"LudoBites - Recipes and Stories from the Pop-up Restaurants of Ludo Lefebvre" with JJ Goode and Krissy Lefebvre Harper Collins Publishers 373 pages $24.99
Pop-up restaurants occur when a chef has lost his own kitchen (restaurant) but is able to borrow another's on a short lease; hence his restaurant "pops-up." They are advertised by word-of-mouth and Twitter. It's a gypsy-style life.
Lefebvre is young, clearly talented (has trained in some of the fanciest restos around) and in fact is listed as one of the 50 Best Chefs in America. I'm old-fashioned and I don't "get" using agar-agar, sheet after sheet of gelatin or a PolyScience smoking gun (instant smoked taste) a sous-vide or immersion blenders.
He specializes, he says, in keeping the same flavors but in new forms for classic dishes. That would help explain his Bouillabaise Milk Shake (his wife wouldn't even taste it) or adding Gruyere marshmallows to the classic bread soup. He never hesitates to mix meat with sweet as in his "Chocolate Cupcakes with Fois Gras Chantilly Cream and Maple-bacon Coulis, Carmelized dragees and Balsamic-maple syrup."
He is passionately fond of using ice cream as a garnish. He handmakes his own. I noted that his "mustard ice cream" called for only 1/4 teas. of tumeric and no other mustard at all.
His cauliflower ice cream was created to go with a roast, I believe.
His other go-to favorite is fois gras. Now that California has banned the sale and use of it, I bet he just about tore out his hair.
His cooking style is interesting, certainly, but I'm not so sure how "meaningful" it is in the sense that he really is breaking new ground or just a passing fad. Time and Twitter will tell.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Thursday, November 29, 2012
No Eagles Were Harmed in This Experiment
"They're so tight they can make an eagle scream" is an expression used to describe someone who is so reluctant to spend money that they can make the eagle on a quarter scream in pain when it's pried from their hand.
Despite what this may sound like to you as it unfolds, I can assure you in front of God and two other responsible witnesses that the eagle on the quarter in my change purse never let out a peep. Not from July 10th to yesterday, a time span of four months.
My long-term windfall began innocently enough. Richie and I decided to go to La Vegas for three days, beginning July 10th. To fund my gambling, I withdrew five $20s from my account and stowed all but one of them in the back of my checkbook (which is an excellent hiding place, by the way.)
I lost $4 at video poker at the Rio and I exerted so much effort winning it back that I really didn't have the stomach to dip into my fund and gamble more.
Once home, the money languished in my calendar until we flew to Marseilles for that wedding. I wanted some walking around money and Richie wanted to cash in some traveler's checks. We walked into the nearst bank and were politely told, "Oh, no, we do not accept American money -- and, Monsieur, no one in France will take your traveler's checks."
Richie is rather stubborn and he tried three other banks to no avail. So my $100 had a free tour of France. Again it languished unspent through September.
On October 11th, I took $40 with me to the jazz club and bought the first pitcher of beer ($14 with $26 leftover) At the end of October, we hit a couple library book sales, but the grand total for that was maybe $6.50. I remember a couple of runs into the supermarket and paying cash for such as two sandwich rolls or a pound of hambuger or a can of corn. I paid $7 cash for a prescription drug.
Yesterday I was finally down to a dollar bill and a dollar's worth of change. Make no mistake, I can spend like a drunken sailor when I'm using a credit card (and, sadly, often have) but it takes me a long time to spend it when it's cash. I mean, cash is worth something, right?
Despite what this may sound like to you as it unfolds, I can assure you in front of God and two other responsible witnesses that the eagle on the quarter in my change purse never let out a peep. Not from July 10th to yesterday, a time span of four months.
My long-term windfall began innocently enough. Richie and I decided to go to La Vegas for three days, beginning July 10th. To fund my gambling, I withdrew five $20s from my account and stowed all but one of them in the back of my checkbook (which is an excellent hiding place, by the way.)
