ZAGAT

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Bottege Louie: This airy, open space with neo-classical touches serves up beautiful fare all day long in the heart of Downtown LA.  Whether it's sandwiches, salads, gorgeous pastries, some gourmet products, or a dirty martini, Bottega Louie offers it all.  If you're in the area you must check it out, it's quite a sight to behold.

The Lab: You don't have to be a chemistry major to enjoy this USC adjacent bar.  Polished and concept-driven, The Lab has fun with its theme by serving beer in beakers, and using test-tubes as vases.  If you're in the area looking for a drink, this is definitely a departure from your usual college dive.

KITCHY TV

On today's episode of Kitchy TV, I visit my favorite coffee shop, Caffe Luxxe, to discuss ristretto shots, cappuccinos, and barista competitions with Ian.

Caffe Luxxe from Claire Thomas on Vimeo.

FUSILLI WITH BACON, SWEET PEAS, AND A FRIED EGG

This recipe checks three boxes I value deeply in meals I make at home:

1) It's ridiculously easy.

2) Bacon is involved.

3) A fried egg is on top.

The other thing I love is that the ingredients are all things I had laying around the fridge.  Yes, you could shuck your own peas, as it is the season, but organic frozen sweet peas work well too.  And when laziness eclipses our better natures, well, I reach for the frozen peas.  The flavor profile in this pasta dish hits all of the notes and balances perfectly.  The bacon is sweet and smoky, the peas are bright and delicate, the herbs add an earthy note, and the egg creates a sauce, giving the whole thing a rich creaminess, but without any cream or butter.  So go ahead and dig through your pantry tonight, and see what you come up with.  Enjoy!

Ingredients:

12 oz dried pasta (I used fusilli, for it's sauce-clinging curves)

6 slices of thick-cut bacon, cut into 1/2 inch pieces

6 oz frozen sweet peas

1 1/2 tablespoons of finely chopped sage and thyme, all fresh

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

A few drops of white truffle oil

1 egg per person

salt

fresh ground pepper

Directions

Heat the pasta water, adding a tablespoon of salt.  While the water heats, add the bacon to a large saucepan on medium heat.  Let the fat render and once the bacon is just becoming crispy at the edges, add the frozen peas straight into the pan.  Cover the pan, and let the peas and bacon cook for about 3 minutes.  Add the herbs, olive oil, and truffle oil.  Mix everything around and cover again for another minute or two (until the peas are cooked).  Cook the pasta until al dente (probably 10 minutes, but check the directions on the bag) and add the pasta directly to the pan with the bacon and peas.  Mix to cover the pasta evenly, adding olive oil if necessary.  Salt and pepper to taste.  Fry an egg sunny side up (start on lower heat, so the top of the egg cooks without burning the bottom) and place on top.  Crack the yolk and enjoy!

HERBES DE PROVENCE "HONEY" AND RHUBARB STRAWBERRY ROSE JAM

The sun is out, birds are singing, Bambi and his friends are getting twitterpated, and bees inevitably bounce from flower to flower. Well, I'm not one belittle those fine creatures' work, but after creating my own honey at home, I honestly don't see what all of the fuss is about.  I mean, yeah, mine isn't pollen converted into nectar via a second stomach, but I like to think I cut out all of the biological hallabolloo. 

 The discovery of my homemade honey was entirely accidental, as I had originally sought to make an herb jelly.  I absolutely love rose jams and jellies, so I thought why not try it with my favorite herbs?  I've been on a lavender kick recently, so that had to be part of the mix, and the idea for Herbes de Provence inevitably followed.  Herbes de Provence is a mixture of herbs preferred by the home cooks of southern France.  The line up may vary slightly, but it usually is a mix of thyme, rosemary, and lavender, with fennel possibly thrown in as well.  It's delicious on lamb chops and other meats, adding an earthiness to anything it touches.  So I dug up some recipes on non-fruit jellies, compared notes, and executed my plan of attack.  All seemed to be working well: the kitchen smelt amazing from the perfume of the herbs and the way the lemon juice turns the herb liquid from a murky brown to a bright peachy orange was magical.  But as I boiled, and reached setting time, I realized that without the addition or pectin or gelatin it would never take on a "jammy" form.  Instead I got a thick, viscous, golden syrup.  I dipped my finger in it to taste it.  Wow.  Not what I expected.

