A Baby Shower for Food Lovers

This weekend I managed to sneak away from puppy-rearing duties to attend the most delightful baby shower at Tin Roof Bistro.

The bright decorations were a cheerful contrast to the dreary weather.

Flat Pak collapsible vases held heaps of fresh flowers. Genius.

I was particularly fond of the cheeky monkeys decorating the tables.

And the food? I'll let the images speak for themselves.

Charcuterie

Cheese, glorious cheese.

Tomato Bisque with Pesto Drizzle

Crab Melt with Taboulleh

Chocolate Fondant Mousse with Whipped Cream and Pecan Brittle Topping

We played baby shower Bingo...

And I won the most gorgeous gift: handmade goat's milk soap from the Beekman Boys. Check them out on Planet Green. Brilliant.

It was seriously the best baby shower ever. I'm so happy for my friends and I can't wait to meet their baby!

Speaking of babies, when I got home I snuggled up with Gemma for a nap. Baby showering is tiring.

Sweet Potato Gingerbread

Gemma let me alone long enough (read: crashed out in her crate for an hour) for me to make Sweet Potato Gingerbread and hastily snap a few photos of it.

Make this. It's easy and divine.



Sweet Potato Gingerbread

Makes one loaf

Substitute pumpkin if you don't have or want sweet potato. If you don't have whole wheat pastry flour, use an equal amount of all purpose flour. And if gluten is an issue, swap out wheat flour for a gluten-free all purpose flour. Walnuts would be a nice addition to this bread, and can be folded into the batter along with the flour mixture.

2 large eggs, at room temperature

1 1/4 cups evaporated cane juice or granulated sugar

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour

2/3 cup unbleached all purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground allspice

1/4 teaspoon ground ginger

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup walnut oil (or vegetable oil of choice)

1/4 cup molasses

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 1/2 cups sweet potato puree (from approximately 1 1/2 large sweet potatoes, roasted and cooled, skins removed)

1. Heat oven to 325 degrees F and lightly coat a loaf pan with cooking spray. Set aside.

2. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat the eggs and sugar until light, creamy and tripled in volume, about 10 minutes.

3. Meanwhile, whisk together the flours, baking soda, baking powder, spices and salt in a medium bowl. Set aside.

4. With the mixer on medium-low speed, drizzle the oil into the egg-sugar mixture. Beat until incorporated. Add the molasses, vanilla and sweet potato puree and beat until combined. [Superstar tip: after adding the oil, use the same measuring cup for the molasses. The coating of oil in the cup will ensure all of the molasses makes it out.]

5. Stop the mixer and add the flour mixture, gently folding it into the batter until incorporated. Be careful not to over mix the batter, as doing so activates the gluten in the flour and results in a heavier, denser crumb.

6. Pour batter into the prepared loaf pan and bake for 45 minutes to an hour, or until a toothpick inserted into the middle of the loaf comes out with a light coating of moist crumbs. Allow to cool before serving. The loaf will keep, tightly wrapped, in the refrigerator for several days.

Tavern

Tavern is the kind of place where you'll have an impeccable dining experience, but nary a decent photograph to show for it. (Unless, of course, you go there in the daytime, when the larder and atrium dining room are flooded with light so as to showcase the Jeffrey Alan Marks design and decor.)

Photo: Tavern / aackstudio

Photo: Tavern / aackstudio

Go there for dinner, and you'll marvel at the familiar yet surprising comfort of the food. (Seared Albacore over beluga lentils? Of course.) The thoughtful and generous service. (Responsive and perfectly-timed? Yes. Hovering and solicitous? No.) The sumptuous New-York-chic-meets-California-cool surroundings. (A testament to chef/owner Suzanne Goin's signature guest-at-a-dinner-party feel, you wonder, when can I move in?)

Of course, you'll expect nothing less -- Tavern is, after all, the brainchild of Goin and Caroline Styne, of Lucques and A.O.C. -- and you'll know that you won't do it justice with your pedestrian words and wretched photographs. (In my defense, the restaurant is much too dark and my camera flash -- a no-no to begin with -- much too "hot.")

So you'll simply say that your birthday dinner at Tavern marks your best restaurant dining experience in L.A. to date. That you wish Tavern had been Tavern and not Hamburger Hamlet when you lived in Brentwood. That on second thought, maybe not, because you'd be broke. That if you were the kind of person who didn't have to worry about going broke, you'd hire Jeffrey Alan Marks to design and decorate your house. And Suzanne Goin to teach you how to cook, because your Sunday Suppers at Lucques cookbook just isn't the same.

You'll order two disparate appetizers and banter with your husband about which is better. (Hint: it's the one in which you're indulging at that very moment.)

