Chocolatier.

I hate chocolate. (Ref: entry no. 1 - "Epiphany.")

On that note, I made chocolate truffles and chocolate cookies. Maybe it was cabin fever? (I was confined to my aunt's house, sick with bronchitis.) Or the overexposure to "Everyday Italian" and "Barefoot Contessa"? (same reason as former) Whatever it was, everyone enjoyed my creations. Everyone but me. But it made my Christmas a little bit warmer.

Chocolate Hazelnut Biscotti

The chocolate that was used in this recipe was Nutella, which is a rare exception to my aversion to chocolate. Something about the hazelnuts minimizes the "chocolate-ness" of Nutella. With the help of a couple of Santa's little helpers, I toasted and peeled the hazelnuts. Note: hazelnuts are a real pain in the ass to peel. But so nutty and delicious.

Hazelnut Truffles

Obviously, I had toasted hazelnuts leftover. This was for my aunt, who was on a liquid diet for a colonoscopy. She masochistically subjected herself to FoodTV all throughout her liquid diet, vowing to eat everything she wanted as soon as she finished her colonoscopy. The colonoscopy came out clean, and to celebrate, we made truffles. And I learned why they're called "truffles." If you do it right, the chocolate doesn't mold into perfect spheres. (Godiva has us all fooled.) They turn out to be a bit unshapely, like truffles (the first-class fungi, not the chocolate).

I think the fun of Christmas comes from following those Christmas traditions that have been dormant all year, only to be awakened that time of year when the ordinarily vacant lots transform into Christmas tree farms, all claiming to be the best in town. For me, those "traditions" include listening to Mariah Carey and Celine Dion's Christmas albums, watching "Miracle on 34th Street" (when I was younger) and "Love Actually" (now that I'm older), and orchestrating the annual Secret Santa gift exchange for our family.

As I get older, these traditions seem to fade. And as they start to fade away, I'm realizing the importance of keeping these old traditions and even creating new ones to keep in the following years. No matter what the adults say... it's not just for the kids. BP and I decided to start a new tradition this year. I'm hoping it'll become an old Christmas tradition.

One of these days, I'm going to get Christmas back. I'll buy that house that was made for Christmas. The kind with big, white French windows and a chimney made of brick. I'll get a tall Christmas tree and decorate it with ornaments that I will have been collecting over the years. The air will smell of the cold of winter, the warmth from the oven and cinnamon. Lots of cinnamon.

Brussels sprouts.

I begin this entry with my sincerest apologies to my few but loyal readers...

Tis the season of finals. I just finished my 2nd final today, and before I begin studying for my next final, which is oh-so-conveniently tomorrow(!), I thought I might take a break and update my blog. Much to my despair, I have not been cooking as much lately due to the advent of the reoccurring nightmare that is finals season. There's been a lot of reheating and take-outs, so not much to blog about there. Now, Thanksgiving... I can blog about.

Thanksgiving Day was spent with my family. My mom and brother came home from Phoenix and Berkeley respectively, by air and by rail respectively. The house was full again.

We're not turkey people. More importantly, I'm not a turkey person. So my mom decided to make prime rib, while putting me in charge of the sides. I was very excited about this. Prime rib meant that I could make non-stuffing, non-yam, non-green bean casserole dishes. So I decided to be adventurous and channel my inner Giada de Laurentiis, Ina Garten, and for the very first time - Michael Symon.

Fried Brussels Sprouts with Walnuts and Capers

This was my very first time making AND eating brussels sprouts. Growing up, my mom never forced brussels sprouts on me, like the other fictional moms do in storybooks and cartoons.

Needless to say, I didn't really have much of an opinion about brussels sprouts, but for some reason, I always felt that I would like them. I was inspired to make this dish because one of the chefs on the show, "The Best Thing I Ever Ate," had raved about Michael Symon's brussels sprouts. The title of the show explains it all. I had to try it. Survey says? It was good - the red wine vinegar, Serrano chilies, capers and minced anchovies cut through the oil from the fried brussels sprouts. But in my opinion, there's just too much oil. From the fried brussels sprouts, the fried capers, the fried parsley leaves and of course, the olive oil from the dressing. Oil overdose.

Caramelized Butternut Squash

I had been meaning to try butternut squash in another recipe ever since I had used it in making my Beef with Butternut Squash Stew (see previous entry below, titled "Giada"). I caramelized the squash using brown sugar and melted butter. My mom really liked this one. I, on the other hand, felt that roasted butternut squash is still too starchy for my taste. I like it better simmered in broth.

