So, for all that care to, here is my opus on Opus:
Opus
So, shivering with antici......pation, my foodie pals and I went to Opus to celebrate my 38th birthday. The accolades from Chowhound posters were so uniformly stellar that I figured that this would not only be a grand slam (nod to the Denny's next door!), but something to remember for the long haul. Yes, we will remember.
Let me set the stage. We open the door and walk in...
The matre d’ kept us waiting at the bar for our table to open up, even though we were on time for our reservation. And from what we could tell, there was no one coming out of the main room as we sat there.
The air shaft at the bar was blowing an arctic breeze upon us as we clamored for two seats that were out of the line of the chill.
The bartenders were talking smack to one another about some nuance of a drink order from another customer within earshot of us.
We were seated at our table twenty minutes later when we have the front desk a “we’re ready” look and not a moment sooner.
After our first bread basket was finished, it lingered at the side of the table although we had another in its place.
The servers were a bit bumbling and way too soft spoken. We frequently had to ask them to repeat the food descriptions twice for clarification.
The award for best response of the night was one young man who explained to us that carpaccio “means” yellowtail. Oh, really? So nice to know that.
When the main server asked us if we had any food no-no’s, I told them of my aversion to eggs. She tried to hype up this mythical egg (which I sort of didn’t want to be sold on because I had already told her that I wasn’t having it) and my other friend told of her aversion to any sort of offal or organ meats.
The eggs come to my three friends. The all said that the yolk was overcooked and hard. The “cream of wheat” foam was odd. One friend said it tasted like vinegar, akin to eating a dyed Easter egg.
And there was the soup confusion. One of the lads told us that we had two kinds of soup coming to our table. One was clam with crab, the other hazelnut with fried pork belly. And all four bowls looked the same. Their guess was as good as ours and we ascertained that it was hazelnut with crab ravioli. This was the weakest link in the dinner for me. It tasted like tepid milk to me.
Another comment by another friend (didn’t bother me as much though) is that much of the food was more or less at room temperature and not sufficiently warm.
The soup hijinx evolved into an admission that it was training day for one of them. Not the sort of think I think one needs to blurt out when you are paying $60 a person.
And the sweetbreads fiasco. I thought it was wonderful. However, my friend who kindly yet emphatically said that she did not want anything of the sort was served the same thing as the rest of us. The server blamed it on the kitchen, the plate was taken away, and was returned sans organ meat. This is the sort of thing I have seen at Denny’s (again, next door) when one asks for their patty melt without onions and it comes back with the vague memory of the onions on the same burger.
The dessert came and at first bite, their take on a banana split tasted wonderful. Then, we all bit into something hard and frozen. Frozen strawberries. My friend, the organ hater, motioned to our server who responded “Oh, you don’t like that either?” Ouch! Resilient as my pal is, she asks if the berries are supposed to be frozen. As the server goes in the back to check, we can here her mutter under her breath, “Fabulous!”
And as the night went on, the service became progressively sparse and less attentive. Now this may look like we were being very challenging and needy, but the only time a grievance was really uttered was when it was solicited from our server. The egg, the organ, and the desert were the only things that were verbally brought to her attention.
As for strengths, the pita chips (how do they get them so tasty), the “carpaccio”/tempura, guinea hen, fish of unintelligible species, and veal cheek with sweetbreads made me very happy indeed.
I don’t know. Was Mercury in retrograde? Did I do something really wacky in a past life to get to experience such a peculiar dinner? Just seemed like any old Tuesday in Los Angeles. Suffice it to say, I probably won’t go back. I just really bought into the props and accolades that have been lavished upon Opus on CH. I will give benefit of the doubt always. I just wish that it hadn’t have happened for my birthday celebration. At least my pals and I have something to talk about for years to come.
-Quinn
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The older I get, the more crotchety I get, the less I want to put up with crap and wastes of time. Let's just move MEDIEVAL TIMES right to the top of the list, shall we?
