini muffin pans. Sold! The boy and I were just saying we needed for them for the Jambalaya cakes he attempted for a Mardis Gras party back in February. That mission and, um, result is another story.

These crab cakes were actually pretty easy. The recipe calls for cream cheese and sour cream to help with the binding. Both also add to the flavor, as do the lemon zest, the orange zest and the chives it includes. And while the cakes probably would have been fine on their own, I made a spicy remoulade for dipping...mainly because I like sauces and excuses to use little ramekins.

I'd dare say both the cakes and the remoulade turned out well. But the better turn out was most definitely the 40+ people who showed up to celebrate the future bride and groom. Champagne was flowing, people were mingling and the happy, fun-loving couple seemed, well, happy. A perfect way to spend an early spring evening.

Up next is those cupcakes. I might try to make them bite-sized so I can get another use out of my new mini-muffin pans.

Brunch at Tilth

2010-03-07T11:14:00.000-08:00

I'm not a big breakfast fan but do appreciate a good brunch. It means a later wake up time (I love my sleep), choosing foods from multiple meal times and mimosas (I like my bubbles almost as much as my sleep). It feels special given most places only role out the brunch menu on weekends and, for me, seems less rushed than breakfast.

So kicking Valentine's Day off with brunch at Tilth a few weeks back felt like a treat. I've been to Tilth once before for dinner and liked it. Loved it for brunch. The restaurant is in a small house with an adorable awning (that's a bit Chez Panisse like, come to think of it) in Seattle's Wallingford neighborhood. The morning was nice, and the sun made the dining room's walls feel even warmer than their pale yellow paint. It wasn't crowded, but the tables were full. There were smiling couples and families at nearly all of them and a light but lively buzz filled the room. The place was Spring a month and a half early. It felt happy.

And that happy feeling was before we ate. Content multiplied by about ten after. We had the baby lettuce salad with crispy shallots, bacon bits and their take on Thousand Island dressing. The crispy shallots were like baby onion rings and pretty perfect. We also had the Cardamom French Toast with a creme de menthe mousse, mint syrup and orange bread (the photo above). I wasn't all that psyched about that dish when we ordered it. Seemed like too much mint. And while I didn't love the syrup on its own (too strong), it of course worked with the bread and mousse.

Our main dish was a salmon hash with capers, house made cream cheese and a sous vide egg. It came with frisee and toast for soaking up the egg and cream cheese that melted together by the time you'd finished the rest of the dish. So rich, and so good.

A tall, sweet and sparkling mimosa of course washed it all down and put some pep in my step for the Pikes Place Market shopping that followed. An overall, most lovely mid-morning meal that made me fall hard for everything going on inside that little house.

And I'm Back...

2010-03-05T17:05:00.000-08:00

Not just back to this wee blog, but back to my little life. I wrote here how MLK weekend was going to be a last little hurrah for awhile. Oh so true. It's been a brutal month filled with exhausting days, nights and heaps of stress. I've been distant, a less than thrilling conversation partner and not exactly the most attentive girlfriend or friend. But I'm through the thick of it and am looking forward to getting back to normal and catching up on everything that's been going on outside of my little bubble for the last month.

I haven't been this excited for 5:00p.m. on a Friday in awhile. I'm spending tonight watching a DVR'd Jason Mraz concert with champagne cocktails and one of my best girls. Tomorrow's busy with shopping for and prepping appetizers for my dear friends Linds and Neil's engagement party, and Sunday's agenda includes Oscars and a possible visit from the boy's family. In between, there will be sleeping (lots of it), finishing the unpacking I've been procrastinating, putting my mixer to good use by finally baking something in my new kitchen, and reading news and a good book while sipping coffee. Ideal.

These are the kinds of things that help me feel myself, happy and well-rounded. How do you feel like you again?

Happy Valentine's Day

2010-02-14T10:02:00.001-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day. I'm taking a break from trying to be at least semi-productive before a special brunch at Tilth, followed by a little shopping and a homemade dinner later tonight.

I like Valentine's Day. Always have. Even the ones I've spent without a Valentine (go ahead, roll your eyes, but it's true). I don't like it for the cheesy cards, forced sentiments or the hope of a dozen roses appearing on my doorstep (I prefer lilies).

I like the shape of a heart drawn by hand, and I like the color scheme. I just can't get over this thing I have for the color pink and like the way it looks next to the bold hue of a red. And I like that I think a little longer about how to incorporate one (or both, if I'm feeling funky) into my outfit on Valentine's Day. I like that a good number of people take a second, think and attempt to be creative--whether it's with a great gift, language in a letter or simple, spoken words--in the name of appreciating another person.

And I like it for nostalgic reasons. I like that it reminds me of my mom, who I like to think genuinely enjoyed helping me and my siblings pick out the cartoon-themed cards that we gave our classes with handfuls of chalky Sweetheart candy. Reminds me of her and my dad giving us little boxes of Russell Stover's chocolates when we were little, which kept coming with care packages while I was in college and then with just because boxes post graduation.

OK, enough recollections. I'm off to press my petal cotton pencil pink skirt and ruffled white blouse for my first ever Valentine's brunch.

What are your reasons for loving, or hating, Valentine's Day?

Settling In...

2010-02-13T10:03:00.000-08:00

Three weeks in, and I'm finally getting settled into the new place. It feels like a palace compared to the tiny studio apartment I came from. I like that I can fold my laundry on a surface other than a bed. I can sit on the couch and stare out a window (with a fairly decent view I might add) while I sip my morning coffee.

And I love being able to sit at an actual table while I eat dinner. No room for a table in my last place, so I ate at my desk, which usually led to me pulling out my laptop and multi-tasking over dinner the same way I do at lunch. I was eating pretty much every meal in front of a screen. Depressing.

Setting and sitting at a table feels good. It makes dinner feel like a meal and a time to stop, take some time for me and actually enjoy it. The table, while small, makes me feel like more of a grown up and makes the food taste and look better for a reason I can't quite explain. The first meal at the table started with smoked cod with comte cheese and crostini and oysters on the half shell (they're kind of becoming a weekly thing). A blood orange and avocado salad with red jalapeno (yes, a blatant rip off of the one I had at Chez Panisse) came next. And the main attraction was a piece of pan fried sole with a creamy hedgehog sauce coupled with roasted rainbow carrots followed.

That photo doesn't do anything for the fish dish. It looks brown and bland but wasn't. It was savory. And crispy. And juicy. And flaky. And superb. The carrots were simple, tender and salted well. Their color made me happy. Almost as happy as when I cleaned my plate, stopped to look around the new place and realized it was starting to feel a little bit like a home.

Chez Panisse

2010-02-12T22:30:00.000-08:00

I spent about half an hour in Whole Foods tonight. Exhausted, wandering around aimlessly and trying to decide what I wanted for dinner. I walked out with a blood orange a baby baguette. I devoured the orange. I'm craving citrus lately. Not sure if it's because it's in season or because I'm getting sick and my body is steering me toward some vitamin C. Let's hope it's the former and not the latter; there's no time for sick right now.

The blood orange reminded me I've yet to post anything from Chez Panisse though. That dinner was pretty much the pinnacle and point of the whole recent trip to San Francisco, so I feel kind of silly for detailing some of the other culinary highlights and neglecting what was actually the peak of the weekend. The night as whole was a momentous occasion. It was not a holiday. Not a birthday, a celebration, or an anniversary. We had nothing in particular to toast to. Other than being removed from the day to day stuff that equals reality and instead tucked away in a cozy corner table with nothing to do but eat, drink and enjoy.