Spicy Parmesan Green Beans and Kale

Of course, I had to include a recipe from the new Giada cookbook that I had bought. And I'm glad I did. Green beans, kale, onion, cremini mushrooms, red pepper flakes, Parmesan and lemon juice. What's not to like? Of all the side dishes that day, I like this one the best. And I even re-used the leftovers and tossed it with some tomatoes and pasta. Even better.

Sour Cream Mashed Potatoes

This is an Ina Garten recipe that I've used so many times now - it's officially a classic. So easy. I know that what I'm about to say is very American of me, but it must be said: sour cream makes everything better.

Prime Rib

This year, I learned that Costco sells prime rib. I also learned that it's good to let it marinade overnight. I also learned that it takes forever to cook. I also learned that the line between medium rare and medium is very very thin.

My plate

Yum.

Dinner was good. We all went to watch "The Blind Side" afterwards. And the next day, everybody returned whence they came.

I can't wait for winter break. But for now, it's time to hit the books.

Lemons.

Over the years, I've acquired a taste for sour foods. I hadn't always. Sour gummy worms, salt & vinegar potato chips, real lemonade - they always made me cringe. I also hated the fact that they make the inside of your mouth feel... wrinkly. This, of course, limited my choices at Sweet Factory. I stuck to the usual: mini jawbreakers, (non-sour) gummy bears, (non-sour) gummy strawberries, (non-sour) gummy grapefruit wedges. But over time, I've come to appreciate the sweet, the savory, and the sour.

This was my second attempt at making Chicken Piccata. The first time, I had been overzealous with my lemon juicer. But this time around, I was able to balance the sweet (Sauvignon Blanc), the savory (butter) and the sour (lemon juice). I made some Sour Cream Mashed Potatoes, recipe courtesy of Ms. Ina Garten and some steamed broccoli and cauliflower to accompany the chicken. My test subjects enjoyed it.


"When life gives you lemons..." Isn't that what they say? "Make lemonade." "You paint that shit gold." Or more recently, courtesy of a friend - "Put them in a hefeweizen and cheers my friends." Or as in my case, make chicken piccata.

I've grown accustomed to that uniquely sour and pungent taste of lemon - that first sensation that makes you cringe and shiver. I've learned to endure it because what follows is fresh, crisp and almost sweet.

I continue to tell myself that everything is okay. I remind myself that the sourness is momentary and fleeting. And I wait for the sweetness that is to come.

Giada.

A few weeks ago, C, who is on the Williams-Sonoma mailing list, forwarded an email to me about a book-signing with Giada de Laurentiis (of Food Network's "Everyday Italian") at the Williams-Sonoma in South Coast Plaza. I immediately called and bought 2 tickets (+ 2 copies of her cookbook, Giada's Kitchen) to the signing. What C and I didn't realize was that we would have to stand in a long line for about 2 hours with the real housewives of Orange County, munching on complimentary Chocolate Hazelnut Biscotti and Mini Pumpkin Pecan Cupcakes. Giada was very nice and very beautiful, which made me want to hate her even more. I mean, how perfect can one's life really be? Beautiful. Paid (well) to cook and travel on TV. Comes from Italian cinema royalty. Husband works for Anthropologie = free Anthropologie garb. And from the looks of her more recent show, "Giada at Home," she lives in a beachfront home in Malibu. On top of all that, her recipes are actually really good.


I put my envy and bitterness aside long enough to have a very brief conversation with Giada, as C took paparazzi shots of me from the sidelines. (They enforced a strict policy of no photos WITH Giada, just OF Giada. Oh, and no flash.) I told her that I loved cooking from her recipes. And she thanked me for cooking. As far as I'm concerned, we're officially friends.


Inspired by my newfound admiration for Giada, I decided to try out a recipe from her book. Plus, I had some leftover rosemary, thyme and sage from the last recipe ("Hunter's Minestrone") that I didn't want to go to waste. I also wanted to stock the fridge for my dad, so he could take it to work for lunch. The recipe du jour was Beef with Butternut Squash Stew. It was my first time using butternut squash, and I've decided that I'm going to use more butternut squash in my cooking. (I'm especially excited to try out Ina's recipe for Caramelized Butternut Squash for Thanksgiving this year.) It was also my first time using Marsala wine. Don't be surprised to see an entry here about Chicken Marsala some time in the near future.


I toasted slices of baguette to serve with the stew for my dad. He liked it, but much to my dismay, he had to finish up his meal with some leftover kimchi chigae from a few nights ago. Even still, I was happy that he had enjoyed my cooking and had experienced something new and different.

