Dave's Not Here

Hit the wrong switch on the radio and there were those same people, my dearly beloved would be-friends, happy as ever to tell me exactly how the world should be (with half my favorite people left out). Said the version of "No, thank you" suited to the occasion, hit a different switch, and whaddya know, the magic station* with not just Cheech and Chong (Welcome back, boys!) but "Hey, hey, hey, it's Fat Albert," courtesy of one Bill Cosby. Was lucky enough to see him with my friend Larry at a benefit for Back on Track a year or two ago. And a lot more years ago, I saw Cos at the Felt Forum in Madison Square Garden. You could learn more just from watching how Bill Cosby uses his face, how he moves, than you would in half a dozen classes.

I could tell the Rockin' Green Bean Salad (a cousin of the Rockin' Romano, ask me about that later) would take too long, so I decided to make that new black bean I've been thinking about, especially given that both cilantros in the fridge were looking so tired.

Red and Green and Yes, Black Bean Salad:

For the salad:

1 can organic black beans**
1 green bell pepper
2 roma tomatoes
1 cippoline onion

For the dressing:

4T extra virgin olive oil with zip (I used Spanish oil and also broke out the LA "Intenso" for the occasion)
Juice and zest of one lemon
Handful of fresh Italian parsley
1 clove garlic
1/4 teaspoon celery seed
Smidgen stone-ground mustard
Pinch salt
Pinch freshly-ground black pepper

Rinse and drain black beans. Seed the tomatoes, then chop the vegetables and mince the parsley and garlic. Whisk the oil and lemon juice together with the rest of the dressing ingredients. Add the vegetables and toss. Then add the black beans, toss again, add a splash of cider vinegar, and serve.

Had a chance to catch up with some folks and meet some new ones over at Mary and Ray's, and just about everybody had a great story to tell. Good thing we had plenty of time to talk before we sat down to dinner--and what a meal it was: Slow-cooked, silky leeks, red pepper marmalade, olive salad, two kinds of stuffing, pecans on the yams, and potatoes au gratin, along with the turkey and green beans one might expect. Oh, and homemade pumpkin pudding. Yes, indeed. And I had small bites of everything, for once, so I didn't have to lay on the bed face down when I got home, and could also skip the online first aid for the usual.

As those radio people are always saying (the rest of us save it for when people actually sneeze), God bless you. Everyone.

*This time, the magic station was KUSF.

**Yes, yes, I know I should make my own black beans. I have lentils on the stove this very minute. But remember, I was supposed to be there at 3.

©2010 Laynie Tzena.

Me Need Miso, or Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle to the Rescue

Yes, those mini-cupcakes were delicious at Iron Cupcake tonight (and some of my favorite bakers won!), but after all that sweet stuff it's definitely time for miso broth with dulse, brown rice, maybe a French breakfast radish at 10 p.m., and then a serious talk with my pillow. New recipes very soon.

Not To Mention That Foghorn . . .

Oh, children, life is sweet: It's apple season (is there anything more beautiful than a slice of Pink Pearl apple?), Lucero's spaceship squash is back, the San Francisco Street Food Festival is Saturday (http://www.sfstreetfoodfest.com), and for dessert, Charles Chocolates is opening its flagship store here in the city (http://us1.campaign-archive1.com/?u=6158b9175add5fbfb0c515375&id=7b49f2fe55&e=b16662e756).

What's that? Fog? Yes. It is August in San Francisco. There is fog. Wear layers. I know, I know. I don't love the cold, either. But Herb Caen was right: The fog is pretty darned gorgeous over those hills. Sandburg said so, too.

Also, one of my favorite movies from the Jewish Film Festival (hard to choose, really, with so many great ones this year), Robert Guediguian's Army of Crime, about French-Armenian poet Missak Manouchian and other members of the French Resistance, is showing at the Kabuki. Brace yourself for some tough scenes (we are talking about the Vichy), but do not miss it.

©2010 Laynie Tzena.

Take a Bow, Part Three

Part Three: Something In The Air

So the Red Bird was wonderful--full of flavor, and all that--but I was still thinking of tea-poaching when I walked into Whole Foods and their air-chilled bone-in chicken breasts were on sale. I had seen the air-chilled chicken around but had yet to buy it, thinking it was just overpriced chicken.

Wrong.

(Ginger) Tea-Poached Chicken:

1 bone-in chicken breast, skin and fat removed
4-5 slices fresh ginger, peeled
1 cup water
1 teaspoon sesame oil

Place ginger and water in saucepan, heat to boiling, cover and simmer 10-15 minutes. Strain tea and combine 1/4 cup of tea and 1 teaspoon sesame oil in skillet, bring to boil. Rinse chicken, add to pan and cover. Reduce flame to low setting and simmer for fifteen minutes (ten if you're using air-chilled chicken), then turn off burner and let chicken sit in the pan for another ten to fifteen minutes or until done. Remove chicken to heated plate, strain poaching liquid and spoon over chicken.

This was great with jasmine rice and green beans.

As to the air-chilled chicken: Word. I'm going to use that for the Sopa di Lima next time (see "Cluck, Cluck") and not reduce the chicken stock, since the chicken is--you should excuse the expression--so chicken-y. Why? Must be something in the air. I'm not asking.

But don't worry, Mollie Stone's: I still love your chicken.

©2010, 2014 Laynie Tzena.

Take a Bow, Part Two

Part Two: Now That Is A Red Bird.

