omelets and ochlophobia

New Adventures!

2010-12-26T22:52:00.000-08:00

Hello!

I have started a new blog, The Salivating Seattleite, over at www.thesalivatingseattleite.blogspot.com

Please come check it out, that's where I'll be posting from now on. Hope to hear from you there. Cheers!

Broccoli

2010-02-07T16:53:00.000-08:00

Broccoli. I just ate an entire head of broccoli. For dinner. There was no meat, no potatoes, no roll, no butter, no milk, no salad, no sauce. I just steamed it for a couple minutes until it was bright green and just barely tender. I drizzled some olive oil over the top and dusted it with kosher salt and black pepper. It was delicious. The buttery stems and the nibbly ends, the smooth and herby oil, all with a slight peppery bite.

One might wonder how it is possible to enjoy broccoli this much, but to understand where I’m coming from, you would have to meet my dad. My dad and I are a lot alike; the artsy types who doodle, draw, cook and dream. He made dinner most nights when I was a kid and it was always interesting. Such meals as quiche Lorraine with spicy sausage, cottage cheese, and pumpkin seeds (from jack-o-lantern carving) will live in infamy in our house because they were horrible. If my dad didn’t have an ingredient he would use what was in the fridge instead, never questioning the possible flavor or function differences. Leftover night was common, as were stir fries, casseroles, stews, and quiches‒all excellent vehicles for fusing a multitude of flavors together.

That’s not to say that everything my dad cooked was bad or weird. In fact, he is an amazing cook. I think his nonchalant attitude and tendency to experiment are surely what have shaped his culinary skills. He could take on any grandma for flakiest pie crust, most addictive caramel corn, or chewiest brownies. He was always confident about his cooking, even when the rest of the family questioned the results. But it wasn’t just cooking that he made look easy; whether it was jumping off a cliff into Lake Powell or playing a concerto by Rachmaninoff, my dad seemed to do most things without pause or hesitation.

In addition to having mastered American classics, he could cook foreign cuisine as well. My mother’s family is of Russian heritage, so my dad learned how to make delicious piroshky, pilmeni, borscht, pashka, and kulich that made my Baba swoon. Self-taught from the Joy of Cooking, my dad would bang out roux-thickened sauces and vinaigrettes from scratch in minutes. I would sit on the bench by our stove and beg him to speak only in French while he slowly stirred cheese sauce or onion soup. This led me to evolve into a complete Francophile, pretending I was a beautiful Parisian girl staying with an American family temporarily. Some people say reading books is like taking a vacation, but for me that was dinner. Sometimes we had Chinese night and ate on our special green china, the meal complete with chopsticks and tea. We ate curry, pad Thai, moussaka, baklava, and enchiladas. Mole, chile rellenos, flan, and pasta Puttanesca.

I loved dinner time. Every single night my family ate together, and I found it so strange to hear my friends say they never ate dinner with their families. Interestingly, those same friends were the ones who didn’t like vegetables or trying new things. My brother and I were the unpicky kids, the ones who would try anything. Before the Food Network even existed, my dad made purple potatoes and quinoa for dinner, unheard of foods on most American dinner plates. It wasn’t our choice to be adventurous; it was just the way it was.

My dad claims the reason why he loves bold flavors so much is because of the fairly bland food he ate growing up. His family is of mostly Norwegian and Swedish descent, where simple meat and potato dishes dominate. While his palate may have diversified over time, some of his Scandinavian upbringing sticks with him today. He lives quite simply, a naturalist and a nature enthusiast with no desire for riches or fame. He has a fondness for sweets (hence the ever-present brownies), but also a philosophy of moderation and balance. His spiritual beliefs include a mix of love, karma, and God, and while he made these known, it was never in a preachy or self-righteous way. Dinners always commenced with grace, which was said in unison. It became almost a chant, which upset my mother who didn’t think we were taking it seriously. “God is good; God is great; now we thank him for our food. Aaaaaamen!”

There were some components of dinner that were always the same, no matter how exotic the entree. You always had to finish your glass of milk, salad, and cooked vegetable. That’s right; almost every single night we had a raw vegetable and a cooked vegetable, and you could not clear your plate until you had finished both. My dad’s cooked vegetable of choice? That’s right, broccoli. He would steam it, top it with a pat of butter or a drizzle of olive oil, and sprinkle it with salt and pepper. Sometimes he would add a squeeze of lemon juice, but this was pretty much how broccoli was always cooked.

I no longer drink a glass of milk with dinner, and sadly, I almost never have both a raw and a cooked vegetable in the same meal. However, the lessons my dad taught me about being confident, adventurous, yet kind and humble, and especially how to cook, have stuck with me. I still enjoy my broccoli the way I have for the past twenty some years; the same every time.

Steamed Broccoli

Ingredients:

1 head broccoli
1 tsp butter
¼ tsp salt
¼ tsp black pepper, ground

Directions:

1. Cut the stem from the florets. Cut up the florets into pieces. Peel the broccoli stem and slice into ¼ inch thick coins.
2. Bring an inch of water to a boil in a pan with a steamer over it. Add the broccoli and steam for about 3-5 minutes, until bright green and just tender.
3. Put the broccoli into a serving dish and lightly mix in the butter and salt. Serve hot.

The Tastiest Superfood

2010-02-07T16:51:00.000-08:00

There are very few things that can be described by all four of the following words: indulgent, decadent, healthy, and aphrodisiac. Luckily for me, one of those things is chocolate. Chocolate has been enjoyed by people around the world for thousands of years, and most people can agree that eating chocolate is one of life’s simplest pleasures (except for those extremely odd people who do not like chocolate).

I propose chocolate be given out as medicine, for I believe it could solve many ailments. Cranky-pants? Eat a bar of milk chocolate. Tired? A handful of chocolate chips will do. Need to lose/gain weight? I would prescribe a nutritionally balanced diet supplemented with a nightly dose of semisweet chocolate squares. Depressed? Eat some very strong, dark chocolate, preferably 85% cacao. I wonder what I would call myself, Emily Munday, CD, Doctor of Chocolate?

The term “chocoholic” seems a bit extreme, but I will admit to having chocoholic tendencies. Normal people might enjoy chocolate every once in a while, without feeling a need to eat chocolate all the time. As for myself, I see no reason why chocolate cannot be enjoyed daily. For breakfast, there are crepes with Nutella, chocolate chip pancakes, leftover chocolate cake or brownies, or even as my roommate does, a tiny bite of chocolate after she finishes her regular breakfast. She says that she must finish the meal with a good taste in her mouth, and for that reason, she nibbles on a little chocolate.

For lunch and snacks there are chocolate chip cookies, my dad’s cookie brittle (a very crunchy addictive version of chocolate chip cookies), chocolate pudding, candy bars, trail mix (with chocolate chips or M & M’s), chocolate covered pretzels or almonds, mochas, and hot chocolate. For dinner one could savor the Mexican delicacy, Mole, which is often flavored with onions, garlic, chiles, dried fruits and seeds, and a little Mexican chocolate.

The meal where chocolate is truly allowed to shine though is dessert. Chocolate cakes, mousses, tarts, pies, ice creams, fudge sauces and ganache…the possibilities are endless! And it doesn’t have to be chocolate by itself, because like any great friend, chocolate gets along with everybody. Whether its citrus fruits, berries, cherries, bananas, mangos, coconuts, caramel, red wine, rum, vanilla, ginger, mint, maple, coffee, nuts, chiles, or tea, chocolate enhances most any sweet flavor combination. Chocolate can be extremely complex and sophisticated or it can be simple and homey.

I think that chocolate should not be a privilege, it should be a right that all people are allowed to experience. I mean really, if everyone in the world was given a piece of chocolate at the same time, on the same day, maybe we could have world peace for just one minute. With silky chocolate melting on everyone’s tongue I don’t think people would want to fight wars or be hateful to each other. A little more chocolate in the world might just be the answer that we’ve been looking for.

Ok ok, so maybe I have taken this whole chocolate thing too far. Or maybe, I am just having a chocolate craving right now.

Chocolate Truffles

Truffles (those little chocolates named after the most expensive fungi in the world) are one of my favorite types of chocolate candies. A smooth ganache filling is dusted in bitter cocoa powder or rolled in chopped nuts or even coconut. They are so simple to make at home, and you will impress all your friends with your candy-making skills.

Makes 90 truffles

Ingredients:

3 bags semisweet chocolate chips (12oz each)
2 cups heavy cream
2 drops mint, almond, orange, vanilla, lavender, or rum extract (be creative!)
Pinch sea salt or Kosher salt
Cocoa powder, chopped nuts, or shredded coconut for dusting

Directions:

1. Place the chocolate chips in a large glass bowl.
2. Bring the heavy cream up to a simmer in a medium saucepan (do not let it boil or the bottom the pan will scorch).
3. Pour the hot cream over the chocolate and stir until all the chips are melted and the mixture is smooth.
4. Add the flavoring of choice and make sure it is evenly distributed. You may need to add more, but only add a drop at a time, as extracts are very strong. Add the salt as well.
5. Refrigerate the ganache for 3-4 hours or overnight, until it is firm and set.
6. Put the cocoa powder, nuts, or coconut in a shallow bowl or dish.
7. Scoop tablespoons of the ganache and roll into balls, working quickly to not melt the chocolate. Roll the truffles into the coating of your choice until completely cover. Place the finished truffles on a baking sheet and refrigerate again until firm.
8. Pack the truffles into pretty bags or tins to give as gifts or set out on a plate for dessert with coffee and fresh fruit.

Freezer Burn

2010-02-07T16:49:00.000-08:00

Ahhh the freezer. How I love thee. You keep all my food safe and cold until I want to devour it. Whether it’s salmon, chicken, or that ground turkey on sale, you wrap them tight in your tiny ice crystals. Spinach, coffee, and ripe bananas−to think, all these lovely foods would go bad before I could finish them, but not with a freezer! A pound of ginger? Not a problem. Organic French bread for $1? Put it in the freezer.

I am in awe that housewives 100 years ago made due without a freezer. It is the perfect solution for economical eating. What did people do with their entire pig or cow carcass? Well, there is smoking, pickling, canning, drying, fermenting, confit…I guess they figured it out. Now that I think about it, I’m really lazy. I don’t use many of the convenience products available today, like instant rice or frozen entrees, but I definitely don’t grow all my food, eat only in season, or cook everything from scratch. I do a little bit of cheating. No, scratch that, I utlize my resources effectively. That sounds much better.

A perfect freezer food are waffles. All they take is a little defrost in the microwave, a crisping of the toaster, and a drizzle of something sweet. Or better yet, waffle PB & J’s; now that’s a breakfast that will keep you going. However, I have never uttered the words “leggo my eggo”, because those cardboard-like, fake yellow crisps just don’t do it for me. I like something a little more substantial, with flavor and texture. Nothing beats whole wheat waffles made from scratch; crispy golden brown edges, a fluffy steaming interior, and pockets for syrup to drip into.

