Ottolenghi at animal

What do you call it when you know everything about a person and that person has no idea you exist?  Oh, stalking.  I don't remember where I first read about Yotam Ottolenghi, but that name pulled me in immediately.  I tried to make sense of it:  last name is definitely Italian, first name sounds Hebrew.  I want more info.  (I was similarly intrigued when I first of Adriano Goldschmied.  What can I say?  I love a pizza bagel.)

Needless to say, I got a little stalky.  I started scouring the internet for information.  I learned that Chef Ottolenghi is an Israeli of Italian and German descent, with a grandma who recreates her own little Tuscany there, down to the imported espresso she drinks every morning (though I am partial to the Elite brand instant coffee served in yellow mugs ubiquitous in Israeli households, I can't begrudge Ottolenghi's Italian grandmother her real-deal coffee).  I also learned that with head chef Sami Tamimi, a Palestinian who, like Ottolenghi himself, is a handsome young gay man in stylish nerd glasses, he owns a series of vegetarian restaurants in London, with huge spreads of irresistible baked goods and menus based on fresh seasonal vegetables, prepared simply to bring out their best.

There was so much to love here, and in the sunny vegetarian recipes that Ottolenghi posts on the Guardian, with their constant nods to Italian and Middle Eastern Mediterranean cuisines, that in my head I entertained ideas of going to London just so I could try his restaurant (and take pictures, and blog about it, obvs).  The food, and the stories, resonated with me in a very personal way.  So, when I found out Chef Ottolenghi was hosting a dinner right here in Los Angeles, at beloved animal, I jumped on it.  Five courses, all vegetarian fare, eached paired with wine.  (Note: four of those five were rosés, two of which where sparkling.  Wine for a summer night after my own heart.) 

goat cheese ravioli with turmeric and pink peppercorns

The preparations were simple -- not unlike the kind of food I like making for myself on a weeknight -- but were executed really well, with perfectly fresh ingredients.  Plates were easy to deconstruct.  Nothing was trying to be meat.  Really, nothing was trying to be anything other than what it was.  All of the dishes came from Ottolenghi's new vegetarian cookbook, Plenty, and for each dish, the focus was a vegetable: eggplant was cooked over open fire until it was totally soft and smokey, zucchini grilled, and tomatoes roasted to bring out their sweetness (the latter for a dish called 'tomato party'.  Who doesn't love a tomato party?), or left raw -- after all, in some cases it's best not to mess with natural beauty.  Flavor was heightened with a variety of cheeses, lemon zest, toasted nuts, and torn fresh herbs.  Everything tasted bright and alive.

tomato party!

Having said that, I have to admit: the food left me wanting a little.  Somehow the dinner's presentation -- small, sparse plates -- didn't meet up to the festive abundance you see in images of the restaurants.  Though a salad of watercress, orange blossoms, and toasted pistachios seemed to bounce off the plate with flavor, this kind of fare is a little too delicate overall to satisfy on its own.  (Fortunately, we knew a place across the street.  Please don't tell Chef Ottolenghi that we topped off his meal with a big bowl of fries at Golden State.)

milk pudding with toasted coconut and almonds

But maybe the real prize here is the chef himself: he's totally charming in person, and as you see in the notes above every recipe in his book, he's also chatty and generous with stories and tips.  We discovered that his sister lives in the same suburb of Tel Aviv as my uncle, and he mentioned to us that he went to Joan's on Third that day for lunch, and Joan wouldn't stop feeding him (she must have been thrilled at the chance to indulge in her motherly overfeeding instinct).  This latter fact makes perfect sense:  she probably sensed a kindred spirit in this Italian by way of Israel who came from London all the way to Los Angeles to teach us a thing or two about vegetables. 

Neighborhood Nibbles

Mid-city West is getting fun (as much as I still wretch a little when I say Mid-city West)! To wit:

L.A.'s Original Farmers Market Cookbook: Meet Me at 3rd and Fairfax. Someone (namely Joann Cianculli) did the footwork and collected recipes from nearly every stall at the iconic Third and Fairfax Farmers Market, in addition to fun anecdotes about the 75-year-old market. I live a half-block away from the Farmer's Market, and it has been my own backyard/dining room for the last seven years. So, I love this. According to Eating LA, I will finally learn the secret behind the awesome mee goreng at Singapore's Banana Leaf, and get Nancy Silverton's hailed spec for ground beef from Huntington's Meats for perfect hamburgers, plus recipes from Lotería, The Gumbo Pot, Magee's, and more. And according to Tasting Table, there was a book signing at Anthropologie Thursday night. Hopefully they still have some signed copies on hand this weekend!

