she craves

A Definite Splurge: Endives au Gratin

It's one of my favorite dishes. Braised endives wrapped in ham and lined up in a dish. Bechamel sauce smothers the whole lot, as does a healthy dose of grated cheese. Add some oven time and the result is serious comfort. Unfortunately, it comes at a serious price. Belgian endives are worth their weight in crack and never seem to go on sale; if you can find them at all. But this isn't a dish where you take short cuts. So every so often -- like say, for a dear friend's birthday -- you allow yourself a splurge.

Tell yourself it's for the greater good -- the dish doesn't just serve you. It serves a whole party. And if you're lucky there are leftovers to look forward to. Leftovers are always a value, right?

Goat Fest 2009

[WARNING: Gratuitous talk of flesh below. Vegan, vegetarian and other unhappy people readers' discretion advised.]

It started with a plan. A group of ladies, many of whom were Capricorns, dreamed of a winter goat fest. They talked it over with friends. But work and life got in the way; and most importantly, there wasn't a goat to be found.

Then one day on the cusp of winter and spring, one of the ladies (yours truly) got an email from a rancher she met at the local farmers' market. He said he had a goat and wanted to cook it and enjoy. This lady told him there were many others who would enjoy it with him, so he sent this reply:

                   

"Ok, so you want to have some weird spring equinox carnivore festival?                                                    Cool, I am all in. Tell me where and how much flesh to bring."

Plans were made. Recipes were sought. And the night before the big Goat Fest, the rancher, Russ Taylor, arrived on my door step with a box. Behold, the beauty of 35 pounds of fresh, young Boer goat meat.

Just days earlier over the phone, Russ told me the goat was still outside enjoying the grass. And now, its flesh was carved into various cuts for us all to savor -- legs, ribs, chops, shoulder, shanks. We divided up the bounty with bold ambitions and met up the next evening.

Goat Fest 2009 officially kicked off with a buffet line of extraordinary dishes. Salads. Cheese with guava paste. Shrimp with southwestern-style corn. Green coconut rice. And of course, goat. Moroccan roast leg. Rendang -- a traditional goat stew from Indonesia served with sticky rice. A goat chop fricasee with wild mushrooms. Broiled ribs. And an elegant Moroccan b'steeya, sheathed in thin layers of fillo and dusted with powdered sugar. Goat replaced the traditional pigeon and we all approved of this variation.

Our inner carnivores emerged. We ate. And then ate some more. We drank. And then drank some more and got louder. We licked our fingers. We laughed. Some of us cried. Such are feasts where fears subside.

The group of ladies, their partners, husbands and boyfriends agreed -- this was no ordinary feast. The rancher and his wife did, too. In fact, they enjoyed it (and the wine) so much, they forgot their cameras and didn't really take any pictures of the actual meal. So please, use your imaginations when it comes to envisioning Goat Fest.

And for those who did participate and are reading this post, please feel free to leave your recipes and comments in the comment boxes below.

Until then, we're planning for Pig Jam ...

Below is a recipe for goat ribs I more or less improvised. It's a mutt of a marinade with influences from parts of the world and would serve chicken, pork ribs, beef ribs, etc. equally well. If you happen to have a favorite goat recipe, by all means, share with me!

Goat Ribs with Mutt Marinade
1 cup soy sauce * 1/2 cup dark sesame oil * 1/2 cup molasses * 1/2 cup sherry vinegar * juice of 1 grapefruit * 1 bunch green onions, coarsely chopped * 4 fresh red chiles, chopped (seeds and all) * 1/2 cup honey * 1 cinnamon stick, broken into pieces * 1 star anise pod * 2 slabs of goat ribs (chicken drumsticks, pork ribs work well)

Combine everything but the ribs in a bowl or container large enough to hold the ribs. Mix well. Place the ribs (or desired meat) into the container and make sure they make enough contact in the bowl. Think of how you'd like to fit into a nice relaxing bath. Let sit for at least four (4) hours. Overnight is best.

To cook: Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Remove meat from marinade and place into a roasting pan. Cook for about 35 to 40 minutes, occasionally basting with the leftover marinade. About half way through cooking, turn the ribs to evenly brown on all sides. When done, remove meat from pan. For the ribs, let them rest 10 minutes before you cut them into serving pieces. The marinade will make a dark glaze to go with the earthy, savory meat. It'll make your fingers sticky, but that's the whole point of such a thing.

Postcard from Summer: Slow Food Nation

This is what happens when a group of foodies — some very socially and politically minded, some ... not so much -- converge in a very food-centric city over a long weekend. I can't divulge all the details (only because I would bore you with policy talk), let's just say, we ate. A lot.

Postcard from Summer: San Francisco & Wine Country

It's easy to forget photos you take and upload onto the computer. Months go by before you happen upon them while you're, say, looking for a work file. The feeling is akin to finding $20 in the back pocket of a just-washed pair of jeans. Summer was a fine season. Good weather. Good travel. Good food. It would be a pity if I didn't share the happiness with anyone who happens to care. Or at the very least, give me a reason to look them over and re-live those months.

Goat Cheese & Chive Crostini

Consider this a party favor.