Not only can one keep homemade waffles in the freezer for a couple months, but the whole wheat flour used in them should be kept in the freezer as well to keep it from going rancid. Syrup can be a little predictable, but a delightfully easy sauce can be made from pureed frozen berries. Or for an easy an delicious dinner one could defrost some of their frozen Bolognese sauce to top their waffles along with a fried egg and some grated Parmesan cheese.

Preserved food is an art. And I commend those people that figured out how to make pig bladder, spleen, and intestines tasty for months after slaughter. I enjoy beef jerky and kimchee as much as the next epicurean, but sometimes I just want dinner now. And for that reason (among many others) I love my freezer.

Freezer Lovin’ Whole Wheat Waffles

Ingredients:

¾ cup all purpose flour
¾ cup whole wheat flour
1 ½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
2 ea large eggs
1 cup lowfat buttermilk OR 1 scant cup skim milk with 1 tbsp apple cider vinegar
¾ cup skim milk
1 tbsp brown sugar
½ tsp vanilla extract
nonstick cooking spray
Butter, syrup, fruit sauce, peanut butter, jelly, honey, or powdered sugar to serve.

Directions:

1. Preheat the waffle iron.
2. Whisk together the flours, baking powder, baking soda, and salt until thoroughly combined.
3. In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs, buttermilk (or substitute), skim milk, brown sugar, and vanilla until thoroughly combined.
4. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and fold together with a wooden spoon. The mixture should be lumpy, but there should not be any dry ingredients clumped on the bottom of the bowl.
5. Spray the waffle iron liberally with the nonstick cooking spray once it is ready. Use a measuring cup to ladle in about ¼ cup of the batter per waffle. Close the waffle iron and cook until golden brown and crispy, about 2 minutes. Keep the waffles warm in a 200° oven if you plan on serving all of them, or let them cool to room temperature if you plan on freezing them.
6. Put cooled waffles to be frozen in a heavy duty zip lock bag and seal squeezing any excess air out of the bag. Can be frozen up to two months.
7. To defrost waffles, pull out desired number and place on a microwaveable plate. Microwave for 30 seconds, until no longer frozen but not hot. Transfer to the toaster for a minute or two to get hot and crisp.
Makes about 10 large waffles

Sack Lunch

2010-02-07T16:46:00.000-08:00

Every single day in elementary school I brought a lunch that contained a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple, some carrot sticks, and two cookies. Every now and then I had a bean burrito and rarely a bologna sandwich (with ketchup and mustard−like a hot dog), but I wasn’t a fan of meat sandwiches though, so most often I would get a peanut butter sandwich on whole wheat bread with Adam’s Natural Peanut Butter and Danish Orchards Raspberry Spread. Other kids had fruit roll ups, gummy worms, and Lunchables (which we were allowed to have very rarely). Most of the time it didn’t bother me that my lunch didn’t include the newest junk food, but there were times when I lusted over someone’s rice krispie treat or cheese crackers.

I always brought my lunch in a lunch box, which was selected at the beginning of each year along with a new backpack. The choosing of the lunch box was a way of expressing yourself (and the newest Disney movie). In kindergarten, my mom taped a picture of herself to the inside of my lunchbox because I would miss her so much at lunch time that I would cry. Second and third grade’s lunch boxes were like status symbols, with the Cadillac of lunch boxes having glitter, shiny plastic, and cool zippered compartments.

The summer before sixth grade I got the grand idea that I was going to decorate my new lunch bag in a multicolored swirl design of puffy paint; everyone would be so jealous of my creativity! Well, apparently, the lunchbox trend did not make the transition from elementary school to middle school, and on the first day of school I was horrified to find out that no one else had a lunchbox. People had paper bags or they bought a Cup O’ Noodles from the lunch counter. I begged my parents to buy the paper bags, but they thought it was silly to throw a paper bag away everyday instead of just reusing a lunch box. So I suffered through the agony of toting my horrendous lunch bag for another year.

By eighth grade I had convinced my parents that I was responsible enough to pack my own lunch. Most of the time though, I would beg my friends to lend me a dollar to buy something at school, like some of the deliciously gooey chocolate chip cookies made fresh daily. The all natural peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were long gone and a Styrofoam cup of dehydrated carrots, corn, parsley, and fried noodles in a bright yellow broth took its place. Cup O’ Noodles in particular was so popular that they always had a giant hot water dispenser next to the lunch counter for kids to rehydrate their soups with.

Instead of trading “good” foods with each other or laughing at the kid who could squirt milk out his nose, lunchtimes consisted of gossipy girl talk, boys asking girls “out”, and deciding which cliquey formation to sit with that week. Lunch time was no longer about eating, but more about socializing, and more specifically, who to not socialize with. Any outsider would have needed a detailed map to figure out which tables (or sections of tables) belonged to whom.

In high school, the cliques continued to determine where you ate lunch, but there was another deciding factor: your race. This wasn’t an official ruling (obviously) but one that happened because of socioeconomic status. If you were white, chances are good your parents would give you lunch money to eat off campus. If they didn’t, or you were on free or reduced lunch, you ate in the cafeteria. Sadly, the line could not have been drawn any clearer. None of the popular kids ate in the cafeteria, and most had probably never set foot in it. In the four years that I attended Roosevelt, I never ate one meal in the cafeteria.

Because of the open lunch policy, between 11:15 and 12:45 p.m., the surrounding neighborhood was flooded with flocks of teenagers traveling to and from their lunch destinations. There was the tiny teriyaki shack (which has since closed due to health code violations), Taco Del Mar (a local Baja-style burrito chain), QFC (a grocery store), Whole Foods, and Jamba Juice. In order to eat off campus, you had to scrounge up some money, and since my parents didn’t believe in giving me lunch money every day, I would often get one of the $0.33 bagels at Whole Foods, or mooch a chicken tender off someone.

Sometimes I didn’t eat lunch at all. I said “I wasn’t hungry” because I was too ashamed to bring a lunch from home and didn’t want to keep asking people for food. Freshman year of high school I grew 2 inches and lost thirty pounds. People that I knew in middle school introduced themselves to me because they did not recognize me. Of course, some of this was due to puberty, but not eating lunch (and sometimes not breakfast) played a huge part in that I’m sure. I was extremely insecure, and even though I was not overweight, I had a mental image of myself that was clearly distorted.

I had grown up loving cooking and eating, and to suddenly convince myself I didn’t want to eat was easier than it should have been. There were so many rules about when, where, what, and who to eat with that lunch time became the most stressful part of the entire day. When I was in class, I was assigned a seat. At lunch, it was up to me to find people that would accept me into their group. A few lunch periods I wanted to just hide in the bathroom, just to not have to deal with it. That’s not to say that every lunch was dreadful, in fact, I often had fun and seemed to fit in with the “popular kids” for the most part.

My senior year I finally had an opening in my schedule to take an elective. It was between culinary arts, pottery, and gym class, and I didn’t hesitate to pick culinary arts. When I was little I had taped my own cooking shows and had pretended I was a famous chef, so taking a cooking class instead of a gym class was an exciting offer. While in that class, it became clear to me that I was different. I cared about the way my food looked and tasted, and knew more about cooking than anyone else. It dawned on me that maybe I should follow my rekindled passion and look at a career as a chef. By the spring I had made up my mind; I didn’t want to just go to college and get a degree, I wanted to pick a field that I could do what I loved every day. I applied to Johnson & Wales University, the Culinary Institute of America, and the University of Washington (to please my parents). In the end, I chose to attend Johnson & Wales University in Denver, Colorado, and haven’t looked back since.

Food became my life. I earned a culinary degree and worked in a variety of foodservice establishments including a bar and grill, a catering company, a sandwich shop, and a fine dining restaurant in a boutique hotel. I loved reading about cooking, watching other people cook, and experimenting in the kitchen. I would spend hours poring over beautiful cookbooks in the library and dreaming of dishes to serve in my future restaurant.

I had gone from trying to be the person other people thought I should be to being the person I actually was. All of a sudden I was getting straight A’s, whereas in high school I had done just ok. I was away from my comfort zone and was allowed to make decisions on my own, without the influence of my parents or peers.

One of those decisions was to pursue a Bachelor’s degree in nutrition. I had realized that I didn’t want to succeed in life by myself; I wanted the success of others to determine my success. I wanted to show people the power that food has over every aspect of their life; that their mental, physical, and emotional well-being are all influenced by the foods they choose to eat. I also wanted to dispel the myth that healthy food tastes like cardboard. So, I started teaching Operation Frontline classes (six week food and nutrition cooking courses that are targeted at low income families) and got involved with Nutrition Society (a campus organization whose purpose is to spread the word about nutrition to the community). Everyone loves to eat good food, and to be able to offer food to people that tastes good and makes them healthier is one of the most rewarding things I can think of.

So just how important is a sack lunch? Its one thing to be able to eat lunch and even a privilege to decide not to eat lunch, but it’s a whole different issue when someone does not have the means to eat at all. There are millions of people in this country that can’t afford to eat a Chipotle burrito or even to pack a lunch from home. For whatever reason (and there are many) there are people that live in the most bountiful, powerful country in the world that didn’t eat lunch today. Or dinner. Or breakfast. Worst of all, they probably didn’t have any food to feed their children either.

When asked to organize a Nutrition Society service project in December, I decided that I didn’t want to sort food at the food bank or host a canned goods drive. I wanted to give sack lunches directly to people that really needed it. With the economy taking a hit the last couple years, the number of beggars on Denver’s street corners has grown tremendously. So with a hundred dollars I went to the grocery store and bought enough loaves of whole wheat bread, natural peanut butter, jelly, vegetables, fruit, and pretzels to make eighty sack lunches. I invited Nutrition Society members to help make the lunches one Saturday morning and within an hour we had managed to make 96 lunches. I am proud to say that these lunches didn’t contain preservatives, corn syrup, or saturated fat. They were nutritionally balanced, hearty, and cost only a little more than $1 each.

We got into a couple cars and headed out to distribute our goods. Once my car got downtown, we saw our first “victim” on Speer Boulevard. Bobby, one of the members of our group, jumped out of the car and sprinted to an older man sitting on the corner near the Convention Center. Before giving the man the sack, Bobby explained who he was and shook the man’s hand. He handed him the lunch and sprinted back to the car just as the light was turning green. The homeless man grinned a toothless smile and waved to us, shouting his thanks. For the next hour and a half we drove around downtown Denver, ambushing people with free food and thumbs ups. Not one person turned us down, and all were grateful for the lunches.

That day was one of the highlights of my college experience, one that I will never forget. The feeling of giving someone a wholesome meal at a time of day when most soup kitchens aren’t open and their last meal was hours ago is something like none other. I hope to always be someone who spread the word about healing eating, and an advocate for those who don’t have food to eat at all. The saying “all I really needed to know I learned in kindergarten” is so true, and the importance of a sack lunch is definitely part of that.

Simple Sack Lunch

Cutting and bagging your own vegetables and pretzels saves a lot of money and doesn’t take too much time. This recipe makes one lunch, but making lunches for the whole week saves time.

