A Perfect Afternoon

Watering violets, anticipating the deep, subtle magic to come
Tiny, fragrant osmanthus entertaining in the meantime
Camellia in bloom


A hike over the hill
A cup of nettle tea
The puffy clouds & blue skies
A trample of leaves underfoot
Pleasant contemplation

A shy covey of quail 

Two ravens, my black cat familiars
A coyote yearling voyeur
He likes my hat
We exchange pleasant curiosities


Crackling cedar fire in the wood stove
Simmering crock pot of wild boar chops & old Bordeaux
Chanterelle soup
A respectable white truffle
Beethoven's 5th Symphony

Two Funky Gourmets

Bewilderment in Disneyland...

Thought maybe someone could relate...

I am very grateful to do what I love for a living, and part of that success has to do with the Napa Valley, an economic bubble oft referred to as "Disneyland." The dichotomy between my gratitude of  being able to make a living here and my dismay with being subject to the following displays of ignorance, arrogance, and just everyday desperation, grows greater and greater everyday, reassuring me that the name "Bewildered" is completely apropos.

Here was my day today:

I went to a couple winery site visits this morning to taste the wines for menu planning.  While tasting the very generous pours of fabulous wine and daydreaming about the tantalizing dishes I could create for them, an elderly couple walked in to taste wine. The tasting room associate explained to them that the tasting fee was $75 PER PERSON!  My heart sank as they left. I wanted to give them the left over wines in my glass that would subsequently be poured down the drain.  While I am fully aware that there are many wineries charging exorbitant amounts for tastings, I could not help but feel embarrassed that I was there drinking in front of them, leading them to think I might be someone able to afford such extravagance. Even if I could, I don't think I would.  (While in the Anderson Valley yesterday at our studio, a friend and I stopped at 3 of my favorite wineries and had full tastings of ALL of their wines, at no charge. Just sayin')

Then, I scooted into a local restaurant for a quick bite. In the parking lot full of high dollar cars, a powder blue Bentley (or something like that) convertible rolled up to park right in front, coming in to eat. Out came a 60+ of age woman with bleach blond long hair, an unnaturally tanned and surgically tucked body, wrapped in one of the tightest, tiniest dresses I've ever seen-and it was bright yellow and black to boot. For a moment, I was sure I was in Orange County or LA (no offense), and NOT an "agricultural" area in Northern California, a place I moved to smell the dirt and drink the wine.

While in Napa filing business paperwork, I was reminded of the recent devastation, and how we all work, work, work, to buy stuff that can be destroyed in 30 seconds if and when Mother Nature so chooses to wield her wand of ultimate power.

While filing said paperwork, I received a phone message from the BOE (Board of Equalization, for those of you who do not have the pleasure of collecting and paying sales tax),  that I missed my second quarter filing. I was working over 100 hours a week at that time, and I guess I forgot. Ironic, as I've been going through a BOE audit for the last 8 months!

While driving north, I had a conversation with a girlfriend who overheard a chef and his non-chef but apparently extremely knowledgeable "culinarian" friends having a very matter of fact conversation, vehemently stating that the caprese salad is totally out of date. I guess the restaurant was not very busy at that particular moment, as they had a lot of time to discuss the topic. I served a lovely, albeit updated version of caprese just the other night, and I practically live on it all summer. I guess I am a very outdated chef. ;-) (Ironically, these were "laid back" and humble Anderson Valley residents!!!)

3 friends and a family member have been "downsized" from their jobs this month.

I hurriedly drove home, deciding not to continue on to St. Helena to forage quince this afternoon, as I had reached beyond my capacity in the patience department. Besides, traffic was gridlocked both coming in and going out of Napa. 

I arrived home to  bus tubs full of yet-to-be-unloaded catering supplies, a laundry full of stinky towels, an unmade bed, and piles of paper and unopened mail (6 inches worth) on my desk unattended to because I've been so busy trying to make a living in this crazy world.

Feeling a bit Bewildered, I do believe I shall go for a hike and see what the birds and wind have to say....or perhaps, and much more likely, I'll pour myself a glass of modest wine...

What's going on in this world?

Summertime

So far this week, typical for these Two Funky Gourmets...

We have set up a modest but functional cooking area outside on our side deck. I've been cooking out there almost every night!  A charcoal grill in one corner, and  a fireplace that we set our cast iron dutch ovens on for long, slow cooking, or a saute pan for hot, quick dishes like the one we made last weekend: freshly harvested squid, sauteed with ample garlic, onions, tomatoes, and chilis, to make a Catalan style sauce that we mixed with a textured mixture of baby greens like chard, kale, and frisee.  We drank a light, delicious pinot noir made by a friend.  That dish is what followed after we shucked and slurped some fresh, briny, Kushi oysters while preparing the squid, happily sipping Prosecco.

