Blowing Your Mind With Crisco

I've recently discovered Google Reader (because I live in 2004 apparently), and it has changed my life.  Rather than spending hours reclicking on the countless blogs I love just to check if there is anything new, now I just go to this one simple place and get a continuous, constantly updating feed of new posts from all of my blogs.  It's amazing.  And it's so efficient that sometimes I don't know what to do with myself, what with all the time I've saved by not hitting refresh all over the place.  Fortunately, it also recommends posts for me, so the procrastination truly can go on forever.

And today, these very recommendations led to an etymology post!  That old nerdy favorite that no one cares about but me.  First one since 2008 (not that you care)!  Unlike most of the etymology posts, this one comes from our own English language.  But, like all of them, it's based on hazy and vague sources, and may not actually be true.  Meh, undeterred.

It comes from Chris Loves Julia, the blog of a sweet young family in Utah, from a post about a fine local pizza joint with reverence for the true meaning of shortcake:

"Most often when we hear someone talking about strawberry shortcake, what they are referring to is angel food cake topped with macerated strawberries and whipped cream from a can. When a cake or bread is referred to as "short," what that means is there has been something added to the mix to shorten the gluten strands (gluten is the protein found in flour, and just like protein in meats, it forms long, elastic strands). Things that shorten gluten strands include Crisco (also referred to as "shortening"- did I just blow your mind?), oil, and butter. The fats get in the strands of gluten and break them apart, creating a crumbly texture." 

What?!  This is what shortening is all about, shortening of gluten strands?  Yes, Chris Loves Julia, you have totally blown my mind.  This is amazing.  And I want shortcake.

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thanks to Roadsidepictures for the photo

i will be taking the tube to barcelona, thank you

This is the best thing I've ever seen.  If only it were real.

Huge heaving sigh...

I will take the blue line to Mexico City, from there to Barcelona, and then to Athens.  Aaaah!

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from the amazing Colossal blog

My Happy Place: Spring for Coffee

Have you been to Art Walk?  You really should.  The streets downtown fill with all sorts of people looking for fun, every corner seems to have performers banging out the night's soundtrack on plastic buckets, and as the night progresses, every storefront seems to have become a gallery -- tiny, strange, mainstream, street, you name it -- if just for the night.  You might have to stand in line at a small street-art gallery on a side street that a friend takes you to, but it's worth it to see the place that, for this friend, "feels like home" -- his happy place.  It's not odd to see a sign for a "Cleaners/Gallery", and by the time you pass by a barbershop a second time, it's turned into a club, lights dimmed and techno bumping.  Step into the sprawling Last Bookstore, and there's a budding dance floor in there, too.  Downtown's DJs-per-square-footage has to be at a national high on the second Thursday of each month. Our city becomes a little extra charged for a few hours each month.

But you'll want to get there early, especially if you're driving (though seriously, do as I say, not as I do, and take the metro, for Pete's sake).  And before the streets fill with hubbub, you can take a moment.  I've driven past teensy Spring for Coffee a million times, always sad to keep driving.  On this evening, I stepped to the little counter, was greeted by two heavily-tatted zany-friendly baristas, got a delicious cappuccino in a real cup made from beloved Blue Bottle coffee, and plunked down at one of only 3 sidewalk tables.  I tried to read, though who are we kidding -- the peoplewatching was way too compelling.  And it being downtown, I had the occasion to do a Google Image Search on my phone for "crackpipe," just to make sure. (I was right.)

Downtown.  Art Walk.  Spring for Coffee.  Crackpipe.  A night in the life.

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Spring for Coffee is at 548 S. Spring, on the northeast corner of Spring and 6th.
The Last Bookstore is at 435 S. Spring, on the northwest corner of Spring and 5th.
Crewest is at 110 Winston St., at Main, a block south of 4th.

Sweets, Scoops, and Sunshine: No Cookie Left Behind Bake Sale 2011

I'm not sure how to talk about this bake sale without gushing for paragraphs and paragraphs.  Gotta admit, it filled me with anxiety for a couple months, but in the last couple weeks, everything has come together, and brought with it the same sense it brings me every year:  that everyone is amazing, there is so much goodwill in the world, and that, even though this thing is most definitely about pushing the envelope on how amazing of a spread of delicious baked goods (and jams!) as far as it'll go, it's actually all about people.