Ingredients:

2 slices whole wheat bread
1 tbsp natural peanut butter (look at the label for ones without hydrogenated oils,
sugar, or corn syrup)
1 tbsp jam (again, avoid corn syrup)
1 each carrot, whole
1 rib celery
1 cup pretzels
1 each apple

Directions:

1. Spread one piece of the bread with the peanut butter and the other piece with the jam. Sandwich the slices together, and cut down the center on a diagonal to make two triangles. Place the sandwich in a bag.
2. Wash the carrot and the celery. Peel the carrot and cut both the carrot and the celery into sticks. Place the vegetables in a bag.
3. Put the pretzels in a bag.
4. Wash and dry the apple.
5. Put everything in a paper, plastic, or reusable lunch box to enjoy at lunchtime.

Share Our Strength: Conference of Leaders

2009-11-13T08:13:00.000-08:00

On a bright November morning in Washington D.C.’s Common Good City Farm, I walked through the fields with glee. Spicy mint, petite carrots, green tomatoes, and pumpkins, oh my! As I was put to work clipping bright greens with a pair of garden shears, I thought of the satisfying taste of Southern-style collard greens with smoky ham hock or tender Swiss chard sautéed with pine nuts and raisins. I’ve always been fortunate enough to have access to fresh fruits and vegetables, but as I found out that sunny day in the garden, many people are not. Common Good City Farm is an urban farm and education center growing food for low-income residents in Washington, DC and providing educational opportunities for all people that help increase food security, improved health, and environmental sustainability. As the farm’s co-founder, Liz Falk spoke about their mission, I began to realize the importance and implications of access to fresh produce and nutrition education.

That morning wasn’t the first time I had thought about significant role that nutrition plays in our communities’ health. I am a volunteer and advisory board member for the non-profit organization Operation Frontline, whose mission is to teach those with limited resources to make healthy food choices. Operation Frontline is a program of Share Our Strength, whose mission is to end childhood hunger through nutrition education and increased access to food resources by 2015. Annually, Share Our Strength holds its’ Conference of Leaders to bring together hunger advocates, government representatives, volunteers, and industry sponsors to discuss efforts across the nation to end childhood hunger. I was lucky enough to be chosen through an essay contest to attend the conference in Washington D.C., this past November 6-9.

Working in the farm to pick vegetables was one of the more hands-on ways I learned about hunger issues that weekend, but I heard from many people who are working on the frontlines to end hunger everyday. I listened to professionals speak on a variety of topics including changing the way kids eat at schools, how to increase access to produce through urban farming, the hunger-obesity paradox, and many more. I met low income moms struggling to feed their children and stay off the streets. I heard elementary school teachers narrate stories of students who couldn’t focus long enough to learn anything because of their growling tummies.

I was appalled to find out that there is more than enough food produced in this country to feed everyone living in it, and the fact that children go hungry is completely unnecessary. Over 12 million kids, that’s one 1 in 6, is at risk of going hungry. Nutrient deficiencies sustained during childhood have severe health consequences. In the short term, they can result in weaker immune systems, aggressive behavior, and impaired academic performance. In the long term, they can result in cognitive delays, heart disease, and diabetes. The success of whole communities is at stake when the nutrition of their children is compromised.

Coming home from such a powerful experience was difficult. It’s hard to sit still, knowing there is so much work to be done. I was overwhelmed with emotion, anger, and excitement, knowing I had to be a part of a solution so desperately needed. However, my passion for community work and nutrition education has been reignited and I feel ready to get my hands dirty.

Ode to the Omelet

2009-06-14T18:09:00.000-07:00

Omelets are a special food. I am hard-pressed to think of another dish made of so few ingredients that is as complex and delicious as the omelet. A perfect one is moist and creamy on the inside, tasting purely of butter and eggs. Firm and smooth on the outside, an even hue of sunny yellow, and should be able to stand alone, with only a grind of black pepper to freckle it. It should also be able to stand up to other embellishments, like roasted asparagus, fines herbs, or melty cheese. A chef can assess a cooks' skill based on his ability to cook an omelet. Can't say that about a frittata, can you?

Omelets can be dolled up with caviar and Mimosas, or dressed down with cheddar and buttered toast. Like the little black dress, they are timeless and great for every occasion. Before you start to think I am a lobbyist for the Egg Farmers of America, I will point out that you could cook an egg ten other ways and it still wouldn’t have the same mystique of an omelet.

Although a perfect omelet is easy to imagine, to actually encounter one is a fanciful idea.
In my opinion, there is an omelet identity crisis breaking out across the nation. The omelet has turned into a pizza-like device, serving solely to showcase superfluous toppings. Only so much sausage, mushrooms, peppers, pesto, avocado, bacon, and cheese can cover up the truth: a good omelet takes skill to make. And if you are only ordering omelets in restaurants, how are you ever going to clock enough omelet hours to make one at home with ease? You have to get to know your range, where the hot and cool spots are. You have to season your pan, never washing it. You have to feel confident enough to swirl the eggs around the pan with grace, and the sense to know when to let the omelet cook without any further prodding.

Now, before you back away in fear never to touch an omelet pan again, hear me out. Omelets aren’t hard to make, they just take practice. Lots of it. So why not start now, and throw a dinner party where the omelet is the star of the show? Eggs are inexpensive, so you can afford to make a lot of practice omelets before anyone even arrives! Set out some other nibbles for people as they wait their turn for an omelet, and find a guest to pour the Mimosas. Your friends will ooh and aah as they watch their dinner be prepared right in front of them and you will never have so much fun at your own dinner party.

Le Menu

Serves 8
Pomegranate Mimosas
Roquefort Gougères
Fig Marmalade and Brie Toasts
Omelets
Fines Herbes Salad
Lemon Pine Nut Cookies

Pomegranate Mimosas
A refreshingly tart twist on the classic Mimosa, this bubbly drink pairs well with Gougères.
Makes 8
Ingredients:
2 cups pomegranate juice
1 cup orange juice
½ cup orange flavored liquor (such as Cointreau)
1 750 ml bottle demi-sec Champagne or sparkling wine
1 pomegranate, seeds only

1. Combine the juices and liquor and chill.
2. To serve, slowly add the wine to the juices and stir. Pour into champagne flutes and float a few pomegranate seeds on top for garnish.

Roquefort Gougères
These little cheese puffs are so addictive, you might want to double the recipe!
Makes 24
Ingredients:
1 cup water 4 large eggs
¼ cup unsalted butter 4 oz Roquefort cheese, crumbled
½ tsp salt cracked black pepper
1 cup all purpose flour

1. Preheat the oven to 400° F and line two baking sheets with parchment paper or silicon baking mats.
2. Bring the water, butter, and salt to a boil in a sauce pan. Add the flour all at once, stirring vigorously. Cook the mixture until it forms a ball, pulling away from the sides of the pan.
3. Transfer the dough to an electric mixer and cool for 10 minutes.
4. Beat the eggs in one at a time, fully incorporating after each addition. Fold in the cheese and pepper, and put the mixture in a piping bag or plastic zip lock bag.
5. Cut the tip of a corner of the plastic bag (if using) and pipe tablespoon sized mounds spaced three inches apart onto the baking sheet. Use a wet fingertip to lightly press down peaks in the dough. You can freeze the dough at this point, placing the Gougères in a plastic bag once frozen.
6. Bake the Gougères 20-30 minutes (depending on your oven) rotating the pans halfway through. If your dough was frozen, don’t thaw them, just bake as is. Serve warm or room temperature.

Fig Marmalade and Brie Toasts
These toasts are a perfect combination of gooey cheese, crunchy toast, and sweet figs.
Serves 8
Ingredients:
1 cup sugar 1 cups dried figs, chopped
1 cup water 1 thin baguette
2 tbsp lemon juice 1 wheel (7-8 oz) ripe Brie cheese
1. Bring the sugar and water to a boil in a sauce pan. Add the lemon juice and chopped figs and simmer 30-40 minutes, until thick and syrupy. Cool and refrigerate until needed.
2. Preheat the oven to 400°F. Slice the baguette on a bias into thin rounds. Lay out on a cooking sheet and toast until light golden brown. The toasts can be saved in an airtight container for a few hours before serving.
3. To serve, slice the Brie cheese thinly, and divide the slices among the toasts. Bake until the cheese has melted. Top each toast with a bit of the fig marmalade, and serve immediately.

The Omelet
Ask each guest to choose their two favorite fillings, more and the omelet gets lost.
Serves one
Ingredients:
2 large eggs Fillings such as: smoked salmon, proscuitto,
pinch salt goat cheese, crème fraîche, cheddar, sautéed
1 teaspoon unsalted butter mushrooms, roasted asparagus, torn basil

1. Beat the eggs in a small bowl with the salt until thoroughly combined.
2. Heat a nonstick 8 inch skillet over medium high heat, and add the butter. When the butter is melted, pour in the eggs. Wait a moment, and the begin rapidly swirling the pan and using a rubber spatula to break up the egg clumps until the mixture is slightly thickened. Then use the spatula to lift up the cooked egg so the uncooked egg runs to the edges. The omelet should still be glistening on top, but not runny, about 15 seconds longer. This is when you would sprinkle about a tablespoon of each filling onto the center third of the omelet (less is more here).
3. Turn off the heat and run a spatula around the outside of the omelet to loosen it and clean up the edges. Using the spatula, fold the third nearest you to the center. Then jerk the pan so the omelet moves to the far edge of the pan (away from you), and you can slip it onto a plate, folding it over itself into a neat bundle. Serve immediately.

Fines Herbes Salad
This beautiful green salad is flavored with a classic vinaigrette and fines herbes, the very French mix of chervil, chives, parsley, and tarragon.
Serves 8
Ingredients:
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard 4 tbsp chervil, leaves only
¼ cup red wine vinegar 4 tbsp chives, cut into 1 inch lengths
1 pinch each sugar and salt 4 tbsp flat leaf parsley, leaves only
cracked black pepper 4 tbsp tarragon, leaves only
¾ cup extra virgin olive oil 15 cups washed lettuce greens.

1. Add the mustard, vinegar, sugar, salt, pepper, and olive oil to a jar with a screw top lid. Shake vigorously until the dressing is emulsified, then taste the dressing on a piece of lettuce. Season accordingly.
2. Right before serving, shake the dressing in the bottle to re-emulsify, then drizzle over the greens and herbs. Toss lightly to combine and serve immediately.

Lemon Pine Nut Cookies
These delicate cookies are a perfect ending to this elegant meal.
Makes 30 cookies
Ingredients:
¼ cup fresh lemon juice ½ tsp salt
zest from 3 lemons 1 ½ cups sugar
8 oz unsalted butter 1 large egg
2 cups all purpose flour 2 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp baking powder ½ cup toasted pine nuts

1. Preheat the oven to 375° F. Melt 4 oz (one stick) of the butter in a sauce pan and cook until the butter solids begin to brown and become fragrant. Add the lemon juice and zest immediately to stop the cooking (you don’t want to burn the butter).
2. Whisk the flour, baking powder, and salt together in a bowl.
3. Cream the remaining 4 oz (one stick) butter with the one cup of the sugar until light in color and fluffy. Add the egg, vanilla, and lemon butter. Once thoroughly combined, add the flour mixture and pine nuts.
4. Roll tablespoons of the dough into balls, and dip in the remaining sugar to coat. Place the balls 2 inches apart on greased cookie sheets. Use a glass bottom to flatten the cookies to ¼ inch thickness.
5. Bake 10-12 minutes, then cool on a wire rack. The cookies can be stored up to a week in an airtight container.