Sofia served these elegant looking things before dinner. About the size of a communion wafer -- though far more appetizing and secular -- they're versatile and flexible. Make it ahead of time. Make it as your talk with your guests in the kitchen. Make enough for four people (three crackers per person for rational people. Five for greedy little bitches like me). Or make enough for 12. The trick is a light seasoning of goat cheese and a base of rice crackers instead of the traditional wheat. You get brittle crunch and a clean finish. And, yes, those are flowers you see on them — they’re chive blossoms. They and other herb blossoms tend to echo the flavors of their respective herb – all of which grow happily in Sofia & Kenvin’s garden.

A bit of fresh goat cheese (chèvre, boucheron, etc.) * Salt and pepper to taste * A drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil * Fresh chives (or any fresh herb, really) * Rice cracker rounds (gluten-free!)

Mash up the cheese, salt, pepper and olive oil until well combined. Spread these onto your crackers and top with fresh herbs of choice. Serve with something bubbly. Sofia serves them with — what else — Coppola Sofia Blanc de Blanc.

Summer Grill & Olive Oil Cake for the Soul

I've spent a good deal of my life feeding people. One of my few strengths is to go into the kitchen and, regardless of how constrained I was by finances, cook something delicious to feed my beloved friends.

But in the last little while something funny happened: I lost my appetite.

My mind usually crowded with ideas of what I'll cook next suddenly didn't have room for feasts, large and small. As winter set in, it was crowded with something that ate at me from the inside. It was sudden. And it was voracious.

Let's just say, I've always had that constant, dull gnaw of anxiety with me. Even as a kid, my stomach would churn when Dad's voice hit an angry octave or when I thought about how to "plan my future." But this anxiety was different. It lay so thick on my tongue that nothing tasted good.

Breakfast of Champions with a Friend

On the menu: Lemon-Ricotta pancakes * Tomato-Bacon Hash * Chicken-Apple Sausages * Fruit Salad

Nine a.m. Okay, maybe 10. We've established that I'm not a morning person. A groggy Sunday morning and the luxury of lingering in bed. It lasts as long as a rumble in the belly. Hunger sets in and comes the proverbial Sunday morning question: what to eat for brunch? It nags me once a week like clockwork. And it nags my friends, too. We're champion brunch-goers. We've been to pretty much every venue in town that offers scrambled eggs of various quality, stacks of pancakes gluey or perfect, and coffee weak as dishwater or thick as mud. Our options were close to up and the idea of waiting in a crowded front room and fighting for a bitchy waiters' attention wasn't as good as staying in bed. In fact, "staying in" sounded perfect.

But what would I eat? That would be up to me, the kitchen, and my friend, Amber.

Fall Leaves And Farmstead Cheese

Memento

When I look outside my window the sun is shining. But I know better. Within that golden, ever-morning light is the frosty air of winter. I feel it in my bones. I become lethargic. Sweaters and thick socks are my dailor armor. Properly swathed in warm gear, my mind goes inward, too. Despite the well-intetioned holidays, I hardly ever make any memories during the cold season. Family get-togethers are muddled into one multi-year extravaganza (if T.V. watching can be called that). Mostly, my brain likes to re-visit a different time when days were much longer and things grew and we ate in the fresh air. There are a few leaves left on otherwise bare branches now. And when the grey wind picks up and scatters them at my feet I think of one autumn day in Cache Valley—a place called Richmond, home of Rockhill Creamery.

What I Did This Summer

(Drinking enough sangria, unfortunately, wasn't one of them)

Definitely not revamping the blog. Being technically challenged is painful to discover, especially if you're trying to gussy up the beloved blog. The makeover will come later when techie friends aren't dying of stress or I become graphically independent. But I can't put off posting any longer, so you get the same old same old. But with more thing to read ...

Peace & Quiet at Hell's Backbone Grill

My apologies for leaving balls on the page for so long. It wasn't meant to be a semi-permanent fixutre on this blog. But since I've been such a fixture in front of my computer for various other projects, I decided to up and leave before I grounded roots into my non-ergonomically correct chair and that humdrum shoebox I call an office. So I ran away. With a few girlfriends who also needed to run away, too. The destination: Boulder, Utah. Home of stunning landscapes, all the stars in the universe, and one Hell's Backbone Grill (the friendliest restaurant on Earth).

On Cocktails and Cupcakes

PAR-TAY

I hail from non-celebratory stock that relishes holidays with sleeping in and watching excess amount of T.V. Birthdays by family rite are uneventful. Of course, there were those requisite years where birthdays had some sort of cultural significance. 18 was the year of college and fake IDs. Your first amaretto sour is always the best. Apart from falling face down during a funk concert at Madam's Organ, much of the 21st is a blur. And the quarter-century sparked the obligatory crisis over Modelo Especial. But 26 turned out to be pretty damn memorable—the year of cocktails and cupcakes.

Out & About and Back—San Francisco

Black sesame gelato with smatterings of green tea on the corner of Broadway and Grant

Don't try to take a photo of your goods at Yoogo Gelato. Because what you think is an empty table suitable for food photography will become a target for an eager Cantonese family with strong elbows, wondering why on earth this girl is giving her gelato the Kate Moss-treatment. There's better luck outside on Broadway and Grant, where Chinatown melts into North Beach. Beforehand, you will spend some time wondering whether to get limone with your avocado gelato or go for green tea with black sesame. Once you step onto the busy pavement, the flavors in your cup become emblematic of this piece of urban earth. The inaugural taste of black sesame gelato overtakes your mouth—a seedy crunch and hazelnut butter-like richness mingle with the exhaust fumes of the traffic. And suddenly, when a swarm of taxis honk at your intrusion into traffic you realize...Man, I love this city.