The Deep End of the Pool

I rush into the house, drop the car keys onto the table, and run over to my computer to check the evite again.   I am definitely going to be a little late, what with gathering up all the supplies, but it can't be helped.  I head into the garage and start hunting through the shelves.

My husband:  So where are you going without me tonight?
Me:  (mumbling on purpose):  Oh, it's a god *muffled* ss party.  
Him:  What?   I didn't catch that.
Me:  (much more loudly):  Do you know where we keep the little candleholder things?
Him:  No.  Why?
Me:  OK then, can you go outside and pick me a few lemons?  With leaves on them?
Him:  Um, I guess so.  Why do you need leafy lemons?
Me:  Thanks, honey!  


Having found my candle, I throw it into the bag on the counter.  I go back to the evite again.


You are invited to A Goddess Party!  Please bring:

• a favorite dish or drink (it's a potluck)
• an inspirational reading material
• flowers/foliage from around your home
• gently used gift item you love but can't use anymore (may be wrapped)
• photo of loved one(s) and/or crystals
• pillow for your toosh & small wrap/blanket
• candle

Dress comfortably!

Even as I read it for the tenth time, I have to resist the by-now-familiar urge to either run away and hide or to double over with laughter at the absurdity of the whole thing.  Photo of loved ones and/or crystals?  [Pause for effect.  Look out at audience.] "Are those, like, interchangeable in Goddess-land?"  [Crowd roars in appreciation.  I move on to witty riffs on "toosh" and "foliage"].

But, no.  I am not only going to the Goddess Party, I am leaving my cynical, snarky self at home and taking my toosh pillow and poetry off to Calabasas.   I even arm myself with a warm-from-the oven bread pudding as an offering to my fellow Goddesses.

Walking in the door of my friend's home, my fears flare up again.  I don't know a soul, with the exception of my hostess.   The living room floor is covered with different fabrics, scented votives twinkling everywhere.  Baskets full of lavender, rosemary, and birds of paradise form a circle around the candles.  I feel my eyes rolling involuntarily, and have to check myself.  Framed photos nestle in the ring here and there, in front of a variety of pillows clearly meant for all of these strangers and me to sit on.   And do what???  God, please don't let there be chanting.

I stroll into the kitchen, shaking hands and meeting the other guests.  A few are chatting away like old friends, others look almost as nervous as I do. One woman leafs through well-worn paperbacks, dog-earring pages for inspiration at the last minute.  Looking around in vain for a glass of wine*, I begin grazing the appetizer spread in a show of "This isn't weird at all" bravado.

After a few late arrivals, including (hooray) one more familiar face, there are eleven women sitting cross-legged in the candlelit room.  The solemnity of the burning sage ritual** is marred somewhat by us falling into fits of giggles when our leader is outside.  But we compose ourselves and settle down to listen, as one by one, each tells about the people in the photo, about her story, about herself.


The awkwardness vanishes.

A marriage is breaking.  
A relationship is holding on by a thread.  
Cancer has been beaten.  
God has been found.  
A brother has died unforgivably.  
One 89 year old mother refuses to rest, my 71 year old mother refuses to live.  
A grandson shines. 
A younger sister is gone three days after a joyous moment in the sun.
A sibling struggles and a family falls apart.
Lost love returns with a vengeance.  
A husband accepts her unconditionally, and she adores him for it. 
There is the miracle of a son.



And we are, collectively, suddenly, massively grateful to be able to speak these things aloud, without judgement. To women who have their own, different but somehow terribly similar, struggles and triumphs going on, and so understand every word completely.   The unburdening is cathartic, the release intense and unexpected and draining and energizing, all at once.  


A flurry of buoyant support comes back from the group.   Passages and poems and, at the end, voices from all around.   Information and emotion flows around the circle.  We feel we know, a little.  We know enough.

