Ode to a Spring Sunday

This Sunday, like every Sunday, found The Boy Next Door and I pleasantly enjoying the bucolic life. The recent rains yielded to giant, puffy clouds, with plenty of sunshine to warm things up enough to enjoy the one day respite we so look forward to.
First, a quiet morning by the crackling wood stove, sipping hand harvested lemon verbena tea.  Next, an invigorating soak in the dead sea salt hot tub.
After a healthy breakfast of "green eggs," ample garden kale and collards with softly scrambled fresh eggs laid that very morning, I decided to harvest and preserve the Japanese kumquats that were at their peak juiciness.  A simple syrup lightly enhanced with some coriander seed, fresh ginger, and Meyer lemon zest from our trees, provided the preserving goodness that will allow us to enjoy these little gems for the upcoming months, when everyone else has forgotten them...
Mid afternoon, and it was time to let the sheep out to pasture.  Perched in our chairs, we are always amused at their antics.  The four little lambs tease one another, and jump around jovially.  Precociously, they venture into whatever areas their minds fancy; they are no different than little human children, and we never tire of watching them play in the sunshine.  Murano glasses contain Negronis, accented with the kumquats, of course~perfect for the show.
A bit later, time for a snack.  While he lit the fire by the pool, I assembled the edible accoutrements.   A jar of salmon rillettes I made a few weeks ago, with fresh brioche, toasted on the top of the wood stove.  And a bottle of Jacquelynn Sauvignon Blanc/Semillon blend from our buddy at Chateau Boswell rounded things off in a most rich and satisfying way.
All the day, in the well worn dutch oven given to me years ago by a close chef friend, the leg of lamb we smoked last weekend simmered with a jar of last year's preserved tomatoes, generous garlic and chilis, homemade lamb stock, and a montage of Rancho Gordo beans.  It became dinner, served with our last bottle of our buddy Dave's Sonoma Coast Pinot Noir, with a garden salad of mixed chicories.

Life doesn't get much more perfect.

Catching Up

Today is the Spring Equinox~the time to plant our seeds for this year's garden harvest. So I felt it fitting to finally post again, after a hiatus that has lasted over two years.
Although the spring equinox is about the future, it is only by careful consideration of the past that we can thoughtfully conceive our choices.
My process always begins with a hike.  I have always believed that if we walk a path long enough, the answers to our questions will be answered.  Sometimes a quick stroll does the trick, sometimes it takes miles of grueling terrain.  Some answers are never revealed.   But we will not know unless we get out there and put one foot in front of the other.
It took about 4 miles before all of my mind's chatter gave way.  Then, the world became only the birds' chirping, the frogs' croaking, the streams gurgling, and the wind whispering.  That is the place where treasure is found.
The last two years have brought much change for me.  Two prospective (to put it lightly) restaurant locations have come and gone.  At this time last year, I thought I would be steering the helm of The Bewildered Pig ship.  It wasn't until the fall equinox of last year that I realized that it was not going to happen, after months of hard work, and lots of money.  I needed the quiet of winter to understand the lesson(s).
A year ago, almost to the date, I said my final farewell to the beautiful winery estate at which I created a masterpiece of a culinary program, as the winery had sold and no longer did my friend and mentor (Pat Kuleto) employ his extraordinary vision to the business.  Pat had created a fertile space, and in it, I planted everything imaginable!  My harvest was so incredibly plentiful, and I am exceedingly grateful. It had been seven years.
At that very time, as I released the Kuleto kitchen and the second restaurant space from my tight grasp, a new opportunity arose.  Of course!
A most distinguished winery was in need of a resident chef.  After a lengthy process, I accepted a very tasteful offer, and am now the chef for one of the most respected wineries in the world.  That was a year ago, April.
So here I am today. After two years of trying to steer my ship against the wind, I have decided that I will revel in the now, and resume on a more comfortable course!
This spring, I shall plant several varieties of patience, as I am always in need of that.  Open mindedness is also big on my list.  As a Taurus (bull) and Ox (Chinese sign), I tend to be a bit opinionated.  My garden can always use more compassion, as its sweetness knows no opposition.  The bulbs of lightheartedness are also infinitely sweet, and I can use that, as my goals and convictions tend to weigh on me heavily.  Top it off with a sprinkling more discernment, and I'm good to go!
Happy Equinox!

