Polenta what?

Do you like polenta?  I was not a fan.  The few times I had eaten it, served as a side and it did not impress.  I have always been served it as a savory dish.  The idea that polenta could be a in something sweet never occurred to me.

I am not a picky eater.  Except, when it comes to cake.  I am a real cake snob.  The frosting either makes it or breaks it for me.  My body chooses to physically reject the ultra sugary, food dyed artificial frosting that has the same consistence as rubber cement.

The first bite, I was hesitant.  The larger grain of the cake created texture and personality.  Not like all those processed flour cakes who lack soul.  Light sweetness, a kiss on the cheek.  Fresh green and red grapes add juicy fruitiness and help break down the cake on the pallet.  Creamy rich vanilla, a familiar flavor, with more richness then I have encountered.  Each bite was a new flavor profile with such quality ingredients.  This was my experience with the polenta cake with fruit and vanilla marscapone cheese.  As not much of a cake or polenta fan, I would have never ordered this on my own.  It was a revelation.

I cannot stress the greatness of the polenta in the cake.  I will undoubtably be going back for more.  You can find this dish at Barkada, in the Temescal region of Oakland.  I recommend that you try it.  

Oakland

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Good Bye PB&J, Hello Onigiri

Honestly, I was never much of a peanut butter and jelly guy.  Wait! Don’t shoot! Just, let me explain.  Of course, I enjoyed the accessional peanut butter and jelly sandwich but for school lunch, not my favorite.  By the time lunch rolled around I was always famished.  This school lunch favorite never really filled me up.  I was always more of a lunch meat guy.  Mostly turkey and ham.  In middle school I went through a short bologna phase, I glad to have out grown that.  Now let me tell you what I wish I was given for school lunch.  Onigiri, or japanese rice balls.

My first encounter with Onigiri occurred about a week ago during a visit to Japan town in San Francisco.  It came in a cool little triangle package that the man who makes them gets special to ensure that the moist rice doesn’t make the seaweed wrapping soggy.  I had no idea what to expect.  The crackle of the seaweed wrapping was shocking but the contrast with the soft rice is what keeps the next bite interesting.  The salty salmon filling is a prize, well seasoned and tender.  They come in many other flavors ask well.  We were served green tea with our meal, which was the prefect way to was down the savory snack.

Onigiri is considered to be bento.  Meaning it is meant to be eaten on the go.  Children may even take them to school for lunch.   For their small size, the rice balls were quite satisfying and filling.  This is the type of food that I prefer in my sack lunch.  Good bye Peanut butter and jelly,  hello Onigiri.

Japan Town, SF

Mom’s Lasagna

I come from a family of eaters.  We eat our food and like it too.  Even to this day the family gets excited to try new restaurants and compare them to some of our favorite regular eateries.  My mom was a major influence on our families pallets, being that she has been the primary cook for most of my life.

Their seems to be a pattern with Twenty something year olds and cooking.  It is a fact that every twenty something will have a signature dish that they will make when trying to impress.  My moms dish was one that she picked up in her early years at work.  She was invited to her bosses family event, an italian family gathering, his mother had spent all day making lasagna for the party.  As a gift my mom got the recipe for the lasagna.  This is not one of those forty minute meat and cheese lasagnas that anyone can just whip up.  This is the real deal.  Lasagna with back bone. Recipe straight out of a italian grandmothers cookbook.  To make one of these bad boys is an all day affair.

To any passerby the browned melted cheese exterior looks that same as every other lasagna but to the lasagna connoisseur small hints give away the dishes secrets.  A stray mushroom, is a prelude to the glorious sautéed mushroom layer that adds meaty earthiness to each bite.  Along the edge the ribbon of green is a welcome sight.  Spinach delicately laced with ricotta,  will change the hearts of anyone who has had mixed feelings about this leafy green.  Take my word for it, this is the lasagna you want.

The Mission, SF

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I Hate Onions.

Last summer I almost blinded myself in the kitchen.  Yes you heard me right, Blinded.  The dish was french onion soup and the bain of my existence were the damn onions.  The recipe called for a whole bag of onions and was quite the gauntlet for us amateur onion cutters.

There is nothing quite like the strong peppery sting that forces your eyes to water an attempt to find relief.  The more you cut the more the burning and tearing.  Finally you are forced to just say, FINE! I GIVE UP!  We don’t need onions today.  It’s as if vegetables use their scent as a defense mechanism.  Unfortunately for me onions are required for French onion soup so there was no escaping.  I tried everything.  I chewed gum.  I wore sunglasses.  In my most desperate hour I put on some swimming goggles, in the hopes of tackling my Everest.  My pride had been wounded, not even five minutes of cutting onions and I was forced to throw in the knife.  With a tear drenched face and battered manhood I retired to the restroom in a attempt to was my eyes of this satanic sting.