We say to each other:

You are gentle. 
You are kind.
You are a bridge, a path, the glue.
You are infectious.
You are gorgeous.
You are smart and creative and wise.
You are fierce.
You are crazy sexy cool.
You are so strong.  Even when you bend into seemingly impossible shapes, you get stronger.
You are a poetess in disguise.
You are a teacher, a giver, a mother, a muse.
You are a great and true friend.
You are a force of nature.
You are the deep end of the pool.  


We believe each other.   


We blow out the candles, toss our cares into the fireplace***, open up the wine, and eat a pile of delicious food with so much gusto you'd think we'd been starving for weeks.  We do this together.  If not as actual Goddesses****, at least as new-found friends.

Bread Pudding of the Goddesses

Adapted from a recipe in Bon Appetit Magazine

Bread pudding is an incredibly useful tool of the leftover trade.  In this instance, I was able to make this sensational dessert using a package of stale hamburger buns that were just sitting around in my cupboard.  It may well be even better with bread you buy just for the occasion, but I'll never know.  It is NOT a useful tool of the dieting trade.    But it is sublime enough to be worth every calorie.

To line the baking dish:

1 1/2 c. brown sugar

1 tsp. cinnamon

1/2 tsp salt

For the pudding:

About 6-8 cups of bread cubes, preferably from a rich, relatively dense type of bread, such as country french, sourdough, or egg bread*****

A little more than a cup of the add-ins of your choice, optional****** 

1/4 c. butter, melted   

3 c. heavy cream

1 c. whole milk

6 eggs, plus 2 egg yolks

1/3 c. sugar

2 tsp. vanilla extract

generous grating of fresh nutmeg

a couple of pinches of salt

Choose a heavy 9x9 square, round or oval baking dish.   Combine the brown sugar, cinnamon and salt in a small bowl, then spread the mixture into the bottom of the baking dish.   This will magically form a caramel sauce on the bottom of the pudding as it bakes.  YUM!   

Spread a layer of bread cubes on top of the brown sugar.  Sprinkle half of your add-ins (if you are using them, and I hope you are!) on top of the bread.  Cover with another layer of bread cubes, and the rest of your add ins.  The dish should be nicely full but should not have bread above the edges.    Drizzle the melted butter on top of the bread, and set the dish aside.

In a larger bowl, whisk together the cream, the milk, the eggs and egg yolks, the sugar, the vanilla, the nutmeg and the salt until blended and smooth.  Pour the custard over the bread in the dish.  

Cover loosely with plastic wrap, and push down gently to make sure that all the bread is submerged.  If you have a heavy plate handy, set it on top, otherwise stop by occasionally to push the bread back into the custard.   Allow pudding to sit for at least 30 minutes, or put into the fridge for several hours if you like.   If you do that, remove from the fridge and allow to come to room temperature before baking.

Preheat the oven to 350.  Place the pudding into a roasting pan large enough to hold it comfortably, and add enough lukewarm water to come halfway up the sides of the baking dish.   Remove the plastic wrap.  Carefully put the pan into the oven.  Bake until pudding is set, golden brown on top, and a small knife inserted into the center comes out clean...about 1 hour and 15 minutes.  Let cool in the water for 20 minutes.

Spoon bread pudding into dessert bowls, scraping some of the luscious sauce from the bottom of the pan onto each piece.  Top with fresh whipped cream.

Click to Print this recipe!

* Goddess party rules say no alcohol before the ceremony.  You'd think that little piece of info would have been on the invite, but no.
** There really was this branch of burning sage that practically smoked us all out, used for the ceremonial inaugural "smudge" that we all received.   I had to bite my tongue.
*** Literally.  We wrote down seven things we wanted to leave behind us in 2011, then burned the list in my friend's fireplace.
**** I mean, come on.  I may feel a lot better, but I'm still me.

***** You will need enough to fill up your baking dish, so the exact amount may vary.

****** I HIGHLY recommend bittersweet chocolate chips and dried cherries, but you can use raisins or other dried fruit, fresh apples tossed with a little cinnamon, bananas...you name it!