What to do in Torrential Rain...

The rain has been non-stop now for five days. A forceful expression of Mother Nature at her best-powerful, cleansing, and restorative, rain. It reminds me of 6 years ago to the month, when I moved up to this hidden little tree house amongst the woods and the vines.

One can't help but be swept into nature's patterns-closing in and "hunkering down," with the days short and dark, the waking hour is later and the nights come quickly. No matter, it all feels natural.

I've been blessed to have the last few months to myself, which I've tended to some long awaited personal desires: hiking, (rain or shine), yoga, meditation, but most of all-cooking! I decided to tackle baking bread, something I always wanted to do, but in the speed and stress of work it seemed a far off fantasy. Now, my starter is 3 months old and it generously lends its pleasant sour taste to all of my "levainous" whims--boules, loaves, and even focaccia.

Today was a fabulous day spent in the recesses of my reclusive paradise. I awoke with the hope of stepping out for errands. Alas, the rain would not subside, so I had a back up plan.

I began the morning later than usual, as it was so dark it seemed too early to rise! I enjoyed two cups of Genmai Cha, a japanese roasted brown rice and green tea in my big chair in front of the crackling woodstove, while planning the day's kitchen work.

I started with mixing up my sourdough bread. Using my starter, I set the new batch aside to rise, next to the woodstove.

Next came the banana walnut bread. Dave, my winemaker friend, had given me two unassuming bags during the holidays...one was full of plump, huge walnut halves, and the other, fresh, juicy prune plums. I used the walnuts in the bread, along with 6 bananas oozing with ripeness.

Then, I whipped up some celery root and white truffle soup. )for another night's first course or a lunch with the fresh crusty bread!)

Truthfully, my soup and bread project were interrupted as the power went out. I stepped out to drive up to the winery to see what was going on. I drove over a fallen branch that became cozy in my Jeep frame. I couldn't get it out, no matter what I did. In the pouring rain, I ran back to the house, put on my wet gear and Hunters, and set off to hike up the road with the hope of running into someone who might help me wedge the branch from my frame and see what was amiss with my power. The walk was just what I needed! The wet air, cool and refreshing, energized me, and I trotted up the steep hill. Just about three quarters of the way, Dave came driving down the hill and all went well...Jeep is now intact and the power back on...

But back to the menu...

Daniel was due at 5:00 for a very special dinner.

When he arrived, with one of Mike's wild pheasants, both in a tasty brine and with fresh made stock in tow, I had the fresh baked breads displayed on the counter.

We proceeded to our normal foreplay--a dance in the kitchen, creating a wondrous work of art to be began and destroyed in the same night, with no one ever to see, and only a tasty memory left...the ultimate expression of installation art!

So, I had taken Dave's prunes and stewed them in Brandy, thyme, cloves and bay. They rested on the back burner in my tiny copper saucepan. Later, we would add them to the pheasant stock (my favorite stock in all the world, by the way), and make a luxurious pan sauce of pheasant, brandy and prune.

The pheasant was removed from the brine and dusted in seasoned flour.

I put on some Anson Mills white polenta on low heat.

We fried some really smokey, peppery bacon made by our friend Herb. It was awesome. We snacked on it, along with a small crottin of fresh chevre and the fresh baked bread, with some 2006 Stony Hill Gewurztraminer. We cut some bacon into small bits to garnish our plates.

Yesterday we foraged a regal Lion's Mane mushroom that we had been patiently waiting to mature for the last three weeks. It was all part of the plan for tonight's menu...