Last night, a friend's birthday was celebrated by firing up her Texas style smoker, into which we put a wild turkey breast from our front yard, a shoulder of one of our own lambs, and a wild boar shoulder from the neighbor, a crazy Italian with a penchant for hunting that borders on addiction.  We snacked on some of my aged garlick-y pork pate, studded with pistachios and prunes, served with my friend's homemade zesty mustard to begin, and sipped a Grand Cru, Le Mesnil Champagne to kick things off.

This morning I put up a small batch of green walnut liquor, otherwise known as Nocino, a truly delicious digestif that my dear friend Lisa made last year.  We all fell in love with its delicious, nutty, bittersweet flavor, and we sipped it up whenever we all got together on our many visits spent around the fire, cooking and laughing.  She graciously shared her recipe for it, as well as the soon to be mentioned elderberry brandy.

Lisa is the queen of all things for the larder, meticulously growing, drying, and storing the bounty of herbs, flowers, and fruits grown on their property in the Anderson Valley, our home away from home. Her tasty and medicinal concoctions have nursed many of us back to health, or very likely have kept it vibrant.

The green walnuts came from another dear friend's vineyard tree. She was generous to save me some as I was out of town on the traditional day they are to be harvested: June 24th.

The elderberries across the street near the creek are beginning to ripen. I am planning to harvest some this weekend to make an elderberry brandy; a great tonic for the cold/flu season. Perhaps I will combine them with another summer berry, like the wild blackberries in our driveway, into a preserve to enjoy this winter.

Daniel and I, sadly being without a lush garden of our own for the first time in many, many years, have discovered the farmer's market here on Fridays is a lovely way to start our day together, so we will go tomorrow and fill our baskets with all of the amazing things other people are growing. Yesterday I made a hearty, piquant caponata out of last Friday's bounty to eat as a bruschetta, perhaps, or served over a piece of grilled fish.

A wild boar roast, cooked in my crock pot for over16 hours yesterday, yielding a gorgeously succulent ragout to be served with my favorite Amish egg noodles that I always ship back from Indiana on visits to see family.  The noodles remind me of my Mom's cooking growing up, served with a beef pot roast, or her amazing chicken soup-- and there are no substitutes for their hearty bite and rich flavor; they never get soggy and they taste like home.

Life isn't bad!

Reflections of a "Private" Chef

So-today is my second day off in the last 5 weeks, outside of one day I took two days after spraining my ankle while trying to watch a late night meteor shower (I took on the nickname "Kankle" for the remaining weeks) . I am relishing being home: I read a magazine with my coffee, ate a proper breakfast~ok, brunch, I didn't get out of bed until 10:45. After 5 weeks and countless hours, I have noticed that the body does not respond the same anymore at 40 that it did at 30!  Summer has turned into fall.

I have mounds of housework to do, as I did not have the good fortune of finding a housekeeper to come help out as I normally do. They never do as good a job anyway. So, I have done the bare minimum, washed my stinky, stale, kitchen smelling clothes, knowing that a few loads a day will whittle the rest away. And I scrubbed my bathroom, and, well, that's about it.

Went yesterday to pick up some essentials, have my filthy car washed, and have my gray roots covered. Hair required a re-do and set my schedule back a few hours. I had to endure incessantly loud, classic rock for 3 1/2 hours, and by the time I left the salon, I thought I might hurt someone. Then, off to Whole Foods. Not much into shopping, an announcement came over the loudspeaker that they were tasting a flight of small production Italian wines. PERFECT!!!! I bellied up to the bar, which was packed with middle aged-elderly men, all jovial and welcoming. I nestled into the middle (upon their urging, of course!), and proceeded to have my glass filled by a very Italian, bohemian/hipster Johnny Depp doppelganger, who also proved to be extremely intelligent, passionate about his wines, and articulate. I ordered a round of olives to share with my ad hoc comrades, and enjoyed a passing moment of feeling "normal" again. After that, I negated to grab some of the very things for which I went there, but did leave with a case of Italian wine. Oh well. What one loses one gains in other ways.

