The Food Truth According to Ruth

Ruth Reichl, the last editor of the late, lamented Gourmet, isn’t just concerned about the future of food writing. “It’s the same as the future of all journalism,” she asserted during a recent phone interview. “You really have to worry when so many people are writing for free. A lot of investigative reporting doesn’t get done if you don’t have an institution paying for it. Democracy depends upon a very robust press.”

Want to read the rest, then go read it at the Indy's site.

I-Rish I Wasn't So Stout

It's not blarney and you may opt to stone me for this, but I have to get something off my non-green wearing chest--I've got to admit I'm just not that huge a fan of Guinness. I know, I know, saying that on March 17th is like dissing chocolate on October 31, offering up a recipe for rabbit on Easter, or like saying you don't like condoms on Father's Day, but that's the kind of guy I am. The good news is I'm not particularly singling out Guinness, just using them as emblematic of Irish stout in particular. Let me explain.

Sure, the nitro touch is wonderful, and creaminess can be a valued thing in a brew, if for nothing else than the visual effect--how many things do we drink that transform before our eyes? A bit of magic at the table or bar never hurts. But mouthfeel and visual tricks is about all Irish stout ends up being for me. And now, it's not just because I'm an inveterate hop-head at this point. It's that Irish stout, even with the roasted malt, seems a bit, dare I say, watered down to me. Sure enough, it's a mere 5% ABV and, for beer, a low 198 calories per pint, so it is a bit lite, as it were, compared to the behemoths I like to quaff. (Indeed, I am a behemoth quaffer, which sounds like some insult Puck hurled at Nick Bottom). I always think there should be more there there, and once I've compared a beer to Oakland, you know it's in trouble. (Let's hope Gertrude Stein drank beer, if for no other reason than her last name, but maybe she's busy playing the piano, as that's the Stein way.) (Really, I have not yet been drinking today. Promise.)

I realize a Guinness is practically a session beer, but I've grown too old to pound beers--I want them for the taste (not that I deny the pleasure of the lucky buzz, either). But if I want to reach for a stout, it will more than likely be a Russian Imperial Stout, which is basically a stout on steroids (heck, I was even a Barry Bonds fan, what can I say). There are numerous good varieties, from Stone's to my absolute favorite, which is way better on tap, btw, North Coast's Old Rasputin, which will put hair on your chest (and maybe tongue, tastebuds, and liver, too). But then again, I'm not Irish a bit and Slav through and through, so what do I know.

Gotta Howl for Blue Owl

I guess I have to admit I'm sad to say that I'm not sad to say that I've come to the point in my life when hanging out in a rowdy bar drinking to the wee hours doesn't hold much appeal. I did my bar-boozled time, and probably some of yours, too, back in my younger days, but now it generally seems best if there's drinking to be done to do it at home as a series of delicious decisions built around an equally delicious meal--cocktail pre, wine with, after after. Then the good night is easy, as I just have to walk to the bedroom.

This prelude is a long way to say--I was on State Street at midnight this weekend, amidst those much younger, much more blinged out, and much drunker, and was overjoyed to be there. And there was no drinking of anything stronger than water involved on my part, for I was at Blue Owl at Zen Yai, Cindy Black's weekend late night concern that should concern anyone interested in scrumptious versions of southeast Asian streetfood in our humble, not very hip to the ways of the rest of the big world's food obsessions, burg. I wrote about Black when she opened back in October, and the good news is the food is just as fine.

OK, better than fine. In our house, we dream of her red curry shrimp roll, ordering each other around, saying, "Bring me a Cindy Black sammich!" But then we hardly ever go, as the thought of getting food at--or pretty much even staying up till--11:30 pm is too daunting. This weekend a friend who hadn't been told us he'd meet us there on Saturday, so we sort of had to, and that appointment helped it happen. Do note things are casual at the Blue Owl; we got there a few minutes early and were a tad distressed there was no sign of life inside Zen Yai. But sure enough, at 11:32 or so Cindy herself showed up at the door, and soon Blue Owl spread its wings to the drunken world, and us. (Indeed, at one point one large maybe just out of Velvet Jones group milled about outside and one dude almost came through the window, but I guess the plus is--free floor show!) Oh, and that is good news, that you can actually sit down inside and not just order to-go; turns out it was too cold for Black to be sending everyone away to eat on benches. See, winter does to happen in Santa Barbara.

