Trendy

America has always been one for trends. Invariably there are trends in fashion, entertainment, VIPs, cars, and most irresistibly to me: in food. And true to trends' nature, they come and go.

I used to really like roasted garlic on crunchy toast but haven't seen it in ages. Tiramisu, that fabulous rich coffee dessert that was on so many menus, now I can only find it in traditional Italian restaurants. A California Cooler, that sweet headachy beverage, I guess it's a good thing that it has fallen out of favor. Or everything drizzled with truffle oil, kinda out of style. But lately, there is all things heirloom, and mac and cheese can be found in many fancy variations and in most restaurants. Hardly anyone eats regular yogurt anymore only Greek, and Kale was recently labeled vegetable of the year.

There's always something new to try out, something new to learn how to make, some all the rage ingredient. When I worked for this fabulous catering company  I was in my element when more often than not I poured over tons of cookbooks and magazines coming up with new and exciting stuff to put on our menus.

One of the chic desserts our clients started to see in our repertoire back then was Panna Cotta, a delicious Italian custard. A fitting event dessert, it can as easily be made for 6 or 200 and it's a breeze to put together. When our kitchen first tested different recipes, the owner snuck many times into the walk-in fridge to make sure the Panna Cotta would set properly, jiggling all the little custard cups. It always did.

Panna Cotta is an elegant and a very, very pretty creamy treat. Snowy white with jet-black vanilla freckles, it's cool to the tongue with a delicate lightness that gets even better when served with a handful of ripe berries or a drizzle of sweet berry coulis.

So when I feel like eating Panna Cotta, I don't care if I am up-to-date, it's a keeper.

Panna Cotta

makes 4 (or 6 small) servings

Adapted from David Lebovitz who wrote the great The Sweet Life in Paris

2 cups (1 pint) half-and-half

1/4 cup sugar

1 teaspoons of vanilla extract, or ½ to 1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise

1 packet powdered gelatin

3 tablespoons cold water

Heat the half-and-half and sugar in a saucepan or microwave. Once the sugar has dissolved, remove from heat and stir in the vanilla extract. If using a vanilla bean, scrape the seeds from the bean into the mixture and add the bean pod and let infuse for 20 - 30 minutes. Remove the bean then re-warm the mixture before continuing. 

Sprinkle the gelatin over the cold water in a small bowl and let stand 5 to 10 minutes. Pour the very warm Panna Cotta mixture over the gelatin and stir until the gelatin is completely dissolved. Divide the Panna Cotta mixture into 4 (or 6) custard cups which have lightly been brushed with a neutral-tasting oil. Chill in refrigerator until firm, which will take at least four hours or overnight. 

Run a sharp knife around the edge of each Panna Cotta and un-mold onto a serving plate. You can also use cute little dessert bowls and serve the Panna Cotta without un-molding. Garnish with ripe fruit ; it's especially tasty with strawberries, nectarines, mangoes or peaches.

Say Smelly Cheese

Of all the things to be known for, the little Bavarian town I grew up in went for cheese. It's packaged as a small square cube, about 2 oz. and wrapped in foil with the Bavarian colors of blue-white. “Miesbacher Delikatess-Käse” is fairly well known in our region and even available at the illustrious Oktoberfest. Supposedly great with beer, there is really only one word to describe it, it stinks.

When my father and grandmother (my mother was curiously absent) opened that little package and ate with gusto, I was disgusted. All I could smell was something resembling funky perspiring feet, and I had to be excused, not just from the table, but the whole room. I was scarred for a long time and wouldn't touch cheese until I was well into my twenties. And then I was only going for mild and bland, definitely not stinky. I embraced American cheese.

Nowadays, I like all types of cheese: interesting blues, flavorful hards and runny soft ones. So when I went back home to Miesbach last time, I thought I'd be brave and give the little stinker another chance. I expectantly unwrapped that little cube and... I couldn't do it.

It's a good thing Bavaria has more to offer in the cheese department than just “Miesbacher”. One of my personal favorites, and no respectable beer garden in Bavaria will be without, is the creamy melange “Obatzda”.

Velvety ripe Camembert is smashed up with a fork and combined with whipped butter, finely chopped red onion and sweet peppy Paprika. It looks a bit rustic and lumpy with a pretty blush, and is brought to the table with a copious sprinkle of zesty chives. I like to spread it thickly on a crusty pretzel or rich dark bread and have a handful of crunchy radishes alongside a frosty light beer. The best thing about it, it smells wonderful.

Bavarian Cheese Melange (Obatzda)
A snack for 4

6 oz. Brie or Camembert
2 1/2 tb unsalted butter, softened
1/2 tsp sweet paprika (or more to achieve a nice rosy color)
1/4 tsp ground or finely chopped caraway seeds + 1/4 tsp whole caraway seeds
1 tb very finely chopped red onion
1 tb light beer
salt to taste
1-2 tb finely chopped chives

Remove rind from cheese and let sit at room temperature until soft. Using a fork, mix in butter until well combined. Fold in paprika, ground or chopped caraway seeds, onions and beer until evenly tinted and creamy. Season with salt and sprinkle with chives and whole caraway seeds.