Foodie Girls Lunch Brigade - Episode 20

We've been on a bit of a hiatus, we Foodie Girls.   Not that we haven't been eating, mind you.  Far from it.  No one is starving.   I myself was extremely well fed throughout the latter part of August and well into September.   But as a group, we were overdue for a collective dining experience.    I'd like to believe that it was a longing for each others' company that brought out a record number of FGs, old and new, this time around.

But it was the rice pudding.  I can't lie.

Episode 20 - We're Crazy for Lazy Ox

I dial the number.

Highly chipper voice on the other end:  Lazy Ox Canteen!  This is Jennie*!  How can I make your day better?

I am in no way prepared for this.  Do my laundry?  Pick up the kids?  A foot massage? 

Me:  Uh...I'd like a table for six for lunch next week?
HCVOTOE:  Fantastic! We can certainly take care of you!  See you then!
Me:  You can? Um...thanks.  Thanks very much.

I hang up, still in a bit of a daze at the outpouring of apparently genuine solicitude I have experienced from a very "in" restaurant in downtown LA.

The day before our lunch, I call back.  I am nervous, because I am going to be causing a problem for the happy lady.

HCVOTOE:  Lazy Ox Canteen!  This is Jennie*!  How can I make your day better?
Me:  Hi, Jennie! (Stalling for time) I love the way you answer the phone there.  Really.  It's awesome.  Anyway, I have a reservation tomorrow for six.  Is there any way that you could accommodate nine of us?  

I hold the phone slightly away from my ear, wincing in anticipation.

HCVOTOE:  Sure!  That is no problem at all! 
Me:  Wow.  I mean, just wow.   There are no words here.
HCVOTOE:  It's my pleasure!  We can't wait to see all of you tomorrow!

I love Jennie.  Even without the manicure or the ironing I was thinking of having her do.

The following day, we arrive to find our table waiting, three good friends at the bar, and a smiling staff ready for us.   I almost hug the blond at the front desk, but maybe it's not Jennie?  Better not risk getting thrown out when this is so obviously a place we want to stay for a good long time.

The front windows let in a wash of light onto the warm, roughly hewn dark wood walls.  Blackboards above the bar and and in the back list a ton of specials (warm fava beans, fried chicken, pork belly) and wines by the glass.   The room is about half full of downtown types with shirt sleeves rolled up and a few hip people who probably own lofts nearby.    A huge sheet of rustic looking metal hangs on a wall of astroturf, a soft red glow illuminating the stenciled cut out of a sleeping ox.   The vibe is exciting and comforting at the same time. 

Our server fills us in on the chef's specials for lunch:  fried squash blossoms stuffed with burrata,  soft shell crab, a braised breast of veal, and highlights some things on the menu.   Almost every dish has an intriguing ingredient or approach:  Grilled cabbage salad with tarragon.  Poblano chile soup with grapes and crispy pork belly.   Creamy faro with kale and mushrooms.   Caramelized cauliflower with mint.   Pig ear "chicharon".  Pasta ragu with a fried egg on top.    

We order with gusto.   The staff figures out in about two seconds that we are sharing everything**, and brings out the dishes in rounds without our saying a word.   Well done. 

The parade begins with the squash blossoms, and they are genius.  Fried in a delicate batter that almost shatters when it hits your mouth, and oozing with warm, salty cheese, the surprise is the sweet, slightly tangy honey that has been drizzled over them.    I hear groans of happiness up and down the table.    We order more even before the next dish arrives.   

 It's the warm cabbage salad, with a richness that must come from the grilling nicely offset by the pile of tangy tomato and tarragon salsa on top.   Another winner.   The cauliflower is wonderful, too.   It is very reminiscent of the dish we loved at Sunnin, but with the clever addition of pine nuts and mint that heightens the earthy richness of the warm golden brown cauliflower.

