[napa 2001] 1. plums from our tree

Elephant heart plums, Slow Food USA

In the summer of 2001, I lived in a house surrounded by edible things for the first time in my life.

One of these things was plums, or rather, four of these things were plums. There was a small Italian prune plum tree, from which we plucked hard--almost juiceless--little oblong fruits with sharp pits.

And the other tree...that tree was magical. It was an amazing grafted concoction with three main branches, each a different variety. One branch was most favored, big-in-your-palm green-skinned monsters, crisp-skinned juicy with exploding fuschia flesh. Their bud-ends tapered, shaped like human hearts. I brought them to Copia for Jeff Dawson to identify, and he declared them Elephant Heart plums.

They changed my mind about plums, and I invented the double-stacked Elephant Heart Plum Upside-Down Cake to honor them. I'll add the recipe soon. Shocking pink layered with dense vanilla cake. I decorated the birthday cake platter with fresh baby fig leaves and pistachio marzipan figs the size of my little finger tip.

Story one, in a series of 48.

list from the summer of 2001, napa.

Found yesterday written on a scrap of a pale moss green envelope, from a letter never sent from Vineyard Lane:

written in order to exercise my obsession with itty bitty letters, on finding nothing suitable to quote.

excellent things this summer:
1. plums from our tree
2. peaches from our tree
3. dark chocolate sandwiches on sourdough
4. learning to embroider
5. being terrified of snakes
6. not losing sunglasses
7. being adored at work
8. new blue shirt
9. sewing projects
10. cabernet
11. ping pong potluck
12. point reyes picnic
13. belle & sebastian at green apple
14. the sun
15. the sky
16. the ocean
17. golden gate bridge
18. chrissy field
19. starfish
20. the stars
21. living with chickens
22. blue pie plate
23. meyer lemon cake
24. plum upside-down cake
25. small peach pies
26. farmers market
27. aspen
28. stripy grosgrain ribbon
29. humboldt fog cheese
30. fig season, however breif
31. riding to yountville
32. the new blue danube
33. my white light bedroom
34. bob and nadia
35. david sedaris
36. oak knoll
37. grilled pork loin
38. getting stuck with abby
39. erin
40. letters
41. squarepusher
42. baby rattlesnake
43. courtyard at work
44. kara
45. green socks
46. julia child
47. jeffery steingarten
48. not being at school and learning anyway

The summer was idyllic, a surprise of riches. Today begins an irregular recollection on each of the 48 glories of the summer of 2001, and what part the 48 magical things play in my life today. {Update: I'll add links to the list as they're completed.} My dearest Naya, I hope your summer in Napa is as lovely as mine. It was the first long stretch I recall being truly happy in.

It's spring, bitches.

From a heavy earthenware pitcher on my worn oak table orange tulips are leaning into the last afternoon sun. Their delicate yellow edges cup the light.

Recommended
The carmely crusts of two day old bread from Tartine, too sharp to bite until today.
Purple Haze, a goat cheese wrapped with lavender and fennel pollen
Cal del Solo Albarino

Please consume in a plain hot bath.

Team tiny pots

to start
Still-warm country bread from Tartine
Purple Haze
Cowgirl's St Pats
Pt Reyes Blue
Tiny apple jam
Ca del Solo Albarino, Monterey, 2007

and then
Two mini cocottes, enameled in cobalt, of simple mushroom soup

and after
Pomegranate marinated leg of lamb, seared and baked at 350 to 140
Two 5" granite-wear frying pans of Farm Fresh To You potatoes au gratin
(simple, just in Strauss milk & salt)
Goisot Bourgogne, Cotes d'Auxerre, 2oo4

And then I was so happy I forgot to offer the Eluthera.

Compas Box: Eleuthera, 2002-2005
“Eleuthera” was our very first vatted malt. Typically it combined 15 year-old malt whisky from the village of Brora, aged in re-charred hogsheads, with 12 year-old malt from the village of Port Askaig. Jim Murray said of our first release: “Quite simply, one of the most complex and truly magnificent vatted malts of all time. A collector’s piece.” Sadly, when the 15 year-old malt we needed was no longer available aged in re-charred casks, we decided to retire “Eleuthera” rather than overhaul the recipe.

Next time, remind me, A.

Reunion dinner.

Last night my little kitchen held six. The Queen of Fun was sick, and we missed her. The Prince of Intense was away at school, but I put in extra garlic for him anyway. And S fell off the boat. Otherwise, it was a most magical dinner reunion.