Eating like a Locavore: Colorado Style

2009-06-14T18:06:00.000-07:00

Colorado is known for its hippies, tree huggers, and granola muffins. Eating off the land and sustainability practices are commonplace in many Colorado cities, and have been for some time. The local food movement though, is relatively new. The term locavore was coined by Jessica Prentice in 2005, in honor of Earth Day, and it was the New Oxford American Dictionary word of the year 2007. It describes someone who eats food harvested within an area with a 100 mile radius.

What you say? No French Bordeaux? No Italian Parmigiano Reggiano? True, on a locavore diet one cannot indulge in foreign delicacies. But that is not a problem once you start finding the amazing foods produced nearby. Colorado in particular is home to some of the best produce in the country and is world-famous for lamb and buffalo. Artisan cheeses, wine, beer, and bread can all be found within the state borders. So, just because you won't be eating pineapples, coconuts, or chocolate doesn’t mean you won't be eating well.

Because of the abundance of sunny days and definite seasons, Colorado grows amazing melons, peaches, corn, grapes, berries, squash, chilies, and apples. The best time to buy these foods is in the spring, summer, and fall. Don’t despair, winter is a good time to seek out some tasty, locally crafted jams, spreads, canned, and frozen items. And, assuming you are a bit of a culinarian, you can preserve the bounty of summer yourself! Learn a trick or two from grandma, and pickle some vegetables or stew some berries for those snowy winter days.

It is hard not to start salivating once you learn about Colorado’s bounty. One of the state's most famous fruits is the peach, particularly peaches grown in Palisade. Palisade peaches are known to be some of the best in the country–juicy, fragrant, and ripe. There are over 300 local growers in the town, but peaches aren’t the only specialty of Palisade. Cherries, apricots, and grapes are also grown there, with nearly a dozen wineries. Cantaloupe and watermelon from Rocky Ford, in southeast Colorado, are renowned for their natural sweetness. The melons are available in August and September, and there are even Watermelon Days during August in Rocky Ford.

But don’t think you are resigned to drinking fruit smoothies on a Colorado locavore diet; New Belgium Brewing Company of Fort Collins not only makes fantastic beer, but they are leaders in the green movement. They are the largest consumer of wind-powered electricity, and even turn their waste water into high protein fish food.

Farmers markets are one of the simplest ways to buy locally. Not only does the produce bought at a farmers market tastes better than chain supermarket products, but more often than not, it is cheaper! Even easier than looking for a farmers market (which are everywhere throughout the city of Denver), is subscribing to Door to Door Organics, a company that delivers fresh, organic produce right to your door. The selection changes week to week according to availability, ensuring the best tasting seasonal produce possible. Supporting local farms strengthens the economy, which, as you may know, is more important now than ever. Additionally, creating high demand also allows more local products become available.

The reasons to support local businesses and agriculture go on and on, but listen to your taste buds too! There are sunflower seeds from the northeast, apples from the Front Range, chilies from Pueblo, and buffalo from Colorado Springs. Eating locavore style in Colorado isn’t difficult, it just takes a little research and planning. Start your own locavore movement by perusing some of the websites listed below and trying the easy recipe for Grilled Rack of Lamb with Peach Chutney.

Grilled Rack of Lamb with Peach Chutney
Two classic Colorado ingredients, lamb and peaches, combine in this recipe. Perfect for impressing a foodie friend or mother-in-law.
Serves 8
For the chutney:
½ cup apple cider vinegar
½ cup honey
1 large bell pepper, diced
1 yellow onion, diced
1 jalapeño pepper, minced
½ cup raisins
1 tablespoon garlic, minced
1 tablespoon ginger, minced
1 tsp salt
1 ½ pounds Palisade peaches, skinned, pitted, and diced

1. Combine all ingredients, except for the peaches, in a non-reactive pot. Simmer for 10 minutes.
2. Add the peaches and simmer 15 minutes, until desired consistency. Taste for seasoning.
3. Allow to cool, then refrigerate. Can be stored for up to one week.

For the lamb:
2 racks of lamb, 8 bones each
2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper

1. Light the grill. Rub the lamb with olive oil, and coat liberally with salt and pepper.
2. Grill the lamb over low heat for about 40 minutes. The lamb is done when an instant read thermometer registers 125° for rare, 135° for medium rare, 145° for medium, and 160° for well done.
3. Cover with foil and let the meat rest for 15 minutes. Slice in between the bones for chops, and serve with the peach chutney.

Cool websites to check out:

The people that started it all:
www.locavores.com
www.eatlocalchallenge.com

For a list of Colorado’s best food towns:
http://www.colorado.com/Articles.aspx?aid=42194

To get organic Colorado produce delivered right to your door:
www.colorado.doortodoororganics.com

For a list of microbreweries in Colorado and other states:
www.beer100.com/brewpubs_a_to_k/colorado.htm

For the history of New Belgium Brewing Company and tips to go green:
www.newbelgium.com

Chef Profile: Andy Nowak

2009-06-14T18:04:00.000-07:00

Most aspiring chefs dream of opening of fabulous restaurant, or working under great culinary masters. The story usually starts with the same beginning: going to college and washing dishes to make some money, then realizing cooking is their passion and ditching school to fulfill their destiny. Sadly, for most young chefs, these dreams don’t often come true. Most become jaded line cooks or leave the profession completely.

When cooking professionally didn’t work out the way he had pictured it, Andy Nowak didn’t give up. Instead of leaving food behind completely, he left the kitchen. Andy is the chairman for the nonprofit organization Operation Frontline, whose mission is to end childhood hunger by teaching nutritious cooking classes to low income families. The goal is to teach good shopping, cooking, and eating habits to parents and kids, starting lifelong routines.

Food doesn’t grow in grocery stores though, so Andy’s second passion is teaching gardening practices to kids as well. He is a key member of the Denver Slow Food t Chapter, which has started gardens at 27 Denver area schools. From planting seeds and learning how plants grow, to harvest and cooking, Andy makes sure kids understand the whole process.

Andy Nowak doesn’t have a degree in elementary education, or even a completed culinary arts degree. In fact, his story begins with that familiar beginning, dishwashing. Born and raised in Iowa City, Iowa, Andy began working as a dishwasher at a local country club one summer. Within three weeks he had moved up to salads, and eventually worked his way through all the stations. In college, he simultaneously earned a PhD in Psychology and worked as a waiter in a Chinese restaurant. After graduation, he moved to Pittsburgh with his wife and interviewed at 19 universities for a teaching job. No one was hiring.

So at age 32, Andy decided to make a bold move and enrolled in culinary school–the International Culinary Academy. The curriculum was geared towards hotel kitchens though (not Andy’s cup of tea), so he dropped out. He didn’t have as much trouble finding work this time around though, and apprenticed at three fine dining restaurants and a Jewish bakery. Andy then moved back to Iowa City for a couple of years and was a successful personal chef for 15 families.

When it came time to move again, this time to Denver, Andy decided to go back to the kitchen, working for someone else. While working at Strings, owner Noel Cunningham introduced Andy to Operation Frontline, a small organization teaching only 20 nutrition classes a year. A perfect outlet to utilize his passions for cooking and his talent for teaching, Andy became a chef educator. The Strings gig didn’t last long, but Operation Frontline did. He has taught 15 of the six week courses in the past seven years, an astonishing feat.

Meanwhile, Andy got involved as a teacher’s aide at his daughters’ school. He spearheaded a vegetable garden project, planting salad greens and peas. It was a success! The teachers and students loved the hands-on learning, as well as getting to eat, literally, the fruits of their labor. Shortly after that, Andy read an article in the Denver Post about Slow Food, a nonprofit organization whose mission is to protect the heritage of food, tradition, and culture in an eco-friendly way. This philosophy was directly in line with Andy’s, so he contacted the organization and the garden he had started soon became the 4th addition to the Slow Food recognized projects.

A chef at heart, Andy decided that understanding where food comes from wasn’t enough, cooking had to be involved somehow. One of his early endeavors was a three day beef stew making project, modeled after a Box Car Children story. One year, an especially ambitious project was a three sisters garden (an ancient gardening technique planting corn, squash, and beans together). The garden was planted in the spring with 4th graders and harvested in the fall with the same group, now 5th graders. The project culminated in a huge Native American style feast, including wild rice pancakes and donated bison, in addition to the three sisters’ bounty.

A roadblock came up a few years ago when Denver Public Schools Risk Management decided to outlaw cooking in schools. Apparently, there had been a fire code violation when a teacher fried donuts on her paper-covered desk. Andy wasn’t discouraged, and worked with the fire department to become one of the only sanctioned organizations to cook in the schools. Modifications included fire safety training, and induction-cooking tops for demonstrations allowed only in the cafeteria.

Parents and teachers support the Slow Food education, because of its emphasis on science (planting the seedlings and watching them grow), physical activity (maintaining the gardens), and even business, as some of the schools hold a farmer’s market in the fall. Other topics of discussion include seasonality, local agriculture, and organic versus conventional produce.

What’s next on the agenda for Andy Nowak? Changing the DPS school lunch program. He realized that kids were receiving information about healthy fruits and vegetables and scratch cooking, but were being served garbage for lunch. After research and meetings with the school district, it was revealed that the food cost budget for each child was $1.00, and over half of these students were low income and on the free or reduced lunch program. None of the food served to students is cooked on site, as the kitchens just aren’t equipped to accommodate scratch cooking.

Once again, Andy did not let an obstacle get in his way, and fought for change. After many meetings and grant applications, the Denver Public School has been awarded a $50,000 grant to use over the next 18 months. Looking at food procurement and how to utilize the buying power of 70,000 students are some of the key goals in the next year. A focus on vegetables, fruits, beef, bison, chicken, and whole grains from local sources will start to move the school lunch program in the right direction. Andy knows this grant money will run out, and is not a quick fix, but an opportunity to implement change.

Andy has successfully chosen his own destiny. He knows what his passions are, where his talents are best utilized, and most importantly, never gives up. When he sees a hurdle in his pathway, instead of backing down, he charges ahead full speed.

If you are interested in Slow Food, please visit www.slowfood.com. If you would like more information or to get involved with Operation Frontline, please visit www.shareourstrength.org.

Zuni Cafe

2009-06-14T18:01:00.000-07:00

Just like people, restaurants can become confused and sometimes they try to be something they are not. San Francisco’s Zuni Café on the other hand, is not only confused, it shows signs of multiple personalities. Regardless of the identity crisis, the restaurant has been a Bay Area classic for over thirty years. Reservations are hard to come by, and supposedly with good reason. Succulent roast chicken and feather light ricotta gnocchi have made Zuni legendary, and I couldn’t wait to try some.