The macaroni salad, touted by the waiter, is bland and unremarkable.  We pick at it, but then eagerly turn to the pigs ears.   Salty and crispy and just a tiny bit chewy, with a tasty aioli and a pile of radishes and limes, they are lip-smacking good snack food, and, with the exception of one FG who can't get over their origin, beloved by all.   The soft shell crab special, by contrast, is all batter and almost greasy, and has almost the identical garnishes, along with some soon-to-be-familiar pickled onions.

The poblano soup is a revelation.    Creamy and gorgeous, with a swirl of creme fraiche and a few grapes scattered on top, the vibrant green color belies the smoky heat and rich flavor within.    But our favorite (after those squash blossoms!!!) was the creamy faro.  Prepared risotto style with a savory, meaty broth, bites of bitter kale against rich mushrooms, nutty cheese and the toothsome, hearty grain, it was comfort food to the nth degree.  

The conversation around the table ranges wildly, but the group is in high spirits as the main courses begin to arrive.   These are less thrilling, and generally less successful, as we start to see overkill on some key ingredients.   Pickles that worked in a refreshing barley salad with feta show up yet again in a nearly inedible grilled shrimp pasta with huge pieces of dark nori thrown in, and again in the turkey sandwich.   The turkey sandwich, in turn, has an unwieldy chunk of pork belly between the crispy bacon and the turkey.  What may have seemed like a good idea at the time turned out to be a much better sandwich when the pork belly was removed.  Then the combination of the soft, sweet brioche bun with the rest of the ingredients is delicious. 

A sandwich of the pork belly alone finds no takers, although the side of fries that came with it has friends.   The fried egg looks fantastic on the pasta, but the sauce, and the dish overall, seems like something a home cook could easily make.   The flank steak entree, however, is excellent.   Served over a bed of utterly creamy polenta with a zesty chimchirri sauce and baby zucchini, this fairly common cut is somehow new and interesting in this preparation.   And very, very yummy.

The dishes are pushed aside, and little knots of discussion are going on all around the table.  We are engrossed in catching up, making connections, reminiscing about the squash blossoms (Weren't those amazing!  Oh my god, YES!), etc.    I check my watch and see that an hour and a half has gone by, and we have not had a chance to order dessert.   Which is a problem, because despite all of the gastronomical satisfaction that we have enjoyed thus far (Weren't those squash blossoms incredible?  Oh my god, YES!!) we did not come here for the faro.  Or the cabbage.  Or the cauliflower.  Or the steak.   We came here for dessert.

I quote here from the Culinary SOS column in the LA Times***:

"I've only had rice pudding in college dining halls 10-plus years ago and was never a fan. But last night I had the rice pudding at Lazy Ox Canteen; I think my knees went weak. Could you help me get this recipe? I have been thinking about it for 12 hours straight."

And from a high school guy I know:
"The best rice pudding in the world is at the Lazy Ox Canteen."

I am turning to signal the waiter so we can order some, when he leans over to clear the table and says:

"We have some dessert coming out right now for you.  Hope you enjoy it."  And then several generous bowls of rice pudding are set down in front of us.

Enjoy it?  Enjoy it?!? We f*%#ing LOVED it.   I can't even describe to you how good this dessert is.  Quite possibly one of the most delicious ways to end a meal that I have ever had in my life.   Creamy, sweet, cool, vanilla-y, cinnamon-y, melt-in-your-mouth-y.   With a pool of buttery caramel and a crunchy sugar topping.    Crazy, crazy good.  And it was on the house because that's just how perfect this meal was turning out to be.

Three orders of rice pudding (paid for) to go later, we troop out into the sunshine and hug each other good bye, grinning like idiots from the after-effects of our magical time at the Lazy Ox.

Jennie, how can you make my day better?  My dear, you really can't.  This was the best day I've had in a long long time.

FG final verdict?  Lazy Ox Canteen is ON the List!
Pricing Info:  Smaller plates $6-12, entrees: $15-20
FG value rating:  Fair Deal

* Not her real name, but it's something as cheerful as Jennie, so you get the picture.
** I give them full marks for this, even though it was probably hard not to overhear nine women agreeing loudly that ordering a bunch of stuff to share would be a really good plan.
*** The recipe was printed in the paper here.  Fair warning that a fellow FG has already tried recreating the dish based on this, without even coming close.   But it's probably worth a shot anyway.

