Good to the Bone-- Ginger Braised Oxtail

It's June in LA, and although it's a 100 degrees inland, all of us on the westside are enduring the infamous June Gloom. For one month the beach is blanketed by a light marine layer and the temperature is reduced to a chilly, by LA standards, 74 degrees.

But I'm fine with summer beach weather. It gives me a chance to braise some meats and remember my wonderful, fog-filled life back in San Francisco.

San Francisco always brought the braise... The year-round regalement of braised short ribs, braised duck legs with Armagnac and prunes, braised chuck pot roast... a menu to be missed in Los Angeles-- the land of grilling.

So, when my acupuncturist, Joe, suggested I take a more focused look at food as medicine, we broke it down, tendon for tendon. In TCM, Traditional Chinese Medicine, it's common to prepare herbal and protein based soups for therapeutic use. Soups, such as bone marrow soup, are often used to "strengthen the blood and body". So, I figured, why not braised oxtail?

And braised oxtail, it was. A 2 1/2 hour stovetop braise broke down much of the good stuff: bone, tendon, collagen and blood. All the strengthening properties my starving hand needed. Tendon for tendon.

And what better pairing for beef oxtail than gingerroot? Pungent and spicy, it stands up to the richness of the meat and bone. Joe reminded me that in TCM ginger is known for it's anti-inflammatory properties and is routinely used throughout many cultures to treat muscle pain, as well as arthritis.

So, into the braiser gingerroot went, along with a small hand-full of garlic cloves, a couple of sweet bay leaves, an onion, and a bottle of ginger beer-- just for the heck of it. It's easy.

Just put on your summer scarf and gloves and enjoy this simple and delicious remedy. Before the June Gloom goes away...

.

Ginger Braised Oxtail

liberally season beef oxtails with salt and pepper, remember, you will need more salt when there is more fat

slice 1 onion and a small gingeroot, and peel 6 garlic cloves

in a hot braiser or dutch oven, add enough grapeseed oil to coat the pan evenly and sear the oxtails on all sides, until dark brown

add the onion and sliced ginger and garlic

add a half bottle of ginger beer and a half glass of white wine 

and reduce the liquid down until thick and rich

Add a piece of pork-- a cooked rib, a slice of bacon, pancetta...

cover with chicken stock, or water, bring to a boil, and return to a simmer, and skim off much of the beef and pork foam, using a ladle

make a parchment lid, and include a central air vent, 1" larger than your braiser, and tent the pot

cover your braiser and simmer on the lowest stovetop setting, checking every half hour, until tender, about 2 1/2 hours or more

add carrot coins and steam underneath the parchment for 5 minutes, then add sliced cabbage and steam for 5 minutes more, until barely cooked

pair with steamed cabbage, carrots, rice, and moisten with ginger oxtail jus

What's Your Chocolate Nemesis?

Everyone's favorite pastry chef should be David Lebovitz. He's got great taste and great stories. After uprooting a life in San Francisco Lebovitz headed to Paris to live and write an endearingly funny cooking blog about French food and everything Parisian. He even wrote a book, The Sweet Life In Paris. A personal exposé of going French, with Parisian observations that include: how the French eat bananas with a fork and knife, to, taking the time to iron jeans, and then wearing them to take out the garbage... seriously? And other incredible factoids about the French, one of them standing out as my fave: 

Every French woman knows how to make a chocolate cake, by heart.

Now, that's impressive. And of all the chocolate cakes I have made, and eaten, I can't say that I have committed one to memory. Just imagine, every woman in America having apple pie at the tip of their fingers... And even if it's not true, I am going to go ahead and believe it anyway. Because there is something so darned romantic about a country of women with chocolate cake recipes pinned to their hearts. Can't we do the same?

Unfortunately, my cake-baking days are still temporarily on hold. Right hand is still on break, and moving my standing mixer around the kitchen and chopping chocolate would be really lame, at this point.

And, as if I had known I would be a one-handed, Lame Chef, with nothing but time on her hands but to write about food, serendipity stepped in. I had my cake!

In December of 2010, before my Lame sojourn, I made Chocolate Nemesis from The River Cafe Cook Book, by Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers-- two chefs who had a famous restaurant in London where I had done a quick stage, back in 1999, and I photographed it. What luck! The cake is one of my favorites. And over the years I have made it for dozens of dinner parties, having paired it with just about everything from tangerines to wild strawberries, sweet cream and creme fraiche, and sometimes, even mendiant-like with pistachio and golden sultanas. What a cake.