Guys, I think it's going to be a good one this year -- our fifth annual No Cookie Left Behind bake sale at Scoops (five years!), and I'm hoping you all will join me on Sunday.  I've been blabbing all over Facebook and Twitter about the incredible roster of bakers that will be involved (I will say this:  somehow we've struck an eerie balance of vegan and bacon), so I won't repeat myself here. Read up over there, or really, just show up, and know that you won't be disappointed.  And you'll be helping out with a great, great cause:  every dollar goes to Share Our Strength in their fight against childhood hunger.

HERE ARE SOME DETAILS:

WHEN:  Sunday, June 19.  2 - 5 pm
WHERE:  Scoops!  712 N. Heliotrope in East Hollywood. Just north of Melrose, between Normandie and Vermont.
INTERESTED IN BAKING?  Awesome!  Email us at nocookieleftbehind@gmail.com
CAN'T MAKE IT?  Consider donating to this important cause.  Click here to do so.

Hope to see you on Sunday!

Why I Won't Be At the Next No Cookie Left Behind Bake Sale

There is a No Cookie Left Behind bake sale coming up Saturday, and I won't even be there.  I'm cutting the cord on this one, and couldn't be happier about it.  You see, since we started holding our bake sales in 2007, they've grown into a community event.  They are pretty much inseparable from Scoops and the surrounding neighborhood, and they just wouldn't be right without Tai watching over the operations with his smiley goodwill.  Our baked goods come from neighborhood businesses like Lark Cakeshop, Spork Foods, and Large Marge Sustainables, and with the advent of the raffle last year, we've even been able to bring local non-food businesses, like The Echo and Pal Cabrón, into the mix.  Ours is an East Side bake sale, held by eastsiders (which isn't to say all aren't welcome:  we open our arms and tables full of sweets to any and all who want to join us!).

So, when people started telling us during the Haiti bake sale that we ought to have a bake sale on the west side, or in Orange County, it just seemed strange to us.  We didn't want to.  Schlepping this operation to someone else's community just didn't jibe with what works so well for our bake sales.  It got me thinking though.

Our bake sale is designed to bring community together.  But it doesn't have to be my community.  Any community can have a bake sale, and it'll be a wonderful thing wherever it happens to be.  After this revalation, I was prepared to respond to those suggestions.  So, the next time someone told us to have a bake sale on the west side, we'd tell them, "No thanks, but you should have a bake sale on the west side."  And we'd mean it.

I love the idea of planting a seed for local events in communities all over.  It's been a goal for the last year or two:  to convince someone -- even just one person -- to hold a bake sale in their own neighborhood, then provide them the support and the knowledge we've gathered over the past few years, to help empower them to make it happen.  Miraculously, someone has taken me up on it.

A couple months ago, I'd never met Jen.  She sent me an email back in June of 2010, suggesting we do a bake sale on Abbott Kinney.  True to form, I didn't respond March of this year, a full nine months later.  Buzzing off our first bake sale meeting for the year, I checked the old bake sale email address and happened to see her message sitting there, and decided I'd try my new line on her.  A couple days later, an 8.9 earthquake hit the coast of Japan.  I got a reply from Jen: "Given the tragedy in Japan, I think we have to!"  Yes.

Meeting each other over coffee in Echo Park (Jen graciously made the big trek east) went swimmingly.  We found mutual connections, traded restaurant recommendations (Jen has since tried dreamy Robata Jinya, I have yet to make it to Red Medicine), commiserated over boys, and planned her bake sale! And this bake sale is going to be awesome.  It takes place at Tortoise General Store on Abbott Kinney, and Jen has rounded up baked goods from plenty of home bakers, plus a few local businesses (Gjelina and Platine Cookies -- nothing to scoff at) and one very un-local but lovely business:  Seattle's Theo Chocolate.  And of course, dear Lesley over at Chow Balla will be providing her now-legendary maple bacon popcorn. I'm so excited that Jen is making this happen.