Dare to Steam

"The April 2010 Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Esther of The Lilac Kitchen. She challenged everyone to make a traditional British pudding using, if possible, a very traditional British ingredient: suet."

I almost skipped it.    Even absent the specific challenge information, logic told me to stay away*.     And then, when I saw instructions that involved rendering your own cow fat** as Step 1, and knotting up some kind of harness with string and foil as step 7, I was pretty much done.

I was just about to post my shamefaced "That's all folks, I'll see you Daring Bakers sometime in May" message to the group when I noticed one key fact***:

The suet was optional. Only the steaming part was required.

Well, that's a whole different story, isn't it?

I was in****.  And boy, am I glad about it.  This was a rich, luscious and deeply comforting dessert.  It was like eating the moistest cake you've ever had, straight out of the oven.  But without the oven, and without the fuss.   And of course, without that icky suet.

Dark Chocolate Spice Pudding with Cheater's Creme Anglaise
I discovered this recipe using good old google.  I think my exact search term was "steamed chocolate pudding recipe."   I lucked out.   All the spices serve to intensify and magnify the chocolate, making   this a wonderfully complex and grown up dessert.   My adapted version is below:

4 oz. semisweet chocolate, chopped (I used Ghiaradelli Special Dark 72% baking chocolate)
½ cup butter
2 eggs
½ cup packed brown sugar
1 tbsp finely grated orange zest (I didn't have an orange, so I skipped this part)
¼ cup orange juice

½ cup cold strong coffee
1 tbsp vanilla
1 cup flour
1 ½ tsp baking powder
1 ½ tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp freshly ground pepper
½ tsp salt
½ tsp freshly ground dry mustard

Generously butter 6-8 small ramekins (or a single large pudding mold), and dust the bottoms with a combination of cocoa powder and sugar*****.   Put a bunch of water on to boil.

Melt chocolate and butter in a double-boiler or a microwave. Stir regularly until chocolate has completely melted.  Remove from heat and let cool for a few minutes. In a separate bowl, combine eggs and brown sugar until blended.  Stir chocolate mixture into egg mixture. Add orange zest, orange juice, coffee and vanilla, and mix well. Whisk flour, baking powder, ginger, cinnamon, pepper, salt and mustard together, fold into chocolate mixture just enough to moisten.  Pour into ramekins and cover.

Get out your crock pot, or set up a large pot on the stove.   Place ramekins into the pot, and slowly add boiling water until it reaches halfway up the sides of your puddings.  Cover pan and return water to a boil.  Reduce heat to simmer.  Cook for about 1 hour for small puddings, 90 minutes for larger pudding.   During cooking time, add hot water as needed to maintain water level.

Remove puddings and allow to set for 5-10 minutes.  Serve warm in the ramekins, or unmold onto plates.  Either way, sprinkle with powdered sugar and pass the cheater's sauce on the side.

NOTE:  There may be a moment about halfway through cooking where your husband walks by and says, "So, you add chocolate to the water too, huh?  That's cool."   This will cause you to jump up in panic as you realize your ramekin tops are leaking and there are pools of chocolate goo floating around your puddings.    Fear not.  It's messy but most of the pudding will still be inside cooking away nicely.  Pretend to your husband that this is definitely part of the plan and that it is indeed cool.

Cheater's Creme Anglaise

Take some vanilla bean ice cream out of the freezer about 10 minutes before your puddings are done.   Put it in a bowl on the counter and let it soften up a bit.   Just before serving, stir it around vigorously so it has the consistency of frosting.   Top each pudding with a dollop and play it off as something you learned in cooking school.  Works every time.
 