Serve with radishes and pretzel sticks or crusty baguette.

Livin' out in California

The seasons in Southern California are only slightly distinguishable. Sometimes, a winter day can be warmer than a day in gloomy June, and in October, we might get the hottest days of the year. Still, our summers are unbeatable. When people at times tell me they find it tedious to have the same weather day in and day out, I beg to differ. I say “bring it on”. I come from a country that has very iffy summers, so I don't mind being bored with the same sunny weather over and over.

The cloudless sky is the palest of blues, and it's not typically very clear, sort of fuzzy around the edges. In the late afternoon, everything is bathed in a soft, hazy light. It might be pretty warm inland, but closer to the ocean, there is always a little breeze. The sunsets are straightforward, the evenings cool and sleeping is easy. And it never rains. I enjoy that predictability.

Summer is also a great excuse to get a little lazy in the kitchen. Sometimes we have only a green salad for dinner, a quick sausage on the barbecue, a picnic, or we'll just nibble on cheese and crackers. The one dish I make pretty consistently though is a pasta salad. I hardly call that cooking, but to me, it is one of the essential summer foods.

I like using the little playful shapes of Acini Di Pepe which remind me of peppercorns, or Orzo, which resembles rice kernels. Tossed in a simple vinaigrette, each bite just seems to have more character than when using a larger pasta. The salad comes together quickly, flecked with aromatic herbs and mixed with a few deep purple Kalamata olives, flavor-bursting sun-dried tomato slivers and tangy Feta cheese. I toss in a handful of Arugula just before serving and savor the combination of soft and crispy with the uniquely sharp bite of the greens.

Here is to those lazy hazy crazy days of summer.

Arugula Pasta Salad

Inspired by Sunset Magazine

Serves 4

1 cup Orzo or Acini di Pepe

2 Tb olive oil

1 Tb red wine or seasoned rice vinegar

1/2 - 3/4 tsp dried Italian herbs

1/2 tsp salt, a few grinds of pepper

1/3 cup slivered sun-dried tomatoes in oil (blot of excess oil)

14 pitted Kalamata olives, sliced

1/3 cup crumbled Feta cheese

2-3 cups small Arugula leaves

Cook pasta until al dente, drain and rinse with cold water. In large bowl, combine olive oil, herbs, salt and pepper and toss with pasta. Mix in olives, tomatoes and feta cheese. Just before serving, gently toss with Arugula. Add more salt if needed.

Baja Sessions

“If you drive down the California coast and just keep goin' and goin' you'll find yourself in a place called Baja – more cactus than people, more time than worries and surrounded by the ocean and the sea...” (from Chris Isaak's Baja Sessions album cover). And this is exactly what we did, my companion and I, driving from Southern California all the way to Lands End, Cabo San Lucas and back. In 8 days.

It was a pretty long time ago. When Baja was dreamy, Cabo San Lucas was made of dirt roads and there was more livestock than cars on Highway 1. We were zigzagging back and forth from the ocean to the sea, skinny-dipping whenever we dared. Now and then, we got stuck in the sand and used our frying pan to dig out our old bronze Chevy van. The only real headache was if we needed to put on shoes so we wouldn't step on scorpions.

Wherever I looked, the slopes along the road were vivid from the chili peppers that were laid out drying. I fell for the colors: the bright blue sky, the softest white sand, neon-green limes, strikingly red tomatoes, nearly black avocados displayed at the little mercados. I admired the huge pale green cacti with their violent-looking thorns and was in awe of the unbelievably kitschy sunsets. Our diet consisted of Coronas at 10 cents a pop, rice, beans, tortillas and fresh seafood. Some mornings we went clam digging and fried them right there and then. And I discovered ceviche.

A perfect hot-weather food, fresh fish is marinated in lime juice until no longer raw. Succulent with the wonderful tang of lime, every bite is tender yet firm, and the flavor is complemented by juicy tomatoes, tiny dice of sweet onion and a few flecks of cilantro. A little jalapeño pepper adds some bite, and a pinch of fragrant Mexican oregano a kind of earthiness. I ate buckets full.

We were limping back across the border with the obligatory stomach bug on Sunday late at night just in time for my job Monday morning, bright and early at 7 am. Oh, but Baja is so worth it.

Baja Ceviche

Serves 4

½ pound of sushi-grade fish (salmon, scallops, halibut)

Juice of about 3 - 4 large limes

1 small tomato, chopped, seeds removed

¼ fresh jalapeño pepper with seeds

1 tablespoon finely chopped sweet onion

2 tablespoons chopped cilantro

1 healthy pinch of Mexican oregano

salt and pepper to taste

Cut up fish into 1/2 inch pieces and mix with lime juice (start with the juice of 2 limes) to almost cover. Refrigerate 3 – 4 hours or just until fish looses transparent look, replenish lime juice as needed to keep fish submerged. Stir occasionally. Scallops will take the least amount of time, salmon the most. Add tomato, jalapeño, onion, cilantro and crumbled oregano. Let stand for 1 – 2 more hours.