So, here it is, in each stage of its gloriousness. Super chocolatey, with a flourless, almost custard-like feel, it is not the cake mom made for your birthday. It's just a little more dessert-like. But more importantly, it's fun to make, and even more fun to eat. A little messy, too, so wear an apron.

And here's more good news-- there are just four ingredients to remember. So, C'mon. We can do it!

Now get to work.

Chocolate Nemesis ~ The Rive Cafe Cook Book

Serves 10-12

Note: I always half the recipe.  Just use an 8 x 2" pan instead. Also, the recipe is originally written in grams and then modified for US standards of measurement. So, it's a little more work to half, if you choose to.

1 1/2 pounds of bittersweet chocolate, chopped 

10 whole eggs

1 pound 5 oz. sugar

1 pound of unsalted butter, room temperature, softened

How 

Preheat the oven to 350` and grease and line a 12` cake tin with parchment, then grease and flour it, again.

Beat the eggs with a 1/3 of the sugar until the volume quadruples-- takes about 10 minutes in an electric mixer.

Heat the remaining sugar in a small pan with 1 cup of water until the sugar has dissolved to a syrup.

Add the chocolate and butter to the hot syrup and combine. Remove from the heat and cool, slightly.

Add the warm syrup to the eggs and continue to beat, just until completely combined.

Pour into the prepared cake tin and place in a bain-marie water bath, raising the water just under the lip of the cake tin. This will ensure that the cake will cook evenly.

Bake in the oven for 30 minutes and until set. Test by placing the flat of your hand gently on the surface.

Let cool in the tin before turning out.

Late Night with Lisa Walker...

Seriously, right hand is still repetitive stressing, so, can I please just joke the pain away?

I got played a bad hand. ba dum. Still hurts.

Maybe if I had the right joke...

But my acupuncturist has all the right jokes. And my lunatic friends keep me in a junior high continuum of laughs that would kill any comedy club. So as much funny as I am having, I am still hurting. And the last thing I want is for the new hand doctor to play me a hand of hand surgery. Because at that point I may find myself reaching for the joke that's been played on me.

What I can do, in terms of right now, is write the pain away. And in an attempt to write myself a happy ending, as the greeting card saying goes, I will enjoy every minute of this homebound freedom at my desk. In fact, it's the one place I have dreamt of being, forever. So, I will write my book, and this crazy blog, into the arms of an editor, or two.

Wish me luck.

And thanks for the sympathy.

XO TLC

Strawberry Jam Session

My family home in northern California had both a plum and an apricot tree and every summer mom would make jar, upon jar, of jam. While my brother and I were outside playing newspaper tag and catching pollywogs mom was elbo deep in fallen fruit, as they now say. She must have had fifty jars to boil, dry, and fill with cooked fruit. Then simmer in a bain marie; to seal up their waxed lids.

Finally, when I was old enough, I got to stir the piping hot fruit, thinking how much work that jam making business was, but worth every dirty pot. When mom cracked open the first jar of warm jam we closed in on her for the first taste.

For many years I didn't make jam and to this day, I still think of jam making as this big thing, more like an event. Who knows, maybe it has something to do with the time my brother and I ran into the house hungry only to find mom napping in a chair while the kitchen wall burned to the ceiling. The stove had combusted with piping hot fruit and sugar, and mom, startled by our screams jumped up and called the fire department; sacking the fire herself with a fire extinguisher. It was quite a moment and even the firemen were impressed. We may not have had homemade jam that summer, but we certainly got a favorite family story.

Over my years of cooking I stayed away from jam making. Too messy, too much time, stovetop fires and fire extinguishers... No thank you. It was my one mental culinary block. Until one summer when I made a camp stove blackberry jam on the Klamath River.  Blackberries were everywhere and friends picked a bucket-full for me to make a blackberry skillet pie. I baked a crust in a skillet in the fire pit, and cooked the berries in a pan on the stovetop. And I was struck by the simplicity of it. The simple fruit filling reminded me of mom's jars of jam.

I made jam all summer long.