And enjoy we did. The dining room was full but felt open. We ordered well, with our waiter's help, and our dishes were flawless. The wine was wonderful, and the service was subtle perfection. When we sat, our waiter let us know we could and should sit back and take our time with choices and courses, because the table was ours for the rest of the night. He made himself sparse but appeared at just the right times, and we didn't wait for a thing. The timing was perfect. He gave thoughtful, spot on pairing suggestions and sounded genuinely happy to be making recommendations that I doubt were unique but felt as much. For instance, with these guys, he suggested a Lillet blonde:

Perfect. And things only got better. We worked our way through the menu, following the oysters with a salad and Pizzetta with wild nettles and garlic sausage before taking on the must-try Sea Bass and the braised pork.

Blood orange, chervil and avocado salad

Pan-fried sea bass with parsnips, little potatoes and romesco sauce

Maiale al latte: Becker Lane Farm pork braised in milk with lemon, sage, carrots and spinach

The sea bass sounds simple but didn't taste it. The fish was cooked perfectly (not that I expected anything less), the potatoes and parsnips were tender and the romesco was crispy. Which surprised me but pretty much made it. Stand out dish of the night and the trip.

Despite our waiter commenting on our "impressive effort," we got an unnecessary but delicious dessert too ("How often can we eat dessert from Chez Panisse," I think were my exact words). A Sierra Beauty apple tart with wildflower honey-citrus cream. We lingered over it and a round of bubbles for about half an hour before snapping back to reality and remembering we took the BART into Berkeley and were about to miss the last train.

Our hustle out of there was comical. And even funnier was jogging through what I later learned is called the "gourmet ghetto" to the train station in a dress, in the rain, while laughing, after a six course meal. Looking back, that part was up there with the sea bass for me.

Happy Friday.

Story People

2010-02-01T00:14:00.000-08:00

I've been moving for pretty much the last week. The new place is most definitely an exciting and much needed upgrade, but right now it just feels like a bunch of rooms full of unpacked boxes. And they're staring me in the face and making me feel both guilty and lazy. I don't want to touch them after long, tough days. The kinds of days that have also ended in me barely wanting to look at my computer when I finally get home let alone boot it. Hence the gaps between posts.

But just a bit ago, while scouring for two socks that came close to patching, I pulled a silver frame out of one of four boxes of clothes in the bedroom. Inside is a little Story People print I love. The words read like so:

"There are things you do because they feel right & they make no sense & they make no money & it may be the real reason we are here: to love each other & to eat each other's cooking & say it was good."

I fell in love with Story People in college when my friend and former roommate Jenna discovered the collection. Since then I've bought prints, books and cards as gifts, using some of my favorite bits in letters and notes to the friends and folks I adore most. The bright colors that fill the funky drawings (check them out here) make me happy, to put it simply, and I love that a couple handfuls of words can leave me with perspective.

This particular one feels right about now. And reminds me that I can't wait to cook something (that may or may not be tasty) up in this lovely new kitchen for my nearest and dearests. Maybe I'll tackle one more box before bed after all.

Have a good week, people.

A 'Foodie's Haven'

2010-01-24T18:05:00.001-08:00

It's a cold, wet, dark and less than inspiring Sunday in Seattle. One of those Sundays that's spent cleaning, running errands and mentally preparing for another work week. Blah, to sum it up in a word.

I'd love to rewind back one week, when I was in Oakland at my boyfriend's uncle's place, sipping Brut rose and snacking on Hog Island oysters with champagne mignonette and chili sauce before enjoying roasted organic rainbow carrots, perfectly toasted crostini and a fresh sun dried tomatoe and mozzarella salad sprinkled with green onions. Sigh.

Or to earlier last Sunday morning, when I couldn't have cared less about the rain and was traipsing through the streets of San Francisco in my wellies while en route to the Ferry Building Marketplace. My friend Kate of Orange Violet recommended we swing by, and my friend Tess backed her up, calling it a "foodie's haven." Spot on. We spent the morning exploring the space's over 40 shops and grabbing brunch before picking up a few things for a light, low-key dinner in. Much needed following two days of intense intake (more to come on that front).

We fueled up on a turkey sandwich and chips from Lulu Petite so we weren't grocery shopping with grumbling stomachs. Turkey sound boring? Far from it. It was served in between brioche and stacked with bacon, avocado and a rhubarb remoulade. And the chips were homemade with rosemary sea salt. Pretty perfect with a fresh squeezed orange juice.

We probably spent another hour walking in circles before buying anything else, sampling local cheeses, scoping out fish, pondering meat and drooling over sweet treats. For a few minutes, we were so overwhelmed by the options that we almost considered just calling it quits. That of course passed. We snapped out of it, came to our senses and deemed a simple pasta with some fresh, local touches the right call.

Cured meat cones from Boccalone Salumerie. I probably saw 15 different people with them within the first 25 minutes we were there. No way we were passing them up. We also nabbed some pancetta for the pasta there. Delicious, salty pork how I love thee.

A small portion of the mushroom selection at Far West Fungi. Debated the porcini, but the clerk's warning about them being so fresh we'd likely need to cook out worms just didn't do it for me. We went with some heavenly hedgehogs to go with the Pancetta instead.

Macaroons at Miette, a little patisserie my friend Tess suggested. These little sweeties didn't last until dinner. I nabbed a chocolate, a hazelnut and two vanilla. Worth the wait and even the anger I endured after a group of teenage girls cut in front of me in line.

We also picked up some red chard for color (and bit of something nutritious), a fresh baguette from Acme bakery and a healthy-sized slice of Comte from Cowgirl Creamery. The end result:

Not exactly the light meal we were going for, but it was oh-so good and satisfying to make something ourselves after 48 hours of eating an obscene number of calories at restaurants.

Not to say those meals out were not completely and utterly amazing. Stay tuned for a post and pictures from a little adventure in Berkeley and the amazing meal at Chez Panisse that came with it.

Have a good week.

Cicchetti Kitchen and Bar

2010-01-19T21:11:00.000-08:00

Before my current stint in Seattle's lower Queene Anne neighborhood, I shared a cute little apartment with one of my oldest and best girls. She's since moved on to life as a home owner, living it up in a fabulous townhouse in uber cool Ballard. We see each other a little less now, and the times we get together remind me how much I adore her and loved our little life in Eastlake. Two twenty-somethings who were working hard, going out, eating in, recounting long hard days and laughing over glasses of Sauvingon Blanc from a bottle we bought down the street at Pete's Market (amazing wine selection by the way). I miss it. Saturday morning coffee at Starbucks until better cups came via Voxx, take-out from Siam, our cute little kitchen and a small neighborhood feel.

So for our most recent rendezvous I suggested Cicchetti, the spot that recently opened behind Serafina in our old 'hood. I first read about it here but really wanted to try it after reading this post in which Nancy Leson sang its praises. I fell in the love with the place the second we walked in and must have commented half a dozen times that I wished it had been there when we were living up the block.

We sat upstairs, which has a sweet view of Lake Union and the side of Queen Anne hill. It was crowded but we got a table right away, and the place was filled with a mix of stylish but not overdressed couples, friends and groups of girls. The cocktail list is good-sized and interesting, and the menu is filled with shareable cold and hot plates.

