I'm the Dog Walker.

Oddly enough, I've been to very few weddings. A lot of people complain about weddings, like they're a drag or something. I love them. I love looking at all of the people, watching the families interact, figuring out who knows whom, who tolerates whom, you get the idea. I love to watch the eccentric great aunt with her shaky, little hands, clutching her champagne glass smeared with red lipstick smudges around the rim and crumbs of God knows what permanently lodged in the corners of her mouth. I love the awkward little children, dressed up like adults, the boys looking miserable and uncomfortable and the girls loving their princess hair and dresses and all of the attention. I love watching the bride's second cousin flirting with the groom's best man's brother, and sneaking off to hook up after just enough champagne, wine and cocktails to chalk it up to 'weddings'.

I love the formality, the process. I love watching the groom's face, and see his eyes light up (or fill with tears) when he first lays eyes on his very soon-to-be-bride walking down the aisle toward him. And, at that moment, I always cry a little. I love how awkward they are. I love that as a result of how awkward they are, and how no one really knows anyone all that well, no one is really themselves; rather people take on a veil of anonymity. And pretty much everyone over indulges in some way or another.

I love wedding food. I love food in chafing dishes. I love the taco themes, or the tapas themes, the big-fat-Greek-wedding themes, I love choosing either the salmon or the roast beef. I love the over cornstarchy, congealed sauce that is poured over either one. I love the extremeley cooked carrots and green beans with mashed potatoes and gravy. And, of course, I love the cake.

It's wonderful that everyone dances (to all manner of bad music). Everyone laughs. Everyone cries. Everyone talks. Everyone eats and everyone drinks. Family and friends from all over the country, or even the world, perfect strangers, yet all thrust together because of another couple's union. And everyone at least pretends to be happy, jubilant even. Until they receive the next wedding invitation whereupon they complain what a drag weddings are.

It had been at least five years since my last wedding, until this past weekend. One of my clients was getting married. And she wanted her dog, Giovanni, to be in the wedding. To be specific, she wanted me to escort Giovanni to the wedding and make sure he made it down the aisle with his "grandfather" (the bride's dad).  An ordinary day. Giovanni is an awesome dog and I adore him. Giovanni is a Pug. It was a hot day: Giovanni mouth breathes like a Pug, is a tiny bit chubby, and does not love the heat.

I followed the wedding planners' instructions to the T: I drove Giovanni downtown at five pm and parked outside the venue.  We were escorted in by one of the planners; I then waited to hand him off to the bride's father at the proper time. Oh, did I mention Giovanni was wearing a tuxedo?  A snug tux at that--couldn't fasten the bottom button.  So here I am in downtown LA at 5 pm on what seemed the hottest day of the year with a chubby Pug in a tux.  After Giovanni's down the aisle promenade with granddad I was to take him and wait until the conclusion of the ceremony at which point the wedding photographer was going to get a few shots of the happy couple with Giovanni.  Then Gio and I were free to go.

Everything went as planned. Except there were no side aisles. So for the first few moments of the ceremony, I sat in the very front row, next to the VIPs and the parents, who must have wondered who this bold stranger might be. I quietly explained, “I'm the dog walker”, and they seemed relieved. So, Gio's granddad walked his daughter and her dog down the aisle and it was touching. As always, while everyone else was craning their necks to catch that first glimpse of the bride, I watched the groom's face, and could tell exactly when he laid eyes on her, in her dress, for the first time. And I cried a little.

After that, Giovanni was quickly handed to me and, while the ceremony began to hit its stride, I had to awkwardly duck back up the center aisle, the only aisle. The very aisle that still had the lingering scent of the bride's perfume as she had just walked down it not six seconds prior. And, of course, with Giovanni panting very audibly in his tuxedo. A graceful exit it was not.

Then, Gio and I were shown to a corner in the back of the reception area to wait for the ceremony to end. A couple of the caterers and staff were curious about what we were doing back there, all alone, no champagne. “I'm the dog walker," I told them.

Then, as fast as it began, it was over. And while Giovanni was photographed with his just married mom and dad, I waited by the front door of the venue with the valets. Then a woman stepped outside for some air and since we were the only non-valets standing there, she felt compelled to say, “Hi, I'm Evelyn, the groom's sister. Are you with bride or groom?” To which I confidently replied, “Hi, I'm the dog walker!”

And so, as the bride and groom went back inside to enjoy the reception, the meal, the dancing and the champagne with all of their family and friends, Giovanni and I hopped back in the car to head back to my house to relax. And man, was he happy to get that tux off.