I can't really say what I actually expected; maybe more lavender or thyme to come through?  The result was herbaceous and deep, with a peppery note from the fennel seeds on the finish.  After I got over the initial confusion, I couldn't stop going back for more.  This "honey" would be amazing with a cheese course, or just drizzled on some bread to snack on.  Enjoy!





Ingredients:

2 cups water

1 3/4 cups white sugar

1 large bunch thyme

3 sprigs rosemary

1 tablespoon fennel seeds

2 tablespoons lavender flowers

1 large lemon

Directions:

Place the water in a pot with all of the herbs and bring to a boil.  Allow to boil for about 10 minutes, then strain the water into another bowl, removing all of the herbs.  The water will be a murky brown color.  Put the water in the fridge to cool.  When it has cooled, squeeze the lemon juice into the murky water.  Something amazing will happen: the water will change from dingy brown to a peachy orange.  Pour the mixture back into the pan and add the sugar.  Bring the mixture to a boil for about 10 minutes, or until it has reached 220 F.  Pour the syrup into sanitized jars, and sprinkle the top with lavender flowers.  Cool to room temperature and then refrigerate.




The fact that I've never had rhubarb before shocked my friend Christie.  It actually led us to order an unfortunate dessert while I was visiting her in DC.  On the menu, it said it was served with candied rhubarb, but when the plate arrived it was just the average rigmarole of mixed berries.  We pushed the berries around with our forks despondently as we waited for an explanation from our server.  "Oh, the sauce is candied rhubarb."  We leaned in to examine the drizzle of syrup that the berries had clung to.  False advertising, we both concluded.  After this experience, I became enamored with the idea of rhubarb.  It was the very beginning of the season, so hunting it down proved to be a little difficult, but I was able to hustle some up.  My reasons for never tasting it went back to two notions: I don't like explicitly sour things, and my dad refers to it as "Poor man's cherry pie."  It also doesn't help that it looks and tastes like sour celery when it's uncooked, not exactly the qualities a child yearns for in a meal, let alone a dessert.  But still, I felt an urge to overcome that whiny inner-child and finally taste some myself.  

The idea for strawberry-rhubarb-rosewater jam came together because rhubarb and strawberries are a natural pairing, and Christie and I love rosewater, so this is sort of an homage to her.  Upon eating the finished product, I must say rhubarb is growing on me.  It adds some acidic brightness to the sweet strawberries, making it a well rounded treat for you toast.  Enjoy!

Ingredients:

2 cups rhubarb, chopped into 1/2 inch cubes

2 cups starwberries, quartered

2 lemons

2 tablespoons rosewater

2 cups sugar

Directions: 
Put the strawberries and rhubarb into a large bowl and cover with the sugar and lemon juice. Cover the mixture with a kitchen towel and let it macerate in the refrigerator over night. The sugar is acting like salt does in the preservation of meat; it will cause the fruit to leech out its liquid, creating a fruit-sugar syrup.

On the second day,  pour the syrup into a pan and heat until it bubbles (about 5 minutes on med-high) and then add the fruit. Stir until the entire mixture is bubbling (about 5 more minutes) and return to the bowl and refrigerator for another night.

On the third day, put the entire mixture in a pan and let it start bubbling over medium heat. Stir frequently so no part is boiling.

Meanwhile, boil you jars and their tops in water for at least 10 minutes, then allow them to dry out on a clean kitchen towel.

When the mixture is ready (this is after about 10 minutes of bubbling, with the mixture clinging to the spoon—DO NOT OVER COOK) take it off the heat and ladle the jam jars until almost full, leaving about a ½ inch open at the top. Secure the tops to the jars and clean off any excess jam, and then place on a plate, upside down. The plate is just in case some jam leaks out. Place the plate of jars in the refrigerator to cool over night.

The next morning, you will have a perfect partner for toast!

If you like the jars I used (i love their voluptuous shape) you can get them at Weck Canning at a very reasonable price.