It was getting a little crowded in my freezer, and so a chicken breast migrated to the fridge. The next day I was all ready to poach it when I remembered I was out of chicken stock. Or, rather, I read the writing on the wall (er, the container) and thought that since said chicken stock had poached a bird or two, been strained and frozen, poached some more birds, then gone back to the igloo, chances were, it had sung its last song.

My virtual friends assured me there were other options. Nothing really grabbed me, but then I remembered how much I liked tea-smoked scallops (don't tell my rabbi), and I decided to poach it in tea.

Then I opened the wrapper. Skin? Oh, this was the breast from the whole chicken I had bought way back when.

Yes, I know chicken skin is not nutritionally correct, but I happen to love it. So this bird was going to be baked, not poached.

I often use paprika in my scrambled eggs, among other things. But I don't use that much of it, and last time I opened the jar it had seemed a little pale. I had read somewhere that heating spices releases more of their flavor.

Red Bird, or Paprika Chicken:

1 bone-in chicken breast
1 lemon, quartered
2 tablespoons (or more) sweet paprika
Pinch kosher salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Rinse and dry chicken. Squeeze lemon on top and bottom of chicken, and under the skin, then rub the lemon into the skin, top, and bottom of the chicken. Heat a skillet on medium heat, add paprika, and warm till just starting to smoke. Cool paprika till safe to handle, then rub into skin, top, and bottom of chicken. Use a lot. (The bird will be red.) Sprinkle chicken with kosher salt, cover with foil, and bake in a glass dish for about 20 minutes, then remove foil and cook about another ten minutes. (Leave foil on if you used a skinless breast.) Test with fork; when the juices run clear, it's done.

Next Time: Gilligan Sent Me.

©2010, 2014 Laynie Tzena.

Take a Bow, Part One

Part One: Green is Good.

Lucky me, to stumble on the Bay Bass Band a few years ago at Old First Church. All these years I'd loved the bass, but never questioned its role as the often invisible anchor of an ensemble. Suddenly here was a band of basses, playing music written or adapted just for bass. And the music was great: the first time, I got to hear Francois Rabbath; the second, Ray Brown. But it was more than that. It was finding amazing music in a place you hadn't thought to look. God bless Barry Green.

I thought of that recently as I noticed a fine bunch of Italian parsley lounging on the top shelf of my refrigerator. Sure, I'd used parsley before--in green drinks, in Joyce Goldstein's wonderful Sephardic eggplant salad. Parsley has graced the top of that miso-soba soup we talked about a while back, and many other things, too. But like the bass, it had never been front and center.

Until now.

Parsley Salad:

For the salad:

Small bunch or 1/2 large bunch Italian parsley

For the pesto:

2 tablespoons chopped Italian parsley
1-2 garlic scapes, 1 stalk green garlic, or 1 garlic clove
Drizzle walnut oil*
Healthy pinch lemon zest
Pinch of salt
Pinch of freshly-ground black pepper

For the dressing:

1 to 2 teaspoons olive oil
1 teaspoon walnut oil
1 teaspoon freshly-squeezed lemon juice
Zest of 1/2 lemon
Pinch of salt
Pinch of freshly-ground black pepper

Rinse and dry the parsley. Mince garlic of choice. Pound pesto ingredients using a mortar and pestle, or blend in a food processor, adding enough oil to achieve desired consistency. If you want to be more traditional, use grated Asigao, Parmesan, Romano, or Dry Jack cheese instead of the oil; you could also add toasted walnuts. I just used the parsley au naturel because I wanted it to be the star for a change, to take a bow.

Whisk together oils, lemon juice and zest and seasonings, add parsley and toss, topped with parsley pesto.

*Yes, I know pesto usually has more oil. But remember, this is served on top of a salad with a dressing on it. If if will make you happy to use more oil, be my guest.

Next Time: Red, I said!

©2010, 2014 Laynie Tzena.

Remember That Steak?

My parents often claimed, after eating a certain steak, that it was good, yes--but not as good as that one steak. Remember that steak?

Ridiculous, I thought.

So, since we all become our parents, I do the same things now:

"I miss pizza with sauce. What do they have against sauce out here?"

"We don't have bagels. We have steamed dinner rolls with a hole in the center."

"Don't get me started about egg rolls." (To which a friend recently replied, "Yes, but we have potstickers." Which is a bit like saying, "Yes, Bobby started seeing Susie/moved to Outer Mongolia/became a Moonie. But look, there's always Sammy. What's wrong with him?")

I still remember the egg rolls at Aisin Goro in Boulder in 19-never mind. The restaurant served just two things: Enormous, wonderful egg rolls and jasmine tea. True, they went out of business--maybe people wanted oolong or lapsang souchong.

Your example here.

But really, life is as much about variation as theme, no? The magic is in the things you discover precisely because you can't create the exact replica of something you tasted.

Maybe. If you don't count Mrs. Craig's brownies.

Mary Craig hailed from Glasgow and, in addition to making Scotch Broth and teaching us the people were Scots and the whisky was Scotch, she made the greatest rum brownies on the face of the earth. I remember my mother asking her to use the flavoring instead of the real stuff, but that's about it. The recipe and everything else but the memory of how delicious they were is gone. I have tried a few times, but haven't found the flavor of hers among my little squares.

Once I told my friend Simone I'd had a great encounter with a guy, the kind where you talk about everything under the sun and leave feeling elated. But we never connected like that again, however much I tried.

"Ah," she said, "The search for the lost conversation."

So was it Mrs. Craig's stories that made the brownies better than anything since?

And what exactly was it about that steak?

©2010, 2012 Laynie Tzena.