Back at my place, it was dinner time. I fed the pups their kibble and Fred poured us a couple of glasses of Vino Verde to sip while we got to our Saturday night project: making ricotta, which was something I had wanted to do for a very long time – ever since I saw the recipe in Saveur six or so years ago and ripped out the pages. As the milk and cream were heating up on the stove, I told him about how it felt so strange to have been a part, in even the tiniest way, of one of the most important days in two people's lives, but to have been so very invisible. I wasn't really even there. And I didn't mind one bit – though a glass of champagne would have been much appreciated.

As we sat down to the table to eat our dinner of grilled pork tenderloin (with an amazing dry rub) and zucchini with Niçoise olives and homemade ricotta, I realized I definitely got my wedding fix. I got the vibe. I watched the families, the couples, the singles scoping out their next flirt target. There was champagne, and spicy margaritas. It was a taco theme, with mariachis and the whole bit. I did what most women who have not yet had their own wedding do (and have thought about since they were six years old), compare it to what they would do differently, take note of what worked, little details, décor, style, all of it. And before Giovanni and I left, I did get a hug from the bride and groom – which is actually pretty hard to get at a lot of weddings, with all of the hullabaloo. Especially for the dog walker.

Would I serve this dish at my wedding? Perhaps. But man alive, the ricotta that we made was out of this world. Light, airy, buttery, creamy, rich, and delicate. We ate it in everything for three days straight, until it was gone. We even ate it for dessert; a heap of it in a bowl topped with lemon zest, honey and almonds.

Zucchini with Niçoise Olives and Homemade Ricotta

8-10 servings

1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

8 medium zucchini (about 3 1/4 pounds)—halved lengthwise, seeded and cut into 1/3-inch dice

3 lemon thyme sprigs

Kosher salt

1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1/2 cup pitted Niçoise olives, chopped

Freshly ground pepper

3/4 pound ricotta (here's how to make your own)

1 tablespoon fresh mint, chopped, plus a sprig for garnish

In a very large skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil. Add one-third of the zucchini, 1 lemon thyme sprig, a generous pinch of salt and 1/4 cup of water and cook over moderately high heat, stirring occasionally, until the zucchini is barely tender and the water has evaporated, about 5 minutes; add more water if the zucchini starts to brown. Transfer the zucchini to a baking sheet to cool; discard the thyme sprig. Wipe out the skillet and repeat twice more with the remaining olive oil, lemon thyme, zucchini and salt, adding 1/4 cup of water to each batch.

In a large bowl, toss the cooled zucchini with the grated lemon zest, lemon juice, mint and olives. Season with salt and pepper and transfer to a serving platter. Arrange the ricotta over the zucchini, garnish with a sprig of mint and serve.

Printable recipe.

One year ago: Poblano-Sherry Vinegar Mignonette

Two years ago: Classic Southern Fried Chicken

Three years ago: Wolvesmouth

Four years ago: Steak au Poivre

The Red Hot Chili Peoples

It’s been hot. It’s been the kind of hot we don’t get too often here in Southern California. But it’s August. The month when almost everyone in the country can experience the same thing: sweat. This particular heat wave has been a bit of a doozy. I know, compared to the heat coupled with that added bonus of humidity happening on the East Coast, we have been fortunate. But we really have had hundred degree days over the past couple of weeks.

This is the kind of hot I both loathe and love. While I am slightly miserable roaming around during the day, worrying about getting sunburned and, of course, my social curse: the sweat moustache - the cool, arid, balmy, breezy nights are just, well, sexy. Perhaps it’s even more so because of enduring the day part, but it’s so exhilarating to feel that sultry, lustful air on my skin and in my hair on these evenings. And no unsightly sweat moustache.

Since it is right at that time when the thermometer outside is stuck at the “hot and sticky” mark, Fred and I couldn’t have picked a better time to move in together.

So, to heighten the challenge of endurance, Fred and I have spent the last two months moving his stuff out of an apartment he has occupied for ten years and relocating said stuff into a house where I have been residing for four years - during weekends, right in the middle of the day. Barrels of joy and without any bickering. No-sir-ee.

Another super smart and obvious choice to make in the kitchen department would be to eat a lot of salads and make ultra use of the grill. So last night we decided to throw a pot of oil on the stove, get it up to about 350 degrees, and fry stuff. It was just about the worst idea ever: scorcher of a day, no air conditioning, tiny kitchen, bare skin, scaldingly hot oil, really messy cooking experiment.

But also really delicious.

Parts of it did make sense. We used produce from the garden. The dish felt fresh and summery. It would probably go great with a cold beer and did go really well with a crisp rosé. It was snacky.