* A: I'd spent the early part of the weekend cranking out cookies for the bake-off at our school fair, and then spent the fair day eating my way through the various competing entries (for research purposes, of course).   I was so thoroughly sugared out that I had eaten dry roasted peanuts for dessert.   B: My husband was on an enforced 24 hour liquid diet (don't ask), and the kids were heading to bed so any and all results would have to be eaten by me, and me alone.   C: There were new episodes of House and 24 on tonight.   Putting it all together:  A+B+C = Screw it.  QED.
** Per our hostess, "Suet is the hard but flaky fat found on the inside of a cow or sheep around the kidneys and that area of the body."  Yeah.  Double screw it.
*** Along with some raves from other DB's who had finished their challenges, and a helpful hint involving a crock pot.   
**** Plus there was a new factor, D:  I had these great ramekins that my mom had from the 60s that I'd been dying to use.  The recipe said you could use ramekins!  And we could pick any kind of pudding we wanted to make.  Putting it all together:  D > A+B+C.  QED.
***** If yours don't come with tops like mine, you will need to rig up a cover of buttered parchment or wax paper and some foil to make tops, and use string to hold the tops in place while they steam.

How to make the dessert in that picture

Chocolate Mousse Shots with Salted Caramel and Whipped Creme Fraiche

A combination of a recipe from Dining In, by G. Garvin and one by Nancy Silverton in Great Gatherings

For the mousse

½ c. whole milk
2 c. whipping cream
4 egg yolks
½ c. sugar
1 Tbs. vanilla
10 oz. dark chocolate, chopped

In a small saucepan, combine the milk and ½ cup of the cream. Bring to boiling on high heat. In a large bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and the sugar until well combined. Whisk a small amount of the milk mixture into the egg mixture. Gradually whisk in the rest. Add the vanilla and continue to whisk. Stain the mixture through a fine mesh sieve. While still hot, pour the mixture over the chopped chocolate in a bowl set over hot water. Let stand for 5 minutes. Whisk until smooth. Set aside and cool. Whip the remaining 1 ½ cups of cream until soft peaks form. When the chocolate mixture is no longer warm to the touch, stir in a small amount of whipped cream to lighten. Fold in the remaining whipped cream. Spoon the mousse carefully into small glasses. Set in the fridge for at least an hour, or up to 2 days.

For the caramel sauce

¾ c. heavy cream
¼ vanilla bean, split
3 Tbs. butter
3 Tbs. light corn syrup
¾ cup sugar
1/3 c. water (about)
1 ½ tsp fleur de sel

Pour the cream into a small saucepan. Scrape the vanilla bean, then add the scrapings and the pod to the pot. Place pan over medium heat for about 3 minutes, or until cream begins to simmer. Add the butter, stir, remove from heat and set aside. Get a large bowl of ice water ready. In a large, heavy saucepan, combine the corn syrup and the sugar. Add enough water to make a wet, sandy texture. Place over medium high heat, bring to a boil, and cook without stirring, occasionally swirling the pan to check on carmelization, for 10 minutes, or until the sugar turns a medium amber color. Remove from the heat and add the cream mixture. Careful – it will bubble a lot! Whisk to combine until smooth. Put the pot in the ice water bath and let cool. Pour a thin layer of caramel sauce on top of the mousse, cover with plastic wrap, and return to the refrigerator. Can be made a day ahead.

Fresh whipped creme fraiche

½ pint of whipping cream
¼ c. of crème fraiche
2 Tbs. of powdered sugar
dash of vanilla extract

Whip cream and crème fraiche in chilled bowl of an electric mixer until soft peaks form. Add sugar and vanilla, mix until just combined. Can be made 3 hours ahead and chilled until serving.

To assemble:

Just before serving, take mousse glasses out of the fridge. Sprinkle a few grains of good quality sea salt on top of the caramel. Add a dollop of the whipped cream to each glass, garnish with chocolate shavings, if desired, and serve.

Just for the record, no matter how much fun I had doing this party, I will never ever go into the catering business as a job. It's really hard!!!