I lost $4 at video poker at the Rio and I exerted so much effort winning it back that I really didn't have the stomach to dip into my fund and gamble more.
Once home, the money languished in my calendar until we flew to Marseilles for that wedding. I wanted some walking around money and Richie wanted to cash in some traveler's checks. We walked into the nearst bank and were politely told, "Oh, no, we do not accept American money -- and, Monsieur, no one in France will take your traveler's checks."
Richie is rather stubborn and he tried three other banks to no avail. So my $100 had a free tour of France. Again it languished unspent through September.
On October 11th, I took $40 with me to the jazz club and bought the first pitcher of beer ($14 with $26 leftover) At the end of October, we hit a couple library book sales, but the grand total for that was maybe $6.50. I remember a couple of runs into the supermarket and paying cash for such as two sandwich rolls or a pound of hambuger or a can of corn. I paid $7 cash for a prescription drug.
Yesterday I was finally down to a dollar bill and a dollar's worth of change. Make no mistake, I can spend like a drunken sailor when I'm using a credit card (and, sadly, often have) but it takes me a long time to spend it when it's cash. I mean, cash is worth something, right?
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Flocked Christmas Trees Are an Insult to God!
Not that I feel strongly about flocked Christmas trees or anything...
Despite the fact that today is November 28th, our two local Christmas tree yards, both in Hermosa Beach, are up and doing business. The Kiwanis lot at Pier and Pacific Coast Highway is selling - to the best of my recollection - all green trees, or "trees au natural" if you will.
Debbie and Jeff's Christmas trees on the corner of 21st and Pacific Coast Highway has several small trees, painted in aggressive pastels; a rather fluorescent pink; finger paint blue and a sorta neon white. Our route home from the gym passes Debbie and Jeff's and this morning the flocked trees were nowhere in sight and I thought, "Thank God, I don't have to see them!" until I realized that the tarp-covered short bundles next to a shed were probably those very trees. We're supposed to have rain today which would undoubtedly improve their looks...But old Debs and the Jeff-ster have them protected.
Why this unrelenting rage against a poor 'lil ole flocked tree? Okay, it's convoluted. See if you can follow along with the mad reasoning of a seriously-deranged person. (That would be me, of course) Christmas is celebrated to honor the birth of a man, born in extremely humble circumstances - and I've always wondered how Mary managed to give birth in a manger which is a feeding trough to me, usually located about four feet off of the barn floor.
Anyhow, where was I? The newborn's parents were sehltering in the manger in the desert around a burg called "Bethlehem."
This particular birth is simplicity itself. There were no hotel rooms with gold faucet taps or an available spa. There were no flocked trees in the manger's lobby 'cause there wasn't even a lobby.
Moving on. God is credited with creating everything in the world - oceans, mainlands, deserts, mountains and furnishing them with shores, cliffs and forests. God made several varieties of trees - some bear nuts, others vegetables or fuits and some just sit there, looking pretty in groups or alone. You could say that posing is their job.
My point is: if these trees "as is" were/are beautiful to God, who are we to come along gild the lily? I knew you'd see it my way.
Despite the fact that today is November 28th, our two local Christmas tree yards, both in Hermosa Beach, are up and doing business. The Kiwanis lot at Pier and Pacific Coast Highway is selling - to the best of my recollection - all green trees, or "trees au natural" if you will.
Debbie and Jeff's Christmas trees on the corner of 21st and Pacific Coast Highway has several small trees, painted in aggressive pastels; a rather fluorescent pink; finger paint blue and a sorta neon white. Our route home from the gym passes Debbie and Jeff's and this morning the flocked trees were nowhere in sight and I thought, "Thank God, I don't have to see them!" until I realized that the tarp-covered short bundles next to a shed were probably those very trees. We're supposed to have rain today which would undoubtedly improve their looks...But old Debs and the Jeff-ster have them protected.