We started with L's crazy new cocktail.
1 shot Canadian Club
Dash Pernod
Dash Stirrings Blood Orange Bitters

Shake with ice, strain. Serve up, garnish with orange twist and a Ciliegie di Vignoa allo spirito.

Bridey brought a lusciously ripe hunk of Humboldt fog. L dished out little Dijoned stacks of salami and 4 year aged gouda. E called just as the artichokes were being served with little backyard Meyer lemon halves, and she scored a great parking spot.

We cleared off the artichoke petals, and I hefted the 14” cast iron skillet of crusty bubbling cassoulet out of the oven.

Simple Cassoulet
2 ½ cups flageolet beans (navy work too)
Bacon fat
2 large onions, diced
1 tsp. thyme
1 lb multi-colored carrots, hunked
1 ½ lbs duck confit
Salt
3 cups good breadcrumbs
¼ c (one stick) butter

Soak beans 4 hours, then cook 1 hour until edibly soft but not mushy. In a large (14”) cast iron skillet brown diced onions in bacon fat, add thyme. Add 2 cups water and the hunked carrots and simmer until the carrots are soft. Place the duck confit over the carrot/ onion mixture in the pan. Salt well. Melt butter, mix with breadcrumbs. Transfer beans into cast iron pan, reserving bean cooking liquid. Add bean liquid to almost cover the beans. Sprinkle on buttered breadcrumbs. Bake at in the middle of the oven at 350 for 2 hours, then move to the top of the oven and cook for an additional 30 minutes.

Serve with sliced cabbage sautéed in butter.

Erin brought a pear custard tart, and even baked it in the tart pan we lugged home from France.

I miss my grandma.

A recipe directly in her voice:

Spaghetti Sauce

1 Tiny onion
Couple stalks celery
Couple of carrots, you don’t want a whole million. Big carrots.

Put in a spaghetti pan and simmer with a little water. Not big chunks. Cook for a while, at least half an hour. If the chunks are too big, get out your boat motor. Have you got one of those?

Add:
2 Big cans DiFretti crushed tomatoes
All kinds of like oregano
A little basil
Squash a couple cloves of garlic

Just cook that up. If you need more tomatoes, throw those in.

When it’s done, throw in Prego.

Wow do I adore my grandma.

Breakfast alone at 2

Slept and slept today, woken with the rain lashing the windows, sounding like hail. And curled again to warmly sleep. Finally up, shocked to learn it’s after 2. Such thick cloudcover that my light-clock is confused.

T’s truffle-oil funky mushrooms last night reminded me of my preferred truffle oil vehicle, toad-in-a-hole and English-style baked beans, mild and sweet. I first ate it as an appetizer at Emmy’s Spaghetti Shack. Two days later it had entered my breakfast list permanently.

Emmy’s Breakfast

Baked Beans

1 Can Navy Beans
2 tsp. molasses
2 Tbsp brown sugar
2 Tbsp ketchup
1 tsp Dijon mustard

Combine in a saucepan, simmer 15-20 minutes.

Toad-in-a-Hole

(per person)
1 thick slice crusty white bread (I used Acme’s Sour Batard)
1 tasty egg
2 tsp butter

Remove most of the soft middle from the slice of bread. Place it in a frying pan of sizzling butter, and carefully crack the egg into the middle. Cook til the white is visibly whitened, and the edges toasty and flop, cooking the yellow to your desired egg state.

Serve the beans and toad drizzled with truffle oil.

Good: harney & sons bangkok green tea

O, tea of suntan oil soaked, and sun-toasted bikini flesh I am happy you are back in my life. (Allegedly green tea flavored with coconut, ginger and lemongrass. I know you are green tea flavored with joy.) And thanks to dave, who gave me a lovely assortment of tea in a presentation box, unwittingly introducing me to the Bangkok long ago.

Girl's dinner: Abundance for four

Abundance, originally uploaded by miss_rogue.

Radishes with fancy ass salt
4 year gouda and Sweet Grass Dairy tomme
Small pots of simple mushroom soup with tiny tarts of Humbolt Fog
Chicory with red & yellow beets, blood oranges, grapefruit, mint and olive oil
Tiny artichokes
Local halibut poached with leeks, fennel, lemon zets and young carrots
Cauliflower gratin
Bi-Rite chocolate ice cream with bergamot olive oil and fancy ass sea salt
Tea with silver spoons to melt dark chocolate in

Winter dinner for Erin

Fizzy Lizzy Lone Star grapefruit greyhounds

Tiny pots of simple soup of wild mushrooms
Tiny tarts of French goat cheese, herbs and pink peppercorns
Beet and supremed orange salad
A lot of prosecco
Cauliflower gratin
Chocolate pudding served in vasoline glass custard cups that might be radioactive. Maybe

Monday dessert: Kumquats, assorted

kumquats, originally uploaded by tofu666.