We started with a round of martinis and the rosemary and sea salt focaccia served with Trampetti olive oil before moving on to sharing the soppressata with roasted onion, the Portugese baked clams with spicy sausage and the Moroccan spiced lamb with lentils, garlic yogurt and flatbread. We both loved the lamb. Full of flavor, and the dish's components let us make mini pitas. But I left raving about the bread. I feel like my favorite things are always the simplest. It was warm with a bit of a crunch that I guess was the crust and probably the grains of sea salt, but you could barely tell because it was soft and airy the rest of the way through. Now I suppose I could have just been starving when it hit the table given we opted for a 9p.m. meet-up, but doesn't it look tasty?

The service was perfect too. Genuine and friendly but not overly such. I'm headed back tomorrow night to celebrate a friend's engagement (congrats to the future Mrs. Roberts!) and want to get into their Sicilian orange and fennel salad with black olives and arugula to try to curb a craving I'm having for citrus since eating a blood orange salad in the Bay Area this past weekend.

More on that to come, and in the meantime, Seattle peeps, if you haven't yet been to Cicchetti, I suggest you get on it.

One Last Little Hurrah

2010-01-06T20:58:00.000-08:00

A weekend in San Francisco found it's way under the Christmas tree this year and with it a special dinner at Chez Panisse, which I'm near giddy about trying.

I've been pushing Alice Waters' books as gifts for the last couple of years and am psyched to finally taste something from one of her menus of local organic market fare. The trip was booked kind of last minute (headed down there next week), so the hostess pretty much scoffed at the attempt to get a Saturday night reservation in the downstairs restaurant with the set menu. So upstairs in the cafe it is. Part of me wishes I had my act together and had called far enough in advance to do the whole prix-fixe thing, but another part is thinking I might try more things this way. And the cafe apparently has an open kitchen spanning one side of it, which I'm pretty sure my dining companion is going to dig.

Aside from that and visiting some of the boyfriend's family, the only other thing on the agenda is to explore, eat and have a little fun. Life's about to get hectic and stay that way for a good two months, so this will be a little last hurrah of sorts. For awhile at least. I've got a couple of ideas for some other must-try spots, but could use a few more. Suggestions?

Welcome to 2010...

2010-01-04T23:09:00.000-08:00

Cheers. We're here. Four days into 2010, and as promised, I'm sharing a few shots from the New Year's Eve party--a festive fete complete with a balloon drop and champagne toast at midnight, DJ and dancing and mad libs created just for the occasion. (Yep, you read that right. Random but hilarious, and highly recommended for your next party.) And of course all of those hors d'oeuvres.

I didn't get a photo of everything but managed to snap a few semi-decent shots of a few of my favorite bites:

Special and stylish Whole Foods crackers and what I'm pretty sure is the world's best hummus. My boyfriend doesn't get credit for this one. It's his brother-in-law's recipe. Smooth, full of flavor, and I'm nursing a tupperware container with some of what was leftover.

Oysters on the half shell with a spicy remoulade. One of multiple bowls shucked by a father/son oyster shucking team who literally came in, rolled up their sleeves, got to work and finished mere minutes later. Incredible and incredibly funny. And those little guys in the red bowl in the background are gougeres from the Jacques Pepin recipe I mentioned here.

Braised short rib crostini. Tender, rich and sprinkled with a reduction of the braising liquid, parm and parsley. The toasted crostini added crunch for texture. These went quick. Both platters of them.

Unfortunately absent from my shots are the sushi rolls, which turned out great, and the homemade late night (or, um, early morning) pizza, which just might have been my favorite thing of all. I'm resolving to request more of it in 2010.

Here's to a full, happy and healthy new year.

Practice Round

2009-12-30T20:45:00.000-08:00

I occasionally play guinea pig for my boyfriend. The guy is a seriously good cook. Like really, really good. He loves it (so I swear it's fun for both of us) and gets a kick out of making special snacks, hors d'oeuvres and multi-course meals for people. He'll be at it again tomorrow night, indulging a house full of lucky people at a New Years Eve fete his sister and brother-in-law are throwing.

I rounded out the holiday weekend sitting back with a glass of white while he perfected techniques and marinades for a couple of the items making an appearance on the menu--sushi rolls and pork skewers. (I offered to help as I always do, but he wouldn't have it.)

He did the sushi for the same party last year, and it was apparently a hit. He's made it once or twice since, but he wants those little spicy tuna rolls tight and perfect. And the marinade for the pork is a new addition to his meat-on-a stick repertoire. So he practices. And so I benefit...

Spicy tuna rolls with touches of panko breadcrumbs for texture and julienned carrots/cucumber.

Spicy Sambal pork skewers and crab cakes (not on the menu, but made an appearance on Sunday just for fun.)

Hamachi nigiri, also not on the menu, but good, and I kinda like the shadow the fish casts on the plate.

I'll try to snap some shots of the full spread tomorrow night. Happy New Year people!

Finally....

2009-12-28T18:25:00.000-08:00

Finally, I have a camera that will let me take some decent pictures at night. As an incredibly generous Christmas gift, my boyfriend--who I'm pretty sure got tired of me stealing his little Canon and then complain later about the photo quality--gave me a Nikon Coolpix P90. It's mid-sized, lightweight and I'm slowly but surely learning its ins, outs and features.

We gave it a test run at Pike Place market Saturday evening as the vendors closed up shop. Here's a handful of the shots from its maiden voyage:

Looking forward to documenting some of these little adventures with some better visuals. Stay tuned for more pics and bits from a most lovely holiday weekend.

Wanted: Perfect Little Hand Mixer for Making Holiday Memories

2009-12-20T10:24:00.000-08:00

It's five days before Christmas, and I just slipped into the spirit of the holiday season. I went to bed wishing it was Jan. 1 and woke up feeling festive and nostalgic. Feeling like my own little tree is in order so my itty-bitty apartment can hold the scent of pine. Feeling ready to conquer the holiday shopping crowds and excited to spend hours carefully wrapping gifts the way my parents use to.

But more than anything I want to make some sweet treats. I want my kitchen to turn into a time machine and transport me back to when I was little. I want it to take me to my grandma's house in late December--warm and cozy and full of smells like ginger and molasses with the sounds of Christmas music and oven timers in the background.

So I spent some of this morning looking for a recipe I could get excited about, surveying my cupboards for ingredients and making a shopping list. But then I pulled my hand mixer out of its box and cursed. What happened to the beaters that do the actual mixing? I opened every drawer and searched every shelf. Nowhere to be found. Guessing I lost them in one of my last two moves. Sigh.

And then I think, oh well, really that mixer wasn't very good anyways. But I start remembering all of the other recipes I've read and tagged recently that require one. Cookies, cakes, cupcakes--basically anything I want to bake. So now I've justified buying a new one. A few I'm considering:

KitchenAid 7-Speed Hand Mixer--Because it matches my blender, which still works well and looks like new despite multiple moves and some tough love.

Cuisinart 5-Speed Hand Mixer--Because it's a tad cheaper and I like the chrome.
Michael Graves Design Hand Mixer (White)--Because it's less expensive than the other two, and it seems I could put that little container that holds the beaters to good use.