Why this unrelenting rage against a poor 'lil ole flocked tree? Okay, it's convoluted. See if you can follow along with the mad reasoning of a seriously-deranged person. (That would be me, of course) Christmas is celebrated to honor the birth of a man, born in extremely humble circumstances - and I've always wondered how Mary managed to give birth in a manger which is a feeding trough to me, usually located about four feet off of the barn floor.
Anyhow, where was I? The newborn's parents were sehltering in the manger in the desert around a burg called "Bethlehem."
This particular birth is simplicity itself. There were no hotel rooms with gold faucet taps or an available spa. There were no flocked trees in the manger's lobby 'cause there wasn't even a lobby.
Moving on. God is credited with creating everything in the world - oceans, mainlands, deserts, mountains and furnishing them with shores, cliffs and forests. God made several varieties of trees - some bear nuts, others vegetables or fuits and some just sit there, looking pretty in groups or alone. You could say that posing is their job.
My point is: if these trees "as is" were/are beautiful to God, who are we to come along gild the lily? I knew you'd see it my way.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Boxing Day cont'd
Now I'm thinking "food." It needs to be substantial because no dinner offered; it has to be winter appropriate so no pastis or salsa and chips...
Leafing through a cookbook, I came across these... mini Reuben sandwiches on party rye -- corned beef, sauerkraut, Swiss cheese and Russian dressing. Nope, too messy. I considered Won Tons, but too labor intensive. All of the meat kabobs were out as we don't have an outdoor grill and I'm not really crazy about using Broil on the oven.
There was a recipe, called "Onion-buttered Tidbits" which was pita pockets cup open slathered with Lipton's Onion Soup Mix and butter, then cut into triangles and baked in a 325 oven. Do you know how much salt onion dip mixes have?
No, I think I'll stay with the tried and true. Things people have actually devoured. To my amazement, one of those things is quesadillas! I get the medium-size tortilla --- the ones the size of tablecloths would make more of them at once, but I don't think I have a pan large enough to cook them.
QUESADILLAS - flour tortilla, chopped Swiss cheese (lovely buttery flavor) and that's it. Fold the tortilla in half, butter the top side and fry the "dry" side in butter, peek and flip them onto the buttered side and finish. Cut them into slices with a pizza cutter, plate them and have fresh salsa sitting beside that plate.
They're labor intensive, but I love them. Pigs in Blankets (doesn't date me too much! I think these were a '50s hottie...)
Tube of Crescent rolls, dough spread out flat on a cutting board. "Butter" with Coleman's mustard and orange marmalade. Now cut them into strips and wind them around mini-Lil Smokies or hot dogs and bake at whatever heat the roll package says to use.
I also like a bunch of the frozen appetizers -- mushroom and Brie pastries, shrimp won tons with various sauces beside them; Bacon-wrapped scallops, Mac and Cheese balls - surprisingly supple...quiches that can be cut in thin slices... Brace yourself, Trader Joe, I'm going to be inbound!
Leafing through a cookbook, I came across these... mini Reuben sandwiches on party rye -- corned beef, sauerkraut, Swiss cheese and Russian dressing. Nope, too messy. I considered Won Tons, but too labor intensive. All of the meat kabobs were out as we don't have an outdoor grill and I'm not really crazy about using Broil on the oven.
There was a recipe, called "Onion-buttered Tidbits" which was pita pockets cup open slathered with Lipton's Onion Soup Mix and butter, then cut into triangles and baked in a 325 oven. Do you know how much salt onion dip mixes have?
No, I think I'll stay with the tried and true. Things people have actually devoured. To my amazement, one of those things is quesadillas! I get the medium-size tortilla --- the ones the size of tablecloths would make more of them at once, but I don't think I have a pan large enough to cook them.
QUESADILLAS - flour tortilla, chopped Swiss cheese (lovely buttery flavor) and that's it. Fold the tortilla in half, butter the top side and fry the "dry" side in butter, peek and flip them onto the buttered side and finish. Cut them into slices with a pizza cutter, plate them and have fresh salsa sitting beside that plate.