I appreciate our dinners together, though they are few and far between. What used to be my way of trying to keep my family together has now become my way of communicating to my dad that I still care and that he's not alone.

Hunter's Minestrone for the soul.

Detox.

Days 1-2

Protein powder + rice milk
Lemon juice + water,
Garden variety supplements

Days 3-7
Green salad with a lemon vinaigrette
*Recipe for vinaigrette: lemon juice, honey, s/p (to taste),
minced garlic (optional), olive oil
(The proportion for acid/vinegar to oil should roughly be 1:2)

But it's dineLA week. So I made an exception last night and had a birthday dinner with A & C (October and November birthdays, respectively) at the newest member of the Chaya family - Chaya Downtown. A prix-fixe 3-course menu in celebration of the 25th Anniversary of the original Chaya Brasserie in Beverly Hills.

For starters, grilled asparagus + focaccia + kalamata olive tapenade + parmigiana reggiano. (Please excuse the bad lighting.)

The entree - red snapper-wrapped scallops + grilled vegetables +
basmati rice + lobster curry au jus.

And finally, for dessert, panna cotta + candied dates + caramelized figs + balsamic reduction.

*As you can see, I tried as best I could to stick to my "strict" diet of vegetables and grains. Well, all except for the succulent scallops and the rich panna cotta.

For a few hours, my only role was enjoying an extra-special night out on the town with my 2 favorite ladies. But I came face-to-face with my reality when I couldn't get a hold of my dad. Between LA and Monterey Park (where I had to pick up my cell phone), and between Monterey Park and Rowland Heights (where I tried calling my dad approximately 20 times), I kept imagining the worst. Deep down inside, I knew that my dad was probably just out or perhaps he had fallen asleep with the phone on silent. But years of living with my parents has conditioned me to believe that the worst always happens when I'm not there. My dad did call me back eventually, but not before I projected all my stress, frustration, fear and panic on BP. (Sorry, BP.)

So I did what I always do. I cooked. Remember that recipe for Hunter's Minestrone that I wanted to try? (Courtesy of Tyler Florence - http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/tyler-florence/hunters-minestrone-recipe/index.html) I did it. And it was good.

The beginning stages: chopped carrots, onion and celery for the soffritto. Sweet Italian sausage to be sauteed in sage+rosemary+thyme-infused olive oil. And crushed tomatoes and cannellini beans.














Chicken broth infused with smashed garlic cloves (later discarded). Sauteed sausage and soffritto.














Combine all ingredients, including mezze rigatoni pasta. Oh and a rind of parmesan for good measure.


And serve - along with grilled (cheddar) cheese for my dad.

My dad liked the Hunter's Minestrone and the grilled cheese. It was our first dinner together under our new circumstances... just me and my dad. I know that this is just the beginning of many dinners together like this. And I'm sure that with each dinner, it will get easier. And good food always helps.

To A... Thank you for my first apron. I can't wait for all the oil splattering and tomato sauce splashing to come.

Ka-rē.

One of the many cheap thrills that give me great pleasure and satisfaction is when I'm able to use leftover ingredients in my cooking. (This comes after changing lanes without hitting any of the bumps on the lane divider, proportionally distributed veggies in my sandwiches/ burgers, and unmelted ice cream at the bottom of the cone.) Today, I used leftover zucchini and carrots in my fridge to make curry (read: ka-rē) rice - Japanese-style. I had already bought beef, potatoes, onions, and a box of medium-hot Vermont Curry.

So what brought on this sudden urge to make curry for lunch? Today is my last day of eating solids. Concerned with my current weight gain, my mom so generously bought a detox kit for me. For the 1st 2 days of the week-long process, I have to follow a strict regimen of lemon water, rice milk, protein powder and supplements. Then, I slowly reincorporate "normal" food back into my diet. I'm not looking forward to it at all. But, I must not allow my mom's money to have been spent in vain.

One pearl of wisdom I would like to impart to my loyal blog followers (yes, all 5 of you) is that when making Japanese-style curry, brown the meat in oil first. Then, add the root vegetables, which take longer to cook (i.e. potatoes and carrots). Saute for a few minutes, and then add the remaining vegetables. *Now, here's where I deviate from the instructions on the back of the curry box. Before adding the water, add half of the allotted curry blocks into the pot. As you continue to saute, you will notice the curry starting to break down. Then, add the water and bring it to a boil. The difference that I've noticed is that this additional step intensifies the color and flavor of the curry.

Pour over rice and serve!