So, please come by the bake sale on Saturday -- even better if you whip up a batch of cookies and bring it along.  You'll be supporting Japan and No Cookie Left Behind, but also you'll be supporting Jen.  We'll be back in June with our regularly scheduled east side bake sale, but in the meantime, she's taking the first step in creating a brand new hub of goodwill, good times, and deliciousness in her own community.  But she can't do it without the community itself. 

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Some links:
The No Abbott Kinney Cookie Left Behind Facebook event (Accept it!  Tell your friends!)
The No Cookie Left Behind webpage.
Our Facebook page.  (Like it!)
Our Twitter.  (Follow it!)

Ich Bin Ein Hipster: Berlin Currywurst

Here's the thing about Berlin Currywurst:  its location is perfect.  Should we be surprised that Silverlakers are fascinated with this little slice of hip urban Germany in the middle of Sunset Junction?  I mean, if this place existed on the west side, say, or in the valley, would anyone be impressed with the space's cool minimalist feel, their commitment to organic ingredients, or the co-owner's totally awesome haircut?

But as it stands, everyone who walks into the tiny space  -- cleaned up considerably since its time as a beloved pupusería -- seems to just 'get it'.  A guy in a fedora chats up the disarmingly handsome young German couple who do triple duty as owners, waiters, and cashiers, waxing poetic about his own time in Berlin, getting nostalgic not only about currywurst, but that lovely young German girl who who got away.  A young couple lets their two towheaded boys run around the restaurant while they chat with the owners in German.  Another guy asks about the restaurant's furnishings, and comes to find out that the awesome industrial-looking chairs have been acquired over years, while the tables -- wood tabletops on legs made of metal piping -- were created by a friend of the owners.  Of course.

Berlin Currywurst's menu, scrawled across one chalkboard-painted wall behind the counter, consists of two things:  fritten, nubby chunks of hand-cut french fried potato; and the namesake currywurst.  Currywurst is a German street food consisting of bite-sized chunks of sausage drenched in curry sauce and sprinkled generously with spicy curry powder.  While the menu seems sparse, you have many options:  you can choose from a variety of sausages (pork, veal, beef, and chicken are represented in various combinations, in addition to two different tofu options), and several flavors of curry, all made in-house (I went with a daily special of orange-ginger, but you might try chipotle or jambalaya).

The fritten have a rich real-potato taste. They come topped with lots of black pepper, and if you choose, you can add grilled onions or jambalaya sauce.  The gnarliest, most roughly cut are the best ones, as they're crisped through in all those well-browned nooks and crannies. The real prize at Berlin Currywurst is to take one of those crisped chunks of potato, pull it through the warm curry sauce from your wurst, then dip it in mayonnaise: spicy, fried, salty, and creamy, all in one bite.

Which brings us to the other thing about Berlin Currywurst.  Essentially, you're getting street food in a sit-down restaurant.  The cornerstone of the menu is heavily spiced sausage (you can order yours at a heat rating from 1 to 4, and 3 and 4 are not available to children), and it's served with deep fried potatoes.  Your only utensil is an adorable wooden pitchfork of sorts.  All this is bliss when you're wobbling out of the bar at 2 o'clock in the morning, but this place is for daylight hours: don't be shocked when the bill comes and you're out 13 bucks.  Of course, there's a reason for the price:  they use high-quality organic ingredients, and the offerings are generous (along with a hefty portion of wurst, you get a slice of their hearty homemade bread, too).  The thing is, I'm here for dinner and my judgement is not clouded by way too many tequilas.  I just wish they had some vegetables.

But still, between the comforting food, the great space, and the welcoming service, the place has a nice feel.  And the fact that they've managed to bring a novel ethnic food item to Los Angeles in 2011 is impressive in itself.  So, Berlin Currywurst, welcome to Silver Lake.  We love your aesthetic, and your saucy, spicy chunks of sausagey goodness.  We also love vegetables.

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Berlin Currywurst is at 3827 Sunset Blvd, at Hyperion, in Silver Lake.

cook and bake. eat and laugh.

In the last month, I was on some sort of high.  I'm not sure exactly how or why, but for a good two weeks, I was bubbling over with happiness in a totally abnormal way.  I was buzzing, humming, flying.  I'd wail at the top of my lungs on the way to work, declaring along with the Cold War Kids that from now on, I'll be royal blue (seriously people, get their new album).  I'd go shopping, and everything would look amazing on me!  I couldn't wait to get home so I could dance around like a crazyperson.  The sun was shining; the world, and my life, were magical.  It was like everything positive I'd heard, read, seen for the last year that I just wasn't ready to believe had finally sunk in. 