Last weekend was my friend, Amy's, birthday. I believe I actually groaned out loud and begged her girlfriend to tell me she was lying when she called to invite me. It was a testament of my love for Amy that I even managed to drag my ass to MT, let alone plaster a smile on my face.
What do I have against the place?
1) It's an hour's drive in shitty traffic.
2) It's a haven for children.
3) You have to arrive 2 hours before dinner.
4) Dinner lasts two hours.
5) There's a theme, and it's an awful lot like Dirt Fest (Ren Faire).
So, yeah... We sat in traffic on the 5, cursing our friends for their evil, horrible plan. Once there, we fought minivans for parking spots and then traipsed over acres of asphalt to join the throngs by the entrance.
Our tickets, $50 each, were purchased in advance but we had to arrive early to secure a table. Once we reached the front of the line, we were handed paper crowns and told we had to wear them (I refused), then we were ushered into two separate photo ops, the results of which they later tried to sell to us for $20 a pop. This took all of five minutes after which we were told to wait for dinner seating. That leaves 1 to 1.5 hours to kill in what amounts to a big store. Pewter dragons, swords, and other lame knick-knacks surround you as do wave after wave of screaming brats begging their parents to shell out more and more money for conical princess hats and logo merch. Ick.
All that whining and crying makes one parched so you beat feet to one of the big bars where you can purchase beer, sodas and slushies for way too much money. My tap water with bubbles that they call "club soda" cost $4.00 in a tiny plastic cup. $7.00 would have gotten me a decent size beverage in any number of souvenir glasses. I was tempted to get the one with blinky lights cuz it was just so... AUTHENTIC!
Finally, when I was ready to spear a good many families between the eyes, we were called to attention in the main hall where we were made to listen to the king's spiel about "the Realm" and the knights and other twaddle. Bob said that if we saw the king (crusty old white guy with a long white beard) sipping soup at Denny's, we'd think he was some wino. Anyways, after that, at long last, we were ushered into the stadium, all 15 of us seated in one row that made getting up to pee a horrible ordeal.
A short while later, our "wench" (yeah... that's supposed to be cute, not tiresome) came by to inform us that service would begin shortly. Each person would receive a beverage with one refill during dinner service, your choice of beer or Pepsi. Yep. Those are the two choices. Betka asked for water and was told that there would be vendors coming up and down the aisles and she could purchase a bottle from them. (No beverage vendors ever appeared, though there were vendors galore!) Dinner would consist of one bowl of beef vegetable soup (Campbell's style, though I'm sure they go for a cheaper option), one slice of old flavorless partially warmed garlic bread, one wedge from a baked potato, one pork rib, and one half chicken cooked within an inch of disintegration. She made sure to ask if anyone was vegetarian so that she could serve them accordingly. Those that responded "yes" were served the bread and potato wedge, and steamed veggies. You did notice, didn't you, that admission was FIFTY DOLLARS?? They can't come up with some veggie pot pie or something?
Well, I suppose you'll say that what you're REALLY paying for is the "entertainment", right? Uggghhh.... It was horrible. I mean, really painfully horrible. Big dirt ring, fog machine, a poor falcon made to fly above our heads, numerous horses pranced around and around, made to do some tricks. I spent much of the evening feeling sad for the animals, quite certain that those horses would be much happier outside enjoying sunlight.
For the show... Pimply OC boys played "squires" to bored "actors" in a play that made no sense whatsoever. It's my firm belief that the performers purposefully speak in such a way as to not be understood, just to keep things interesting for themselves.
To add insult to injury, it was abundantly clear from the moment we arrived that the entire day would be devoted to the MT employees trying to squeeze every last red cent from the dumb people who brought their kids to this fiasco. Though the aforementioned beverage vendor never materialised, we were inundated by bored teens carrying trays of flags for cheering your knight, glowing swords, blinky lights, light-up roses, ad nauseum. It's almost enough to make even ME hate capitalism.