Cloaked in sunny yellow awnings, the restaurant is housed in a slender triangular building. Some might say the surrounding pawn shops and hustlers add character, although none is needed. You see, inside the Zuni Cafe awaits a whole crew of snotty, in vogue characters, almost as daunting as the drug dealers outside.

When I attempted to notify the host of my arrival, he glared at me as if I was a 14 year old trying to buy beer with a stolen credit card and fake ID. Eventually, he led me and my party to an awkward table in the center of a busy walkway.

The petite lunch menu was strewn with trendy items like house-cured anchovies, Meyer lemon relish, and garlic chapons. The menu also changes daily and proudly states that "Nearly all of the meat, fish, poultry, and produce we serve at Zuni Café is grown or harvested in a sustainable way." I was looking forward to the famed ricotta gnocchi, but perhaps ricotta was not in season, as they were not on the menu.

I was tempted to ask the bartender if I my Kumquat Caipirinha ($10.75) and Fresh Lime Margarita ($10.25) came with free refills and a souvenir glass, because the cocktails alone weren’t worth even five bucks.

I had hope for the orrecchiette with turnip greens, pancetta, and aged Tuscan pecorino ($14.50). Yet upon first bite, I found the little pasta ears to be unpalatably al dente and quite boring. The best part about the hamburger ($15.00) was the garnish: sweet pink onion and spicy zucchini pickles, needed to cut through the fattiness of the meat.

The dessert offerings were just as limited as the lunch menu and unfortunately, just as inconsistent in quality. The whipped cream and fancy French name slapped on the Gateau Victoire ($7.50) did nothing to salvage the dry chocolate cake. The "Piccola meringata" ($9.75) on the other hand was quite elaborate: lime cream sandwiched between thin meringue disks and garnished with pixie tangerine slices and pistachios made for a dessert as lofty as our server.

By the end of the meal it had become clear that there are two sides to Zuni Café. Modest décor, simple food, and cherished history clash with outrageous prices and staff that are convinced they deserve to be waited upon. Maybe you find this type of show exciting, but personally, I would rather see it for free down at Fisherman’s Wharf.

Zuni Café
California Cuisine│1658 Market Street, San Francisco, California, 415-552-2522│$6-$48│Tuesday-Thursday, 11:30 am – 11pm, Friday-Saturday, 11:30 am – midnight, Sunday 11 am – 11 pm. All major credit cards accepted.

Front Burner: Eat trendy food from local farms and people watch all from your table.
Back Burner: Servers act as if running food at Zuni and walking the runway in Milan are equivalent. Don’t forget your wallet! Bring big bills to cover your meal and quarters put in the parking meter.

Zeni Ethiopian Restaurant

2009-06-14T17:59:00.000-07:00

It’s a miserable April evening in Denver: my nose is dripping and my stomach is making gurgling noises as loud as a four year olds’ temper tantrum. I’m yearning for something that will tame my hunger and excite my senses at the same time. Something exotic, yet comforting and familiar. What will it be….steaming pho with torn basil, pungent fish sauce, and crunchy sprouts? No. Homemade tortillas mounded with slow simmered carnitas and pickled red onions? No. Who am I kidding, I know exactly what I want: dark spicy sauce flavored with chiles, ginger, garlic cooked into meat and vegetables so long they melt on my tongue. Sour Injera bread, still warm from the griddle to sop up the sauce. Maybe a sip of Tej, the sweet honey wine, to wash it all down.

The last time I dined at Zeni’s was a few weeks ago, but I can still smell the spices and feel the spongy Injera bread. Zeni Ethiopian Restaurant is sandwiched in between a drug store and an Albertsons in a suburban San Jose strip mall, easy to look past if you aren’t hungry for succulent Doro Wot garnished with homemade cheese. But I was, and we found the restaurant quickly, as well as a convenient parking space. The abundant staff were all smiles as we walked in (it probably helped that we were in the company of a chubby nine month old baby), and we were seated immediately. Our spacious table in the back of the restaurant was near the kitchen, but that didn’t matter, as we were treated like African royalty.

The menu is concise, and sticks to Ethiopian classics including beef, chicken, lamb, and vegetarian offerings, all under $14.00. Our meal was a little slow to come, but with full water glasses and a bottomless Injera basket, we were happy campers. Once it was time, it took several waitresses and a ceremonial-like dance to serve our food. A huge platter with a dome shaped cover arrived, and was uncovered to reveal an enormous round of Injera, covering the entire bottom of the platter. In the center of the dish, a waitress mounded a refreshing salad of iceberg lettuce, roma tomatoes, and onions tossed in lemony vinaigrette. Another waitress spooned our entrees in multiple piles around the salad, ensuring each diner could reach everything. They left us with another basket of Injera, and full (to the brim!) glasses of locally made Tej honey wine ($5.00/glass).

I won’t lie; my memories of the meal are literally blended together, because the sauces get mixed as hands squish Injera pieces over chunks of food. I do remember that the Ye Doro Tibs ($11.50) was some of the spiciest chicken I have had the pleasure of eating, and the Ye Bere Tibs ($11.50) were hunks of beef in a surprisingly un-greasy butter sauce. The crowning glory was Ye Doro Wot ($10.99), a whole chicken thigh and drumstick coated in rich mole-like sauce, crowned with a hardboiled egg and crumbles of homemade cheese.

It was a rare dining experience, where I went in an outsider and left like family. I ate with my hands and end up smelling like I was dipped in Berbere sauce, but that’s the point at Zeni’s. It is now 6 o’clock though, and unfortunately, I don’t think Zeni’s will be open by the time I complete the thousand mile journey.

Zeni Ethiopian Restaurant
Ethiopian Cuisine│1320 Saratoga Ave, San Jose, California, 408-615-8282│$3.00-$55.00│Tuesdays-Thursdays 11:30 am-10 pm, Fridays 11:30 am-11 pm, Saturday Noon-11 pm, Sundays Noon-10 pm, Closed Mondays│Mastercard, Visa, Discover, Cash, Debit Card accepted.
Front Burner: Extremely friendly service and food so authentic it is probably prepared by little Ethiopian grandmas.
Back Burner: Don’t bother to eat here if you are a neat freak or in a hurry, call for takeout instead.

Vesta Dipping Grill

2009-06-14T17:57:00.000-07:00

The same dilemma comes up every year: where to take your mom for Mothers Day. I’m not big on the stale brunch scene; I can down a mimosa and cook a $20 omelet at home thank you very much. And my mom deserves more than a salad with grilled chicken and sesame vinaigrette, after all she has put up with my shenanigans for twenty plus years.

I really wanted to wow her, so this year I took her to Vesta Dipping Grill, on 18th and Blake Street. With twelve entrée selections and 35 pairing sauces (you can choose three), the menu at Vesta certainly is impressive. No plain Jane steak and potatoes here; selections include madras grilled venison, coconut masala tofu steak, and Moroccan spice grilled salmon. All come with their own complementary side dishes and sauce suggestions from the chef. The concept would make any jaded diner as giddy as a kid in a candy store, as the possibilities are endless.

Our experienced and bubbly server offered us sauce suggestions, wine pairings, and fresh bread with a whole head of roasted garlic. She didn’t even write down our order, but memorized our entrée and sauce selections by heart.

My mother decided upon the smoked and grilled duck breast ($23.00). Having been a grill cook, I know how difficult it can be to get the thick layer of fat to melt away into crisp skin while maintaining a medium rare breast. Vesta almost accomplished this task, as there was still a substantial fat cap on the succulent meat. The sliced duck was fanned out across truffled yellow beans and topped with an interesting pea shoot–plum salad. Her sauce choices were the sweet chili ginger, cilantro pesto, and dried berry chutney.

I ordered the garlic grilled scallops ($26.00). The price was justified as soon as the dish arrived: six large scallops were skewered onto bamboo and cooked perfectly. The outside of the scallops were decorated with dark grill marks and a crusty exterior while the interior remained buttery and soft. Served with cherry tomato–fennel salad, fingerling potatoes, and bacon aioli, the dish was reminiscent of a good BLT sandwich.

My sauces were superfluous, as the scallops and its accouterments were perfect on their own. They included the pineapple Pedy marmalade, tamarind chipotle, and Steuben’s chimichurri.

The appeal of Vesta Dipping Grill is getting to choose the sauces to match your entrée. The problem was there is so much going on in my mouth and on my plate; it took away from the dining experience. Neither one of our entrees needed an extra sauce, let alone three.

There are certain situations where an interactive dining experience is much appreciated, like a first date. Vesta also has a warm atmosphere and low key vibe that is very comforting. On the other hand, if you are looking to focus on your dining partner and conversation rather than your meal, skip Vesta. Eat dinner at place where the chef has done all the thinking for you.

Vesta Dipping Grill
World Grill Cuisine│1822 Blake St., 303-296-1970│$16.00-$36.00│Opens 5 p.m. every day, kitchen closes 10 p.m., 11 p.m. Fri-Sat. All major credit cards accepted.

Front Burner: Thousands of possible meat, vegetarian and sauce pairings are possible in this warm and friendly spot.
Back Burner: Sauces can distract from the meal and overwhelm the palate.

NoRTH Cherry Creek

2009-06-14T17:56:00.000-07:00

Cherry Creek is one of Denver’s most upscale neighborhoods. Beautiful homes, cars, and people are plentiful, making eating out in the neighborhood expensive and somewhat confusing. You are not sure if you want to fit in with the Cherry Creek crowd, or run away. For this reason, it is good in small doses, as is NoRTH, its modern Italian restaurant.

On a Thursday night, just like every other night, parking in Cherry Creek is hit or miss. NoRTH offers valet parking, but driving anything less than a still new-smelling sports car, it is best to park yourself. The staff at NoRTH make it clear what type of guests they appreciate and what type they could care less about. We must have fit into the latter category, as the host was less than thrilled about dealing with us. After being quoted 15 minutes and actually waiting 30, our party was directed to a table in the front of the main walkway.

Our server seemed tired and preoccupied. He managed to explain the fish special of the night, halibut with a new England clam chowder sauce, bacon, and potatoes for $28.00. I was confused; were we in Northern Italy or the Northeast? He did drop off some tasty mixed olives to whet our appetites, a much appreciated touch.

The wine list was well rounded and moderately priced, with international selections by the glass (6 or 8 ounces) and bottle. The Valpolicella of Veneto, Italy ($9 for 6 ounces) was a little flat, lacking tannins. The Pinot Noir of Edna Valley, CA ($15 for 6 ounces) was much more well rounded, with supple dried fruit notes. This paired perfectly with the sweet and meaty pizza topped with proscuitto, figs, and goat cheese ($13.00). Another tasty starter were the bruschetta ($10.00) with rich Crescenza cheese, asparagus, and proscuitto, and a drizzle of truffle oil to finish.