We pan seared the pheasant. Once the skin was a crisp golden brown, we transferred it to a pie pan to finish low and slow in the oven. In the same saute pan, we fried big slabs of the mushroom with ample garlic and thyme.

We began the dinner with some fresh lobster bisque I made yesterday. It was incredible, if I may say so...

Then, we sat to the luxurious plate of natures bounty--perfectly fitting for a night by the fire with the rain hitting the tin roof...

Crispy, moist, pan seared pheasant, with creamy white polenta, Lion's Mane mushroon and prunes stewed in Brandy and veal & pheasant stock...along with a stellar bottle of wine--a 2005 Quintessa...from right down the road.

We finished (the meal) with herbal tea and fresh made oatmeal cookies (also from yesterday!).

Off to slumberland we go...

A typical night for two funky gourmets.

A Quiet Sunday on the Hill

Sunday began quietly and cozily. Daniel went back to bed, and I, already into my second cappuccino, was ready for some action. Stove action, that is!

When Daniel awoke, I was deep into preparing "oeufs en meurette," or, poached eggs with red wine sauce. Only mine had a few twists (of course!). I added chanterelles and Burgundian truffles. (We have a steady supply of truffles during the season, due to Daniel's addiction to them!), and to the sauce, which typically has a bit of veal demiglace, I used both my homemade veal glace, as well as some chicken hearts. Mmmm. We had that with some of our friends late disgorged coastal bubbles...



I then proceeded to a hike in the rain. Hiking in the rain is incredibly thereapeutic. The pitter patter of rain on the leaves and ground, the dense clouds rolling through you (literally), and the sound of your shoes on wet dirt, enveloped me in solitude, and getting outside allowed me to "get inside." I made it to the garden, unnoticed, and like a ghost, made off with a handful of fresh radishes and a bulb of kohlrabi. They became a delicious crudite later, along with some Andante diary cow's milk cheese and crostini. We sipped on reisling as Daniel prepared dinner.



He had a hankering for osso bucco. So, in my Pommes Anna antique copper pan, he seared off and put in the oven three lovely veal shanks. Three hours later, we enjoyed them over Anson Mills creamy white polenta with a bottle of 2004 J Davies Cabernet, which was drinking like velvet.



And such is life.

A Typical Weekend for Two Funky Gourmets

Saturday night was fun. We were invited to a BBQ at one of the most coveted vineyards in the Napa Valley, the "Herb Lamb" vineyard. The couple that invited us, who also own a coveted winery in the Valley, didn't give much detail, except that the dress was casual. It was fun not knowing what to expect, and even more fun was that the scene was so incredibly simple, and the antithesis of what some percieve Napa to be-snobby and overstated. Indeed, the wine that flowed would have made even the most well stocked cellar look pedestrian. As I toiled over which white wine to pour first, the first appetizer came around. Bacon. Yep-just nice, crispy, bacon. I was a bit puzzled-our friends are uber-gourmets. Then, the second app came along. Perfectly bbq'd pork shortribs. The perfect texture-not too soft, yet falling off the bone, and slathered properly in an equally balanced sweet/tart homemade sauce. Even the women in Manolo's dove into the ribs with abandon!

I meandered over to the bbq area, a well thought out, well equipped, unassuming array of cooking apparati made up a generous corner of an impressive wrap-around porch. A four foot high, open hearth fireplace, a sink, grill and best of all-a blackened from much use, sticky, yummy smelling smoker. Then I met Herb.

A soil scientist turned ag-supply store turned vineyard owner, this man at heart is really a bbq man. Over copious wine and cigars, Daniel and I well over stayed our visit by talking to Herb about raising animals, butchering animals and properly smoking them. All with a twist on how sustainable people really could be if they tried just a little bit. We closed the night agreeing we lived in a utopia, and that we wanted to smoke a goat together. I also vowed to achieve perfection on smoking salmon in Herb's smoker, a feat he gave up on after many failed attempts.