I came home, and the boy next door arrived with a basket full of fresh garden tomatoes and basil, to which we would add my fresh mozzarella. I had a plate of charcuterie, nettle pesto, langoustines, and marinated artichokes. We popped open a bottle of the very Soave I had sampled an hour before. I could not stomach any more California wines after the last month! A lovely evening, the first I've had in many weeks, spent feeling like a normal person, in the quiet, easygoing fellowship of my dearest love.

That being said, I also am going through a bit of withdrawal.  I also created some of my most amazing dishes, pushed myself beyond my perceived physical and mental limits, and had some of the most gut wrenching laughs I've ever had, with my fellow cooks.  We wearily arrived every morning together, despite our puffy eyelids, sore backs, hips & legs, burns, and cuts, and were excited to create our installation art masterpieces over the course of sometimes 16 hour days.  We ate our humble meals together, usually while standing at our cutting boards. One day I had a hot dog and an ale for breakfast! 

Tomorrow, off to the coast. The sound of the waves and being next to the ocean, with no schedule to attend to, will surely continue the mend. Of course, we will pack a cooler!

And so it is. The life of a “private” chef.

Dreamy Weekend...Day Two

The overcast light cascaded gently through the linen curtains.  The faint sound of the ocean in the background hummed rhythmically.  Neither of us stirred, happily cocooned in our bed underneath layers of bedding, which included a Peruvian wool blanket.  Eventually, the Boy slid out of bed and ran a bath in the over sized soaking tub, within the bathroom that is as large as my own bedroom. Over the years it has somehow become "our" custom that I bring the coffee to the Boy while he enjoys his morning soak!  Not that I mind, he adores the pampering, and I well appreciate consistency.  I quietly descended down the stairway, looking forward to a generous full bodied cup of coffee, always done in the pour-over method through very fresh, finely ground espresso roasted beans both from an Italian roaster in San Francisco and one in Fort Bragg-a perfect blend of deep, concentrated flavor, without too much acid. I sipped mine in the comfy chairs of our bedroom's turret, in a relaxed, contemplative mood, perusing the fabulous book on pates and terrines I discovered (which I have subsequently purchased after a long search) .

We went to the kitchen to visit with our friend and to enjoy another cup of joe.  Not long after, it was unanimously decided it was time to have brunch.

I opened a bottle of Cremant de Alsace, while Daniel sliced into generous slabs the lion's mane mushroom we plucked from the tree in my backyard. He drizzled it with his own fresh pressed olive oil, fresh thyme, sea salt and pepper, and put it in the oven to roast to a beautiful golden brown. 
 

To accompany the tasty fungus, he perfectly soft scrambled some eggs, from our own hens, with just a tease of truffled brie. With a simple salad of garden greens, we had made a very satisfying first meal of the day! 
And, we delighted in staying in our lounge wear until well after one in the afternoon!

Finally changing our clothes, we set out for a quick drive to our favorite resale barn, which has everything from meaningless junk to the occasional flow blue china, leaving empty handed this time.  A misty rain had ensued as we made our way onto the wharf in Point Arena, hoping to score some fresh caught local seafood, as we have done many times before.  While we waited for the boats to arrive, we conversed with the local fisherman and met the fish and game officer and his dog.  Soon, the boats arrived-with the first harvest of sea urchin for the season!  Bummer, we could not score any...even more of a bummer, it all goes to Japan!
After returning to the house, we opted for some afternoon yoga and a nap.  Upon awakening, it was time to think about dinner!
We snacked on some thinly sliced Iberico pork~a true treat of perfectly cured tenderloin of boar, fed only acorns.  Along with that, I whipped up a lemon caper aioli to enjoy with some smoked salmon.
Dinner that night was a risotto made with the braised pheasant legs from the night before, and some tiny little, perfectly tender brussels sprouts from the garden. With it, we enjoyed a 2009 Clos de Caillou, and fondly thought how much our french friends that make the wine would enjoy this place, and this dinner.

Reflections of a Dreamy Weekend-Day One

 Like a child eagerly awaiting Santa Claus' arrival, I arose with the dawn to compose the provisions for our weekend respite; a brined wild pheasant given to us by our huntsman neighbor, a voluptuous lobe of foie gras purchased before the recent prohibition, rabbit confit (our own rabbit, of course), a lion's mane mushroom plucked from a tree in my back yard, some rich matsutake pheasant stock made from the bounty of mushrooms we foraged the previous weekend, the last piece of my well aged smoked pork country pate, a crock of homemade duck rillettes, a couple dozen eggs laid by our hens that very morning, a bevy of preserves from our larder, and a few bottles of treasured wines, pulled from deep within the cellar.