So, when Harry's Berries, gaviotas and seascapes (two varieties of strawberries that draw a crowd three people deep at their Santa Monica farmers market) burst into season, all I could think of was fresh jam on toast. One basket of berries, a curl of lemon peel, a spoonfull of sugar, a splash of water and a small sauce pot, you can have jam in twenty minutes!

And my favorite is to hard-toast a slice of seeded bread, smear it with goat butter or goat cheese and top with warm jam... perfection.

And don't get me started on buttermilk pancakes with melting jam... A ripened cheese board... A scoop of creme fraiche ice cream...

Here's my Strawberry Jam Session:


A basket of fresh seascape strawberries are washed and quartered and heated over a medium flame with a tablespoon of sugar (optional), a sliver of washed lemon peel, and a couple tablespoons of water.  Be sure to turn down the heat to low after the berries come to a bubble. And you can take the berries as far as you want to go. Mine are extra jammy but a looser, fresher style is nice too.

After 10 minutes

After 20 minutes

On toast with goat cheese

L'omelette Amour

Anthony Bourdain once said every man should know how to make an omelet for the woman he's just slept with. Well, you certainly won't hear me arguing with romantic standards like that, eh hem, blushing... But let's be honest, a chef like Bourdain can make omelets in bed, if he chooses. For most regular people the reality of coaxing a couple of beaten eggs out of a skillet in one masterful piece (in your skivvies, no less) may be as likely as walking on water. Talk about pressure.

But anyone can learn. You just have to share his enthusiasm. I do, and can still remember my first omelet lesson with chef Herve at the California Culinary Academy in San Francisco, where I was a student.

Loud and commanding, chef would march back and forth, giving orders over the exhaust-fan, spitting French consonants and vowels on the backside of our toques:

"A fork and a pan! Tis is all the tools you need!" 

"Right away chef!", as we lined up like soldiers along the stovetop, side-towel in hand.

A stack of stainless steel skillets were quickly dispersed over high BTU's and a bain marie, crowded with misshapen forks, passed down the line.  Each student cracked three large eggs into a bowl and quickly whisked them well with salt and pepper. Within seconds a lump of room-temp, unsalted butter slipped into each six-inch, hot saute` and from there the chef's direction was simple:

Twist and turn the skillet allowing the butter to melt and foam, lacquering every inch of the pan. Then drop the heat and drop the egg. The egg will set-up around the edges and beg to be scrambled. This is when you work quickly with the fork, pulling the egg away from itself, to set-up an even base. Once the egg achieves a wrinkled roundness, tilt the pan toward yourself to gather the eggs softness at the lip of the pan and gently shake it, roll it, and slip it's crescent shape onto a warm plate.

Or, if the temptation is there, give it a flip with the flick of the wrist, careful to give it the smallest amount of heat before cajoling it onto the plate. Something I can't help every time I make one; and I have made more than enough to please even Mr. Bourdain. No, silly, just for me.

I'm sure you'll have fun practicing. Wink, wink.


                                

Move Over Popcorn!

There's a new snack in town! Chickpeas and kale. Ok, not entirely new, just sorta new. The hippies were doing it ages ago when they went to India to see the Maharishi with the Beatles. And yes, kale and chickpeas have certainly been inducted into the All Things Californian Hall of Fame; just like avocados, juicing and liberalism.

Kale, best known for its calcium and vitamin C properties, is apparently the best thing since the fish oil craze. Just the other year I heard a woman say-- kale saved my life. She was yoga-serious. Also very Californian.

Chickpeas, mostly celebrated in the form of lovely pulses such as hummus, and variations of it, are a great source of fiber and protein. In fact, Veganism might have shuttered its doors without them; and are now a standard at many restaurants and markets. I find myself making hummus for clients, sometimes twice a day.

And roasting them and eating them crunchy and salty, as a snack, is very Middle Eastern, as well as South Asian. Not new to them at all. Thankfully, we've adopted them as our own. A little cumin, vinegar, garlic and chili flakes can transform these wonderful dried beans into something more satisfying and healthy than the most buttery bucket of popcorn. And matched with a tray of crispy kale, so easy to make,  its even more irresistible.

Here's how


Stuff

Kale-- washed and dried-- I got mine from TJ's already washed and prepped. I've only got one hand!
Dried chick peas
Garlic-- pressed
Cumin
Chili flakes
Olive oil or grape seed oil
Red Vinegar
Salt and Pepper

Cook

A night ahead...