いただきます~
("Ii-ta-da-ki-ma-su." Translation: "I humbly receive" = Let's eat!)

Moon Cakes and margaritas.

In keeping with the general theme of self-indulgent reflections and musings on my life that has given birth to this blog, the countdown to my birthday consisted of reminiscing of birthdays gone by. For me, birthday celebrations have always been about family and good food. My mom would always cook something wonderful, per request of yours truly. Whatever she decided to make, she always made a pot of mi-yuk gook (Korean seawood soup eaten on birthdays and postpartum) And it would always be served on the "good" china - the kind that was kept in the china cabinet and saved for special occasions and special guests. (My mom placed a lot of importance on what I ate off of. To this day, I can't eat out of a box, a jar, a pot or a pan.) This year was a little bit different.

On the eve of my birthday, my roomie, C and her HKT surprised me with a homemade taro moon cake and Halloween shortbread cookies. It was only appropriate. October 3rd was the Moon Festival in China and Chuseok in Korea. The "Happy Birthday" Song was sung and candles were blown out.



In the hopes of running into Ian Ziering (remember "Steve" from "Beverly Hills, 90210"??), C, BP and I had breakfast at the Griddle on Sunset. (Apparently, he's a regular here. C saw him here on 3 separate occasions.) Unfortunately, Steve never showed up. But they had really good French pressed coffee and your typical American breakfast foods, on CRACK.


Now what I'm about to say would be considered blasphemy in the U.S. of A., land of milk and syrup, but it must be said:
I hate breakfast foods.
Eggs, bacon, hash browns, pancakes... I'd rather eat a steak. And on occasion, I have. But on this special occasion, C and I decided to share banana pancakes and a Tex-Mex egg dish called "The Caballero." I only wish I had known that the pancakes came with an ice cream scoop-sized dollop of butter and a shower of powdered sugar. The best part about The Caballero? The fresh tortilla chips.

This was BP's breakfast. Yea right.

This was BP's breakfast. Nutella with a side of French toast. Little did he know that it would make an encore appearance later that day.


BP and I then took a drive up to Santa Barbara, where we walked around State St. Hoping to get me in a more celebratory mood, he suggested we take shots. It was 3 PM. We compromised and ordered some margaritas and chips and salsa at a nearby cantina. I ordered a margarita blended with real grapes, while BP decided to be uncharacteristically adventurous and ordered a "mango-rita." (Note: BP's more of a beer/ Hennessy drinker) I thoroughly enjoyed my mid-day snack, but the mangorita would later come back to bite BP in the ass.


Hoping to indulge the foodie in me, BP had made reservations at Bouchon - a charming Santa Barbara-inspired French restaurant that prides itself on using local ingredients and local wine. On the menu, there were heirloom tomatoes, microgreens, blood oranges and Kobe rib-eye. "Indulge" would be an understatement. By this time, BP's face had lost its color.


Once again, continuing to be uncharacteristically adventurous, BP wanted to order escargot for starters. I had had escargot before and tried to explain the texture and taste to him. He seemed eager to try. Escargot and pearl onions sauteed in white-wine, butter and garlic - served in a puff pastry tower with organic watercress. One bite and BP developed an aversion. (Note: BP eats pretty much ANYthing.) I, on the other hand, loved the combination of flavors, and finished most of it. BP had to excuse himself and go to the little boys' room.


BP ordered the sea bass, served on a bed of yellow and green squash "trumpets" and fennel-roasted fingerling potatoes. One whiff of it, and BP was officially sick. All of the day's good eats came back to haunt him. In reverse.


Despite all of the mouthwatering creations on the menu, I could not pass up the Kobe rib-eye served with braised broccolini, on a "hash" of potatoes, red peppers, onions, butternut squash and applewood-smoked bacon. But poor BP... even hot water with lemon and 7-Up couldn't relieve his upset stomach. After just a bite, we asked the waiter to pack up our food and headed back to LA. (We eventually did get to enjoy all of it later on, back at my apartment.)


On the drive back down to LA, I had a disconcerting feeling. There had been no mi-yuk gook served in fine bone china. There were only phone calls: a surprising one from my brother (who had either remembered my birthday or had received instructions from my mom); a cheerful one from my mom (who was happy that I had someone to celebrate my birthday with); and a disappointing one from my dad (who had called for a completely different reason and apparently did not realize that it was my birthday).

I don't know if there will be any more birthday celebrations served on my mom's china. I'm hoping that there will be, some time in the near future. But for now, I am beginning new traditions and creating new memories.