And yes, I am well-aware I could just buy replacement beaters for my current mixer. But again, it really doesn't work that well. And I've worked hard enough this year that I can make the case for buying myself a little something that will probably end up yielding things for other people anyway. I'm planning to pick one up while I finish my holiday shopping over the next couple of days. Other suggestions?

Cheers to Ebey's Landing and Life in the Pacific Northwest

2009-12-13T18:46:00.000-08:00

A couple of weeks back, I briefly mentioned a Friday hike that ends my boyfriend's family's annual Thanksgiving festivities. Well I recently got my hands on a few photos that were snapped that day and realized I didn't give that hike due space here. I glossed over it, neglecting to mention the details that made it one of the better days I've spent in the Seattle area since moving here a few years back.

I didn't mention how ridiculously excited I got about the morning ferry ride to Whidbey Island (lame, I know, but it was only my second ever). Or how the random cup of drip coffee I got during the 20 minute ride was hot, strong and tasted surprisingly perfect...despite the fact that it had probably sat there for an hour before I pumped it into a Styrofoam cup. I forgot to explain how psyched we were to finally find Ebey's Landing (our destination) after driving in the wrong direction for a good 15 minutes before we realized we passed it (kind of a reoccurring trend, I'm afraid).

I also neglected to write about how the first part of the "hike" was really more of a leisurely walk along the beach, or how the day was stunningly clear, oddly warm and yet still cool enough to make the jaunt refreshing. And I most definitely failed to describe the view--how the scene from the top of the ridge we eventually reached when we finally moved from walking to hiking was incredible. The water was layered shades of blue. The sky the same, with mountains framing it in the background.

And I also didn't mention how we stopped halfway through for an impromptu picnic. How a table made of washed-up logs formed in a matter of minutes, or how 15 of us gathered around it eating crackers, cheese, dried fruit and nuts--incredibly simple but delicious snacks that paired with the scenery and the shoreline perfectly. I also failed to mention the bottle of Moet that was cracked open while we sat.

Now I love Champagne (and am equally affectionate about its Italian cousin Prosecco). The bubbles. The sweet taste. I don't need a special occasion to order it. I like it in the morning when it's cut with juice and served as a Mimosa, will take it in place of a cocktail before dinner and love sipping it slowly with a dessert. I like how it makes any moment feel special. How it elicits a toast. I especially liked this sip. It wasn't just that it was a nice bottle. I liked that its qualities matched the day--cold, crisp, sparkling and fun. We of course toasted, and I again felt extremely fortunate--for the weather, the people, the day, the view of some of the Pacific Northwest's finest and overall to live where I do.

Ethan Stowell Picks Up a Pen

2009-12-07T20:22:00.000-08:00

I had a series of painfully long days last week. Days where I could barely find time to get up from my desk to grab a glass of water let alone peruse my RSS feeds and regular fun reads. As a result I'm just now reading last week's news about Ethan Stowell's forthcoming cookbook.

I'm psyched about this. I wrote here about how I was surprised that none of this local restaurateur's places made Seattle Magazine's big list this fall. And while my last two trips to How to Cook a Wolf have admittedly not been my favorites, I still love a seat at that bar and could call a plate of his crudo dinner (or lunch, brunch or breakfast) every night for a week.

I like that he can make three or four ingredients taste like a full on feast, and I love that it sounds like that's where this book is headed. It's due out in Fall 2010, and Seattle Mag's Alicia Arter has more here.

Happy Holiday Weekend...

2009-11-29T22:31:00.000-08:00

I'm late to the well-wishing happy holidays weekend posts. I started to write yesterday but was too tired to turn words into sentences so gave in to a nap instead. Filled with food, wine and conversation, the few days prior drained me of an ability to do anything productive. I spent the majority of those days with my boyfriend's family--a smart, lively and active bunch that's full of fun, opinions, life and love for each other.

Thanksgiving is not a one day celebration for this group. It starts with a smaller (and by smaller I mean 15 people) family dinner the Wednesday before, includes the holiday itself and ends with a hike the day after. This year was especially significant because it served as a memorial for my boyfriend's grandfather. I only knew him briefly but admired him, his life and feel comfortable saying that I'm pretty sure he helped instill a long list of admirable qualities in each member of his clan.

For the Wednesday night fete, my boyfriend made an amazing vegetarian lasagna. It was layered with homemade tomato sauce, noodles, a mixture of Ricotta, leeks, peppers and mushrooms and heavy handfuls of mozzarella and Parmesan. It was delicious. It went well with a perfect spinach, apple-flecked salad someone whipped up out of nowhere and the Petite Syrah I was sipping.

Veggie lasagna, ready for the baking.

We left a tad early so we could hit Met Market for some last minute Thanksgiving shopping. We were bringing hors d'oeurves for 40 and hadn't started a thing. My boyfriend still needed to buy everything for the spicy cauliflower soup shots and braised lamb pizettas he was planning. I'd done most of my shopping for the gougeres I was making, but needed the makings of the pomegranate ginger prosecco cocktail I decided I wanted to serve them with after reading this post from Lean with Green, the blog my friends Melissa and Lacy pen together.

We spent the next morning frantically grating, chopping, pureeing and baking so we could make it to his grandmother's place in time to help turn the barn into a dining room and set up for the day's festivities, which in addition to eating, include baseball golf, round robin ping pong and singing.

We finished plating our snacks while everyone made their way in from baseball golf. I think our contributions turned out pretty well. The cauliflower soup shots had a nice bite and good texture, and the gougeres (which I've made a couple of times using this Jacques Pepin recipe) were fluffy and full of cheese flavor.

Taking to the field for baseball golf.

Gougeres and Prosecco cocktails.

But my boyfriend's lamb pizettas were hands down amazing. He braised the lamb overnight and made a reduction of the braising liquid. He cut Greek pita into small, bite-sized circles and toasted it before adding a topping that consisted of the uber tender lamb, the reduction and a dollop of Greek yogurt mixed with Siracha. They were a hit and served as an amuse bouche for dinner and the incredibly touching slide show that illustrated the full, adventurous life his grandfather lived.

Little lamb pizettas.

Dinner in the barn came after the slide show and conversation, and was followed by a ceremony by the pond on their property, dessert and round robin ping pong (which I like to think I'm slowly but surely improving at). It was one of the most memorable holidays I've had and was filled with amazing people, tradition, food, wine and laughter.

I went into the long weekend missing my own clan but thankful for a lot. My family...my health...my job...my friends...relationships with the people I care about...the happy feeling I get in my belly when I think about the future and what's ahead. And I closed the day even more thankful, feeling lucky to have spent the holiday surrounded by a huge group of warm, interesting people. (Not to mention incredibly full, since dinner apparently wasn't enough and we decided to turn what remained of that braised lamb into quesadillas that made for a perfect late night movie-watching snack.)

I hope you all had lovely holiday weekends.

Matt's in the Market: A Weekday Lunch at its Best

2009-11-23T23:25:00.000-08:00

Non-regimented days off are ideal in my world. Days I wake up a little later than usual and smile when I realize that I can fall back asleep if I so choose. Days I don't have to get up with the rest of the world. Days I know I don't have to do anything I don't really want to. Those days are even better when they're Fridays, because I know if I didn't get enough nothing done the day before, I have the rest of the weekend to make up for it.

