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!



 

Crop Circles

(While enjoying the present...)

I have always sought
For something
Just beyond the next mountain
Around the next bend

An amorphous quest
The journey never ends
Forever an adventure
Beyond expectation

As I look back through the window
At yesterday
I am not she
Although I liked her well
  
Never afraid
To walk the next road
Cobble, dirt
The infinite ether

Food
My medium

Nourishing others

Beyond the expected

Each bite
Becomes part of the whole
Becomes one's thoughts
Enables the breath

Steady
One foot in front of the other
From one bite to the next
Contemplation

Contemplation
Decision
Direction
Up, up, away...

Where are you going?
What is your next bite?





 

Impromptu Dinner

After an impromptu weekend at the coast, we arrived back on the hill Monday morning in a state of denial that we had to return to "reality," ours, which is idyllic in countless ways...
Nonetheless, we had to go our separate ways for a while, and try to be productive.
For me, after a long work stint, that meant opening a cold Arrogant Bastard Ale, pouring it into my favorite antique pewter mug, and settling into my teak reading chair on the deck to peruse a few new books I had picked up on our trip, one of which was a vintage copy of a La Varenne textbook.
Then the phone rang.
Typical for us, a memorable evening came about spontaneously, inspired by a single ingredient....
Our neighbor (and they are very few) had gone fishing off the coast over the weekend and happened to catch a blue fin tuna~a rare and special fish.  He had saved for us a choice piece of loin.  (This neighbor is also the one who keeps us in good supply of wild pheasant, boar, and other tasty critters. We, in turn keep his egg supply filled, the honey pot full, and the red wine cellar stocked with special bottles).  He was so excited to give it to us, and kept asking how we were going to "COOK" it.  We kept trying to explain that we were going to do just the opposite...
At that point I was visiting with my other neighbor, and so we invited her to partake of our gift.  She has a lovely garden, so we picked some thick leafed, dark green bok choy, zesty mustard greens, peppery nasturtium, a few candy-sweet red cherry tomatoes, and two big heirlooms.
I had a couple zucchini and eggplant from my work garden, and a bevy of high-falutin asian accoutrements~white shoyyu, aged rice wine vinegar, wasabi, etc.
While we prepared dinner, we sipped a chardonnay from my friend up in Mendocino county, that she lovingly left in my refrigerator on her last visit.
Laid out in a matter of minutes was the most delectable feast: sliced garden tomatoes, a cucumber & garden greens capellini with a rippin' hot vinaigrette of wasabi and chilis from the garden (we like it HOT), and grilled baby zucchini and eggplant drizzled with the aged rice wine vinegar and some of our own olive oil.
The blue fin tuna, perfectly sliced with my razor sharp Japanese blade sushi knife was regal in its vivid purple display, and we payed momentary homage to it before "digging in," with the utmost civility. We sipped a rose made by our dear friend in Sancerre, knowing he and his family would love to be a part of this most precious repast.
You never know where the day will take you~
And so it goes, the life of Two Funky Gourmets!

"The Last Supper"

Where does the time go?  My lack of posting borders on embarrassing, although I think we are all too familiar with the fleeting of time as of late.  It will not get any easier, I surmise.
I am on my last day of a 35 day work run-similar to the last post. 35 days of lunches and dinners, sometimes both in the same day, ranging from 2 people to 100.  It is no holds barred time to showcase food at its best, with a measure of elegant restraint.  Needless to say, it is a challenge to come up with non-repeating appetizers, entrees and desserts everyday.  Add personal "preferences," and you've got a recipe for a marathon!
My friend gave me his collection of cookbooks to peruse.  He tells me I remind him of a mixture of Alain Passard and Eric Ripert, but with my own style.  What an amazing compliment!  This morning, I opened up the first of them with a cup of tea.
Humbly, I indeed saw myself, and every other chef I know, amongst the pages.  There, nestled in the recipes, I drew a final breath of inspiration to conjure up my last magical meal for two very special clients~

Here's to crossing the finish line!!!