They're labor intensive, but I love them. Pigs in Blankets (doesn't date me too much! I think these were a '50s hottie...)
Tube of Crescent rolls, dough spread out flat on a cutting board. "Butter" with Coleman's mustard and orange marmalade. Now cut them into strips and wind them around mini-Lil Smokies or hot dogs and bake at whatever heat the roll package says to use.
I also like a bunch of the frozen appetizers -- mushroom and Brie pastries, shrimp won tons with various sauces beside them; Bacon-wrapped scallops, Mac and Cheese balls - surprisingly supple...quiches that can be cut in thin slices... Brace yourself, Trader Joe, I'm going to be inbound!
Monday, November 26, 2012
Tah Dah! (Yet) Another Holiday to Celebrate!
From my voracious reading, I'm familiar with English writers and their mentions of "Boxing Day."
You may not be, so to explain, it's the day in Great Britain set aside for giving servants and tradespeople a "Christmas box" of money, treats or goods. It's a national holiday there and in many other countries, pretty much, just not America.
It could be compared to our (loathsome) "Black Fridays."
We used to have a Christmas Eve Open House from 3 to 7 p.m. and the idea was that if you were going somewhere else, take time to pop into our house for a drink and a bite and be on your merry way. If you didn't have anything else to do, well, come early and stay late!
Christmas day parties (and I only tried it once) don't really work out. Most people have set routines with family and/or friends.
But most of our friends are older and I don't like to think of them driving in the dark which now arrives around 4:30 p.m.
So I thought, what about a Boxing Day party from 1 to 4 p.m., same rules as for Christmas Eve? Since none of us have servants, I thought it might be fun to trade off any White Elephants received for Christmas. Some light-hearted horse trading would be tremendous fun!
For this kind of event, you need to offer substantial appetizers because it's not a sit-down dinner. I bought a three-dish heating tray from Target last year ($27) and it works perfectly because the lids are clear, you can see what you're about to stumble onto and the hostess can pass the table and see at a glance what needs to be replenished.
And I can tell you now with no hesitation whatsoever that the food I'd serve would be as far away from "holiday food" as you can get! We just pushed back from Thanksiving and a three day turkey-thon. I'm good for a whole year of no more turkey and trimmings.
You may not be, so to explain, it's the day in Great Britain set aside for giving servants and tradespeople a "Christmas box" of money, treats or goods. It's a national holiday there and in many other countries, pretty much, just not America.
It could be compared to our (loathsome) "Black Fridays."
We used to have a Christmas Eve Open House from 3 to 7 p.m. and the idea was that if you were going somewhere else, take time to pop into our house for a drink and a bite and be on your merry way. If you didn't have anything else to do, well, come early and stay late!
Christmas day parties (and I only tried it once) don't really work out. Most people have set routines with family and/or friends.
But most of our friends are older and I don't like to think of them driving in the dark which now arrives around 4:30 p.m.
So I thought, what about a Boxing Day party from 1 to 4 p.m., same rules as for Christmas Eve? Since none of us have servants, I thought it might be fun to trade off any White Elephants received for Christmas. Some light-hearted horse trading would be tremendous fun!
For this kind of event, you need to offer substantial appetizers because it's not a sit-down dinner. I bought a three-dish heating tray from Target last year ($27) and it works perfectly because the lids are clear, you can see what you're about to stumble onto and the hostess can pass the table and see at a glance what needs to be replenished.
And I can tell you now with no hesitation whatsoever that the food I'd serve would be as far away from "holiday food" as you can get! We just pushed back from Thanksiving and a three day turkey-thon. I'm good for a whole year of no more turkey and trimmings.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
"She's a Fascist!" "She sleeps with Nazis!" "My dear, she worked in a Chinese brothel and (whisper, whisper)"
"That Woman: the Life of Wallis Simpson, Duchess of Windsor" by Anne Sebba St. Martin's Press 344 pages $27.99
The Queen Mother is the one who never referred to her in any other way than "That Woman." In return David and Wallis called her "Cooky" because she (to them) looked and acted like a cook.