West Third Street Spring Stroll. These little Third Street events are always nice, but now that the weather's getting warmer, it's the perfect time for one. Hopefully they'll offer some good valet parking events like they did for the last one, but even if not, discounts, specials, and refreshments mean people will be out walking around. Saturday and Sunday, May 2-3.

[photo: westthirdstreet.com]

Cook's Library Closing April 30

I just read in one of the LA Times blogs that the Cook's Library, a cozy little cookbook shop on West Third that I've walked over to on many a Saturday morning, is closing on April 30. I've always felt lucky, and a little awe-struck, that this shop, and the Traveler's Bookshelf next door, managed to stay in business year after year -- these small specialized independent bookstores seem like an anachronism on a stretch flanked by Borders on one end and Barnes and Noble on the other (not to mention Amazon.com looming everywhere). According to the article, Cook's Library has been in business 20 years. So sad to see it leaving the neighborhood.

Expect markdowns on the store's entire stock starting next week.

[thanks erinsikorskystewart for the photo]

Late to the Party

I know, the blog thing is supposed to be about catching the story the nanosecond it happens. I'm a little slow, it turns out. But two very worthy men had some very noteworthy news -- very happy for one, and very sad for the other -- in the last couple weeks, and I wanted to mention them both here:

- Jonathan Gold, the food writer for the LA Weekly, won a Pulitzer prize. He's the first food writer to do so, and I can think of few others so deserving. I once called him the mayor of my tummy, and I think many Angelenos would agree. He elevates food journalism with every review: from the eateries he chooses to highlight -- be they grimy taquerias or haute cuisine establishments, to the way his reviews are about everything -- current events, every fascinating meal he's ever had, the very latest pop culture -- and to how he puts it all together -- his articles glide seamlessly from description to analogy to editorial.

- Kurt Vonnegut, everyone's favorite wacky, political, satirical, wonderful American novelist, died. If you've read Cat's Cradle or Breakfast of Champions, or if even they just made you read Harrison Bergeron back in junior high, you get it. If not, get your hands on one of his books and catch up.

What I'm Reading: The Improvisational Cook

I'm a big fan of paragraphs. Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate the efficiency of bullet points and itemized lists, but there's something about paragraphs that just speaks to me. With paragraphs, I know I'm getting the real thing: all the little details that get left out when you try to cut a topic into bite-sized rectangular morsels are there for the taking. With paragraphs, there's room for conversation, for discourse.

So you can imagine my delight when I started leafing through the copy of Sally Schneider's The Improvisational Cook that the kind people at William Morrow had sent me (that's right, take note, this is a solicited (but still very, very earnest) review). This book is not a series of dry, regimented recipes. It's far more: a kitchen philosophy based in trying new things, trusting your instincts, working with what you have, and being creative. There are ingredient lists, yes, but for each one, there are about 5 variations, written in simple conversational paragraphs. Each main recipe also has a page entitled 'Understanding', where Ms. Schneider gives you an idea of the ingredients, tastes, and concepts you're working with -- just the kind of knowledge that will empower you to riff off her ideas.

What's more, the first section of the book contains nary a single ingredient list. Decorated with gorgeous photography (sadly, the only photos in the book are in this first section), in paragraph upon glorious paragraph, Ms. Schneider acqaints you with your food, and how to prepare it: how to put flavors together, a primer on seasonings, and a very inspiring section on finding inspiration. Her tone is nurturing. Her deft tips act as improvisational training wheels, subtly guiding you as you develop your own balance. She gives you practical advice to get through the fear of straying from what you know (taste just a spoonful of your sweet potato puree with the experimental spice blend before adding it to the whole batch), and has a very cool attitude towards mistakes. Throughout the book, I feel like I'm in a chatty dialogue with someone who is both highly skilled and highly forgiving.