I spent a recent one of those days sleeping in just late enough to wake up without an alarm and rested enough to hit the gym before meeting one of my nearest and dearest for a Friday lunch. She works downtown, is lucky enough to be within walking distance of the market, and was kind enough to trek over in the rain to spend a portion of her busy day catching up over a long leisurely meal at Matt's in the Market.

I took advantage of my lax schedule and got there early ('cause she'd attest I never am), holding down our table and taking in the small, quaint and decidedly Seattle dining room and bar. I probably looked like a bit of a crazy, smiling to myself as I watched the the tables fill up with casually chic but unique diners debating orders consisting of good, fresh ingredients.

We took our time ordering and started with cold, crisp glasses of Sauvignon Blanc, a standard of sorts for the two of us. We recounted our weeks (mine already done and hers almost there), trading war stories that made the house chips and dip--crisp, salted homemade potatoes served with a rich onion dip--seem necessary.

The second or third time our server politely interrupted our convo to see if we were ready to order I decided on a seafood cake sandwich that was served on potato bread with a remoulade. Good, but the salad I got with it was better. Served with toasted pumpkin seeds, blue cheese and a garlic vinaigrette, it was everything I look for in a plate of greens (or anything else really)--nutty with some richness and acidity to balance it all out.

We lingered over lunch, filling each other in on things that were stressing us out across the board, asking each other questions and genuinely caring about the answers. She's the kind of friend you spend 30 seconds talking small stuff with before you find yourself spilling relationship details, family headaches, the future, worries, hopes--all of it. And it's not just chatter--you really talk.

I felt bad for keeping her so long, but the best part was she sincerely didn't mind. It wasn't that she didn't or doesn't care about her job (she's one of the most dedicated people I know); it was more that for that hour and a half her attention was undivided.

We both just knew that the best thing we could be doing with that time was exactly what we were doing. Catching up. Laughing. Relishing a Friday and realizing that in the grand scheme of things, we're actually pretty lucky. It was the best possible way I can think of spending that afternoon off. And the good food? Well, to be honest, it was kind of an added bonus in this case.

Columbia Crest Nabs Top Spot in Wine Spectator Rankings

2009-11-20T15:59:00.000-08:00

Big news in the local wine world today. Or at least it seems as much given pretty much all of my local RSS feeds are abuzz with word that Wine Spectator magazine deemed Columbia Crest's 2005 Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon the "No. 1 Wine in the World" in its latest Top 100 list.

The list has been an annual thing since 1988, and this is the first time a Washington winery has taken the top spot. It's based on quality (score), value (release price), availability and "excitement." They apparently paid more attention to value than previous years given the current economic situation and chose the local bottle out of 17,000 releases the editors tasted in '09. More info here and here.

It seemed a decent deal for the top pick, so I was going to take a lunch break (a rarity for me) to grab a couple of bottles--one to make a low key night later this weekend feel a tad more special and one for a holiday gift. Silly me--it's sold out, of course. Columbia Crest made 5,000 cases, and they obviously went quickly.

Nonetheless, I think it's sweet to see a Washington winery featured prominently.

Anyone tried it?

To Zig Zag, with love, from Drink.

2009-11-18T20:41:00.000-08:00

When I was in Boston visiting family earlier this fall, I treated my little siblings to a few nights out. We started one of those nights indulging at Sibling Rivalry and ended it with cocktails at Drink, a hip little bar on Congress. It's the kind of place that's the perfect amount of crowded (thanks to the doorman, also known as Joey Bag of Doughnuts), has a cool candlelit ambiance and drinks that are for real.

I'd first come across the spot in a Bon Appetit article featuring the bartender, Misty Kalkofen. She's got kind of a cool story, getting into bartending by way of Harvard Divinity School (slinging cocktails to fund her education). Misty was actually working the night we went in, and I couldn't resist asking if it was her and about the article. She laughed, admitted it and gave us the scoop on photo shoot. She was totally friendly, amazingly cool and mixed me one of the best cocktails I've ever had. (No clue what it was called, something with gin and Chartreuse, which sounds not so great but was actually oh so great.) When we told her we were from Seattle, she lit up, asking if we'd ever been to Zig Zag and if we'd ever met Murray.

We answered, well yes, of course we'd been to Zig Zag, and that no, we'd never met Murray but know him as a local legend of sorts. Things get a tad fuzzy from there, but the night essentially ended with this:

My boyfriend and little brother sampling some of Drink's finest Chartreuse and Mescal with Misty and the staff.
Misty signing a $20 bill that we promised to deliver to Zig Zag on her and Drink's behalf.
Us leaving feeling like the coolest kids in school.

We finally delivered on our promise last week and headed to Zig Zag for after-work drinks with Kate (the Violet in Orange Violet) and Joe, a couple of friends who absolutely love and make a habit out of frequenting the place. We met Murray himself, handed over the $20 along with our story, and he laughed as soon as my boyfriend uttered "Boston."

Murray then explained more about how the money trading started. It's apparently a thing the two bars, on opposite sides of the country, have had going for awhile. They send customers going from Seattle to Boston and vice-versa to each other's spot, sharing business and stories in the process. So cool. He genuinely seemed to appreciate our participating.

The whole thing was one of the more memorable exchanges I've had in Seattle. Loved it, and partaking with people I knew would dig it as much as I did made it all the better.

The lovely Orange Violet has the play-by-play and the photos, including one of Murray, here.

Welcome to the 'hood: Toulouse Petit

2009-11-15T20:28:00.000-08:00

I call a little apartment in Seattle's Lower Queen Anne (LQA) neighborhood home for the time being. I like that pretty much anything I need is accessible by foot. A ten minute walk will get me to a handful of coffee shops (Caffe Ladro or Uptown Espresso are my cups of choice), grocery stores (I'm semi-embarrassed about how much of my paycheck Met Market gets), a few dry cleaners (convenient, because I am awful at ironing), nail salons, a post office...and Bartell's for pretty much everything else.

There's also of course a bunch of bars and decent restaurants, but not a lot of spots I get really excited about. Sure, I'm fine grabbing a cocktail at the Sitting Room, having a glass of wine and an appetizer at Ten Mercer's bar or taking some Panang curry from Tup Tim Thai to go. But I think LQA has been in bad need of a new spot for a better, sit down meal for awhile.

Lucky for me (and my neighbors), Toulouse Petit--a French Quarter inspired restaurant/lounge--opened it's doors this week. I've been walking by this place for the past year, peering in the big windows and trying to get a glimpse of what was going on in there. Now I know. Good, good things have been happening in that green, stucco-painted building.

My boyfriend and I slid into a big wooden booth for a late dinner on the place's second night open, and I was ready to claim it as our new neighborhood spot (though, come to think of it, I guess we never really had an old neighborhood spot) as soon as my drink hit the table. (A pretty Kir Royale in a flute so big that I saw the champagne and creme de cassis blending in front of me. Fun.)

The place is pretty and big. We took in the mosaic tiles, dark wood, big windows and textured walls in between slurps of oysters from the half shell that were served with a spicy remoulade that tasted like cocktail sauce but thicker, tangier and better. They also came with a mignonette, but all I got from it was a vinegar taste that did nothing for me. We followed the oysters with shrimp cakes that were crisp but not crunchy, almost like they'd been broiled versus pan-fried. I swore I tasted a hint of mustard in the sauce that accompanied the cakes and the little greens on top of them. Delicious.