It didn't last.

I didn't expect it to.  These things come and go.  But I discovered something.  There are things I can do to keep the magic going, to stretch it out as far as it'll go.  And a night like last Sunday, when my kitchen was filled with new friends baking and cooking and telling stories, then my living room was filled with the warmth of even more friends, laughing, gossipping, cooing over the day's work, moaning contentedly over its deliciousness -- well, if that kind of magic doesn't get you, you must be a robot.  What I discovered is that one major ingredient for keeping my world amazing is opening my home to good people: cooking, eating, and laughing together.

I won't bore you with how I'm connected to lovely Victoria, who designs beautifully sweet stationery as paper & type, or to sweet Satsuki, who designs handmade (by her!) goods as zakka nouveau.  I'll just say that through the magic of Twitter (I know), the three of us planned a baking day in my kitchen.  It was amazing to watch these women work.  Victoria had a conscientious meticulousness as she sliced lemons and rolled out perfect dough (then pierced the bottom of the crust in beautiful geometric patters -- no matter that her handiwork would be covered in lemon curd), and Satsuki lilted around the kitchen with natural ease, chatting happily as she formed pudgy little hamburger patties by hand.  Don't be fooled by their delicate appearance: there is strength, intuition, and wisdom shining through these two.

We cooked all day.  I was in charge of the blood orange galette, Victo made a sunny lemon tart, and Satsuki took on the main course of Japanese hamburgers with sesame snowpeas and completely-from-scratch miso soup.

Satsuki's contribution was especially a treat.  For one, it turns out she is an encyclopedia of simple Japanese food preparations, and had brought with her specialty ingredients from at least 3 different stores:  the freshest bonito flakes ever, the cutest bundle of buna shimeji mushrooms, powdered beet sugar, and two kinds of seaweed -- one imported from the motherland.  And that's just some of her loot.  But also, we got to recreate a variation of one of the recipes she posted, with quirky hand-drawn instructions for each step, on her blog.  Though we went with snowpeas, her okra goma-e recipe is versatile enough for a variety of vegetable options.

The joy in the place multiplied when our dinner guests arrived.  Four giggling girls brought with them a new wave of infectious positivity, not to mention homemade kale chips (sprinkled with fleur de sel, bien sur -- it pays to work at Spice Station!), which we inhaled, and sweet-like-candy farmer's market dates.

We sat on the floor around my coffee table (our places marked by beautiful hand-written placecards compliments of miss Victo), drinking cheap sake out of tacky shot glasses, oohing and ahhing over every course, and smiling from the inside out.

The happiness-high of the past month made one thing clear to me.  The psychobabblers and spiritualists are totally, completely, absolutely right:  if you take the time to nourish yourself with quality, you will get results.  Nourishing, quality literature* and music get me pretty far.  But sharing in the slow preparation and eating of delicious, real foods with high-quality people goes an extra step to nourish both body and soul.

Hey, here are some recipes:
 - Blood Orange Galette with salted caramel sauce, from Lottie+Doof.  (Do you know this blog?  You should.  Totally crushworthy.)
 - Lemon Tart, from Design*Sponge
 - Satsuki's Okra Goma-e, from Zakka Nouveau (For snowpeas:  Trim the end and cut into bites.  Cook for a few quick minutes in a pot of boiling water.  Chill snowpeas, and add sesame and other ingredients just before serving.)

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* I recently started reading Jonathan Lethem's Fortress of Solitude.  Halfway into the first page, I decided not to finish the other novel I was in the middle of.  My god, life is too short to waste time on mediocre pap when there exists writing that is so achingly, deliciously good.

how can you not love aziz ansari?

Just got the incredibly dreamy Italy issue of Bon Appetit magazine (thanks mom!), and whose napkin scrawlings did I find gracing the last page, but those of Aziz Ansari?  There's an extra interview with him on the Bon Appetit website, and it's the most lovable thing ever.  How can you not love a guy who namechecks Alegría on Sunset and basically recites the Animal menu by heart for a national magazine? This guy is clearly so passionate about food and about Los Angeles.  What is hotter than that?