Roasted Peaches with Burrata, Prosciutto and Pine Nuts (Best. Burrata. Ever.)

Seared Albacore with Beluga Lentils, Green Olives and Salsa Verde



You'll pass your shockingly ill-photographed entrees back and forth, marveling at the perfection of the pork shoulder in all its brined-for-72-hours glory, and how its richness is tempered by the avocado salsa that is bright and refreshing and not at all heavy.



Pork Confit with Corn Pudding, Mojo Criollo and Avocado Salsa

You'll implore your husband to rein you in as you dig for caramelized leeks and onions in Goin's riff on Chicken Dijon.

The Devil's Chicken with Braised Leeks, Onions and Mustard Breadcrumbs



You'll have saved room for pastry chef Breanne Varela's famed Snickers Bar dessert, which will be dropped at your table with a complimentary plate of her cookies, adorned with a birthday candle. And you'll breathe a sigh of relief that although Tavern isn't the least bit pretentious, it isn't the sort of  place where the staff sings to you.

Breanne's Cookies


Can we talk about the Snickers Bar for a minute?


Snickers Bar with Salted Peanut Caramel and Vanilla Ice Cream
(Photo: starchefs.com)



It was mind-blowing. Best. Dessert. Ever. It's what the Momofuku Chocolate-Malt Cake wishes it could be. And were Tavern that sort of place, we'd have licked the plate clean.

Do go to Tavern, and do bring a jacket. It's dreadfully over-air conditioned -- its only flaw.

Miller Union

We're back from our fun, busy, fun, busy, fun weekend in Atlanta. There's so much to tell you about, I'm going to tackle it chronologically. Sounds boring, I know. I'll try and make it fun (not busy).

Before I begin, you should know:

1. I love the South.

2. This was my husband's first visit.

3. He now loves it, too.

When my husband picked me up from the airport on Friday afternoon (he had arrived in Atlanta the day before, for business meetings), I was ready to chew off my arm. This was due in part to a long, foodless flight, and was only intensified by reading Atlanta Magazine's "Best New Restaurants" issue while I waited for my husband to make his way through Spaghetti Junction, the thought of which made me all the more hungry. (Mmmmm...spaghetti.) We proceeded directly to Miller Union on the recommendation of some Twitter folks. (Thanks, Tweeps!)

Miller Union has been heavily (and positively) reviewed in the press, and was just awarded Restaurant of the Year by Atlanta Magazine. It's also just our sort of place: the locally-sourced menu is in tune with the seasons, and as Atlanta magazine so aptly puts it, it's "a little bit country and a little bit rock 'n'roll, with a generous dash of hip hop."

We weren't able to get a reservation (bloody Restaurant of the Year frenzy), so we had appetizers at the bar while we waited for an elusive table to open up. The bartender was delightful, and didn't judge us too much for the nerdy photography and hand modeling.



Although we didn't have cocktails, we liked the Miller Thyme moniker.



Doesn't my husband make his beer look positively tempting? He's an excellent hand model.



We munched on the bartender's recommendations: the Feta Snack (a dip made with local Feta and buttermilk, served with local veggies) and Country Pork Terrine.

The Feta Snack was light and fresh and hit the spot on the warm afternoon. The Country Pork Terrine, made with the Benton's Country Ham, was nice, but I was more impressed with the pickled okra and house made mustard. I slathered the okra with mustard and it was goooood.

By the time we finished our appetizers a patio table had opened up, so we moved outside.

As is our usual practice, we ordered two mains to share: the Grilled Heritage Pork Tenderloin with Okra, Corn, Beans and Tomatoes, and the Grilled Mountain Trout with Bacon, Local Potatoes and Vidalia Vinaigrette.

The pork tenderloin was flavorful, juicy and slightly sweet. The accompanying vegetables, however, were lackluster, and the corn was tough. The opposite was true for the trout dish: the fish was anemic and bland, but I couldn't get enough of the potatoes and bacon in their tangy vinaigrette. I love me some salty and sour.

And sweet.

For dessert, we shared the Peach Shortcake and the Fudge Brownie with Caramel Ice Cream.

As much as I hate to tell you this, the desserts were lame. The shortcake biscuit, though light and fluffy, was over salted, and the peaches, though beautiful to look at, were hard and unripe. The brownie was not fudgy at all, but rather dry and flavorless. The house made caramel ice cream was nice, though. As was the service and atmosphere. One of Miller Union's owners, Neal McCarthy, stopped by our table for a chat as we were finishing dessert. In a word, he's spiffy, what with his British accent and perfectly-tailored suit and impeccable but decidedly unpretentious manners.