Almost as delicious as the duck confit we shared as an entree. We debated the steak frites but somehow decided a duck leg rendered in its own fat and served over lentils would be a less indulgent choice for a 10:00p.m. dinner. (Logical, I know.) Probably not the case, but I didn't care either way because this thing was amazing. The duck was crispy on the outside but moist on the inside. The lentils were the perfect texture of soft but not mushy and soaked up a gravy like sauce that helped a slight, sweet flavor (cinnamon, I think) sing. I couldn't do dessert but saw beignets on the menu so will undoubtedly be giving them a go during my next trip (I love you friend dough). I'd also like to try the crab appetizer served over fried green tomatoes, the lamb burger and the charcuterie.

All in all, I'm an early but big fan. Kudos to Brian Hutmacher (who also owns Pesos) and team for taking their time and turning the space into something special. My biggest hope is that the late night Pesos crowd doesn't claim Toulouse Petit as a second spot on their bar hopping docket. Otherwise, I'm looking forward to having afterwork cocktails, dinners with the girls, Sunday brunches and steak frites with pan veal sauce just steps away.

What's your favorite neighborhood spot?

Delancey Family Supper Series

2009-11-09T20:29:00.000-08:00

Seattle Magazine's Lorna Yee spread the good word today about a new Family Supper Series Delancey is hosting. The idea is to use their cute little space to host a family-style, reservations-only, prix-fixe dinner with optional pairings.

A couple of weeks back I posted here about how in love I am with this place, and this sounds like the perfect occasion for round two. The first dinner is Nov. 17, and the menu includes oysters, mussels, braised rabbit and an Heirloom apple tart.

They're taking reservations via e-mail at delanceyseattle@gmail.com. I shot them a note tonight and am crossing fingers and toes I'm not too late to snag two spots. For more info and a more detailed overview of the menu, see Yee's post here.

Smitten Kitchen's Salted Brown Butter Cripy Treats

2009-11-08T12:05:00.000-08:00

Deb of Smitten Kitchen's post on Rice Krispie Treats last week left me craving gooey squares of marshmallow goodness. And when Deb mentioned this specific recipe making a quick but special treat for something like a Saturday party I thought, "Huh, is she talking to me, 'cause I need something to bring to my friend's Oregon vs. Stanford get together this Saturday? How did she know?"

OK, so I know she was not talking to just me (evident from the nearly 300 comments on the post), but the recipe did do the trick yesterday. I'm a big fan of Rice Krispie Treats in general (seriously, I'll even eat the single serving prepackaged ones), but these guys were special.

Made with sea salt and brown butter, they have a salty, nutty thing going on that tastes great with the sweet marshmallow. And they're still super easy to make. Though I did learn that you have to watch a pot of browning butter very, very closely. (Deb gave some words of caution on that bit; I just should have read that portion of the post a tad more carefully.)

I took a couple of pictures, but my camera is functionally challenged at the moment so the one at the top is about the only shot worth sharing. You can't see the grains of sea salt sprinkled over the top, but they did add a little something.

Sweet, salty, chewy, crunchy and definitely worth a try. Thanks for reading my mind, Deb.

The Counter

2009-11-04T20:57:00.000-08:00

A few weeks back a girl I work with mentioned The Counter, a new burger place at Ballard Blocks. She’d gone on a Sunday (presumably after a night out; though she didn’t spill) and was a fan. Burgers aren’t really on my regular brunch rotation but seemed like the best possible choice last weekend for me and a friend—two girls who found themselves tired, starving and all around lazy the day after Halloween.

The company that owns it is California-based, and their whole thing is letting you take the wheel. You get a clipboard and pencil and go about checking boxes to make your own custom combination in the form of a traditional beef, chicken or veggie burger. You choose cheeses (everything from standard cheddar to herb cheese spread), toppings (dried cranberries to the standard lettuce and tomatoe) sauces (aioli, soy ginger glaze, onion marmalade and more) and a couple of varities of buns (or English Muffins, if you prefer). You can also do a burger bowl if that’s your thing, but I figure if I’m going to take on an actual burger I might as well go all the way and get the carbs.

It was a lot decision making for a Sunday morning. (You can also choose from about a handful of pre-determined options, but that seemed wrong.) I went with beef, jalapeno jack cheese, lettuce, Bermuda red onion, bacon, roasted chiles, dill pickles and horseradish mayo. Random with no rhyme or reason, but it worked out. Pretty well actually. We shared their fifty-fifty too—a side of onion straws and sweet potato fries.

I had a round of Bravo reruns for dessert and was a normal, productive person again in no time.

Perspective

2009-10-28T19:35:00.000-07:00

Seattle Times' Nancy Leson's post from this morning caught my eye. Quickly sifting through some RSS feeds after a long day, I paused and took my time with this one. The headline pulled me in, and I got fully caught up in a short but moving story about how she kind of blew off a friend of hers who stopped by with a restaurant tip and story of his own about cooking his friend's last meal. (A friend of a friend of Leson's, to break it down more succintly.)

And then I got completely immersed in the New York Times' piece on Thomas Keller (of the infamous French Laundry as well as Per Se and more) she referenced. It paints a picture of how Keller reconnected with his dad after decades apart and ended up cooking him his final, favorite meal just a few years later. I read this bit, referring to Keller's forthcoming "Ad Hoc at Home" cookbook, a few times: "He reminds readers that life is better when you eat together with family and friends."

And then I took it all as my healthy dose of perspective for the day. Both are worth a read when you can make the time.

Delancey is Delovely

2009-10-26T23:50:00.000-07:00

Mid last week I found a pocket of Ballard I never knew existed. Just off NW 70th there's about a block and a half of containing a couple of quaint little shops, a yoga studio, a bar and two restaurants. One of those restaurants is Delancey--the wood-fire pizza spot owned by Brandon Pettit (formerly of Boat Street) and Molly Wizenberg (of much loved food blog, Orangette). I've been following Orangette for the past couple of years and love how Wizenberg's posts read like stories that end with a recipe, detailing how food and her everyday life intermix along the way. I've also been making my way through her book, A Homemade Life, and it reads very much the same.

So I was psyched when this place opened, super excited at the idea of possibly seeing Molly and her husband, who she met via an e-mail about a cake post (adorable), in action. I finally went last Wednesday with a few girlfriends--two old and one new--and spent a couple of hours taking in and loving the space while we talked about our weeks so far, hashed out weekend plans and contemplated Halloween costumes (still not sure). It was a full, lively house, and we were surrounded by tables of other girls gabbing away and couples that looked like they were enjoying date night.

It's a little spot (which means a wait--ours ran around 45 minutes), with what looked like personal artwork/photographs against white walls and simple votives on each wooden table. It was easygoing and felt comfortable.

We started with a salad of baby lettuces with radishes, Grana (like Parmesan) and some kind of vinaigrette. (Yes, my love for minimalist salads continues.) We ordered three pizzas to share so we could try more (too much for one sitting, but we all took two slices for the road). One was topped with prosciutto, tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella and the Grana. Another came with mushrooms (Porcini or Chanterelle, I think), mozzarella and fennel sausage. And then the Padron, which was delicious with tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella, aged mozzarella, Grana and Padron chiles. All of the pizzas have a tiny bit of char to the crust from the wood fire that cooks it. I like that. The Padron was the best of the trio for me. The chiles are basically whole, seeds and all, so it's pretty spicy. But delicious mixed with all that cheese and chewy crust.

