Ritz Bites

My lunch with F.Adria

My hand is cramping and I haven't written this fast or furiously since grad school. I'm not alone; the fifteen or so folks seated around the table are also as riveted as eager students in a seminar.

But when the pen goes down, I pick up a fork, and eat insanely delicious bites of carefully crafted foods showcasing Wolfgang Puck, Lee Hefter and Sherry Yard's A-games. And we're not in a lecture hall, but instead the private dining room at Spago on a weekday afternoon for a media lunch. All designed to welcome and no doubt impress Ferran Adrià on his first trip to Los Angeles, who's in town only for a couple days during his quick international book tour. (Next stop after L.A.: Sydney.)

Along with a modest posse that included his gracious translator and the super congenial and social José Andrés (the kind of guy you want at EVERY dinner party), we were told the drill: no talking when the food arrives. Just smelling and eating. Ferran thinks it's weird that Americans don't smell their food much before eating. (There were a couple other inevitable in-Country-X-we-do-this-vs.-in-Country-Y-you-do-that type of cultural comparisons.) But within what felt like a few seconds after each course was served, he was onto a new topic and eagerly answering questions. It was almost equal parts meal and non-didactic lecture/conversation. 

I literally have pages of notes about his thoughts on ingredients, sourcing fish, creativity, gazpacho debates of the late 1990s, origins of nouvelle cuisine, Michel Guérard, unfair maligning of creative cooking, and the thorny contradictions of tradition. Much to the relief of the cooks, he wasn't stingy with the compliments, and was open and kind in conversation and manner. Plus he and José agreed that Chipiona is "very important," which my husband was SO thrilled to hear. But Betty and Evan already succinctly summarized some of these factoids, so keep reading if you want more details of the food itself...

Memories of coques, and savory tarts at home

This L.A. Times article about Catalan coca combined with the rain makes me crave stuff baked on top of carbs. I've been looking back at my photos from the atmospheric L'Antic Bocoi del Gòtic restaurant in Barcelona, where in June 2006 we enjoyed marvelous coques, and I've experimented again with easy savory tarts.

If a restaurant serving coques with quality cheeses and beautiful toppings like thinly sliced ham and dates (at left) and sharp arugula and walnuts (right) opened in L.A., tushies would be filling seats in no time. And the hearty salad topped with cheese and surrounded by the typical Catalan combination of currants and pine nuts, plus artful splatters of balsamic reduction, is also easily reproduced here using local ingredients.

In the meantime, or at least until I try the recipe featured in the article, I turn to Trader Joe's Artisan Puff Pastry. Super buttery, no fakey shortening ingredients like Pepperidge Farms, and the sheets are conveniently packaged flat in large squares.

Apologies for getting dangerously close to Rachael Ray territory, but my favorite topping of late is TJs frozen artichoke hearts. Frozen 'chokes have none of the waterlogged texture or gross marinades that plague canned and jarred ones. After defrosting them in the microwave, I combine with caramelized onions and/or shallots and sautee other compatible ingredients, like bacon, shitake mushrooms or asparagus.

Lightly brush the dough with butter, spread the mixture on, lightly top with shredded cheese of your choice, and bake at 425 for 15 minutes or so. It's another great "pantry dish" -- or rather "freezer dish" -- to have at your disposal.

On Task: Tasca Wine Bar

Just when I think I'm over small plates, they pull me back in.

Granted Tasca on Third Street doesn't purport to be a traditional tapas bar or try to jump in on the waning trend.  But it gets lumped in that category anyway, because Tasca's menu is divided between small and large plates.  A little bit of ordering confusion arises in our group, at which point I remember that small plates sometimes makes things more difficult rather than convenient.  In the end, however, we're fed and happy, and that's what matters.

Excellent pacing and service have a lot to do with our good moods at the end of the night.  The owners are just so damn nice here.  (I'd been warned.)  Never are we rushed, and we don't ever feel ignored either.  Food comes out just at the right time, with no competing for table or palate space.   We have a lovely chat with Gustavo (owner, I think) about Buenos Aires in between courses.  I silently forgive them for playing the Gotan Project, that most tired of hip restaurant soundtrack staples.  (I'm hardly in a position to criticize since I'm going to the Gotan show at the Bowl the next night.)

No BYOB means H can bring a versatile enough Consilience 2002 Great Oaks Vineyard syrah, which makes me very jealous.  While BYOB has its obvious perks, I'm also glad Tasca finally gets its liquor license next week, so look forward to some good malbecs.  Hopefully this development will increase the buzz and put some more butts in the bar stools that sat empty on Saturday night. 