Season with salt and pepper and serve with creamy avocado and crisp tortilla chips.

Try the jalapeño pepper before adding and adjust quantity according to spiciness. I sometimes toss in a little cayenne at the very end.  

Teeny Tiny Household Jam

Our household is a pretty tiny one, so cooking happens on a much smaller scale, which is not a problem unless I mull over jam-making. A lot of recipes ask for copious amounts of fruit and that makes way too much for our modest needs. I have visions of cabinets jam-packed (sorry, had to do it!) with jars that no one will ever eat. My cousins still have their late daddy's jam that he made almost 20 years ago.

Although it's really nice when friends and relatives share their yummy homemade jams with us, to me it just seems wrong not to make my own. To be perfectly honest, besides the slightly absurd quantities, one of the other drawbacks is actually the canning. The whole process just stumps me; the need for a large canning pot, sterilized canning glasses, lids and rings, pectin, the pop-pop of the seals. It seems inordinately involved when all I want is a couple of jars of preserves.

And then, last spring, Bon Appétit magazine gave me just what I've been trying to find, a no-fuss recipe for a beginning-of-summer strawberry jam. It fills two small glasses with my favorite fruit jam, it's a piece of cake to make, and best of all, no canning required!

From our farmer's market I get the very freshest organic strawberries which are small, fragrant and brightly colored. The distinctive aroma of strawberries wafts through my kitchen while I stir them over low heat with a wooden spoon. I gently mash the berries and admire their lovely red hue with its matching pink fizz trimming. The tangy apple and zesty lemon juice bring out the pleasingly sweet and exquisitely strawberry-ish taste. It has bits and pieces of apples and berries, vibrant until the very last spoonful. Oh, and if I run out, I can quickly whip up another batch.

Bon Appétit's Easy Strawberry Jam

Enough to fill two small glass jars (approx. 7 oz each)

1 pound fresh strawberries, hulled and quartered

2/3 cup sugar

1 large Granny Smith apple, peeled and coarsely grated

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

Combine quartered strawberries and sugar in a medium-sized pot. Stir in grated Granny Smith apple. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring and breaking up strawberries, until sugar dissolves. Simmer until jam is thickened, about 15 minutes, fold in lemon juice.

Transfer to a bowl and let cool. Fill two small glass jars with lids and chill until set, about 2 hours. Keep refrigerated and use within a few weeks.

Tastes great on a fresh baguette or brioche smeared with sweet butter; stirred into plain yogurt or as a filling for paper-thin pancakes.

P.S.

happy popper - happy hour

Illustration by Majalisa

It’s always Happy Hour somewhere

I’ve always thought that whoever invented Happy Hour was ingenious. Sure, Happy Hour has been an American institution since the sixties, and there are still plenty of Happy Hours around with reduced prices for drinks and appetizers, even Starbucks has one! But the Happy Hour I am thinking about dates back a few years, when most of my friends and I lived from paycheck to paycheck, and drinks were really cheap. A few dollars took care of a pleasant little buzz and dinner. 

Once a week or so, when slipping out of work around 5 o'clock, I could always count on a handful of friends and coworkers who were in for Happy Hour. I loved the really dark bars, where I needed to give my eyes some time to adjust before I could even see a barstool. They felt cozy yet a little bold at the same time. Fancy sweet cocktails were just what we itched for with peculiar names like Fuzzy Navel, B52 or Sex on the Beach.

Cheap drinks were one thing, but the free food was just as important. I had a knack for snooping out the best places, and we often snacked on little meatballs speared with toothpicks, taquitos, chips and salsa, vegetables and dip, spicy chicken wings, and always lots of dangerously delicious fried food.

Surely one of my all-time favorite bites at these Happy Hours were jalapeño poppers: bright green and slightly spicy jalapeño peppers filled with mild, velvety cream cheese, breaded with fine crumbs and deep-fried to a golden brown. They were served piping hot with ranch dressing. I loved how the flavors exploded in my mouth: spicy, cheesy, crunchy and hot all at the same time, that was one yummy food rush! 

Peach Schnapps and Bailey's Irish Cream are not high on my list anymore, but for poppers, I still have a hankering. 

Skinny Poppers
Inspired by Rachael Ray

8-10 large jalapeno peppers, cut in half lengthwise, stems and seeds removed 

Filled with a mixture of:

4 oz each of softened cream cheese and finely grated Manchego cheese

½ shallot, finely chopped

1 cup cilantro, very finely chopped

Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste










Roast in 425 degree oven for 12 - 15 min until peppers are slightly charred and filling is tinged golden brown.

Great as a side to all kinds of grilled meats or chicken.