We didn't get dessert, which I really, really regret. Wizenberg makes them in house and so many of her recipes involve sweet treats that I'm pretty sure forgoing was a severe mistake. I want to get into the plum crumble when I go back. Soon.

Seattle Met's Top 10

2009-10-24T13:17:00.000-07:00

Seattle Metropolitan's October issues includes its Best Restaurants feature. I liked Kathryn Robinson's intro, detailing how hard it was to pick the top 10 and how lucky we are to have so much to choose from in Seattle. And how they culled the list based on service, soul, beauty in plates and places and using and transforming raw ingredients into something that tastes really, really good. Here's their top ten (in no specific order):

I've only been to six of the 10, so I can't really say which should come first, but I could make a pretty good case for Crush and Rover's. I'm guessing Canlis would be the other strong contender. I need to invent an occasion to go; it's still on the lengthy need-to-try list along with Boat Street, Cafe Juanita, Spring Hill and a whole bunch of others.

The best part of the spread for me though is the "30 Seattle Restaurant Experiences You Must Have Before You Die" piece. It explains what makes everything from dinner at the Corson Building (also on the list) to a burger and fries in the parking lot of Dick's worth it. Love it.

Notably absent from the whole thing? Ethan Stowell. He's got four places, and I'm surprised at least one didn't get some kind of mention, even if not in the top ten. He's able to make a few simple ingredients taste big, and I'm a huge fan of the How to Cook a Wolf space. It's cozy and warm and feels special.

What other local places should have gotten a nod?

Sibling Adventures in Beantown—Part Three: Neptune Oyster

2009-10-20T19:58:00.000-07:00

Toro was one of two places on my must-do list in Boston. The other was Neptune Oyster, found via a random restaurant search and verified as worthy by my darling sister. We’d run out of nights for special dinners so made it a special lunch spot instead. Best call ever.

First, I’m a big fan of oysters. Raw ones. On the half shell. I usually eat them with some kind of mignonette but love when they’re good and fresh enough to hold their own with nothing but lemon and maybe a wee bit of horseradish. We got both, only the lemon and horseradish came by way of a surprisingly good cocktail sauce and paired perfectly with the three small local varieties we tried.

We ordered too much and decided it was OK because it was our last meal of the trip. I knew going in that aside from the oysters, I wanted to try Neptune’s yellowtail sashimi. It was served with a drizzle of good olive oil, Thai chile oil and sprinkled with cracked coriander and pepper. Spicy and delicious.

I decided I also had to have the clam chowder. I felt a tad guilty for ordering after a long weekend of indulgence, but then the bartender explained that they made each bowl fresh and that it wasn’t ladled in from a big, sitting pot. And for some reason that made me feel better about it. Like it was unique or something. And it was. Unexpectedly light (or as light as clam chowder can be), it was silky with texture from celery and even a bit from the clam. So, so good.

And then (since it was again our last meal in Boston) we had to get a lobster roll. My boyfriend ordered it, so I felt a little less guilt than I did with the chowder. Plus Neptune apparently has one of Boston’s best lobster rolls. How could be pass that up?

We couldn’t.

It was my first Lobster roll. My first bite of warm baguette with tender lobster meat and warm, melted butter. Oh. My. Word. It was rich and amazing, especially when chased with a cold glass of rose.

I was glad we split it three ways, because otherwise I wouldn’t have had room in my belly for the perfect little salad my sister ordered. After Boston I’ve decided simple salads are best. Simple as it should be, as my beloved Tristan Prettyman would put it. This one came with tuna ribbons (which was just really thin slices of sashimi) served over green beans, olives, capers and hardboiled egg with a potato aioli. I could only fit a couple of bites but that’s really all I needed to fall in love.

I fell in love with the whole place actually—the food, the wine, the girl shucking oysters in front of the window—all of it. It was a busy, loud Monday lunch crowd consisting of what seemed to be a mix of friends, families and solo diners. We sat at the bar, which I like to do in general but especially enjoyed in this case.

Everyone just seemed happy. Everyone was laughing. Everyone was smiling. Even the solo woman next to us who was dining solo over what I think was a working lunch. She was just sitting there making notes on a legal pad, nonchalantly smiling and glancing at her Blackberry every so often in between sips of a healthy-sized glass of red. I didn’t know this woman, but I loved her. And and she made me love everything going on around me.

She made me think I could sit there for hours. I would have had a few more oysters and a few more bites of the salad (which I’m going to attempt to recreate). I would have savored more of the conversation with my sister and happily listened to her elaborate on her and her husband’s hopes to spend time in New York after she graduates (from art school—she’s so hip it kills me), how they’d love to try London from there, spend time in Asia after that. I could have spent hours there sipping another glass of wine, talking about things that do or could make us happy. It was all so perfect—the perfect little place that served as the perfect backdrop for the perfect end to a perfect trip.

Thanks much, Boston. I’ll be back.

Sibling Adventures in Beantown—Part Two: Bravo, Toro

2009-10-07T21:38:00.000-07:00

My last night in Boston, I forced my sister and her husband back to the South End. I’d read about Toro, a little tapas place there, and it was one of two places I put on my must do list for the weekend. So glad I insisted. It was a decent wait, but we killed the time over a cocktail at Stella a few blocks down, a little neighborhood bistro where I would most definitely claim a regular seat at the bar if I lived in the ‘hood. My sister and I took our time over a Fresca (me) and Bellini (her) while the boys went back to claim our table. By the time we sat down, they had our first round of plates on the way and we made our way through a little feast:

Gambas al Ajillo (grilled shrimp)

Maíz Asado con Alioli y Queso Cotija (grilled corn with aioli and cheese)

Patatas Bravas (potatoes with alioli and spicy tomato sauce)

Coliflor a la Plancha (basically just grilled cauliflower, but crunchy and superbly seasoned

Tortilla Espanola (egg, potato and onion omelet with aioli—my boyfriend swears this dish executed well is a sign of a good tapas place)

Escalivada Catalana (roasted eggplant, onions, peppers, and tomatoes with sherry vinegar

Mussels with chorizo (enough said)

Pan con Tomate (toasted bread rubbed with tomato, garlic, Spanish olive oil and sea salt

Churros with dark chocolate dipping sauce (yes we apparently still had room for dessert)

Everything was incredibly tasty. Except the eggplant which we ordered for my sister, who’s a vegetarian, and I think really wanted to like the last mushy dish but couldn’t.

But the two standouts were the shrimp and the corn. The shrimp came in a creamy saffron sauce. I wanted to drink that sauce. I think I took half of it as my own and probably dipped about a quarter of a loaf of ciabatta in the remainder when all the shrimp was gone. And the corn is apparently a house specialty. It was served on the cob with a little char. Drenched in an aioli and then sprinkled with peppers and cheese. Aioli and cheese on corn? Um, yes please. I squeezed a wedge of lime on mine to help cut the richness and didn’t even care that I was licking my fingers in public. I washed the whole meal down with a glass of sparkling rose….utter ambrosia.

The space itself was dimly lit, with chalkboard menus, walls of wine and a fun, good looking crowd. It was fairly affordable, and I begged my sister and her husband to make it part of their regular rotation so I can sleep at night knowing that saffron sauce isn’t going to waste.