And what about the food, you ask?  With the exception of a couple off-notes, it's all on target.  Baby artichokes with heirloom tomato slices are firm yet chewy, and bring the simple ingredients together.  The portion is much bigger than I expect, too.  I could've gotten another order of the truffled potato chips.  Rich heavy dishes are best, like the braised short ribs and fettuccine with duck confit.  Had I been focused on the wine I would've ordered more food in this genre rather than stuck to the light stuff, like the disappointingly bland baby octopus salad with mussels, roasted peppers and olives. 

If you're looking for a dessert smorgasbord you best go elsewhere.  Tasca offers only about four items, but two of which we can vouch for their quality.  Strong espresso flavor runs through the gooey chocolate pot du creme, and apple pocket with vanilla ice cream is filled with robust roasted fruit and thankfully, no icky syrups or other fruit byproducts are involved.

Most of the tables are full on Saturday night, plus there's a little scene of outside diners chillin' on sensible outdoor chairs.  While these folks get to enjoy their smokes, they miss out on the blue/brown scheme with antique mirrors and rich woods inside.  And the best touch?  The eclectic selection of beautiful old silverware, likely collected from vintage stores and flea markets in Buenos Aires.  I should've spent more time antique hunting there.

Tasca
8108 W. Third Street
Los Angeles 90048 
323.951.9890

Have ham, will travel

So much for the exoticism of the edible contraband I brought back from Spain. 

Based on reports, jamn ibrico de bellota will arrive on our shores shortly.  I could've used more info about regular vs. belota etc. when buying a small selection as souvenirs; they weren't exactly cheap even over there and I didn't precisely know what I was getting.  But a little surprise is fun, and the thin packets were super easy to stash in my suitcase.  And since according to the Times article, "hams that are to be imported still have more than a year's aging to go before they will be ready to be sold," I'm happy to have some already waiting for me come October�

Gazpacho Gorge

With this scorching, uncomfy weather we've been having -- not to mention terrifying if you've seen An Inconvenient Truth -- I keep thinking about the gazpacho in Spain.

A visual sampling of the good stuff:

La Trucha serves their tangy gazpacho in handmade terra cotta earthenware bowls, which adds to its appeal on a typically hot, dry Madrid afternoon.

Gazpacho at the well-known Basque restaurant Julin de Tolosa is the most expensive bowl I've had other than say, Patina in L.A.  But at least it proves to be the best.  They manage to concoct an incredibly smooth texture and sharp but mellow flavor, and offer a nice assortment of veggie condiments.  Look at that gorgeous reddish persimmon color.  The insanely fat white asparagus shown above left is tasty, too.

Cacao Sampaka is mostly virtuous for their chocolate specialties, which range from the truly bizarre to the simply phenomenal.  The Zen-meets-Vinon-and-organic-crunchy-style stores are a must-stop for any food loving traveler.  Another bonus: it's co-owned by Albert Adria, brother of you-know-who.

While the soup meets standard expectations, ordering gazpacho in the Madrid caf is more a calculated attempt to save room for a cup of hot chocolate rather than an effort to find what I think will be the best version in Spain.  The soup was nothing to scoff at, but the Azteca features 80% cacao content and Jamaican and cayenne peppers is definitely the main event.  Yay!  My quest for a truly great cup of the profoundly rich stuff is now satisfied.  Sorry, I digress...

The restaurant in the Mercat de Santa Caterina makes a solid gazpacho with yummy little croutons.  It also appears that square bowls are de rigeur at edgy mod eateries in big Spanish cities. 

I only wish this summer specialty were as readily available here.  IMHO, most restaurants in Los Angeles manage to fuck up what's a simple thing.  If you've got a rec, please do share.

There is a silver lining, however.  We're blessed with great produce, and those lower-priced super ripe tomatoes (sometimes labeled as "sauce" tomatoes) are available at most farmers' markets this time of year.  In our household we turn to Javier's mom's trusty recipe to get our gazpacho fix.  No need to follow the ingredients and instructions to the letter; it's an approximation of a handed down family recipe anyway.  Best to make it to taste.

On Toros, Squirming Fish, and the Best Dinner

My father-in-law, the bullfighting expert in D.C., has some interesting insights on the connection between spectacles seen in plazas de toros and what we observed at La Boquera.

I think the bullfight fits in better in a culture where some of the food in the market is still moving. There's more an idea of where our food comes from. Here, in Safeway, you tend to get a picture on a box.

We didn't eat much meat in Spain, but what we did was phenomenal.  Hence this segue into rehashing the best meal at Comer 24 in Barcelona, where we had dinner at the counter thanks to a friend's rec and research.  It's also the closest we'll get to El Bulli (Carlos Abellan is one of many Adria disciples around town).