And, last but certainly not least, here's what topped our evening off perfectly. Danielle, Amy's girlfriend and the bearer of the original bad news, was sitting at the end of our aisle. At one point during the festivities, I was looking around in utter boredom and noticed that just beside her, at about face level, there was a man changing his baby's diaper. On the floor. Right by Danielle's face. Fucking hell! What is it with people? They wouldn't appreciate if I waved a big plastic sack full of shit by their mouths while they were eating, would they? Maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps they don't mind the repulsive odor of feces. Sometimes it seems that people completely lose their minds as soon as they breed. I don't know what that's about...
When we got home, Bob asked, "So, did you hate it?" I replied in the affirmative. Yes. HATE. It's a strong word but there is none more fitting. On the bright side, though, it was a learning experience. I have learned that next time one of my friends decides they want to torture everyone that cares about them, I'll kindly decline and offer, instead, to take them to dinner at someplace nice. Theme dining? Count me out.
-steen
tags: Medieval+Times, theme+parks, restaurants, dining
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Ah! One of my favorite classic food clips from "The Groove Tube"
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So, Steen has been harpin’ on me to barely contribute to this damn blog already! Well, while I have slaving away over a haute master’s thesis (about the gay, no less), I have had to the time to take my comfort (or discomfort as it were) at a few restaurants this week. Here is my badass recap, in chronological order
BLD
http://www.bldrestaurant.com/
I am the fussy breakfast bitch. I hate eggs. Even Steen ode of eggs earlier in the blog – let’s just say it was all I could do to not hijack it. I think they smell and look atrocious in any preparation and I can only imagine that they taste much worse. So, my choice in breakfast foods is limited, so you would think. I have no qualms eating carne asada tacos and pad see yew (sans oeuf ) at the crack of dawn any day.
So, on my first trip to BLD, thesis literature in tow, I was delighted to come across these berry ricotta pancakes. They are like a little bit of heaven, that’s what they are like. Aside from the asinine little aluminum tin of maple syrup that comes on the side (way too fucking precious, and ever so slightly messy), they are a definitive pancake experience. The one drawback was the home fries with lomo and chorizo I got on the side. They were dry and the meat was indistinguishable from dried chipped beef one might find in SOS (the charcuterie is supposed to be a highlight of the menu, so I was a bit surprised that the little bit of minced meat was unremarkable). But I just knew, that one day, hopefully sooner than later, I would go back from more of those cakes.
I did. With my friend Alvino. I call him Taffy, after the character in Female Trouble. You just have to become fully immersed in the Alvino experience to understand. Words fail me.
The waitress came and asked us if we had any questions about the menu. Eggs and pancakes must be really confounding for some people, I suppose. Or does she make us out to be morons?
I ordered my pancakes as planned, but I wanted to try some of this famous meat. She told me that there was a small selection at the bottom of the menu and that one selection came with my order. Funny, it didn’t last time. At any rate, I selected some chicken merguez. Alvino ordered the meat lover’s omelet. Note to chef: maybe not name a dish after a Pizza Hut staple at the boogie restaurant. And we were off.
She brought the coffee in this chrome press pot. When I went to grab it, she made it a point to swiftly plunge it down and explain to use slowly that it was a French press. Oh, God – you’re tip is slowly shrinking as we speak. Not only that, but she brought salt and pepper to the table, and instructed us on how to use them. I am floored again as I write this.
The pancakes were wonderful again and the sausage was excellent. It would have been better if I were not charged separately for them as she had so indicated at the onset. Alvino’s dish was reportedly wonderful, with those same lomo home fries that I deplored before (things are looking up for the meaty spuds), and he had a bisucuit that he raved about as well.
Funny how the change we got back was just short of a 15% tip. I will go back again for those flapjacks. But if I am being singled out for being young, fresh, and pretty and not like the KCRW subscribers with treatments being optioned who seemed to permeate the place, I can handle it.
Edendale Grill
http://www.edendalegrill.com/
A group of friends that I have know for many years decided to have supper all together at the reportedly wonderful Edendale Grill on fashionable Rowena in Silverlake. Didn’t at least 25% of the crystal dealers in LA used to live in this part of town? The magic of gentrification. So, I am geared up for a real treat.