Like the above mentioned child, we pulled out of the driveway giddy with anticipation. For the next five days we would be hidden away, nestled on the pacific coast in our dear friend's impeccably restored Victorian manor, with nothing to do but anything we should fancy--which for us is a lot of cooking, drinking, hiking, reading, relaxing, conversing, and romancing-the list being in no particular order!

We embarked on our journey, navigating the winding roads through the dormant winter vineyards, reverently passing though the silent majestic redwoods, eventually entering the cool and briny coastal intermediary. Our first ocean breath found us unencumbered by our tribulations.  We had left them behind, scattered about along the preceding path. Along the stoic coastal precipice we meandered our way north.

Pulling in the driveway is always like passing through the mists of Avalon, where nothing changes, as things are perpetually idyllic. Deer cautiously peeped at us from the corners of their eyes.  The precocious donkeys greeted us with their amusing snorts, eying our bags for possible treats. 

We unloaded, organized our gourmet "staples" into the refrigerator, and proceeded up the staircase to choose our room, one of two master suites. We could choose either the rear garden view, with its bright and cheerful winter white walls, coral coloured accents, asian woven tapestries, and Marcel Breuer Bauhaus chairs; or the ocean view room, nestled into a cozy turret, with Sicilian wool woven rugs and bedspread, aptly appointed in soft blues and greens.  We chose the latter for varieties sake, as we usually stay in the garden room. To feel as though we weren't merely visiting, we immediately unpacked our clothes into the French walnut mirrored armoire, and hid our bags from sight.

Once settled, we returned downstairs for libations.  With its familiar smell of fresh baked popovers and the faint remnants of the morning's finely ground coffee, the kitchen warmly greeted us.  We joined our dear friend, the lady of the house, for some Champagne before she left for dinner with friends. We would be dining alone that first night.

We chose a bottle from the well appointed enoteca: 1990 Domaine de la Chanteleuserie Bourgueil, a rustically perfect choice to go with our simple supper of pan seared wild pheasant breast, potato puree, and broccollini, with a lovely pan sauce fortified with a spoonful of roasted pork demi I packed for good measure.  While we dined, the legs of the pheasant slowly and fragrantly braised on the back of the stove in the remnants of a bottle of white Bordeaux we found in the refrigerator and our pheasant and matsutake stock...another meal in the making.

After dinner, we made a pot of tea and sat in the parlor, playing with the collection of Venetian masks that comprises the west wall, next to the fireplace.  We discussed all of the choices for the day to come, of which the possibilities were endless.  The only thing for sure was that we would set no alarm. The reveling had begun!

Rutting=Ragout

This time of year is charged with so much energy!  The Autumnal Equinox always breeds exciting change.  This last surge of summer energy (and heat), in preparation for the "slow down" of winter, inspires the last of the outdoor get-togethers. The magical, balmy nights of Indian Summer...
Nature knows~
It's also the beginning of the rut. The other day, I came across 3 bucks (deer) on my way "down the hill," all dazed with the intoxication of hormones!  They didn't know whether to come or go!  It is no different in our barnyard.  Our two old rams, friends most of the time, turn their backs on each other twice a year, in a frenzy to mate with the ewes.

There was no more room for our 6 month old li'l guy, whose sprouting horns indicated he was ready to enter the fray. Three's a crowd, and our freezer was empty!
The advent of the full moon this past Saturday meant perfect timing for the slaughter. Quickly and reverently, we let him know how grateful we were that he would be the source of some memorable holiday meals, shared with only our closest friends.
We carefully seam-butchered him last night.
All day today my house has been full of the most amazing aromas...end of season tomatoes, ample garlic, the remnants of a bottle of bordeaux...and the thick neck...a part that my friend Pat Kuleto taught me to covet when I had my first experiences butchering his estate raised lamb. It was also the part most revered buy Thomas Keller on his visit to Kuleto Estate back when I was the chef, where I had a beautiful server offer it, table-side, as the last accompaniment to a Tudor style feast.   
The lamb's liver, kidneys, and heart...will all find their way into a celebratory terrine, wrapped in the caul lining and served with my friend Shannon's quinces, that I lovingly preserved in spices, honey, and local apple cider vinegar.
The legs, bone in and ready for the spit, with 24 varieties of chilis from the garden will await our Aussie friend's visit, with a bottle of Jasper Hill, Emily's Paddock Shiraz. Post-thanksgiving feast?
The racks, likely will be our Winter Solstice quiet dinner for two...
Just another day in the life of Two Funky Gourmets!