L made coq a vin, and the usual thousand side dishes. I made marzipan squares (fail), tiny cookies, and and individual marmalades from three types of Berkeley Bowl-sourced kumquats.

Lunch for a new dad.

February 22: U-Pik Meyers, originally uploaded by gwen.

Pasta Shop lemon ravioli filled with lemon ricotta, simply tossed with rough-chopped backyard Meyer lemon (preserved) , and frozen peas warmed on olive oil. Golden pillows of joy, much tastier than the durian variety of the same name. Good to see T.

At Leslie's: An alledged potluck

° p i s t a c h i o s °, originally uploaded by ° d i + m a r s °.

Leslie always cooks too much food, and a zillion courses. She's a dinner party rockstar. She apparently only invites brilliant and witty conversationalists. I know she didn't really mean it when she invited me over for a potluck. She did only cook one dish, but it had seven condiments. Piffle. Some break she took from being a culinary goddess. To show my loyalty and support of her pretend potluck I invented:

Dessert of Seven Tiny Things
One tiny scoop pistachio gelato
One tiny scoop (different) pistachio gelato
One tiny scoop pistachio ice cream
One tiny sandwich of pistachio-studded cookie with backyard apricot jam
One tiny sandwich of pine nut-studded cookie with Buddha's hand citron marmalade
Spoon of rose petal jam
Leaf-on clementine

Tiny Butter Cookies
(adapted from Maida Heater's Fruit Cake Icebox Cookies, Book of Great Cookies,1977 p 136)

1/2 lb. butter
1 C confectioner's sugar
1 egg
Zest from a lemon-sized citrus fruit (lemon or small orange, 2 clementines, 1/4 grapefruit)
2 1/2 C Flour
2 cups total dried fruits or nuts (For the dessert above I divided the dough in half and added 1 C pistachios to A, 1 C pine nuts to B. There were a christmas cookie in my family, made with dried papaya cut into 1/4 inch cubes and pistachios.)


Cream the butter, add sugar, cream it too. Add the egg, beat well. Add zest. Gradually add flour on low. Mix in the fruit and or nuts with your bare hands, and mean it. Grab out lumps the size of your fist, roll into snakes the diameter of a bratwurst. Roll up in waxed paper or parchment, twisting the ends. I prefer parchment, because I have turned into a maniac about material things and you can reuse it by baking the cookies on it. Refrigerate, or if you're in a hurry, toss them in the freezer. When hard (frozen is okay, but not required) slice them like coins 3/16 inch thick. (I know...specific. But 1/8 is too thin, and 1/4 too thick.)

Bake on parchment @ 350 degrees until very slightly toasty on the edges. Watch like a hawk, they'll burn in an instant. Impress the pants off your guests by serving them hot.

Mini gougere, goodbye 2007

Made in an edition of two, a Tartine-based delight of cheesy poofs. Will post link, second edition was (ha!) for television.

Mini Gougere

Modified from Chef Elisabeth Prueitt’s recipe, published in the Tartine cookbook.

1 1/4 cups nonfat milk
10 tablespoons unsalted butter
Coarse salt
1 cup all-purpose flour
6 large eggs
3/4 cup grated Gruyere cheese, plus more for garnish

Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper; set aside.

Place milk, butter, and 1 teaspoon salt in a large heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat. Cook until butter has melted and mixture comes to a boil. Add flour; stir constantly until mixture is smooth and begins to pull away from the sides of the pan, about 3 minutes.

Remove from heat and add 5 eggs, one at a time, making sure each is fully incorporated before adding the next. Mixture will be thick, smooth, and shiny. Stir in cheese.

Using two teaspoons, form rounds about 1 inches wide and ½ to ¾ inch high on prepared baking sheet, spacing each about 2 inches apart. In a small bowl, whisk together remaining egg and pinch of salt. Brush each pastry round with egg mixture and sprinkle with cheese. Also, you can forget to do this and do it half way through the baking process.

Transfer baking sheet to oven and bake until puffed, golden brown, and light for their size, 20-25 minutes.

Sugarfest.

I just finished bringing these to temperature, except they were quince & Crimson Gold apple caramels. Thinking lots of my caramel-making grandfather. My mom would be proud, I used a fancy vat cultured butter from Sierra Nevada.