Unlike the amazing appetizers, the entrées were a mixed bag. The lamb rack with white beans, and Brussels sprouts ($27.00) was decent, and would have benefited from a little fat trimming. The best entrée, by far, was the strozzapreti pasta with spinach, mushrooms, parmesan cream and pine nuts ($16.00). Forget fettuccine Alfredo or Bolognese, that dish could satisfy any fierce pasta craving, and it didn’t even have meat on it!

There was one rotten apple in the bunch though, the grilled Ahi tuna with "whatever green vegetable we have" ($24.00). First off, those green vegetables thrown on the plate were over-salted Brussels sprouts, broccoli, and Swiss chard, which did little to complement the tuna. Secondly, the tuna was bland, not a charred grill mark in sight. To add insult to injury, the whole lot was served atop a pool of insipid red pepper sauce. Once our server was notified, the dish was replaced in a timely matter with a much better alternative, the sea scallops with wild mushroom orzo, and pear salad ($22.00).

The dessert menu was disappointingly petite with only three items and a daily sorbet (I openly admit I have an insatiable sweet tooth). The Nutella Cake ($6.00) looked a bit amateur, but was nutty and chocolaty and delicious nonetheless.
I can't say I will be returning to NoRTH soon. But I am sure in a few months I will get a craving for that fig and proscuitto pizza, and it will make all that parking and waiting worth it.

NoRTH Cherry Creek
Modern Northern Italian│190 Clayton Lane, 720-941-7700│$5.00-$29.00│
Lunch: Monday – Saturday 11a.m. to 3:30p.m., Sunday 12 p.m. to 3:30p.m.
Happy Hour: Monday – Saturday, 3 p.m. to 6 p.m. Dinner: Monday –Thursday 4:30 p.m. to 10 p.m., Friday – Saturday 4:30 p.m. to 11 p.m., Sunday 4:30 p.m. to 9 p.m. All major credit cards accepted.

Front Burner: Satisfying Italian themed food with a modern twist. Depending on who your server is, customer service is great.
Back Burner: Parking and friendly staff are rare. Attire is listed as "casual": don’t be fooled.

Il Posto

2009-06-14T17:51:00.000-07:00

Next time I eat out, I’m going to dress up and wear a name tag. I had just come from a graduation ceremony and must have looked impressive as I entered Il Posto, the trendy Italian spot on 17th and Vine. Three staff members, including the chef, came over to my table and inquired who I was. Never mind that the restaurant is tiny and it was a Wednesday evening during a Nuggets game. I still felt important.

The meal tempo of the meal was streamlined, practically rehearsed. The gracious servers at Il Posto know what they are doing. Before I even had my water glass filled, I had a sample of a sparkling red wine. Then came bread and olive oil punctuated with black pepper. The bread was so fresh, so soft and moist, I almost sighed upon first bite.

After the initial shock of ‘perfect bread euphoria’ wore off a little, our server arrived, as if on cue, to go over the menu with us. He managed to explain the items in great detail and without any condescending comments. The menu at Il Posto changes daily and showcases only local, seasonal ingredients cooked with time honored Italian tradition, though not without a wink of whimsy from the chef. The gnocchi and pastas are even handmade only 45 minutes before service begins (something unheard of in most restaurants).

Our server was also very helpful with the wine list and after an informative description, offered a tasting of the Dolcetto ($12/glass, $40/bottle). Acidic and bright, this wine was meant to be paired with food, especially rich and creamy dishes. Because $12 is a little steep for a glass of wine, I asked to share a glass with one of my fellow diners. Either he liked my name tag or was in a good mood, because our server returned with two full glasses and charged us for one.
True to my Libran tendencies, I could not decide between the two risottos offered, so I got both. As well as the gnocchi.

The creamy risotto with cherries, stracchino cheese, and hazelnuts ($15.00) sounded intriguing, and it was. The beautiful pink rice was studded with tender Bing cherry halves and crunchy toasted hazelnuts. A little of the unfamiliar mixed with comforting risotto made the dish new again.

But the other risotto made me melt. It felt almost sinful to devour spoonful after spoonful of the al dente delicacy, but I did. The mountain Gorgonzola and baby sage infused rice coated sweet roasted cauliflower; I was tempted to lick the plate. For me this risotto (also $15.00) was the clear winner but my dining companions argued that the cherry risotto held its own just as well.

To top off the meal with a bit more carb loading, I devoured the gnocchi ($13.00). These were gnocchi any Italian Nonna would be proud of: fluffy, and tender, surrendering without any resistance to the pierce of a fork. And unlike their Italian American cousins, these gnocchi were not coated in greasy pesto sauce but in a delicate puree of cauliflower, walnut pesto, and sage.
I’m going to start coming up with all sorts of excuses to eat at Il Posto; a graduation, a Tuesday night, a rainy day, a sunny day, anything. This isn’t a subtle hint: you should too.

Il Posto
Modern Italian│2011 E. 17th Ave, 303-394-0100│$8.00-$27.00│Mon-Thurs: 5:30pm – 11:30p.m., Fri / Sat: 5:30 p.m. – 12 a.m., Sun: 5:30 p.m. – 10:00 p.m. All major credit cards accepted.
Front Burner: Attentive and knowledgeable service paired with inventive and well executed food.
Back Burner: Can be crowded depending on the night and parking hard to find.

Strolling Down Memory Lane on Federal Boulevard

2009-06-08T16:21:00.000-07:00

In the state of Colorado there are no ocean beaches, no coastline, and no salty sea fog. The state is landlocked. And while buffalo burgers are mighty tasty, nothing compares to the steaming pho and pan seared dumplings I grew up loving on the West coast. Immigrants from Japan, China, and the Philippines have been preparing their national delicacies in shops up and down the coast for years. Denver on the other hand, has not been so fortunate. I missed my boba tea and dim sum and amazing Bulgogi and yakitori stands. This was until I got lost on Federal Blvd.

I was in an adventuresome mood one Saturday morning, and decided to take my boyfriend for a little excursion on the streets of Denver. With a full tank of gas we headed West. After a while, the signs started changing from English to Spanish, and I knew we were headed somewhere good. Then signs changed to Vietnamese and Chinese, and by this point, my stomach was announcing its hunger. We pulled over in front of a lengthy strip mall, and walked into the first restaurant we saw: Ba Le Sandwiches.

The shop was tiny but very clean and neat. There were no tables and chairs on the bright white tile floors, just a beverage cooler and a counter to order. Ba Le Sandwiches specializes in the French-Vietnamese hybrid, the banh mi sandwich. We couldn’t decide on just one variety, so we ordered the pâté, chicken, and beef sandwiches ($2.50 each).

Within 5 minutes, we left with our made-to-order lunch. The steam wafting up through the bag was a dead giveaway–this was going to be delicious. We got in the car and tore open the white parchment paper. If sandwich making is an art, then the nice people at Ba Le Sandwiches are masters. The bread was divine: crusty, chewy, and soft all in one bite. The generous portion of pâté was smooth and rich with cilantro, jalapeños, pickled daikon and carrots to cut through the porky fat. The chicken and beef versions were slightly less memorable, but tasty nonetheless. Its almost hard to believe that you can get a satisfying lunch of house-made ingredients for under $5.00. But it is, at Ba Le Sandwiches.

Now a little thirsty, we began to look around for something to drink (the bottled soda at Ba Le wasn’t exactly what we wanted). Luckily, we didn’t have to search for long, as Lollicup Boba was right next door. For a Saturday afternoon, it was suspiciously empty. The TV blasted Korean music videos, and the comfy couches and chairs looked inviting. There were games and magazines strewn about, giving the impression that this quiet boba store came alive at night. The friendly owners looked relieved to see us though, and were patient as we decided what to order.

Unlike the sandwich shop, Lollicup offers an extensive list of hot and cold drink choices. There was tea, snow bubble (which is creamy like a milkshake), and slush (which is ice blended, like a slurpee). Each beverage came in over twenty varieties including Royal Milk tea, honeydew, sesame, and lavender (prices range from $1.30-$4.42). You also have to option to add goodies to your drink such as boba, which are large tapioca balls, or lychee jelly cubes ($.32 extra). Sucked through an enormous straw, boba are an acquired taste for some.

I happen to love the chewy black balls, a specialty that reminds me of Boba shops back home. The appeal of boba is that it is a snack and a thirst quencher all in one, and secretly, I have always enjoyed punching the oversized straw into the plastic top of the cup. I am happy to report that Lollicup lived up to my expectations. We got a passion fruit slush with lychee jelly and a mango snow bubble with boba. The frothy drinks were quite sweet, but this wasn’t a problem. The clear lychee jellies were tart and slippery, in a good way. We managed to suck the drinks down in no time, on the hunt to find our next culinary gem.

On Federal Blvd. and Alameda (down the street from Ba Le Sandwiches and Lollicup Boba) lies an Asian culinary hot spot: the Far East Center. With two markets, two bakeries, pho shops, Chinese restaurants, and more, the center was a hub of commotion. Parking was a little traumatizing, but we managed to snag a spot.

We strolled around the Little Saigon Supermarket first, gawking at the exotic fruits and spices. The smell was a little ripe at first, but I soon got over it. Forget King Soopers; this is the place to get your groceries! Fish sauce, oxtails, live fish, and durian, oh my! The produce section was kind of small, but the spices, rice, and canned goods abound. Boxes are everywhere, and the store isn’t the cleanest, but it kind of adds some Chinatown charm.

I bought five heads of garlic for $.59, and a pound of ginger root for $.89 (what a steal!). The shelves are loaded with shrimp flavored chips, curry pastes, Hoisin sauce, and ginger oil, all sold for practically nothing. The back of the store houses mortar and pestle sets, bamboo steamers, cute little bowls, and anything else a little old Chinese grandma might need. I got cut in the mile long line by several of those grandmas, but that’s alright.

All that sightseeing had made us hungry again, so we stopped into Celestial Bakery & Deli & BBQ. Like Ba Le Sandwiches, this place was tailored to the customer on the go: get in and get out! The petite bakery had picture menus on the wall of delights listed in English, Spanish, and Chinese, but we didn’t bother with that. Steamed pork buns ($1.00), lotus leaf wrapped "burrito chinos" ($2.50) and glaze-lacquered duck ($11.99) looked tasty, but we opted for dessert. We got a mixed bag of little sweets, all for under $2.00.

There was an almond cookie ($.25), which was delicately crisp and covered in an orange glaze. The egg custard ($1.00) was silky and the pastry crust was delightfully flaky and light. But the other two were no competition for the sesame ball ($.50). These have always been my favorite dim sum dessert: sweet red bean paste surrounded by chewy rice dough. The balls are coated in nutty sesame seeds and fried into crispy, crunchy, melt in your mouth, perfection. Celestials' version was a little bigger than I am used to, but still very good.

The day was an adventure alright, and left me tired and stuffed, but not that disgusting, guilty, greasy kind of feeling. I was satisfied and so happy to have found this little section of Denver. My memories of home are now less far away, as I can venture down Federal Blvd. anytime I please. Needless to say, next time I make the trek to Little Saigon Supermarket for some oyster sauce and rice noodles, I will definitely be treating myself to a Celestial sesame ball.