What a perfectly mediocre dinner I just had there. The BLT salad was good, but nothing I could not have made at home myself, and have. The cherry tomatoes were unremarkable and for $8, I would expect even a slight paroxysm of flavor to emerge from them. The wild bass was on par with one of those tasteless, banal, and chewy fillets that can be had via any frozen food section courtesy of the Gorton's corporation. There was a nice ragout of veggies on top, but each bite was inconsistent in flavor and did not season the fish sufficiently. The caramelized onion risotto underneath was just as unremarkable and pasty (NOT creamy – there is a difference, children), with nary a hint of onion to be detected. As for the coffee: scent, 9; taste, 3. At the price point they charge this stuff at, I expected a few notches above this level. At least the company I was with was brilliant.
If it is any consolation, the server was this really fricken hot, chiseled-faced, salt and pepper haired hottie. If I ever have the fortune to bump into him again, it won't be at the Edendale Grill, that's for sure.
Open Sesame
http://www.opensesamegrill.com/
I have once before had a nice lunch at Open Sesame on 2nd Street in Belmont Shores when my MSW studies at Long Beach State have afforeded me a rare long afternoon lull. It is a tight and bustling place with lots of energy and a ton of happy customers. I had a wonderful falafel plate last time (way too much for me to eat, truth be told) so I came back for more.
I had the fried potatoes plate which the menu described as “Sauteed fried potatoes with cilantro, garlic, lemon and roasted chili. Served with yogurt and fattoush salad.” Yum. Simple and just what I wanted on this sunny day in February, loving that these perfect hot afternoons on the beach is one of the perks of being an Angelino.
But the service! My server did not crack a smile once, seemed completely unaffected by anything I said, was very curt, and best of all, FLUNG my check at my table when I was done! I can empathize with the having-a-bad-day syndrome, but this was way past that. Honestly, the temptation of leaving zero tip was tempting, but my mom was a server as I was growing up and I have that value stuck in my head for life. You know what? Once when I was a kid. I think it was at Café Figaro on Melrose (RIP). I think my mom got service so bad that she tipped a penny. The ultimate dig! And I bet she would deny it if I said that she did it and accuse me of having selective memory!
I saved the receipt because I was tempted to call her out by name in print, but I forgot the name and I’m a wuss. Despite the service, I will go back. It’s a little more gentrified than let’s say Marouch, but lovely, clean, tasty food nonetheless
Woodlands
http://www.woodlandsartesia.com/
I have only about three and a half months left at CSULB and I want to take advantage of some of the local grub while I can. I have tested the waters of Cambodian chow on Anaheim Boulevard (Siem Riep rocks!) and love to skip up to Pioneer Boulevard in Artesia for Indian food. Usually that means a lunch buffet, which I am loathe to do, but always do it anyway. Worst case scenario: chicken thighs or indistinguishable pieces of bone and gristle in a dull colored curry and dry ass rice mixed with Veg-All. This is usually not the case in Little India where the steam tables have a more diverse array of treats beyond allu gobi and thin rice pudding.
Woodlands is a South Indian veggie restaurant, much in the same vein as Paru’s on Sunset in Hollywood, minus the security gate. The quality is superb, and if not the tastiest Indian food I have ever had, it is by far the best Indian buffet for sure.
The service was quick, attentive, and met that fine line of knowing what questions to ask without sounding condescending (unlike fricken BLD). Like “Just to let you know, there is no chicken or lamb here.” Perfect! “We bring a fresh dosa to the table for everyone.” Even better! The dosa came to me on a plate much smaller than it’s own size. Glossy and almost laquered, the crepe was perfectly formed and golden brown, filled with seasoned potatoes that were just right. One thing that struck me about this joint is that I can be a big puss when it comes to spiciness, which gets me snickers from friends who are always trying to prove something with their tolerance of capsicum levels – tired. All of the food was mildly spiced in terms of heat and nothing made me have to hyperventilate. The best thing on the table was their idlis. I went back for seconds. Wonderfully formed patties of rice and lentils. This is enough to go back down the 605 again with veg pals in tow.