After an hour and a half of the depressed pattern I was finally able to dice the whole bag.  With eyes sore and red as the devil himself I was finally able to sit down and enjoy a bowl of soup.  It turned out well.  Was it worth possible damaging my vision permanently?  ….NO.

Wise Sons=Wise Choice

First their was the smell.  Salty, warm, meaty, goodness that only good pastrami provides.  The violent crunch of the bark-like rye crust.  Lastly the sour acidic finish from the homemade stone ground mustard.  That one bite was enough to satisfy craving.  The dill pickles made in house were the perfect compliment to this meaty treat. Their is just something magical about hot pastrami sliced and piled high on good rye bread.  A scrumptious meal that will leave even the heartiest eaters satisfied.  Their is clearly a reason why this pairing has been the chosen as a staple of many working class men and women throughout history.  Let me tell you where you to can have this religious experience.

In the heart of San Francisco, apart of the city called the Mission district, amidst the taquerias and specialty food stores lies a hidden gem, The Wise Sons Delicatessen.  The owners moved up to the bay area from Los Angles and found that the city was lacking a deli of this variety.  The first thing I noticed when approaching the deli was the brown bark crusted rye bread stacked in the window.  Bread is important, it can either make or break a sandwich.  This bread made it.  Upon entering the establishment the savory smell of warm deli meats teases my nostrils.  Along the back wall their are rows of pictures containing portraits of the owners extended family.  The love and care that went into making the restaurant is clearly apparent.  

A Memorable Meal

Vegas.  Sin City. A man made oasis in the heart of the Nevada desert.  It seems that everyone has a Vegas story.  Most of them have to do with strippers, bachelor parties and copious amounts of alcohol.  Mine however is different.  Our trip started like another, we gambled, we drank and then violently crashed back in our hotel room.  The important part of the story occurred on day two.  We had reservations at Scarpetta, an italian restaurant at the Cosmopolitan Hotel.  I was famished upon our arrival.  We sat at a large circle table at the back of the restaurant where they could seat our large group.  Our waiter was quite a character.  He had orange hair perfectly flat to his head except he had it gelled into a massive horn in the front.  It was quite the look.  However he was a wonderful waiter.  As we scowered the menu, searching for our dish of choice.  My eyes locked on a pasta.  Duck and Foie Gras Ravioli.

Now I had never had Foie Gras before, nor had I eaten much duck(If you don’t know what Foie Gras is its fattened duck liver).  I had seen enough cooking shows to know the value of the ingredients of the dish and that their was controversy on the matter of their consumption.   Myself, being a fan of Anthony Bourdain and hearing him rave about the decadence of this food, a delicacy that I had never tried.  I yearned to try it.  Hey, we are in Vegas.  If their was one place to indulge and try it, its here, right?  I ordered this ravioli with much excitement.  The waiter suggested a wine to go with the pasta.  Yes, I ordered a glass.  I mean come on, to go with the Foie Gras, I had to!

The wait killed me.  So by the time the waiter set the plate down in front of me I was bubbling  with excitement.  The chef had arranged the triangle ravioli into one layer so that no one was on top of another.  Then he had drizzled a marsala reduction, which was the deep color of balsamic vinegar, over the top along with some olive oil to create a weave like pattern atop the pasta.  Once the others had their dishes I prepared to dive right in.  It was light on my fork, a mini pillow of pasta.  As the morsel passed my lips, I could smell the timid sweetness of the reduction and then imedietly taste its tangy finish.  Now, I don’t want to over sell it but, for me, my first bite of Foie Gras was life changing.  It was like nothing I had ever tasted.  Rich, buttery, goodness with the duck and the sweet and tangy sauce made each ravioli a well thought out treat.  The white wine that the waiter recommended was a necessary paring, cutting through the richness of the pasta allowing myself to keep enjoying bite after bite.

People go to Vegas to escape the everyday blandness of their lives. To get caught up in the Grandness of the town that never sleeps.  I too did this on my trip.  For the two hours that we sat together and broke bread our cares and worries left us.  Life was simple seemed less twisted and confusing.  I guess thats the point.  Never had I experience a meal so decadent.  It was purely a Vegas meal through and through.   Am I a pro Foie Gras? Most likely.  If you ask me what I remember about Vegas, Its no contest. Foie Gras ravioli.