KITCHY INGENUITY

It's always good to see science used to its most utility.  Enter: bacon lance.  My friend Craig, who shares my affinity for The Onion and can answer any question about Nietzsche (including if God is actually dead or just pulling a Tupac), forwarded this to me, and now me to you.  Enjoy!

MISS KITCHY GOES TO WASHINGTON

I haven't been to DC since my 8th grade field trip and I must say that the view from the ground rather than the school bus is quite compelling. No, I didn't go to Arlington Cemetery or the Lincoln memorial, and there aren't any photos of me on the steps of the Capitol Building, but the sunny side up burger at Good Stuff Eatery is enough for me to salute a flag and announce that I'm proud to be an American. So here are a few highlights from my trip...

The cherry blossoms. The one touristy thing I did while in DC was go to the cherry-blossom festival with Christie, where the trees appear to be sprayed with shaving cream. It was gorgeous in a rococo/swing riding way, but even more impressive were the people who had traveled from near and far to see these tiny blossoms. The wind kicked up hard and I worried that the the heavy cameras wrapped around everyone's necks would yolk them into the tumultuous basin.  No such luck, because that would've been hilarious, and almost happened to me twice.  The one nice thing about the wind, other than creating a flare of drama and knocking me to if not my death than my possible embarrassment, was it gave me an excuse for wearing my trench coat.  Over the course of the weekend I'd alternate between old-timey newspaper man and international spy, depending on whether my trench was unbuttoned with my camera hanging around my neck, or tightly wrapped around my body with possibly a luger in my pocket.  Regardless, the wind and blossoms were deliciously romantic in a "stare off into the horizon meaningfully" kind of way.

My favorite kind of restaurants are those that do a couple things really well, and stick to them.  And Good Stuff Eatery stands behind it's name: hamburgers, fries, and shakes--all good (nay, excellent) stuff.  First off, it's the brain child of Chef Spike from Top Chef, most recognizable for wearing those jaunty hats and knowing how to treat a cut of beef.  

I'm not easily star struck, especially living in LA my whole life, but walking right-smack into Spike at the counter was a little jarring.  When he handed me my shake,  I wanted so badly to say something unreasonably adorable and witty, endearing myself instantly to him.  Maybe he'd join me and Christie at our table, talking about his favorite burger toppings and why he likes DC, I'd give him my card and he'd check out my blog and we'd maybe film a little video segment or have an interview at some point, we'd become old friends and I could call him "Spike" without the moniker "from Top Chef" oh so casually.  It would be great.  Unfortunately, I didn't even manage "Nice hat."  I coughed out "thanks" and that was it.  Opportunity blown.  Luckily I had my toasted marshmallow shake to console me.  Did I mention that?  A toasted marshmallow shake?  How deliriously awesome does that sound?  Very, right?  Well, Christie was a little suspicious, thinking it might taste like burnt fluffer nutter.  So I went on a little recon, and casually grilled the girl behind the counter on what their most popular shake was and why.  During the week after tasting it, I have made a toasted marshmallow shake 4 times.  I keep inviting my 15 year old brother over so I'm not the adult that makes her own milkshakes alone in her apartment.  That's like one step away from 10 cats and a bottle of scotch.  

The fries are amazing as well.  Served in a massive pile, kissed with sea salt and dusted with herbs, with a litany of dipping sauces available at the machine.  I love chipotle anything, so I was in heaven.  And then the burger.  My love of chipotle is eclipsed by only a few other things, a "fried egg on top" being one of them.  A fried egg on top of almost any dish will improve it.  Ok, maybe poached instead sometimes, but regardless...an egg on top.  The sunny side up burger is straightforward awesomeness: meat, cheese, bacon, fried egg, brioche bun.  Sloppy and amazing, it used to be called the "5 Napkin."  Let the salivating commence...3, 2, now. 

Goodness Gracious, indeed.

I wonder if he's like the Imelda Marcos of jaunty hats. Does he have one for every day and mood? Does he throw one away after one use, like kleenex?

Gaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh.

Chipotle Mayo...
Mango Mayo...