-Quinn
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Love him or find him the fool, one of the best things ever was and still is the George Foreman grill. I got a knock-off a while back, and only occasionally use it. Let me tell you, it is nice to be able to grill a chicken breast at home and get those cool stripes on your own. Not to mention grilled cheese sammiches. I know one can just as easily make it with a pan, but again, My contraption comes with a sandwich option, where it grills it, AND makes into little triangles all by itself!
Anyhow, I wasn't in the mood to really cook anything, but at the same time I didn't want to just order a crappy pizza and be done with it. The old lady offered up a platter of tomatoes and mozzarella, and another 'to be announced' item. I mulled it over, and said."You know... I cold really go for a bike sammich."
"Ooooh... that does sound good."
I ran to the store to get the parma, some baguette and rucola and we were red-to-go.
A little background. Across from the cinema where we rarely go to see films, there is a place called Pinnochhio. run by a group of Italians, it has some great gelato, wood-oven pizzas and a few pannini. Always friendly, we usually hit it after buying tickets before the show. (You can reserve tickets, and pick them up when you get there. Ain't the internets wonderful?) I go for the bike sammich 98% of the time, and the others I get the King. (A tasty but boring tomato/mozzerella affair. Does the trick, but it just doesn't >pop<.) We were waiting this summer when the world cup was on TV and of course, we had to order while Italy was playing. Not the final against France. That would have been murderous, and I would bet they were closed. the wait took a bit longr than usual, but it was still hot and tasty. Perfect to top you off before seeing some Hollywood tripe.
Finished product.
Cut the baguette in half, lay on the mozzarella (or mortadella if you want...) throw on the parma and some rucola. Salt and pepper and throw it in the grill. (If you are unfortunate enough NOT to have one, just grill it in the pan. Squishing it is essential, as is the melting of the cheese.) Get on this easy and cheap sammich while you can. A warm meal is almost the best thing since sliced bread when its cold out.
—Christian
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It's winter, even here in Southern California. Sure, it's not snowing or anything, but there's a chill in the air and it's downright nipply at night. Maybe this has nothing to do with anything other than it being a great excuse to eat hearty meals. Yeah, so I'm just trying to justify it; sue me.I was sitting here thinking about one of the few things my dad used to cook. Fried potatoes. MMMMmmmmmm... So good. He'd make them for my mom when I was growing up. Who knows, maybe he still does but since I no longer live with my folks, I'm on my own here. Make sure to cook them slowly as they develop this wonderful sweetness. These are easily my favorite potatoes.
I pulled out Nancy Silverton's Sandwich Book knowing that she'd provide the perfect accompaniment for my savory side, and the following was my choice. I halved the recipe and it was still enough for two, and I've got a good bit of Bagna Cauda left over to reheat some night soon. This baby is easy, really flavorful, and super satisfying. I'll happily make it for dinner next time. I didn't have salt-packed anchovies, so I'm not sure if they're more intense than the oil-packed ones that I used. My only "complaint" (and it's not actually a complaint because I loved this dish) was that the anchovy flavor wasn't assertive enough for my taste. I assume that it's one of those cases when the anchovy is supposed to "melt" into the Bagna Cauda, simply providing salt and smokiness. Well, I'd prefer to really taste it. Next time, I'll add more fillets to the Bagna Cauda, and maybe even dice one up to sprinkle atop the sandwich.
Mario's Favorite Bagna Cauda Sandwich (adapted from Nancy Silverton's Sandwich Book)
For the Bagna Cauda:
2-3 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped (about 1 tbsp)
4 3" long salt-packed anchovies, rinsed well, backbones removed, finely chopped (about 1 tbsp)
1 stick (4oz) unsalted butter
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 tsp finely chopped lemon zest
3-4 tsp fresh lemon juice, or to taste
Kosher salt, to taste
6 extra large eggs (I used large eggs)
4 slices sourdough bread
1 garlic clove, peeled
Approximately 2 cups arugula leaves, loosely packed (about 1 to 1.5 oz) (I used organic mixed herbs instead)
For the Bagna Cauda: Using a mortar and pestle, pulverize the garlic and anchovies until a smooth paste. (I don't have a mortar and pestle, so I placed the ingredients between two sheets of parchment paper and used a heavy pan to do the work.)