Plus a 16oz jar of poached quinces, two 24oz jars of poached Crimson Golds (o, the tarts!), and two 12oz jars of Crimson Gold jelly.

Distracted.

Several hours ago I got up to find the name of a knife company. i just sat down again to eat the fennel and squash soup occupying one of four burners on my stove. The others are quince quarters poaching in simple syrup, Crimson Gold tiny apples poaching in future jelly, and apple/ quince trimmings getting made into pectin. Name of knife company? No idea.

Mussels at Fritz.

Mussels, originally uploaded by ~Dezz~.

S and I had the most lovely date last night. I'm giddy about winter and Christmas, and went out in a green argyle sweater and red cable-knit scarf. We walked a few short blocks to the new Fritz. I've been to the new location three times. First for fries and wine after a draining day. Then Tuesday after dinner at L's I joined P & E, who I spotted in the posh window seat. I disappeared a Hoegarten and stole a few of their 'Delphi' mussels (feta, Kalamatas, garlic, oregano). S is working tons these days, so I'd been plotting a relaxing night. When I suggested mussels, he thought of a few lovely and schwank places to enjoy them. I was angling for the $11 mussels with $4.75 fries, enough for two to spilt.

When we arrived, the line was out the door. We zipped through it, so fast that we had to concur on which mussels and tasty fry dipping sauces at the register. We cozied up in the window on the white vinyl bed sofa, with a tray table across my lap. Fabulous people watching from our perch at the front. A large Fritz arrived with roasted pepper mayonnaise and wasabi mayonnaise, both of which could have been more flavored. We later returned for curry ketchup and Thai hot sauce ketchup. Spiennes Mussels came in Hoegarten (yay!) with fresh fennel, lemon zest, garlic and shallots. I drank a yummy white French wine which will remain unnamed, because it was too damn far away to read the name.

Eggs for Naya.

Soft scrambled eggs with perhaps Jarrahdale squash cubes, a bit of preserved Meyer lemon and carmelized onions with thyme and sage. Applewood smoked bacon, Ritual coffee N brought, after staving off the empty belly with walnut toast and strawberry jam made yesterday. We followed this with hours of drinking tea and knitting. A magnificent Saturday.

Eggs for Naya

3 very small onions, sliced (about 2/3 C.)
Thyme
Sage
1 Tbs. butter
2 C. squash cubes, steamed
2 Tsp. minced preserved Meyer Lemon

6 eggs

1/4 C. cream

1 cup plain yogurt (I used Brown Cow lowfat)

Salt

Pepper

Carmelize onions in butter, while steaming squash. Adding thyme, sage, preserved lemon, salt and pepper to onions at finish. Turn heat to low. Drink some coffee.

Fork-whisk eggs, add cream, add yogurt. Whisk more, but don't worry about evenly incorporating the yogurt. Add egg mixture to pan of squash and seasoned onions. Cook over very low heat, flipping the edges into the middle and stirring gently. Drink more coffee. While the still-a-bit-runny eggs are cooking, put a lid on the pan and turn off the heat. Relax. Cook the bacon. Then eat the perfect eggs. Adding yogurt does a cheesy trick that I still don't fully understand, but adore.

Missed.

Hello Creme of My (Your) Name and JBS and ioerror. Lovely to hear from you all. Smooches and coddled eggs.

Camellia.

In Joigny I bought a secopnd and third bottle of Gris de Joigny at the farmers market from a cheese shop. I also bought a handfull of tiny thimbles of hard aged goat cheese. The were unforgettable. As in I think of them three times a day. So when I see California Crottins at the corner store, I always miss the thimbles, and apparently their "wrinkly, geotrichum candidum rinds." Last night S and I were walking home from the video store (Perfume and Black Tights) I stopped in to pick of packed lunch tidbits. I bought a gooey ripe Camellia, a soft goat cheese...overrripe by American standards.

I gooely cut it in two this morning, sending S away with half. Plus a pink lady apple, walnut bread, a hard boiled egg, tiny containers of salt and fresh ground pepper, a salad of arugula/ strawberries/Point Reyes blue, a tiny bottle of balsamic dressing, a clementine, and a tiny jar of Crimson Gold apple jelly. (I was regretting forgetting to pack a bar of Scarffenberger until I typed that list. What a lunch!) A linen napkin even, and rather nice cutlery like this. I took the other half of the cheese, a perfect pear and walnut bread.

I ate lunch first. The cheese was shockingly redolent of sweaty woman. Blink. Hooray for ripe cheese.