Old Bay Mayo...

Sriracha Mayo...
Stand proud, herbed fry.



Those little black flecks may look like vanilla seeds, but they are in fact torched marshmallow bits.
I think my favorite area of DC has to be Georgetown.  Like the Island on Lost, it is only accessible through Guamanian plane crashes or taxi cab, as it is one of the only areas of DC the metro purposefully avoids.  Maybe not "avoids" so much as "diverts the masses away from."  Too many yokels would ruin the Dean and Deluca atmosphere of this ridiculously adorable hamlet.  The homes are gorgeously consistent in style and old in a way Californians can't even begin to imagine.  They might as well be etchings in Lascaux; the brick work seems to scream: this is the east coast, where the history comes from.  As I walked through the charming neighborhood, filled with vintage stores, boutiques, and cafes, the wind kicked up a bit and we gawked at what a perfect afternoon it was.  Every corner would introduce a new thing I wish I could take home to LA and by the end of our walk we had decided that Georgetown is like Pasadena plus Montana Avenue plus Paris.  I've never been to Paris, but I like to imagine it filled with people in cafes and going for Sunday afternoon strolls, so it stays in the comparison, alright? 

Dolcezza was a perfect instance of Kismet.  In our hunt for a cab to take us to Georgetown, we stumbled into a farmer's market that had a gelato stand.  Thai coconut, lemon ricotta cardamon, avocado honey orange...just wonderful delicious flavors.  We wistfully tasted as many as we could without feeling guilty, and regretted that I was leaving that afternoon, unable to stick around and take a pint back to Christie's place.  Well as chance would have it, in our random Georgetown wanderings, we walked right by it.  I squealed and cooed and pointed at the sign.  Like a burning bush, it was made apparent that we were meant to taste the gelato.  Rich and flavorful with a thick, silky consistancy, the gelato was delicious and concentrated.  I love lemon and cardamon, so the lemon ricotta cardamon was an obvious choice, and my other choice, pistachio, is my litmus test for good ice cream/gelato.  Dolcezza passed on all accounts, and serves some pretty amazing looking treats on the side as well.  Definitely check it out if you stumble upon it as I did.

Caramel filled churros...yeah, pretty spectacular sounding.

After the gelato, Christie and I were on a bourgeois contact high.  Everything was precious and delightful and special.  Until, that is, I was thrust back to Los Angeles with the 45 minute line for cupcakes.  We had walked past the line before, and I had to ask, "Is it free cupcake day?"

"No, they're just really good."  Hmmm.  That good? Had Georgetown not been hit by the sweeping plague of boutique cupcake shops that had LA in a stranglehold?  That's not to say that I haven't benefited from the cupcake craze.  Vanilla Bakeshop in Santa Monica is my favorite, actually.  But still, wrapping around the block; really?  Sprinkles in Beverly Hills has Oprah's stamp of approval, which explains the concert-ticket style lines, but Georgetown Cupcakes? Are they Obama's favorite or something?

 Living in Los Angeles socializes you to wait for everything, whether it's in traffic, or for movie tickets, or to do yoga, or to get into a flea market.  I'm very comfortable in lines.  As long as I have a buddy (or a book) and I'm not in a particular rush, I can be in one for hours.  So the sight of the line for cupcakes was not that surprising at all, until I noticed other tourists taking photos of people in the line.  So we got in it.  "I must try these cupcakes" I thought to myself.  But then I thought, is this how the line was started?  At first it was a few people who actually do like the place, but then a line of curious lemmings formed behind them ad infintum? Ugh, too late now.  A line had formed behind me and my schadenfreude wouldn't let me get out.  Few things are as satisfying as looking behind you and seeing a line of people.  "At least I'm ahead of them, the poor saps" you can remind yourself 2 hours into waiting for Space Mountain. 