As for that red curry shrimp roll, I doubt I can fully capture its magic in words. The shrimp themselves actually taste like shrimp, which is important--they don't get lost amidst the rest, or even in the toasted ciabatta, which is big but doesn't dominate the way a crusty bread can for such a sandwich. The curry has heat but flavor, too--it really rings royally true to its Thai-ness. Then there's plenty of cabbagy crunch, green onion zip, and cilantro pep. Finally there's the tofu, rectangles wisely the same size as the shrimp, so each operate as equals, but the tofu must be baked or something first as it's crispy almost and fully flavored. You could eat the sandwich made solely of tofu and be content.

The rice is nice, too, again an attention to detail making it all so much better--why she bills it "gourmet drunk food." Nothing like a truly fried egg, all sizzled at its edges, but still able to ooze yolk over the rice, adding even more richness to the dish.

And in case you're wondering, if you get a second shrimp sandwich to go, they hold up really well for a next day lunch, right about when you start getting sad it's been a few hours since you'd had one. Ok, you'll want to eat lunch early....

All Hail the Slyly Served Snail

It's a tricky task to single out one thing at Sly's as the place tends to do no wrong. Cocktails, well, Mandy and her crew has got them, and every part tends to be made from scratch, from the orgeat in the Mai Tai to the bitters in the stirred, not shaken Manhattan (as that drink is fond of foaming when shaken vigorously). The service is ever professional and friendly but it still has that old-fashioned air, too--it's not about palsing around, but performance. The bread service I could have easily heaped hearty wheaty hosannas on just as much as the one at Coast's (or the one at Downey's--that Irish soda bread...yum)--how can you beat warm black bread with gooey raisins?

But given all that goodness, this entry's going to be about abalone, even if it took a snail's pace to get around to announcing it as my subject. James Sly gets his from what he bills as Dos Pueblos Local Abalone, for a wealth of reasons, no doubt, not the least of which is nostalgia (Sly's is nothing if not the steak house of your dreams you think you remember, but even better). Abalone hankers back to a different day in California, when the world was rich in their veal-of-the-sea loveliness, when living the coastal life didn't require oodles of cash. Of course that world is long gone--the price of the abalone main course attests to that ($48)--but it's nice to reconnect to a simpler age, even if at a premium. Sly's, too, also loves the local, having been on that trend before it was a glimmer off Michael Pollan's bald head. What's more, Sly is sly about language as much as anything else, relishing in the corniness of pitch-talk like "just blocks from the world's safest beach!" For let's face it, Dos Pueblos Local Abalone is relatively sexier than the Cultured Abalone, from where the little mollusks actually hail. The good news is they are farmed sustainably, so you can eat with a clear conscience.

And you will, as Sly serves them up totally tender, lightly breaded, perfectly pan-fried. Cut each one into tiny pieces and savor--it's a meal that teaches you to eat slow (the one part of slow food perhaps not emphasized enough: just take your time and enjoy what's going into your mouth!). If a clam and lobster mated, they might hope to give birth to an abalone, but it would have to be an exceptional child. That breading adds just enough, well, even crunch is too much of a word, but it's all about texture, something to play off the tender abalone (which isn't chewy in the slightest). All of this is napped--and that's the only word that works for just the exact amount of saucing so you'll get just a bit on each and every bite and suddenly your plate will be spotless when you're finished--in a doré sauce, proving so much of cooking is really just nailing the simple. Butter, wine, shallot, parsley, salt, pepper, and I'm guessing maybe a dash of cream (it's like the exclamation point of Angostura in the Manhattan mentioned above).

If this plate isn't heaven, damn me right now.

Putting the Fun in Gumbo

Last night's Mardi Gras meant it only seemed appropriate to turn to New Orleans for menu inspiration (and a cocktail, of course, in this case the delightfully layered Vieux Carre), and after a bunch of internet and cookbook searching for some sort of gumbo that didn't lay on the links too much (sausage sausage everywhere, and not a gumbo for pescatarians to drink!), we found this Shrimp and Collard Greens Gumbo. So, yes, this isn't my recipe, but we did some tweaking and have some warnings, so I'm going to run through it our way for you to enjoy the next time you want a big bowl of slowly simmering Louisiana heat. Plus one more excuse to eat collards, not that you should need one.