It was zucchini fries with poblano cream. The zucchini and the poblanos came straight from my garden - which is so happy this year. I guess it was just going through puberty for the past couple of years and is finally growing up. The Meyer lemon we used to squeeze on top was from a neighbor' tree. It was all so precious. And it was very good. The zucchini kept it's textural integrity and had a light, crunchy shell. I thought the poblano cream was the most exciting part. It was cool, light, creamy with a subtle, warm, roasty heat. I plan on using it to top a chilled heirloom tomato soup this weekend, and I can only imagine it is delicious, and versatile, enough to have a myriad of other applications.

So yes, thank you Los Angeles, for pulling out all the stops where the sunshine and heat are concerned. It’s sweaty, dirty, nasty stuff, even before all the moving boxes and the bags and the dust. But last night, even though we picked a peculiar thing to get kitchen concoctery with, everything worked out. We set the table, turned on the fan, poured ourselves a couple of glasses of rosé, plated up our dish and sat down across from one another - and our burn blisters - to enjoy a peaceful evening of quiet, still, snackery. Together in our home together. 

Zucchini Fries with Poblano Cream

Serves 4

Poblano Cream

Ingredients

8 oz. creme fraiche
1 roasted and peeled poblano pepper
1 tbsp sherry vinegar
salt & pepper to taste
Chopped celery leaves, to garnish

Directions

Blend creme fraiche and pepper in food processor and pulse until pepper is broken down and mixed in. Pour into small mixing bowl and fold in vinegar, salt & pepper. Stir until flavors are well integrated.

Top with chopped celery leaves.



Zucchini Fries

Ingredients

• 
  
• Olive oil, for frying
• 1 1/2 cups panko
• 3/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon paprika
• 2 large eggs
• 3 medium zucchini, cut into 3-inch long by 1/2-inch wide strips

Directions

Pour enough oil into a large frying pan to reach a depth of 2 inches. Heat the oil over medium heat until a deep-fry thermometer registers 350 degrees F.

Stir salt, pepper, paprika and panko together in a medium bowl to blend. Whisk the eggs in another medium bowl to blend. Working in batches, dip the zucchini in the eggs to coat completely and allow the excess egg to drip back into the bowl. Coat the zucchini in the panko mixture, patting to adhere and coat completely. Place the zucchini strips on a baking sheet.

When the oil is hot, working in batches, fry the zucchini sticks until they are golden brown, about 3 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the fried zucchini to paper towels and drain.

Serve with poblano cream for dipping.

Printable recipe.


One year ago: Bourbon-Vanilla Bean Banana Bread with Candied Walnuts
Two years ago: Classic Southern Deviled Eggs
Three years ago: The Lost Weekend

Julia Child's Ratatouille Recipe

Next month will be the celebration of Julia Child's 100th birthday. Her publisher is marking the occasion with Julia Child Restaurant Week, weekly recipe reprints and a charming new book called Bon Appetit: The Delicious Life of Julia Child. 

It's sometimes hard to imagine that Julia Child has been gone for almost eight years. Her statuesque frame, her distinctive high pitched voice and sense of humor are impossible to forget.

Keeping the memory alive and introducing Julia Child to a whole new audience is Bon Appetit: The Delicious Life of Julia Child. It's one of those illustrated children's books that adults will adore. It's filled with joyful images, funny anecdotes and a range of recipes from easy and accessible like Mayonnaise to more advanced like a Gallantine and Bouillabaisse. The colorful images and cheery text manage to entertain and educate in equal measure. I've just seen some sample pages, but I was thoroughly charmed. If you have a budding chef in your family this is a great book to share with them. But any fan of Julia Child will want this too. It's worth it for the tales of Julia Child's childhood pranks and illustrated recipes alone. 

I don't know all the details of the Julia Child Restaurant Week August 7-15, but I can point you to the listing of restaurants. Find one in your area, then stay tuned! 

As a participant in JC100, I'm very happy to share with you Julia Child's recipe for Ratatouille. I have made this recipe the wrong way for ages. The secret is in cooking each ingredient separately so they retain their own flavor and texture. This recipe came back in fashion thanks to the adorable Pixar film, Ratatouille and Thomas Keller's elegantly revamped recipe (also known as confit byaldi) which featured overlapping layers of vegetables. 