The food sounds delicious. Her recipes have a minimalistic aesthetic -- a few choice ingredients highlighted in simple preparations (with a strong lean towards Mediterranean, Southeast Asian, and Southern tastes), but they still turn out sophisticated, satisfying results. I enjoyed layering flavors as I prepared The Pasta With Baby Artichokes: a spring of fresh rosemary in the early stages, a sprinkle of toasted pine nuts and a splash of sherry vinegar towards the end -- these simple details really allow the flavors to shine. And two bites in, I was already thinking of my own improvisations: leeks instead of baby artichokes, additions like tangy olives, sweet onions, preserved lemons, toasted hazelnuts, and on and on.


I also tried one of the book's desserts. Unable to leave well enough alone though, I made some changes: I turned the Earl Grey Tea Cookies into a delicate saffron tea shortbread, and the book's instructions led me to a buttery, flaky texture.

I'm excited to have this book in my collection. I can't wait to try the slow-roasted tomatoes (followed of course by the slow-roasted tomato sauce, soup, tart, and jam), the boozy prunes (and other fortified fruits), and all her wildly creative ways with popcorn. But there is more to this book than individual recipes. I feel like, if someone were to go through this book cover to cover, they would come out of the experience a good cook. The techniques Ms. Schneider teaches and the vast knowledge she imparts help you develop your skills and find your own tastes.

What I'm Reading: The Food Revolution

Back in college, a friend once sited The Food Revolution as the book that made her decide to become a vegetarian. She said it changed her life. I like books that change your life. And I like food. So, I filed this one in the back of my head to read one of these days. I finally borrowed from a friend and am currently about two-thirds of the way through. The author, John Robbins, would be the heir to the Baskin-Robbins throne, but instead decided to devote his life to exposing the benefits to our health and our planet of a plant-based diet. The book has had some interesting effects.

The author stands staunchly behind his stance, but he knows he's got some serious convincing to do. The first of the book's 3 sections is about the health benefits of a vegetarian diet, the easiest sell. The numbers are staggering. For all of the major diseases we struggle with (heart disease, cancer, high cholesterol, diabetes, and more), Robbins has collected a battery of statistics that demonstrate undeniably the health advantages of going without meat.

He goes on to talk about the conditions in factory farms, offering some positively abhorrent accounts. Institutionalized torture of animals will definitely make you squeamish, but it's the talk of what they feed the animals, how unsanitarily they are raised and butchered, and how much antibiotics they they pump into them to protect agains those unsanitary conditions, that really make you consider a food revolution of your own. I had no idea the regulations our government lays down are so much more lax than those of European nations -- an unfortunate by-product of capitalism. For all the food labeling we do see, it's amazing how much we don't know about what we're eating and feeding our families.

It should be noted that this book does not read like Fast Food Nation. This is not compelling, edgy writing; there are few clever turns of phrase. However, Food Revolution is extremely well-researched, and its straightforward style makes Robbins' point clear. There are a couple moments where it does become more than a simple textbook: the description of how baby turkeys are made (it's not what you'd expect) is downright witty, and when Robbins tells the story of his encounter with a pig farmer, his voice reflects how emotional, and personal, the experience was.

It's this very pig farmer that started a change in my world. I recounted the moving story to a coworker at lunch one day last week, and since then he's completely eschewed pork and beef. I'm the one reading the book, and he's going veggie! There is something wrong with this picture. I had been reading the book more to be informed, not expecting to make any changes in my own diet. I was convinced meatless is the way to be, but was too set in my ways to do anything about it. But now there was a challenge! I'm up for it. But, recall that I'm a 'warm turkey' kind of gal -- I just don't do well with extremes. So, here are my terms:

• Lowering meat consumption in general.
• Increasing consumption of fish, seafood, tofu, and vegetable options.
• Eliminating ground beef completely, unless I know where it came from.
• Exception #1: tasting new things. If, say I'm going to the place known throughout Los Angeles to have the best carne asada in the history of mankind, I have to try it. No doubt. Although maybe I'll try a bite of someone else's, rather than 2 whole tacos. Same rules apply when traveling.
• Exception #2: I will eat whatever my mother puts in front of me. Fortunately she doesn't cook with beef, so this is not a problem. In general though, being a guest in someone's home becomes a little tricky.

This should be interesting. I always appreciate a wake-up call about what I'm putting into my body, and this book is a stark one. Making some dietary changes will be a good challenge, and I like the idea of voting with my wallet. I haven't even gotten to the third section of the book, on the environmental impact of the American meat-based diet, but I'm glad I'm leaving a smaller footprint in that regard too. There's a lot of good info in the book -- I do recommend you check it out.