Yes, adoration on both sides.
This book finally discloses the real reason Simpson was so reviled in the British press when the affair was discovered. It wasn't because this common, Yankee woman was determined to steal the heir to the throne. It wasn't because she was said to have led a very "interesting" life. It was because she had not one, but TWO living ex-husbands!
In the '30s, divorces in England were hard to get. In fact, the pleader had to essentially go through divorce proceedings twice. The first to establish adultery (the only grounds at that time) and wait for the judge to mull over the circumstances for a decree nisi and then go back for a second hearing to get the final, permanent divorce. And there was no guarantee that the judge would grant it. If he did not, hey, baby - that's it. You're joined for life!
Moreover, the greater population of England - East Enders to the highest peerages and positions were (more or less) devout Christians and the King is the titular representative of the Church of England. That was the source of the raging uproar of indignation.
The King was stupidly stubborn, too. He refused to marry her and then keep her hidden in the shadows of a morganic marriage. He wanted her on his arm, afforded the exact same courtesies as were given to him. For the rest of his life he fought to have her recognized as royal. And Cooky turned up her nose and laughed.
I was always curous about Ernest Simpson. Why did he knowingly allow her to cuckold him without making scenes about it? Because she told him that David would soon lose interest in her and at the end of this affair, they would have improved what today we would call "name recognition." But the King turned into The Joker and at the end, the joke was on her. He flatly refused to give her up! I'll abdicate! I'll kill myself!
She was obsessed about money (never having had a lot of it) and during the abdication scenes urged him to make sure that he/they got a substantial allowance. (Remittance money, actually.) This despite being covered in glorious gems. Apparently it never occurred to her that in case of desperate need, she could sell a piece or two. But she never relinquished what she felt was hers and hers alone.
It's a sad cautionary tale about two very selfish and shallow people.
The Queen Mother is the one who never referred to her in any other way than "That Woman." In return David and Wallis called her "Cooky" because she (to them) looked and acted like a cook.
Yes, adoration on both sides.
This book finally discloses the real reason Simpson was so reviled in the British press when the affair was discovered. It wasn't because this common, Yankee woman was determined to steal the heir to the throne. It wasn't because she was said to have led a very "interesting" life. It was because she had not one, but TWO living ex-husbands!
In the '30s, divorces in England were hard to get. In fact, the pleader had to essentially go through divorce proceedings twice. The first to establish adultery (the only grounds at that time) and wait for the judge to mull over the circumstances for a decree nisi and then go back for a second hearing to get the final, permanent divorce. And there was no guarantee that the judge would grant it. If he did not, hey, baby - that's it. You're joined for life!
Moreover, the greater population of England - East Enders to the highest peerages and positions were (more or less) devout Christians and the King is the titular representative of the Church of England. That was the source of the raging uproar of indignation.
The King was stupidly stubborn, too. He refused to marry her and then keep her hidden in the shadows of a morganic marriage. He wanted her on his arm, afforded the exact same courtesies as were given to him. For the rest of his life he fought to have her recognized as royal. And Cooky turned up her nose and laughed.
I was always curous about Ernest Simpson. Why did he knowingly allow her to cuckold him without making scenes about it? Because she told him that David would soon lose interest in her and at the end of this affair, they would have improved what today we would call "name recognition." But the King turned into The Joker and at the end, the joke was on her. He flatly refused to give her up! I'll abdicate! I'll kill myself!
She was obsessed about money (never having had a lot of it) and during the abdication scenes urged him to make sure that he/they got a substantial allowance. (Remittance money, actually.) This despite being covered in glorious gems. Apparently it never occurred to her that in case of desperate need, she could sell a piece or two. But she never relinquished what she felt was hers and hers alone.
It's a sad cautionary tale about two very selfish and shallow people.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
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