Ba Le Sandwiches

Vietnamese Sandwiches│1044 S. Federal Blvd., 303-922-2129│$2.50-$3.50│Monday-Sunday, 8 a.m.-8 p.m. All major credit cards accepted.
Front Burner: Traditional pâté on fresh French bread, with addictive pickled vegetables for just a few bucks.
Back Burner: Take out only, and limited beverage selection.

Lollicup Boba
Boba Tea│1046 S. Federal Blvd., 303-937-6392│$1.30-$4.42 │Monday-Thursday 11 a.m-10 p.m., Friday-Saturday 11 a.m.-11 p.m., and Sunday 12 p.m.-10 p.m. All major credit cards accepted.
Front Burner: Large drink selection and quick service.
Back Burner: Drinks err on the sweet side.

Little Saigon Supermarket
Asian Supermarket│375 S. Federal Blvd. Unit 104, 303-937-8860│Open daily 9 a.m.-9 p.m. All major credit cards accepted.
Front Burner: Low prices on produce, condiments, and non-perishable foods.
Back Burner: The smells range from delicious to disgusting, and the check out line is confusing.

Celestial Bakery & Deli & BBQ
Asian Bakery│333 S. Federal Blvd. Unit 207, 303-936-2339│Hours not listed. All major credit cards accepted.
Front Burner: Great dim sum selection and fantastic sesame balls for practically nothing.
Back Burner: Store gets cramped with more than two customers.

Crepes 'n' Crepes

2009-06-08T16:20:00.000-07:00

My friends and I refer to Crepes ‘n’ Crepes as just Crepes. We go there often, and for many reasons. It is good on a Sunday morning, when a good cup of coffee is the only thing that will obliterate your throbbing headache from the previous night’s festivities. It is good on a Saturday afternoon, to celebrate the coming of spring and sunny days. Inside the cramped dining room or at the bar, there is an ambiance at Crepes from across the pond, something sweet, homey, and oh so French.

Most of my Crepe memories are from the morning or afternoon, but recently I ventured there with a few friends on a weeknight. The usually bustling café was quiet and empty, and we got a prime table in the front–perfect for viewing crepe making on the huge round crepe griddles.

The first thing we did was the same thing we always do; order a huge cup of steaming coffee. This is no ordinary coffee, as our relaxed server explained. The coffee is made in Italian espresso machine, making it thick, rich, and topped with a créma (much like an espresso, but not quite as strong). Each cup is served with its own mini pitcher of cream, a luxurious touch that I look forward to each time.

Following our tradition, we ordered both savory and sweet crepes. In my opinion, dessert is just as important as the rest of the meal, and should often be consumed before the main course. Luckily, no one at Crepes will judge you for making dinner out of dessert, so take my advice and order a sweet crepe along with a savory one. The crepes served here are huge, so sharing is definitely a possibility.

I am a die-hard Nutella fan, as even overcooked broccoli would probably taste good with a dollop of the chocolate hazelnut spread. Well, probably not, but any of the crepes with Nutella are delicious. The strawberry Nutella crepe ($8.00) was delectable, with sweet ripe strawberry and melty chocolate all wrapped in thin tender crepe.

Call me unpatriotic, but I am not a huge apple pie fan. Overcooked apples in a syrupy sweet sauce–not my style. But the chunky apple crepe ($8.00) was tasty enough to convert me. The tender apples weren’t mushy, and were coated in a caramel cinnamon sauce.

After a taste of dessert, I was ready for dinner, and the savory crepes did not disappoint. The poulet au gratin crepe ($9.50) was a satisfying, stick to your ribs crepe. Tender chunks of chicken and mushrooms were swathed in a creamy sauce and topped with a crispy piece of Gruyere cheese. This crepe was lacking in salt, its only fault. The ratatouille crepe ($8.00) changes with the seasons, and is sometimes tomatoey, this time squash filled. We added creamy goat cheese ($2.00) and this crepe was perfect in that Provençal way–especially with the homemade walnut pesto and red pepper sauce that arrive in little plastic jars with every savory crepe.

Crepes is one of the few restaurants I would go to and eat alone–the food is that good. But it is best enjoyed with friends. A cramped table and a nourishing crepe make for some of the most memorable conversations. Just don’t forget to order the coffee.

Crepes ‘n’ Crepes

French Crepes│2816 E. Third Ave, 303-320-4184│$4.00-$11.00│Tuesday-Friday 10 a.m.-10 p.m., Saturday 8:30 a.m.-10 p.m., Sunday 10 a.m.-3 p.m. All major credit cards accepted.
Front Burner: Traditional French-style crepes made to order and filled with simple, fresh ingredients.
Back Burner: No reservations make getting a table difficult on busy weekend mornings.

Bistro Vendome

2009-06-08T16:18:00.000-07:00

Walking along the Champs Élysées in Paris and the 16th Street Mall in Denver aren’t exactly comparable. Yes, they are both streets filled with tourists, but the similarities end there. The Champs Élysées is a beautiful avenue crowned with the Arc de Triomphe, and dotted with bistros, cafés, and shops that would make any Francophile swoon. The 16th Street Mall is a lengthy strip traversed by free shuttle busses and dotted with neon painted flower pots.

One Saturday morning, after a lengthy search for a lunch spot downtown, my friends and I found a gem in a sea of cubic zirconia. Bistro Vendome is tucked away in the historical Sussex building, off the beaten path of Larimer Square. The red awnings and wicker chairs lining the sidewalk were the first hints that we had stumbled upon something good, something familiar.

A friendly server moving a table inside the restaurant convinced us to come try brunch. We obliged, and upon entering, were pleased to find that the only hint that we were still in Denver was the writing on the mirrors in English, not French. The bistro had a small, almost cramped feeling. Not claustrophobic, scary small, just packed and cozy. The sunny yellow walls and gauzy curtains made the light pleasant even on an overcast day, as did our cheerful server.

She recommended Croque Madame, Pain Perdu, Omelet, and Croissant with Chicken Salad. Just about everything on the brief brunch menu. The small tables and casual attitude of Bistro Vendome are perfect for catching up with old buddies, after all, the restaurant's saying is "Rendezvous des amis" It would be wise to take that advice, and bring a few friends to chat with as service (in the classic French way) can be a little slow.

The Pain Perdu aux Amandes ($9.50) was a deliciously unexpected update on French toast. Like an oversized beignet, the tender brioche was deep fried and unapologetically crispy. It was served with a brûléed banana, a dulce de leche sauce, and toasted almonds.

The Croque Monsieur ($9.00), a bistro classic, was satisfactory. The thick cut bread was stuffed with ham, cheese, and pasty béchamel sauce. Usually the sandwich is pan fried, ensuring crispy bread with a gooey filling, but this one was rather soggy. The parsley covered pommes frites were also bizarrely sweet. We did nibble on them until there were none left, dipping them in the petite ramekin of mayonnaise.

The real disappointment was the Quiche ($8.00). Yes, it was filled with black truffles, smoked ham, and wild mushrooms as described on the menu. Its crust was perfectly buttery and flaky, a lovely counterpart to the silken eggy custard. But the entire slice of quiche could have only satisfied a small child or someone who recently underwent a stomach stapling procedure. It was almost comical! How Bistro Vendome manages to charge over $5.00 for a three bite quiche is beyond me. It was tasty though, I just wanted a few more bites.

The dinner menu sounds delicious, and I will definitely be back to try it. But the real appeal of Bistro Vendome isn’t just the food, it’s the warm atmosphere, welcoming service, and French traditions. Next time I am yearning for la vie en rose, I will surely head down to Bistro Vendome.

Bistro Vendome

French Bistro│1420 Larimer Square, 303-825-3232│$5.00-$14.50│
Dinner: Monday – Thursday 5:00 p.m. – 10:00 p.m., Friday & Saturday 5:00 p.m. – 11:00 p.m., Sunday 5:00 p.m. – 9:00 p.m.,
Brunch: Saturday & Sunday 10:00 a.m. – 2:00 p.m.
All major credit cards accepted.

Front Burner: Classic Parisian bistro dining in downtown Denver, without the downtown prices.
Back Burner: Downtown Denver parking and tourists galore.

Osteria Marco

2009-04-06T22:31:00.000-07:00

Larimer Square is one of Denver’s top attractions: it is exciting, expensive, and crowded (like a theme park, only for adults). The street is almost always buzzing with a constant flow of families, foodies, and hipsters. There’s a million things to look at, and good smells emanate from the buildings packed tightly into this historic district. Understandably, the restaurant competition is fierce, and many of the chefs are worthy of name dropping. To decide where is eat is like picking a ride at Disney Land: exciting and extremely difficult.

Don’t be persuaded by the big signs and bright lights of other establishments. Follow the iron pig to Osteria Marco, newest member to the family of Frank Bonanno restaurants. You will then be led down into the cavernous dining room. On a sunny Sunday afternoon, your eyes will take a full minute to adjust to the dark and cozy basement. Once things come into focus, the beautifully polished wooden bar takes center stage, surrounded by tall racks of Italian wines. Even on a slow afternoon, the hustle and bustle of the chatty diners, attentive servers, and soulful music give the restaurant character that can't be imitated.

The paper menu fits Osteria Marco's unpretentious attitude. No frilly descriptions adorn the house crafted meats, cheeses, and antipasti, which could be intimidating to a less experienced diner. On the same note, the food arrives with little embellishment, only a drizzle of green olive oil, or flecks of freshly ground black pepper. For the same reason a great peanut butter and jelly sandwich has only three ingredients, the honest fare at Osteria Marco speaks for itself.

Creamy goat cheese is slathered on warm bruschetta, topped with earthy mushrooms halves and luscious olive oil ($6). The rotisserie chicken panini ($10) is filled generously with morsels of tender chicken and grilled long for the provolone cheese to become gooey, and the red pepper spread to seep through the crusty bread. A substantial salad of pesto-coated shrimp, arugula, ceci beans, and warm flatbread ($12) doesn’t let the salad eater feel left out of the party.

While desserts are not as transcendent as the buttery house-made Burrata cheese, they round out the meal nicely. The uncomplicated vanilla semifreddo is served in a pool of strawberry sauce and sprinkled with candied toasted almond bits that offer needed contrast to the frozen cream.

When it is time to leave, climbing out of the grotto into the carnival of activity on the street can be a little shocking. Nevertheless, the euphoria of a satisfying meal at Osteria Marco doesn’t wear off, and like a kid coming down from a sugar high, leaves you spoiled for the next couple days.

Osteria Marco
Italian│1453 Larimer Square, 303-534-5855│$3-$21│Monday-Thursday& Sunday 11 a.m.-10 p.m., Friday & Saturday 11 a.m.-11 p.m.; all credit cards.

Front Burner: Great atmosphere and simple food made in time honored, traditional ways.
Back Burner: Unlikely/expensive parking coupled with crowds of snobby hipsters can make an otherwise relaxing experience stressful.