After the aforementioned nouveau tapas spread, the next course is "spring salad" nestled into a cup and hot mozzarella, Serrano ham, and truffle finger sandwiches.  The salad is somewhat forgettable, while the sandwich is very, very memorable.  It's one of the less inventive dishes, but no less tasty.

I skip the rawish "Kinder egg" with truffle potato mousse and dig into the cozily tucked together mini cannelloni with beef, mixed mushrooms and Gruyere.  I then have to grab onto my stool to prevent falling over from the Delicious Coma induced by the soft black sausage wrapped in carmelized green apple slices.  (One of the many times we try locally produced encased meats, like butifarra.)  Genius.

I never expected la nueva cocina to be this exacting and abundantly satisfying.  After this dinner Cinc Sentits has a hard time measuring up.

Why does the fish course follow the previous riches? Peeking around at other diners' tasting menus I figure it's because the kitchen has made some changes to accommodate my "condition" How kind. Light hake with miso mustard dressing is close to a dish you'd find in a trendy California restaurant, while serious black rice cooked to firm perfection with sepia ink and aioli feels distinctly part of this geographic niche. The true piece de resistance proves to be the flame grilled steak with roasted shallots, red wine reduction and a heavenly mixture of tiny cute-as-a-button (but not button) mixed wild Catalonian mushrooms.

Quick Tapas Tour

The meals shown below weren't eaten in the context of tapas bar hopping in the traditional sense.  These dishes were eaten at a vacation-appropriate leisurely pace, some more quickly than others, but all were special for their straightforwardness and quality.  The small plates trend followers in the U.S. still have a lot to learn from their muses and counterparts in Spain.

Ah, the classic tortilla espanola served for breakfast with the tomato-rubbed bread found around Barcelona.  This one at the Bar Central in la Boqueria was among the better of the bunch we tasted.

Taller de Tapas is a popular spot with a couple locations.  The El Born Taller is fairly slick and pretty good.  Croquetas were dense but not too much of a gut-bomb, and any fried artichoke is always an exciting thing.  These were thin, wispy and not entirely edible.

Though it looks pretty, I found the layered roasted red pepper, roasted eggplant and anchovy dish dull.

Cal Pep is super popular among the food-savvy tourist set.  Some think it's overhyped.  Fortunately it's a favorite of our friends who we visited and not far from where they live, so I was happy it gets at least one local stamp of approval.

We started off with a plate of fried sardines, which are amazing to watch the cooks dust in flour and deep fry.  Other goodies followed, yet I'm still kicking myself for not treating myself to their version of fried baby artichokes.

Los Mejores Mercados/Mercats

"Americans are so obsessed with 'my favorite this' and 'best that,'" observes our friend Belen in Barcelona.

I'll try to resist this superlative default cultural mode in posting about the trip.  But when some things really do stand out, it's hard not to do. 

Starting with our first meal in Spain.  Instead of hitting Boqueria first, we had lunch at 3:00 (typical time for us during this vacation) in another market, Santa Caterina, which is also the best updated historic building we saw. 

While its vibe is definitely of a different era than Boqueria's overflow of fresh typical Catalan regional delights, this meal at Santa Caterina's vast contemporary restaurant proves to be a good introduction to the emergence of la Nueva Espaa.  (Disclaimer: we missed main market hours and only went to the restaurant.)

Take your pick of traditional gazpacho or clean, sweet melon and mint soup. Asian inspired dishes or an assortment of antipastos.  Along with the clearly categorized matrix menu printed on the placemats, the LED digital display signs above the open kitchen counters remind customers of the day's offerings.  Even the bathroom embraces this progressive ethos by being unisex � and  I don't mean the private, single-toilet kind.

But now to back up a bit, here's a quick tour through some assaults on the senses found at the older landmark market, which some claim is the Best in the World.  I'm not saying nothing about my humble opinion as to whether or not such assertions are absolutely true.

Bring on the Churros

For the next ten days Me and My Conscience will engage in mano a mano battle in the pregnancy prohibition against wine, cured meats and unpasteurized cheese while we're in Spain.  We'll split our vacation time between Barcelona and Madrid during this last big trip as a twosome, plus a make quickie visit to the Tate Modern during our London layover.  I'm really looking forward to spending time with our friends over there, revisiting awesome places (first stop: la Boqueria!) and sampling all the churros in Madrid while forcing myself to take it easy.

One friend advises "let's be European about" the booze issue while another says a taste of "Ribera del Duero won't kill ya, or the kid."  Both true.  Maybe I'm being too careful about the cured meats, too; I generally take the better safe than sorry route.  But after my first exposure to bullfights I might lose my taste for flesh anyway.  All the more likely if we only manage to catch shitty fights in Madrid because we're arriving at the tail end (so to speak) of San Isidro and have to travel to a smaller town for a better cartel.  Still, I ain't complaining.