All in all, it was a lovely evening and I would visit Miller Union again. Up next: grassroots drag racing, a giant chicken and a pretzel the size of my head.

Sourdough Soft Pretzels

As I alluded to in my previous post about sourdough English muffins, when I was growing up I was tight with my maternal grandparents. Actually, I was (am) tight with all of my mom's relatives. An only child, mom hails from a small but close-knit clan (yes, clan) whose origins have been traced all the way to fourteenth-century Scotland by my genealogy-loving family. But I digress.

The point I'm laboring at has to do with the regular treks we'd make every summer from our farm in the mountains to my grandparents' home in the Berkeley Hills. We'd spend a month or so with them, familying it up around the Bay Area, watching television and eating "regular" food slipped to us kids by my grandmother. Although I was in awe of television (we didn't have one at home) and besotted with the Hershey's bars my grandfather bought for me at the ninth hole snack bar when I accompanied him to his regular Saturday golf games, my favorite treats were sourdough soft pretzels from the carts which dotted San Francisco's financial district.

Once a week or so, I'd accompany my mom on an errand to the City, during which we'd stop by my grandfather's office on Kearny Street. In exchange for quietly banging on typewriters and scribbling on my grandfather's stationery while the adults talked, I was treated to a pretzel from a cart on Market Street to eat on the BART ride back to Berkeley.

There's really nothing better than a piping hot sourdough pretzel -- salty and crusty on the outside, soft and tangy on the inside. (That's what she said? Sorry. It's reflexive.) I'm fairly certain there's a gene for loving salt and bread, and that I have it. I've searched high and low for pretzels like those from my childhood, but nothing has ever come close. I've tried to order them from reputed bakeries in Philadelphia (unfortunately one can only buy them frozen and in bulk), and I fall for the monstrosities at the pretzel carts in New York City every time. I know from sight alone that they're awful, but I secretly hope that by sheer will, I can conjure them to be like those from my childhood.

It turns out I can conjure the pretzels from my childhood, in my very own kitchen. Or pretty darn close, anyway. Who says time travel isn't possible, or that baking isn't magical...?

Sourdough Soft Pretzels

Adapted from Smitten Kitchen and The Foppish Baker

Makes about 16 full-size or 32 miniature pretzels

2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 tablespoon + 2 tablespoons sugar
1 cup hot (but not boiling) water
1 1/2 cups sourdough starter
2 teaspoons kosher salt
3 cups all purpose flour
2 1/2 cups bread flour
1/4 cup baking soda
1 egg
Sea or kosher salt, for sprinkling

1. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, dissolve the butter and 1 tablespoon sugar in the hot water. Add the sourdough starter and stir to combine. Add 3 cups all purpose flour and mix on low speed until the flour is incorporated. Stop the mixer and swap out the paddle attachment for the dough hook.

2. Add 2 1/2 cups bread flour and mix on low speed until the dough pulls away from the sides of the bowl and becomes elastic, about 2 to 3 minutes. Transfer the dough to a large oil-coated bowl. Lightly coat the top and sides of the dough with oil, cover the bowl and set in a warm place two hours or until the dough has doubled in size.

3. Punch down dough to remove bubbles and transfer to a lightly floured board. Knead a couple of times, then divide into 16 pieces (or 32 if miniature pretzels). [I cut the dough in half, made 16 miniature pretzels and froze the remaining dough.]

4. Roll one piece of dough at a time into a strip about 12 inches long. [Like Deb, I found that rolling the dough on an unfloured board was easier.] Twist into pretzel shape, transfer to a parchment-lined baking sheet and cover with a kitchen towel. Repeat with remaining dough.



I fear we will soon resemble these plump little guys, what with the
more-eating-than-exercising thing we've got going on here at Flour Child.



5. Fill a large, shallow pan with about 2 inches of water. [I used a saute pan.] Bring to a boil. Add 2 tablespoons sugar and baking soda and carefully stir until dissolved. Reduce to a simmer and transfer 3 or 4 pretzels at a time to the water. Poach for a minute on each side and transfer with a slotted spatula to a cooling rack set over a towel or baking sheet.

6. Heat oven to 450 degrees F. In a small bowl, whisk egg with 1 tablespoon water. Brush pretzels with egg glaze and sprinkle with salt.

7. Transfer pretzels back to the original parchment-lined baking sheet and bake for about 15 minutes or until evenly browned. [My oven has hot spots, so I rotated the sheet halfway through baking.]

The pretzels are best eaten warm on the day they're made, but according to Deb they can be stored, uncovered, for two days. I bagged and froze mine so that I could enjoy them one at a time, reheated in the microwave or oven.