Sibling Adventures in Beantown—Part One: Dueling Brothers

2009-10-03T16:40:00.000-07:00

I spent last weekend in Boston visiting my darling little sister and her husband. As an added bonus, my little brother flew in from El Paso, and we used the four plus days to celebrate their birthday (they’re twins) and have a mini family reunion of sorts.

It was my first time in Boston. I loved it. Traipsing down the cobblestone streets in the North End, window shopping the walk-ups on Newbury Street, listening to my little sister explain what she likes about her city as we meandered through the public gardens, walking around Cambridge… I adored every second and sight. And it’s a good thing that all happened on foot, because to say we indulged at meal time would be an understatement.

I almost don’t know where to start. I think our most special night was the one we spent actually celebrating the twins’ birthday in the South End at a spot called Sibling Rivalry. My sister mentioned the place and the concept behind it to me when she first moved to Boston a few years back. The chefs are brothers David and Bob Kinkead, and they each have their own menu, one a tad more classical and the other a bit more modern. The menus are presented side by side, and you can either order from one exclusively or mix and match. A la carte or pre-fixe. Cool idea, and it was a fun choice for a group of siblings who see each other but once a year.

We jumped from brother to brother because I couldn’t limit myself to one side of the menu. It all looked too good. My boyfriend and I shared four plates, starting with pork and shrimp wontons in a creamy soy sauce. Then came the most perfect Romaine salad. I know Romaine salad sounds boring. And this one was really simple. But not standard. The dressing was like a light but velvety ranch. Buttermilk. I could taste it. And it was served with half an avocado that was deliciously ripe and perfectly sliced. Sliced red onion for texture and a splash of acidity, and I was practically licking my fork. Embarrassing for my siblings and boyfriend, I’m sure.

We also shared tuna tartare before our entrée. Hands down one of the best things I ate all weekend. It was served on a bed of sushi rice with an odd little surprise on the side—ruffled potato chips. Oh. My. God. Mixing the soft, sweet tuna and rice with the crunch and salt from the chip was amazing. I half jokingly asked my boyfriend if we could order another plate of it and secretly wished he took me seriously. Instead we got ready for the short ribs, served over a potato puree with horseradish. And then the butterscotch pudding on a gingerbread cookie. And then…I couldn’t move. I was a happy girl, not only because I really liked the food, but because my little sister, her husband, and my brother seemed equally happy if not downright giddy. They’d tried a new place, tasted some different things and were laughing, conversing like adults and smiling the whole time. I’m so proud of them, and they’re so grown up it’s silly.

More Boston love to come.

Artisanal Brasserie

2009-09-30T21:05:00.000-07:00

A few weekends back, I went to Artisanal Brasserie at the Bravern, Bellevue’s new (over the top) luxury shopping complex. Some friends of my boyfriend invited us out for a friends and family opening type thing, and we had a blast. The space itself is huge but charming, with tile floors, large mirrors and crimson coloring. It's like a big version of Bastille in Ballard.

Our server encouraged us to try pretty much everything on the menu so the kitchen could get the practice. So we obliged, ordering and eating a ridiculous amount of food. We started with cheese tempura as an amuse and moved on to a round of hors d’ourves—perfectly plump oysters on the half shell and a mini mason jar of foie with apricot chutney. Then not one, not two, but three bowls of mussels (provencal, curry and espagnol). The espagnol were my favorite. Then came grilled octopus with fingerling potatoes and paprika followed by a mesclun salad with a tasty little herb vinaigrette.

Entrees came next. We all got one and passed to the left every few bites. I started with the 7 hour lamb shank, which was ridiculously good, if not for the meat itself for the parmesan polenta underneath it. We also got a nice piece of ling cod that came with clams and chorizo (always a plus), a plate of hangar steak frites and diver scallops with a blood orange sauce. The only thing I didn’t go back for another bite of was the scallops because I couldn’t take the too sweet sauce.

And then came dessert. We didn’t choose dessert; they just brought our table an assortment. I should be clear that I don’t eat a lot of dessert, so when I do I tend to think everything is beyond delicious. Most definitely the case in this situation. We again got four plates and passed every few bites. My first bite was an apple tarte tartin with a cheddar crust and crème fraiche. I didn’t want to give it up. But then I looked at the pecan praline cheesecake coming my way and conceded. Same case there. I couldn’t let it go. Until I smelled the fried dough from the beignets with huckleberry sauce next to me and tasted the custard like filling. Le sigh. My last bite was a chocolate mousse with hazelnut and coffee crunch. Good for sure, but the tarte and cheesecake were the clear winners. I’m a sucker for cheese.

The place and service had a few kinks, but the staff fully knew it and the place wasn’t even really open yet (sure a lot of it’s worked itself out by now), so it actually made it a bit more of an experience for me personally. That and when famed chef Terrence Brennan stopped at our table while making his rounds outside of the kitchen. He asked the obligatory how is everything question, we bid him the standard congrats and then we asked what he thought of the ingredients here. I appreciated his honesty when he let on he’s less than impressed with the seafood here. Struck me as odd given I always thought the PacNW was at least somewhat known for seafood (and the sea things we had that night were really good), but evs.

All that coupled with a smile and nod from Thierry Rautureau (the chef in the hat from Rover’s) on our way out made the night. I’ll be back for the number of wines they serve by the glass, the cheese and charcuterie selection that weren’t available before opening and another long, lingering dance with that tarte.

What's Worth It

2009-09-29T15:48:00.000-07:00

A little over a year ago, I realized I was growing up. I don’t think a specific moment sparked it. Hitting twenty-some-odd years-old with a solid job, student debt and complete financial independence should have done that years ago. But it was like all of a sudden I was looking at how I was spending my time more judiciously and had somehow acquired a better sense for the things that really, truly make me happy. I was over wasting precious free time at lackluster, cheesy bars and unenthused about shelling out for random shirts that were worn once before being shoved in an already overcrowded closet. Ad hoc Sephora shopping sprees left me with nothing but drawers full of unused lotions, potions and serums. And I found myself frustrated when my beloved evenings and weekends came and went with nothing to show but a handful of receipts for nothing exciting. No clue what did it, but I realized the things most worth it for me most often involve a good meal and fun people.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love a beautiful bag, peruse fun baubles and covet sky-high heels as much as the next girl. I love going out for random nights with the girls and will throw down my hard-earned cash for a pair of perfect fitting jeans, a dress I can accessorize up or down and shoes that have that special something. I’d be fibbing if I said I didn’t love shopping, and my friends and family would laugh in my face if I tried. But, I’ve found I have more fun breaking in any given purchase over a fun, memorable outing than I do taking hold of a pretty shopping bag. (Don’t we all want somewhere fabulous to flaunt a fun new buy?) I don’t mind and actually like opening my wallet for experiences that leave me feeling full and content in more ways than one. Tastes and conversation so good that I know I will and need to remember them. Occasions where I've giggled over potluck dishes with some of my nearest and dearest (many of whom just happen to know their way around a kitchen). Times when I've tried new things like crickets at local haunts in Puerto Vallarta (yep, they’re crunchy). Four hour, multicourse Gypsy dinners with complete but interesting strangers. And trips where I've laughed off incredibly lengthy waits like the one at Vij’s in B.C. because the curry and conversation were just that good.

Those are the kinds of things that made me want to start this itty bitty blog. I wanted a place to log and recount all of the tastes, dishes and details that made them so memorable. A spot to spread the word about the spaces, places and things worth trying. So here we are. Cheers.