Transfer the paste to a small saucepan. Add the butter and olive oil and bring to a simmer over low heat. Continue simmering for about 5 minutes. Remove the pan from heat and stir in the lemon zest and lemon juice. Season with salt to taste.
To Hard cook the eggs: Place the eggs in a medium saucepan with water to cover. Bring to a boil over high heat and turn down to a low simmer. Simmer the eggs for 5 minutes, and immediately plunge them into a large bowl of ice water for a minute or so. Take them out as soon as they're cool.
Toast the bread until golden and just beginning to turn crunchy. Rub one side of each slice with the garlic clove, and slice the bread on the diagonal into thirds, to make triangles. Place the slices on serving plates, garlic side up.
To assemble the sandwich: Arrange the arugula over each piece of bread. Cut the top 1/2" off the eggs and, using a spoon, scoop them out of their shells in large spoonfuls onto the arugula. Drizzle 2-3 tbsp of the warm bagna cauda over the top.
Serves 2-3
Dad's Fried Potatoes
2 russet potatoes, peeled and sliced fairly thin
3 tbsp vegetable oil
Salt and pepper
This is so super easy-peasy. You can par-cook the potatoes in the microwave oven, or par-boil them for a few minutes. Or not. It's up to you.
Heat the oil in a large non-stick skillet. Arrange a batch of potato slices in a single layer in the skillet. Partially cover the pan and cook over medium-low heat until brown, then flip and cook on the other side. Do it in batches until all of the potatoes are done. Season each batch with salt and pepper to taste.
The key is to cook them over fairly low heat so that they end up crispy around the edges, slightly soft in the center, and sweet tasting.
Serves 2-3
-Steen
tags: sandwich, eggs, recipe, cooking, eating, food, anchovies
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That's right. You heard me! I'm a killer. A low-down, good for nothing murderer. Beware! Keep your living organisms far from me! I'm not proud to admit it, but I feel I must; my sourdough starter is no more. To be fair, it hasn't been anything for quite some time. The madness of the holidays and the travelling of Bob = a complete lack of interest in my starter. So I let it flounder. So I let it die.
But that's OK! I'm back and feeling pretty good about things. I'm going to make the most of this death and get back on track with a little comparison. Back when I first sent away for the starter, I actually did so from two different sources. A few days after my original starter arrived in the mail, the second one did, but I didn't get it going because the first was doing so well. Now, here's my chance!
Both starters were procured online, both arrived in the mail within a couple of weeks, both promise to yield glorious baked goods, but they diverge from there.
Photos and instructions for my first sourdough starter I've already posted, so in this post, I'll give you the skinny on the second one.
Starter #2 came from The Carl Griffith Sourdough Page. It's called "1847 Oregon Trail Starter" and is purported to be over 150 years old. I'm interested to see if there's a difference between this culture and the newer one. I've got to say that the instructions for Carl's starter are not very clear and I'm having a hard time following them, specifically, the timing of the part in BOLD below. Is it supposed to get bubbly today, or next week? I'm just going to assume that I'm supposed to begin feeding it right away. Let's see what happens!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
INSTRUCTIONS FOR REVIVING THE STARTER (from this page):
Get a small container. Begin with one tablespoon of lukewarm water, stir
in 1/2 teaspoon of your starter and let stand for a few minutes to soften
the start granules. Then mix in one tablespoon of flour. Depending on the
flour, you may need to add an additional teaspoon or two of water. You want
the mixture to be like a thin pancake batter. When the mixture gets
bubbly, put it in a little larger container. Then stir in 1/4 cup of water
and 1/4 cup of flour. When that mix rises up add 1/2 cup of water and 1/2
cup of flour. When this bubbles up, you will have about one cup of very
active starter that is ready for use or storage in your refrigerator.