4 TBS. safflower oil
2 TBS. flour
1 1/2 cups chopped onion
1 medium sized green bell pepper, chopped
4 ribs celery, chopped
1 pound frozen cut okra
2 bunches collards, washed, stemmed, torn into bite-sized bits
5 cups shrimp or seafood stock (we used Kitchen Basics seafood stock and it was perfectly fine)
1 14.5 oz can whole tomato, undrained
3 cloves garlic, crushed (these will fall apart more in the soup and be delicious)
1 bay leaf
2 robust tsp. Creole seasoning blend (of your choice)
1/2 TBS. hot sauce ( we used Caribbean Chile Habanero)
salt and pepper to taste
1 1/2 pounds shrimp, peeled and deveined, 72-90 count best size

In large skillet make a medium roux of 2 TBS of oil and the flour. Stir constantly over medium high heat till the mixture gives off a rich smell and is peanut butter colored--at least 10 minutes. Add onions, bell pepper, and celery and cook till the onions are translucent, about 10 minutes. Remove from heat.

In soup pot cook okra over medium heat in remaining 2 TBS of oil for about 10 minutes or until soft and a bit gooey (that gooey will add to the dish's consistency). Add the collards and stock, bring to a boil, reduce heat to simmering, and cook for 15 minutes. Add roux-vegetable mixture, tomatoes, garlic, red pepper sauce, bay leaf, Creole seasoning, salt (start lightly as boxed stock can be sodium-full), and pepper. Stir to combine and break up the tomato a bit. Simmer for another 20 minutes. Add shrimp, cover, and cook slowly for no more than 10 minutes--keep checking on how much those shrimp have pinked up and tightened their little circles.

This goes well with a mixed greens salad and some crusty bread, maybe even a crusty-garlicky-cheesy bread, would be great.

Chicken Pot Chicken Pot Chicken Pot Pie

It's not really that I need another reason to head to Hollister Brewing Company as Eric Rose's ever-diverse and totally-tasty brews would get me in the door all by themselves. (And how wonderful it is he tweaks recipes, too, so, for instance, the current batch of White Star XPA is the creamiest ever.) But having Dylan Fultineeer in the kitchen certainly doesn't hurt HBC any. And while Dylan's mastery tends to show best at the magnificent beer dinners and on the daily specials, the latest re-vamp the regular menu helps show how comfortable he is with comfort food.Veggie lasagna. Pot roast. Cioppino. Pork belly sandwich (bacon's beefier cousin, if that's not an oxymoron).

But this entry is about the beauty photographed above, the new chicken pot pie. (And if you don't know the allusion in the title, please don't get Cross with me if you follow this link.) Get it while the weather's still a bit iffy, for it will warm you deeply, and not just because it comes piping hot from the oven and that crusty cap holds the heat. Nope, it's body-pleasing good--the kind of food we all dreamed our mothers made (instead of serving up the Swanson's frozen models). That puff pastry is flaky and layered but then doughy inside, too, cooked to perfection. And the contents, not just any chicken but the oh-so-au-courant Jidori. A luscious sauce with not trace of flour to thicken it up. Carrots and snow peas that haven't gone to mush in the saucy baking process.

Dough That to Me One More Time

Man does not live by bread alone, but he just might if he got to eat at Coast every night. On a slow Tuesday evening, the pleasant dining room was a wonderful spot for a respite from a crazy work week. And while the entire meal was fine--chef Brian Parks certainly knows his way around a piece of fish based on the fine arctic char and halibut we enjoyed--there was something particularly pleasing about the bread service. Sure, it's homey and all, coming out on its wooden cutting board. But even better, it's all warm, all the better to slather the very cold butter on. And then there was variety, too. Two lovely pretzel rolls, rich in Kosher salt, caraway, and rye, chewy on the outside, delish in the center. Then there was one harder roll sort of shaped like a breaded snail, but it was far from sluggish in taste. And then was a round softer roll, proving two crusts that looked somewhat the same could be totally different animals (if crusts were animals).

It wasn't easy to say no, when we got offered a second board.

Other good news about Coast is how Open Table-friendly the restaurant is: they offer 1000 points 5:30 - 10 Monday through Thursday, 11-2 and 5:30-10:30 Sunday (there's a great jazz brunch), and then 5:30-6:45 an 8:45-9:45 Friday and Saturday. Does wonders for your Open Table account (and your stomach).