Sunday came, and as usual, Daniel and I indulged in sleeping in. Upon a lazy wakening, I decided to cook brunch. I headed to the garden and Daniel to the chicken coop. My fruitful journey provided the first two tomatoes of the season, as well as the first crooked neck squash-and some blossoms! Two, purple romas bulged with ripeness. Along with them I harvested an array of peppers, oregano, coriander flowers and arugula.

Daniel poured us a glass of our house bubbly-Point Reyes Vineyards Late Disgorged 1992 Blanc de Blanc. Our friends Steve and Sharon own this unassuming winery that doubles as a dairy cattle ranch right on Tomales bay. I began a frittata, so that Daniel would have extra to take for work. Simple and divine, the plate of frittata sat in the center, cut like a pie. Farm fresh eggs, laid that morning, with sauteed garden peppers, tomato, onion and squash, along with its blossoms. I made a fresh salsa and put it on the plate with some locally made cottage cheese, an arugula salad and a couple handmade white corn tortillas. I topped it all with the coriander flowers. After that, we adjurned to the pool and tried to cool off from the heat and catch a few rays.

Later, we settled to an equally scrumptious dinner. Daniel made his amazing marinated then grilled, custom cut extra thick veal chops and braised cannellinis with a basil parmesan broth. I went back to the garden and selected swiss chard to accompany the beans, as well as a beautiful array of salad greens-tsat zoi, baby bok choy, arugula, romaine and butterleaf. A simple vinaigrette of Napa Red Wine vinegar and Daniel's own sevillano olive oil, a few roasted marcona almonds, some apple slices, a few slices of the same yellow squash from that morning, and shaved parmesan made it the perfect accompaniment to his hearty summer plate. We moved an outside table into the living room, lit a single candle, and enjoyed some of Dave's Griffin's Lair Sonoma Coast pinot noir while watching NatGeo on polar bears.

What a life!

Birthday, Vacations and General Catch Up

So much time has passed. Who knows where to start? Almost every night is worth writing about. I'll highlight a few.

Daniel butchered his first home-raised lamb. Barbados-dorset mix. 10 weeks old. Scrumptious. He took the utmost care and had much reverence for the little guy. We enjoyed the rack fresh with broccolini and roasted potatoes. We made stock from the bones and froze the rest. Maybe our special friends will enjoy a lamb dinner with us.

My birthday was something of a fantasy. Instructed to dress in a dress, I arrived at Daniel's to a half bottle of bubbly while he gave me a few trinkets. A limo arrived to take us to Yountville. Amazingly, the day was sunny, but along came a deep storm cloud. It seemed to want to follow us to Yountville. We raced, with Bocelli to salute the procession. Brilliant sun on one side, the cloud coming from the rear, soon the two met just above us, and rain drops fell as we arrived at the V Wine Cellar. Seemingly calm, I awaited the next move, but as the storm raced on, Daniel had to forget the trick, and off we went, with a stolen Bouchon umbrella, Northward. Saturated feet in heels and his hair damp, we graced the foyer of the French Laundry for a procession of gastronomic and servitude delight. Knowing most of the staff, we pleasantly cascaded through the hedonistic chef's menu. Three half bottles selected by the birthday girl were thoroughly enjoyed and married deliciously with the degustation. A Reisling, followed by a Puligny Montrachet, and then a Gevrey Chambertin. D had port and asked them to proffer cigars of which he selected three.

We smoked them on the way to Manchester, to visit Pauline at Victorian Gardens. He made us a most memorable feast, in honor of the late patriarch. Eggplant involtini with my garden tomato preserves and fresh chevre and basil leaves began the procession. Braised wild turkey with a simple white risotto and baby carrots followed. We ate it paired with a 2005 Far Niente Cabernet.

How could anyone top this? We set out the next morning for a hike to the ocean. It was to be the lowest tide of the year. We foraged beautiful mussles, hoping to take them for dinner. We got busted. Apparently, you need a fishing license to do such things. The rangers were nice enough. I guess they have enough experience to figure we were just ignorant gourmands, planning a transendental supper. Indeed.