The time between refreshments will depend mainly on temperature. You can
expect the first sign of starter activity to take from four to 12 hours.
Tips:
o I use the baby formula wrist test to judge the temperature of the water.
A few drops on your wrist should feel neither warm nor cold.
o A baby food jar and an 18-ounce peanut butter jar work well for the small
and large containers.
o Established starter will do fine in any room temperature that is
comfortable for humans. Warmer room temperature is helpful when reviving
start, but do not go over 85F if at all possible. Cooler temperatures just
extend the time required. If room temperature is under 68F, I find a
warmer spot such as the top of my refrigerator or a cold oven with the light
on.
o Vigorous stirring of the mixture from time to time will slightly shorten
the time between growth stages, but is not necessary for success. I use
this method to test start before shipping and just stir enough to mix the
ingredients.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I'd like to take a moment before ending this post to say that I'm so impressed with the generosity of both providers of starter. This experiment would, obviously, not have been possible without them. Be sure to show your thanks if you decide to partake of their kindness.
-Steen (murderer)
tags: sourdough+starter, baking, bread, sourdough
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I wanted Bob's welcome-back meal to impart hominess and comfort and I could think of nothing better than a piping hot chicken pot pie. The recipe below is much changed from the original. Store-bought pie crust is easy to use and gives the pies that bottom layer of dough that Bob loves and I find that frozen puff-pastry makes the perfect topper. I chose to use boneless/skinless thighs because they are inexpensive, flavorful and moist. I increase the vegetable amounts because the veggies are my favorite part of the pies and the overall yield is enough to make two, one of which can be frozen. They keep beautifully in the fridge and can be reheated whole or nuked as individual servings if you don't mind mushy dough.
Chicken and Veggie Pot Pies (adapted from this recipe)
1.5 pounds boneless, skinless chicken thighs
32 oz low-salt chicken broth
1 bay leaf
4 tablespoons butter
3/4 cup celery, cut into 1/2" pieces
3/4 cup carrots, peeled, cut into 1/2" cubes
1 large onion, chopped
3/4 teaspoon dried thyme, crumbled
8 ounces mushrooms, coarsely chopped (I like a combination of crimini and shitake)
5 tablespoons all purpose flour
1 cup frozen peas, thawed
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/3 cup whipping cream
4 sheets puff pastry (5"x5") cut into 1" strips
2 frozen deep-dish pie crusts, thawed
Combine chicken, broth and bay leaf in large pot. Cover partially; simmer until chicken is just cooked through, about 25 minutes. Reserve the broth and transfer chicken to a bowl. When chicken has cooled, tear or cut meat into bite-size pieces. Set aside.
Add carrots to the broth and simmer over medium-high heat until reduced to 2 1/2 cups liquid, about 15 minutes. Remove bay leaf from broth.
Melt butter in heavy medium saucepan over medium heat. Add celery, onion and thyme. Sauté until onion is tender, about 5 minutes. Add mushrooms. Cook until mushrooms are tender, about 5 minutes. Reduce heat to medium-low. Sprinkle vegetables with flour; cook 2 minutes, stirring often. Gradually stir in reduced broth and carrots. Add peas. Simmer until broth thickens, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat. Stir chicken and cream into sauce; season with salt and pepper. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Cool slightly. Cover and refrigerate. Rewarm before continuing.)
Note: Because the filling is already cooked, I bake the pies according to the instructions for the puff pastry.
Preheat oven to 400°F. Bake both pie crusts for 10 minutes (you can use pie weights or beans to weight down the bottom, though I didn't). Divide chicken mixture between the two pre-baked pie crusts. Top with criss-crossed strips of puff pastry. Bake until filling is bubbling and pastry is puffed and brown, 25 minutes. Let stand 5 minutes before serving.
Makes 2 pies (approximately 8 servings).