Here's the interview.

Cracked the Code: Bar Covell

The boys that run Bar Covell in Los Feliz have figured it out:  Girls like wine.  And girls like stylish, charming boys.  And once you have the girls, you'll bring the boys.  Boys like girls.  Oh, and boys also like beer.  Et voila, with this knowledge, they have cracked the code on bar success (right, because that's all it takes, Tannaz).  Even on a Wednesday night, the place buzzes with an energetic and beautiful crowd, and it's no coincidence.

The wine list is small at Covell, but the bartenders will engage you.  I've only seen the same three guys behind the bar: one owns the place, the other is the wine director.  The third, I don't know his position or pedigree, but this tall man leans in close, smiles with every word, and is a picture of wine knowledge, charisma, and undeniably alluring personality.  They dress as a wine and beer bartender in the heart of hipster country ought to: button-downs, vests, an occasional bow-tie... and tennis shoes.  And as soon as you walk up to the bar, a conversation rooted in your personal tastes on wine (or beer) ensues:  a miniature wine-therapy session that culminates in tasting a wine or two expressly selected to suit your taste, leading to the perfect glass.  Seriously, these guys know what they're doing.

Tonight, I had a glass of a Galician blend  -- spicy and fruity, but not too sweet -- that suited my palate, long ago trained on Spanish wines, just fine.  It eventually came with an unorthodox lesson in stemware from our dear bartender:  Sip the same wine from the bulbous bowl of a Burgundy glass and from the longer, leaner Bordeaux glass, and you will taste a difference.  Science meets poetry as the voluptuous bowl brings out the more 'feminine' floral notes in wine, while the slender glass accentuates the the spicier, more forward 'masculine' tones.  These are the kinds of lessons you learn at Bar Covell:  it's enough to make a lady blush! (I mean, not really.  Well, maybe some ladies would blush, but who would want to drink wine with those squares anyway.)

As if this were not enough, the decor in the place is impeccable:  dim light, a collection of vintage cameras resting on shelves made of stacked books on one wall, an old motorbike mounted on another.   And behind the bar, a section of cool black subway tile holds a perfect row of shiny chrome beer taps:  an Allagash, a Tripel, and a hefeweizen, in much good company.

There's food to be had, and though it can be pricey, you won't be disappointed:  gooey croques monsieur or mac and cheese, a traditional tortilla española fried in olive oil, Heirloom LA flatbreads, cheese and charcuterie plates, and a croissant bread pudding that will one day break my resolve -- just a few. 

Maybe it's because of the bartenders' demeanor, but something makes the crowd in this place extra friendly, and extra interesting.  You're surrounded by the beautiful hipster elite, but on a given night, you might exchange stories with a just-out-of-jail magician (true story), a freckled local musician, or a guy who runs his own local brewery and hosts free barbecues for the community throughout the summer.  It just feels good to be in this place.  Can we please make plans to go? 

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Bar Covell is at 4628 Hollywood Blvd., 1 block east of Vermont.

What You're Doing Today: Bake Sale for Japan

Not sure what you're doing today?  Good, I'll tell you.  This morning, you'll be going to one of seven bake sales strewn throughout the city raising funds for Japan.  If you go to the one at Black Cat Bakery on Fairfax, you can sample Lesley's crazy delicious bacon caramel popcorn.  If you go to the one at Forage in Sunset Junction, maybe you'll try one of my blood orange bars.  And there's no doubt that there will be plenty of other delicious things at the bake sales at Akasha, BLD, Angeli Caffe, Brentwood Country Mart, and the Chefs Center in Pasadena. 

And whichever bake sale you go to, the proceeds will be going to Peace Winds Japan, an organization headquartered in Japan and dedicated to providing "necessary support to people in need" since 1996.

Come on, guys, it's a no-brainer.  It's a bake sale. For Japan. Get there. Duh.

(And speaking of bake sales for Japan, stay tuned for details on a No Cookie Left Behind bake sale for Japan coming soon!  ON THE WEST SIDE! But in the meantime, go to this one today.)

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All of the LA Bake Sales for Japan take place from 10 am to 2 pm.  More info here.