So off to the trout farm we went. Daniel's friends (Mike and Stephanie) have a sustainable trout farm on the coast. We had a feast. We brought cheese and rillettes, and they made a once in a lifetime lunch of fresh abalone, pan fried with roasted potatoes. We made a fresh salad, and we all sat on their back deck, drinking Chardonnay and Asti until the sun began to wane.

Our lunch ended at 7:00 pm, and Daniel and I wandered into a B&B we had seen before in Elk. Much to our pleasant surprise, the rooms were lovely. We chose the oceanfront suite and decided to camp out. Dinner was included, so we went to the restaurant with a bottle of Kuleto Estate Danieli in tow. We shared with Luis, the multi-tasker of the night. Then, he opened a '97 Jordan. We took a couple glasses to the bedroom with us to take a tub in the huge claw foot bathtub. The room had a fireplace as well, so the evening caressed us with the sound of the ocean and the fireplace. In the morning, we hiked down to magical caves and reefs exposed with the low tide. It was as if we were 10 years old again.

Re-entry came with a bang, and upon arrival home we propped the hatch of the bus and took a nap with Dante at our feet. Going home was merciless solitude, as we had had such an energetic high, I knew not how to process the norm.

Since then, we've continued to live as we do. Chicken liver pate, frog legs, rillettes and local artisan cheese have graced our platter.

In the constant effort to balance the seemigly indulgent palate with appropriate physical exersion, I finally bought my mountain bike. It had been 16, yes 16 years, since I had ridden a bike! Wine country terrain and inhibitions rendered me timid as I clumsily faltered to gain agility. As I have practised, I notice immediately the lovely results of intense excersise. Muscle memory.

The biggest highlight, seeminly a lifetime passed, was mom and grandma coming to visit. I ended up working quite a bit, but their visit reminded me of the simplicity of the moment. Crystaline claririt of our DNA connection. Three generations of females. I so connected in a new way with my grandma. Maybe it;s my getting older. Daniel did his wild turkey breast, as mom always looks forward to, and we wiled away the days in conversation and living. We sipped champagne at the rim of the world, and we went to Nick's. But the true beauty of it all was that it was. And my mother reminded me of reisling again.

That's all I can remember for now.

My sweet nephew grows by the day, and my house is littered with his photos. Unbiasedly speaking, he is the perfect baby, and I can understand why. With a mother and father so doting and attentive, an infant grows without fear and insecurity. I am so proud of them. I can only hope he grows to know his crazy western relatives.

Bon Soir~

Lessons from Daisy

Daisy didn't make it. She died last night, after the most valient attempt to stay alive.

I never imagined how amazingly strong the life force can be, until I witnessed this sweet little lamb, but five days old, struggling to get every last breath. It taught Daniel and me a lot.

It taught me that tenacity is relative. I saw a will to live without expectation, pretence or judgement, that I will carry with me forever. It showed me what a little love and affection can do for another creature. Love really transcends all boundaries. Daisy bonded with a human. Up until her very last breaths, you could see her try to respond to Daniel's voice. It was amazingly touching and beautiful. There was not a fragment of negativity in this little creature. She radiated love, affection, and gratitude--and I am not being anthropomorphic!

Upon her death I wished every human could possess a moment with her to learn her lessons.

Of Daniel was the most sweet and loving strength to keep her alive. He really tried. He was so sad to see her not make it, but also learned a great deal.

Our friend Pauline said to us the first time we stayed with her that she had tried so many times to rescue little lambs from their non-maternal mothers, but to no avail if they couldn't be administered the mother's milk within the first 24 hours. And so it is.

She also said there is nothing so sweet as a newborn lamb.

And so we learned a lot from sweet little Daisy. We know she knew we gave it our all.

She "slept" again last night in the claw foot tub, as we were not ready to accept she had passed. Today Daniel buried her and we shall plant daisies there.