Winding Down to Wind Up

It is 12:15 am, and I am sipping a cold Anchor Steam as I wind down from another more than 12 hour day.  No complaints, rather, I am in the midst of one of my busiest months of the year!  Three weeks, dinner every night, no repetitions, unless requested.  Throw in a couple 5 course dinners and a 4 course lunch (all same day, back to back), and I'm inspired to stay on my toes!
Today, guinea fowl, confit leg and pan roasted breast, with fresh peas and carrots, and a rich potato puree.  Oh, and the most exquisite consomme...Yesterday marjoram ravioli (homemade pasta, of course), filled with locally made ricotta cheese, local rosemary ham, lemon zest, and sauteed kale, served in a lovely rich pork broth.  For dessert?  Tonight, fresh spun Pimm's frozen yogurt, made with Bellwether Farms yummy sheep's milk, and my secret stash of Mendocino preserved quince, and pecan shortbreads.  Yesterday, Pink Lady apple tartletts with prune Armagnac gelato and Frangelico caramel.

I'll keep you posted!

Pigs in the Blanket

It was inspired by a head of garden Savoy cabbage that begged a proper culinary appointment~
'Twas a cold blustery day, and no longer could I ignore the fond recollection of a delicious dish my mother made when we were young.  I remember the joy I felt (and the immediate salivation) when my brother and I would ask what was for dinner, prompted no doubt by the whiffs of goodness coming from the kitchen, and she would give us the answer: Pigs in the Blanket.
With only a memory and a mission to accomplish (Mom was not available for a phone consultation at that moment), I headed to the market to fetch the missing ingredients on my grocery list.
I chose to use ground veal, although was sure that in my humble Midwestern location, beef would have been the more readily available choice.  Garlic, onion, and ample herbs: marjoram, parsley, and thyme were scooped into the basket as well.  At home I had the rest: veal stock, rice, Marsala, farm fresh eggs, and homemade tomato sauce.
I began the sauce while I made the meatballs.  As the sauce simmered, the house began to smell like our Michigan Lake House!  I felt as though I was there!  I carefully wrapped the delicate balls into their blanched cabbage "blankets," and secured them with the distinctive "criss-cross" of two wooden toothpicks.  How exciting it would be to unwrap those little juicy gems, as they released their steam of scented bliss!  In they went, into the garlicky tomato, Marsala, and beef broth, to simmer for several hours in my copper dutch oven.
I invited The Boy Next Door, and he arrived, a bit skeptical about my "Pigs in the Blanket."  I opened an unassuming wine from a friend, called "Vittorio's Secret," feeling like a "Dago" red would be perfect with this rustic family favorite.
Indeed, it was!  The Boy, as it turned out, had fond memories of a Jewish deli, visited as a young lad.  His favorite treat was just this dish~we shared an Eastern European rooted passion for this unassuming peasant food!  We said little, but sipped and slurped our way down memory lane, with juicy satisfaction on our smiling faces. And we happily ate the rest for the next three nights.
Although I recall my mother's "Pigs" as being the best, (and they always will be), my version satisfied a deep yearning for both of us grown up kids~
Here's to preserving traditions!

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.

Loving Daisy

The sheep have been busy, and most all of their kid's arrivals have been easy and well received by their mamas, save a couple instances. Daniel awoke to find a small little gal, (a ewe), alone in the corner of the sheep pen, still wet from birth. Mama didn't care to clean her, let alone feed her.

I guess it's true that some women just don't have the "motherly instinct." I can't imagine leaving such a helpless, precious little one alone to die, but indeed, that's what happens, both in the sheep pen and in the human pen. So, Daniel forced the ewe to let the little one feed, at least long enough to get the immune boosting milk produced in the first 48 hours.

Since then, she's been enjoying her bottled meals in the comfort of Daniel's home, on the couch and by the light of the fire. She sleeps contented in the claw foot tub, upon towels and blankets, and makes not a whimper, full from engorging on the vitamin rich Kefir.

Daniel calls her Daisy, and she knows only his love and affection, and she follows him everywhere!

Love knows no boundaries and is such a beautiful thing.