-steen
tags: pot+pie, chicken, recipe, cooking, food
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Those of us that have spent any amount of time watching Food Network shows have undoubtedly grown weary of Emmeril's Bams and his various other cliches. Like, "It's a food of love thing". (But, we forgive him because we remember the good old days when he was just this funny little hairy guy stumbling along with a fledgling network.)
I can't help but think of that catch-phrase, though, when I look back at this month's posts and realise that I haven't added anything to the site in nearly two weeks. <sigh>
Well, folks, here's the skinny. Bob's a musician, like Willy, and he's been on tour. A USO tour to be exact. He left January 4th and my interest in cooking and food has slowly declined with each day's passing. Despite a steady stream of houseguests, I just don't seem to be in the mood for food. You could chalk it up to solidarity (Bob's been reporting back to me about all of the horrible meals he's had on military bases throughout the Pacific Rim) but I don't think that's the case.
The reality is that though I adore cooking and grazing upon deliciousness, my taste buds are firmly affixed to my heart. Would it be silly to call Bob my muse? Perhaps not, since it seems I can barely muster the will to cook anything at all, and it's getting worse from one day to the next. As I think back on my life, I can definitely identify a pattern. When I'm alone, I eat very simply. Cooking and dining are an extension of my love, and when love's on tour, my motivation goes into hibernation.
So, I decided to force the issue. A couple days ago, I started some yogurt cheese, letting it drain overnight in the fridge. Today I toasted sesame seeds and chopped Morrocan olives, added it to the "cheese", seasoned with salt and pepper, even took a couple of photos of the process. Then, I went in search of the crackers I'd bought to accompany the dip and found that my current houseguest had eaten all but five of them. Now I'm in a funk. It's not rational, but who cares?
Bob returns this weekend (HALLELUJAH!!) and after at least a week of complete isolation from the rest of the world, we'll both emerge to eat again. Food of love, indeed.
-steen
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I was on tour in the UK a couple of seasons ago & developed a special fondness for the thick "rasher" bacon they served up for breakfast over there. I looked for a local source in LA, figuring it'd be easy to find....not so easy. Trader Joes?...nope. Wild Goats?.....huh uh. Overpriced Bristol Farms?....negative captain! Even indie butchers didn't have the first clue where to get it. I finally found an Irish store in Hollywood that kept a good stock of it. You can find me fumbling in their freezer every 3 or 4 weeks.
I live in Long Beach & have become a regular customer at a pub near downtown called the Auld Dubliner.....yeah, kind of a hokey name & it's right on the edge of one of those horrible new retail super complexes, but a friend of mine coaxed me into checking it out.
What a find! All the food there is fantastic & amazingly consistant visit to visit. And......they had my rasher bacon!! They have a list of "Boxty" dishes on the menu & one of them is a Rasher & Cheddar Boxty. A boxty is a large potato pancake folded over whatever goodies you want to stuff inside..... really simple & really tasty!
Their appetizers are delicious & wide ranging. I ordered some shrimp & crab cakes with a spicy mayo sauce & was delighted to find no breading or filler in 'em.....mostly just shrimp & crabmeat. The salads are excellent as well. The have a huge iceberg wedge drowning in bleu cheese that they serve with a steak knife. Seared beef, lamb, wilted spinach with apples & bacon are some of the other salads that'll do fine as a "super-appetizer" or main course. Check their site AULD DUBLINER for the whole menu.
Off the menu, you'll have to order their homemade BROWN BREAD ICE CREAM for dessert. It's incredible!
You'll want to get there in the afternoon or early evening as the kitchen closes at 10:00. Around 10:30 or so, the Dubliner sneakily transforms itself into more of a club than a pub. It's right across Pine Avenue from the LB convention center & can get pretty packed late nights. Sometimes it's fun to throw back a few ales & check out the also consistantly great live music. It's always a good show too with a thick mix of locals & all the out of town suits rolling through.....as well as the occasional "service" women who tend to the comfort of lonely conventioneers. I call it the "Gents & Rents Show." There's plenty of great food & a good variety of good times at the Auld Dubliner.
I'll be covering more cool spots to eat in Long Beach soon.
--WILLY
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