Masalaa

2009-04-06T22:20:00.000-07:00

After dining at your local Star/Little/Taste of India, have you ever asked yourself, "Why did I waste $16.95 on overcooked Korma and watery Chai tea?" Chances are you’ve also had your fair share of greasy curries, saccharine sweet mango lassies, and chutney from a jar. Leave those bad memories behind and seek out Masalaa Fine Indian Vegetarian Cuisine. Located near the intersection of 1-225 and Parker Road, Masalaa blends into a strip mall with monotone blue signs. Don’t be fooled by its plain façade, inside awaits a culinary excursion far from strip mall-style Indian cuisine.

Upon arrival, the smell of fragrant spices is the first thing to greet you. You will be led to a table in one of two rooms, each warmly decorated in a homey style with paintings of India, and linen covered tables. The quotes on the wall from Mahatma Gandhi almost speak louder than the servers, but food arrives quickly even on a busy Saturday night.

The extensive (almost overwhelming) menu of authentic vegetarian Indian cuisine is a little vague, and the practically non-existent servers don’t much help either. Masalaa aims to impress with four pages of exotic delicacies, all prepared to order. Surprisingly though, the menu is never compromised with hints of Americana, even on the kids menu (!).

First time customers should just point to something and order- the chances of success are high. Try a few of the very reasonably priced appetizers to start your voyage. The Mulaga Bajji ($3.95), deep fried jalapeño peppers dipped in chickpea batter, served with a cooling coconut sauce, will satisfy any heat cravings. The Gobi 65 ($3.95), deep fried cauliflower marinated in spicy yogurt, served with a cilantro sauce are also delicious. A surprising discovery is Vada Pao ($4.95), fried potato bonda stuffed between buttered rolls. It doesn’t sound like much, but the cold mustard seed and curry spiced potato cakes are scrumptious. To even further distance yourself from your chalky Chicken Tikka nightmares, order an Uthappam (starting at $7.50), a pancake of lentil and rice flour, or Dosa ($6.50), an impressive looking crepe served with savory condiments.

Once you have managed to select an entree, the feast continues. The Vegetable Korma ($9.95) is perfumed of coconut and cardamom, but the lack of salt doesn’t let the spices do any justice to the mundane mix of overcooked broccoli, peas, and carrots. The Aloo Masala (9.95) is a very satisfying dish of potatoes in a rich (borderline greasy) sauce. The servings of complimentary rice are very generous, and the steaming Phulka bread ($2.50) erases any bad feelings about bland sauces. If you still have room at the end of the meal, complete your experience with Gajjar Halwa ($3.95), warm carrots and milk flavored with nuts and saffron, or Gulab Jamun ($3.95), milk balls in cardamom-flavored syrup.

Masalaa doesn’t just attempt to serve authentic Indian cuisine, they actually do. The food is delicious, satisfying both strict vegetarian Hindu and hedonistic omnivores alike. So next time you get a craving for an Indian meal that won’t leave you disappointed, you know where to go: Masalaa Fine Indian Vegetarian Cuisine.

Masalaa Fine Indian Vegetarian Cuisine

Vegetarian Indian│3140 S. Parker Rd., Aurora, 303-755-6272, masalaausa.com; Delivery 303-534-TOGO; Take Out/Catering 303-755-6272│$1.95-$16.50│Hours:11:30-2:30, 5:30-10 p.m. Monday-Thursday; 11:30-2:30, 5:30-10:30 p.m. Friday; noon-3, 5-10:30 p.m. Saturday; noon-3, 5-10 p.m. Sunday; all credit cards accepted

Front Burner: Authentic vegetarian Indian cuisine made to order in a pleasant, warm atmosphere. Water glasses always full and quick service.
Back Burner: Bring your own saltshaker, napkins, and friendly conversation; your server cannot offer any of the above.

Vinaigrette

2009-04-06T22:15:00.000-07:00

Hi. My name is Emily, and my life revolves around food. It is the one thing that connects all the other pieces, like a simple vinaigrette melding the flavors of a chopped salad. This is not a new passion, but one that started at a young age when I first learned to make a vinaigrette with my dad. Just Dijon mustard, red wine vinegar, honey, salt, pepper, and olive oil-shaken, not whisked. The way the ingredients hesitated to combine at first, then emulsified into one creamy sauce sparked a fascination with food that has stayed with me to this day.

To avoid sounding a little obsessed, I will say that I have other interests. Science, art, travel-they just all happen to get tied into food somehow. That dressing finds its way into every crevasse, coating each ingredient lightly. I like knowing the origins of food including the history and culture associated with the people who make it. Despite recent strides like the organic, Slow Food, and localvore food movements, food seems to be causing more problems than solutions. The serious dilemmas of a world with too much food concern me. Obesity, starvation, disease, allergies, additives, and genetically modified foods are issues that affect gourmands and simple eaters alike, and I want to explore them. From smoked salmon to Salmonella, the world of food never ceases to amaze me. I can only hope there will always be enough Dijon vinaigrette to make my salad come together, without leaving a pool at the bottom of the bowl.

The Triangle

2009-04-06T22:02:00.000-07:00

As the eager summer sun crept up on the horizon, I walked anxiously down the graffitied street. My nose caught a nauseating whiff of cheap grain alcohol as I passed the dumpster overflowing with glass bottles. I hesitated for a moment before stepping inside the building. The Triangle Lounge was a funky old place- passing as a restaurant by day and rowdy bar by night. Her backside was about as easy on the eyes as a friendly crack whore: tired, abused, and a little scary. As I slipped in through the back door, I could feel the beads of sweat forming above my lip. The kitchen was cramped with appliances, the low-boys humming softly. I flipped the switch on the industrial-sized fan, which buzzed furiously to keep the temperature down. Making the rounds to turn on the fryer, flat top, and five ovens, my cheeks started to flush from the overwhelming heat.

I cautiously walked out into the dining room. If I had told you we don’t get tornadoes in Seattle, only earthquakes, you probably wouldn’t have believed me. Spilled liquor and empty bottles covered the worn wooden bar as well as the floor. Tables and chairs were strewn about, and the smell was ripe, to say the least. As I turned the corner, I almost jumped when I saw JC, the bar manager, passed out on the floor. JC had been part of the 90's grunge scene, an era he clung to tightly. He was 32, scruffy looking, and always sweating from the copious amounts of drugs he relied on to keep going. He had a nasty habit of taking shots with regulars, getting so wasted he would sleep at the Triangle. I managed to convince Hugo, the jolly Mexican dishwasher who didn’t speak a word of English, to wake JC up and start mopping the floors. It was then that I asked myself, "What the hell am I doing here?".

With a year of culinary school under my belt, I thought I knew most everything about cooking. I idolized all the big shots: Thomas Keller, Ferran Adria, Anthony Bourdain. I had skills; I could concassé tomatoes, chiffonade basil, and squirt sauce decoratively on a plate. I thought being a chef was about searing expensive meats and reducing luxurious sauces. My imaginative dreams included traveling to Europe to study under culinary masters. The cherry on top of the sundae would be opening a restaurant of my own, which would lead to my inevitable fame.

But before I could get any further down the road to success, I knew I needed to earn some street cred. I wanted to feel legit, get a few scars on my hands and blisters on my feet. I was home for the summer and needed work as a cook before returning to my prestigious culinary school. Luckily, I beat out all the other competitors (ha) for a job at the Triangle Lounge, in Seattle’s Fremont district. My first couple days went smoothly, and although I thought I was above such menial work as frying chips and making tubs of pico de gallo, I felt kind of bad-ass working there. Everyone smoked, drank on the job, and told dirty jokes. I was also the new girl, so the attention wasn’t bad either.

This was my second Sunday at the Triangle, and today I was working brunch by myself. I thought I had managed to impress the chef throughout the week with my culinary lingo and clean chef whites. Sure enough, that Wednesday, the handwritten schedule was posted: BRUNCH/Emily. Maybe he wanted to test me, maybe he had just fired two cooks, maybe he was high. Who knows why, but I was assigned brunch that Sunday alone. By most standards, brunch at the Triangle was pretty typical: eggs Benedict, French toast, omelets, etc. I found the scribbled prep list from the previous nights' crew, and began to feel faint. Hollandaise, poached eggs, sliced fruit, French toast batter, pancake batter, clarify butter, biscuits, gravy, precook bacon, sausage, and chorizo. I had two hours to figure out, organize, and prepare for a brunch I had learned for the first time a week ago. Needless to say, the time disappeared like a line of coke in front of JC.

Proudly, I congratulated myself on making my nine o'clock deadline. I had managed to finish all the prep on the list and chug a few tall glasses of acrid coffee with a couple minutes to spare. For some reason, still unknown to me, adventuresome Seattle tourists were able to look past the distressed exterior of the Triangle Lounge, and invite themselves inside. The furious DEET-DA-DEET-DEET of the ticket printer started promptly at 9:15. Two top: one eggs Benny, one Italian scramble. Not bad, knocked 'em out quick. DEET-DA-DEET! Four top: one stuffed French toast, one corned beef hash, one biscuit and gravy, one eggs Benny. I was handling this pretty good. After a few well spaced tickets and relatively easy orders, I started to feel confident. Then the printer started spewing orders, back to back. Omelets, eggs over easy, medium, and hard. Rye bread, wheat bread, bagel- no butter. DEET-DA-DEEEEET. Sauce on the side, hash browns extra crispy, smoked salmon Benny. I started to lose it. I was so shaky I would break the yolks on perfectly cooked eggs and have to start over. I forgot to toast bread, ran out of precooked bacon, and the hollandaise broke. Hung-over JC (who was filling in for a flaky server), couldn’t pick up his food in time, and I would have to refire entire orders. My confidence started fading as panic took its place.

If I had been able to pause for one minute, I would have burst into tears. Hugo, the dishwasher, could sense my frustration. He gestured that he would take over the fryer, and while I spun around to drop food on the plates, he flipped pancakes and French toast. He would ask my approval before plating anything, "Amiga, mas papas fritas?". I would look over and blurt out a grateful, "SI!" then get back to organizing my thoughts. By the time the night crew rolled in, I had officially been defeated. I didn’t even bother to make myself a shift meal, I just walked to my car in shame.

That day broke me. It shattered my confidence as a cook, and put me in my place: just a novice culinary school freshman. How could I ever make it in Paris if I couldn’t even cut it at the nastiest dive bar in Seattle? I could talk about foie gras torchon and truffles, but I realized none of that mattered unless you could hold down a line. I learned that speed, agility, and memorization were much more valuable than being able to list culinary facts.

I wanted to run away from the Triangle and never look back, but I knew I had to stick it out. That summer I got scars on my hands and blisters on my feet. I learned kitchen Spanish, and became good buddies with my savior, Hugo. I learned how to multitask and organize ticket orders in my head. I tried many types of alcohol for the first time, often before noon. I unclogged a toilet in the ladies room on a Saturday night in front of a line of impatient drunks. Working at the Triangle Lounge, not only did I learn how to be a cook, but I grew up.