 After entering the shop it became clear that I had met Sprinkles' doppleganger, and the universe would now implode.  The graphic design, the cupcakes themselves, it all shared the same polished aesthetic and vibe.  Maybe a bit smaller and pinker, but it was still eerily similar.  The cupcakes too were similar: adorably presented and very tasty.  We tried the cherry blossom (God, I'm such a tourist) and the red velvet.  The crumb was moist and flavorful, and the cream cheese frosting on the sweet side.   I should mention that Christie and I prefer a light hand with the sugar, so it's a personal taste thing.  If you are there on a weekday and the line is short, definitely pop in and enjoy an afternoon treat.  Take a few to go and sit in the patio of Dean and Deluca across the street, it's a lovely way to spend an afternoon.

The line...this is 30 minutes into waiting.

Cute cute cute packaging.

Before getting on the plane to DC, I already knew one item I had to track down: Siggi's Skyr.  Skyr is a soft cheese, similar to yogurt, strained from non-fat milk.  The result is thick and creamy, and a staple of its country of origin, Iceland.  Siggi's Skyr crossed my path first in a web article where it's described as a tart, decadent dessert.  But as I read on, my chances of tasting this delicious treat were dashed, as his skyr is only available east of Nebraska.  I immediately called up Christie and demanded that she host me for the weekend while I hunt her city for skyr. 

Siggi sweetens his skyr with agave nectar and uses the best products and flavors: blueberry, passionfruit pomegranate, and orange ginger are his selections, along with plain, simple skyr.  Of the four, passionfruit-pomegranate and orange ginger were our favorites.  The orange ginger is more pronounced, while the passionfruit pomegranate unfolds subtly as you eat it.  Subtle is the word to describe Siggi's skyr.  There is no fruit on the bottom here.  The skyr itself is tart, with a bit of chalky mouthfeel.  When compared to other skyrs (we held an informal taste test) Siggi's proved to be the most mellow and pleasant to eat.  It reminded me of my first experience eating goat's yogurt.  At first your mouth seems to say "Woah! What the hell is this?" but as you shove each spoonful into your mouth, it gets a little addicting.  If you're lucky enough to live east of Nebraska, swing by your local Whole Foods and try cup, it's healthy and delicious!

TEN MINUTE VEGETABLES

I enjoy vegetables, really I do. I usually enjoy them in fried potato form, but I won't begrudge a leafy green if it crosses my path.  The issue is that I'm usually so focussed on the protein and dessert, I often forget about what to serve as a side.  My comfort zone is made up of starches: quick breads, risotto,  pastas...but with springtime here it pains me to walk through the farmer's market, sunlight and breeze rustling through the stands and dew still clinging to the leaves, and not at least reach for a vegetable.  So here are two straightforward recipes for quick, delicious vegetables, enjoy!

Sauteed Brussel Sprouts with Pancetta, Brown Butter and Sage

Holy trinities in food pop up, where a triangle of flavors create an awe inspiring combination.  I'm sure Fibonacci could prove this; and being Italian, he could also prove that pancetta, burro e salvia is one of them.

Ingredients:

1 pound brussel sprouts, washed and dried and halved

1 bunch sage leaves

3 tablespoons butter

2 oz pancetta, chopped into thin, small pieces

In a large saucepan, cook the pancetta over medium heat.  Once the fat has rendered and the pancetta starts to look crispy, add the butter and sage.  Add the brussel sprouts, face down (this will take a little arranging) and sprinkle a pinch of salt and fresh ground pepper over them.  Cover the saucepan and allow to cook for 6-8 minutes, or until the brussel sprouts are brown on one side and tender all over.  

Brown Sugar and Cayenne Pepper Glazed Carrots

I love the innate sweetness of carrots, and with a kick of spice I could eat them like a bag of potato chips.  Bet you can't have one of these!

Ingredients:

1 bunch of carrots, leaves trimmed to 1/2 inch

1/2 cup white sugar

1/3 cup salt

2 tablespoons dark brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 pinch cayenne pepper

2 tablespoons butter

1 tablespoon water

In a pot of boiling water, add the 1/2 cup of sugar and 1/3 cup of salt.  Add the carrots and cook for 8-9 minutes, until al dente.  In a saucepan, melt the butter and add the brown sugar, cayenne pepper, half teaspoon of salt, and water, stirring to create a glaze. Drain carrots and add to the saucepan, coating them.  Serve and enjoy!