Soak the chickpeas in water, being sure to cover them completely.  They will soak up every bit of moisture.

Next day...


Spicy Chickpeas


Drain the chickpeas. They should appear plump and fresh-- what chefs call, reconstituted.

Heat an oven to 400' and line a large tray with parchment if you have it. Otherwise, a large skillet will work just fine. Spread the chickpeas on the tray.

Make a dressing-- combine 2 tablespoons of vinegar or lemon, 4 tablespoons of olive oil or grape seed oil, a tablespoon of cumin, a teaspoon of chili flake, a teaspoon of crushed garlic, a teaspoon of salt and some fresh cracks of black pepper. Pour 3/4 of the dressing over the chickpeas and coat each chick evenly. Reserve the rest of the dressing for later.

Roast the chicks for about 30-40 minutes until crispy and brown, checking every fifteen minutes. And coat them once again with the remaining dressing. Check for seasoning. They should be salty and spicy like spicy peanuts.

Crispy Kale

Turn the oven down to 300' and line your tray with parchment if you have it. A large skillet will work fine for this too. Sometimes you just have to use what you've got!

Evenly lay the kale on the tray, careful not to overcrowd them. Drizzle lightly with one of the oils and season with an even sprinkling of salt and pepper. Gently massage the kale with the oil and seasoning. Don't bruise it.  A little chili flake is nice too.

Bake for 20 minutes or until dark and crispy. Mix gently with warm chick peas and snack-away!

Tortillas and Tea~ A Lifetime Together

I grew up between two cultures, Latin and European. My father, a handsome Englishman, and my mother, a beautiful Mexican/Native American, were married forty-six years ago today. An unusual and unlikely possibility for most people these days, (I have friends who can't commit to dinner plans let alone a lengthy marriage) somehow my parents have managed to go the distance. With a great sense of humor, commitment, and of course lots of love, anything is possible. Here, here!

Flanked by two brothers at the kitchen table, we were stuffed full of delicious, homemade food. At Christmas time we ate from Grandma Medina's two-hundred tamales, and when we traveled to England, we cherished Grandma Walker's never ending tea sandwiches and cakes. But Mom really did all the cooking. Every night we sat down for dinner as a family. And once the word got out about the Walker family dinners, friends would show up hungry. The door was always open and if the food ran out Dad would run to the market for a small ham or another cut-up chicken; and Mom would make stir-fried rice, mashed potatoes, spaghetti, whatever she could quickly make to feed the hungry teenagers squeezed around our  small dinner table.  It's no wonder my parents are known, to this day, as Mom and Dad Walker, and no wonder Mom is hailed as the Left-Over Queen. No one has ever been more resourceful than her and no food could ever taste as good as Mom's.

But there's one dish that stood out over the years. Mom's sopa with handmade flour tortillas. This was my favorite and she would make it whenever I wanted it. She'd make it after school, for breakfast, even over a camp stove under the redwoods, and over a fire pit at the beach. She always used a heavy iron skillet and the smell of the pan roasting on the stove is still my favorite aroma. How many times I've watched her heat up the skillet, toast the broken pasta, fry the garlic, stew the tomatoes; while rolling-out fresh balls of tortilla dough to scorch over a hot skillet; I cannot begin to count. I could eat this for the rest of my life.

So, what is this favorite dish~ Sopa? Sopa de fidello, as it's called in Mexico, is not truly a soup as the name implies but a fried, soupy, thin spaghetti with garlic and tomatoes, eaten with fresh tortillas. Very similar to an Italian pasta pomodoro. The scorched bits of pasta give the dish a toasty undercurrent; and for me shouts-out 'Mom is cooking!'

So, today I wanted Mom's sopa. And as I began to fry the pasta I thought about my parents and their anniversary and I was inspired to cook like Mom~ the way she cooks for Dad. Dad is still very English in many ways, and loves his brussell sprouts, steak and kidney pie, sausage rolls; all dishes my mother loves and makes really well. And with that very thought, the proverbial skillet hit me over the head.  Toast the pasta and marry it with minced brussell sprouts and garlic. And what a fine dish it was!

Happy anniversary Mom and Dad. I love you!