Julia Child's Ratatouille

For 6-8 people

1 pound eggplant

1 pound zucchini

1 teaspoon salt

4-6 Tablespoon olive oil, divided

1/2 pound (about 1 1/2 cups) thinly sliced yellow onions

2 sliced green peppers (about 1 cup) 

2 cloves mashed garlic

Salt & Pepper to taste

1 pound firm, ripe, red tomatoes, peeled, seeded and juiced (about 1 1/2 cups pulp)

3 Tablespoons minced parsley

Salt and pepper

Peel the eggplant and cut into lengthwise slices 3/8" think, about 3" long and 1" wide. Scrub the zucchini, slice off the two ends and cut into slices about the same size as the eggplant. Place the vegetables in a bowl and toss with 1 tsp. salt. Let stand for 30 minutes. Drain and dry each slice in a towel.

One layer at a time, saute the eggplant and then the zucchini in 4 Tbsp. hot olive oil in a 10-12" skillet for about a minute on each side to brown very lightly. Remove to a side dish.

In the same skillet, cook the onions and peppers (add an additional 2 Tbsp. of olive oil if needed) for about 10 minutes, until tender but not browned. Stir in the garlic and season with salt & pepper to taste.

Slice tomato pulp into 3/8" strips. Lay them over the onions and peppers. Season with salt & pepper. Cover the skillet and cook over low heat for 5 minutes or until tomatoes have begun to render their juice. Uncover, taste the tomatoes with the juices, raise heat and boil for several minutes until juice has almost entirely evaporated.

Place a third of the tomato mixture in the bottom of a 2 1/2 quart casserole (about 2 1/2" deep). Sprinkle 1 Tbsp. fresh, minced parsley over tomatoes. Arrange half of the eggplant and zucchini on top, then half the remaining tomatoes and parsley. Put in the rest of the eggplant and zucchini and finish with the remaining tomatoes and parsley.

Cover the casserole and simmer over low heat for 10 minutes. Uncover, tip the casserole and baste with the rendered juices. Correct seasoning if necessary. Raise heat slightly and cook uncovered about 15 minutes more, basting several times, until juices have evaporated leaving a spoonful or two of flavored olive oil. Be careful of your heat; do not let the vegetables scorch in the bottom of the casserole. Set aside uncovered. Reheat slowly at serving time, or serve cold. 

Excerpted from Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child. Copyright © 1961 by Alfred A. Knopf. Reprinted with permission from the publisher Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc.

Sausage & Vegetable Kebabs

I love kebabs! I don't know why eating food on a stick is so much fun, but it is. The best kebabs I ever had were in Istanbul, the meat sizzled on the outside but was juicy on the inside. Luckily kebabs are easy to make at home even for those like me, without an outdoor grill.

I'm amazed at how versatile kebabs are and how they always manage to stretch whatever I'm cooking. It must have something to do with surface area and spacial relations. When food is served on a stick, it just seems like there is more of it. Two slices of eggplant, two small zucchini and just under two Italian sausages somehow made a huge dinner for two. It also gave me the feeling of Summer, even though it was cooked and eaten indoors.

When it comes to kebabs, skip the bamboo. The best kind of skewers are metal--I have two sets, flat metal which are particularly good for meat and vegetables and double pronged which are perfect for seafood. With either one you choose, the food won't slip and slide. In my experience food also cooks faster and more evenly on metal skewers than on bamboo. Buy 'em once, use them forever.

The secret to this recipe is the marinade. Most recipes call for putting a sauce on the vegetables after they cook, but this marinade has nothing in it that will burn and the eggplant in particular soaks up lots of flavor. The smoked paprika adds great smoky flavor and color. I also find that the sausage is salty enough that you don't need to add any additional salt. I used spicy sausages, but I think you could use sweet ones if you prefer. Don't be tempted to cut the sausage and vegetables into larger chunks, keeping the vegetables and sausage slices small allows them to cook quickly and evenly.

Sausage & Vegetable Kebabs

Makes 2 servings

Ingredients

3/4 lb mixed eggplant and summer squash
3 Tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 Tablespoon olive oil
1 garlic clove, pressed
1 teaspoon smoked paprika--hot or sweet
2 Italian sausages, about 1/2 pound
Fresh basil or sage leaves, optional

Instructions

Slice the eggplant and squash into small cubes, about 1/2 inch. Make the marinade by combining the lemon juice, olive oil, galic and smoked paprika. Place the marinade and vegetables into a zip top bag and let marinate for up to 3 hours. Most of the marinade will be absorbed by the vegetables.

Preheat broiler then slice the sausage into about 12 - 15 slices. Slide the cubes of squash, eggplant and sausage onto skewers, preferably metal, with sage or basil leaves on top of each piece of sausage. All the meat and vegetables should be touching with no spaces in between.

Place skewers on a foil lined broiler pan and broil about 7 minutes on each side or until meat and vegetables are cooked through. Serve with couscous.

Enjoy!