Eating Out A Landmark

Actually, THE Landmark. You see, after we didn’t totally screw up during the premier of the Cooking With Pook segment on Central Valley Buzz! 4-6pm weekdays on channel 33.1 and webcast, (Like that artfully rammed in plug? Thought you would.) so we felt that we deserved a bit of a victory dance after our premier and dropped in for a bite. More about the mighty ‘Mark later.

Let’s talk about MEEEE! Oh my god! I cooked on TV! And it was a ton of fun! I got to make my pasta carbonara recipe. And you know that old saying about watched pots and boiling water? Multiply that by 10,000 when you’re doing your best not to look like a complete ass on TV! Oh my god, it took that pot of water damn near an hour to go from tap to boiling. But beyond that, it was all smoothies. The pancetta rendered nicely, the sauce came out an acceptable texture, the pasta wasn’t too bad. And it looked ok. Creamy pasta isn’t exactly going to jump off of your screen in brilliant HD. My real boner though, was off-camera. I didn’t make enough for the crew! There’s a small army of hungry interns who are looking to jump me. Lesson: bring more next week. Look maw! I is on the Tee Vee!

And on to dinner. We took a wander around the Tower after the show, so that I might annoy any who would hold still, with tales of my nouveau célébrité. After having my inflated head booted out of a few living rooms, the hunger was upon us. First I thought about the take out pizzas over at Karch’s, since I could also get it home to the camera I left there. But alas, it was after 9pm. So we settled on the all night happy hour at the Landmark and a sad lack of food pics.

I’m actually at The Landmark quite a bit. So I found it a little strange that this is the first time that it occurred to me to review more than a couple plates of appetizers during the Rogue. It’s really a very nice Basque restaurant, with a medium sized back patio that they lovingly heat in the winter and have misters up to help beat down the raging Fresno summers. Their back dining room is fairly large and nicely appointed. And most importantly, even if it’s raging at the bar and on the patio, you can still hear yourself think while you’re eating in the dining room. A big plus when the restaurant is also a popular night spot. And rather than clear out the tables for a dance floor, the kitchen stays open late so drinky pants can get their grub on and level out their buzz.

Menu stuff! And a gin and tonic, please. They’ve got a pretty wide menu, Basque style seafood dishes, lamb, beef, frogses. Even the terrifying escargots of snailness. But the spouse lady was down for some clamsian goodness for the appetizer. So, I chose the scalone, an apparent fusion of scallops and abalone (which I’ve never before seen on a menu for under $40), egg dipped and fried, similar to a calamari steak for my entree. The lady chose the shrimp scampi and we both went for the pasta alfredo as our side.

Their clams were pretty good. Only a couple were sporting the hated clam-sand-poop. Nothing sets you back as you’re mentally getting over the concept that you’re eating an entire animal, poop chute and all, than a nice, crown-damaging crunch to remind you that there’s an artfully stewed turd in that chewy little fellow. Doesn’t mean I didn’t finish ‘em and then dip some of their garlic bread in the butter, white wine, shallot and poop broth. Mmmmmm. And if you think that’s a little too gross, I’ll tell you a few tales of the dark side of sausages! To know what worcestershire sauce really is will make you faint dead away.

The salads were ok. Not much in the greens to get too excited about. My bleu cheese was fairly mild. Although the pickled beets on top were a fun touch that harkens back to the fancy salads of my youth, like the Lime Lite’s. Overall it wasn’t going to sink or float anything on it’s own. So we move on to our entrees. Both were hot and seemed to be fresh from the kitchen. There was a small delay, since our server was also handling the madhouse of the patio, so I was a bit worried. But he seemed to be well in synch with the kitchen and got our plates out within their tastiness tolerances.

I really liked the scalone! It was 3 medium sized, egg dipped and fried patties. Very similar to a calamari steak. But it’s all the difference when you bite into them. There is a much lighter texture than you get with squid, or even with scallops alone. And I finally understand the abalone obsession. When handled properly, they’re extremely tender and sweet. Absolutely perfect on their own, it’d be a sin to even add a squirt of lemon. Now I must find an abalone festival, that I might sate this heretofore unknown need.

The alfredo was fairly meh. It was certainly better than Lipton’s. But I think I may have had overly engorged standards by that point considering I had lunched on carbonara, destroyed the clam appetizer and already sampled the scalone. I was reaching the Danger-Full level. The clams had also done their damage to the spouse. But she bravely trooped her way through her shrimp scampi. I got a taste and really liked the flavor. Nice sized butterflied shrimp in a tasty garlic butter sauce with something new. Mushrooms. It makes complete sense now that I think of it, but they had to show me the truth of it. The shrimp themselves were a wee bit overcooked, but didn’t detract too much from the dish. Overall, we were really happy with dinner and our service. Not for the first time and most certainly not the last.

So, we’ve got ourselves a bit of a Tuesday spot on an awesome local TV station! I feel like I’m finally living out my dream of being a character in Weird Al’s movie “UHF”. I hope I get to jump out of a closet in a Channel 30 office and yell “Supplies!” while attacking their hired goons with mops during a clandestine mission to rescue Chuck’s abducted janitor, who will later go on to say some very regrettable things on stage in LA. With that fantasy in my head and a belly full of new and interesting seafood, I gotta say. Damn, it feels good to be a blogga!


-Pook

Eating Out Fresh and Local

Howdy y’all! And a happy Monday to ya’s. I trust your weekends were mostly quite pleasant and involved enjoyable activities that dovetail nicely with the sunny and rather warm weather. Preferably scantily clad activities. Sadly, I myself was in a more pants-on sort of position.

But, it wasn’t all bad. There was of course some excitingly experimental (for me) cooking going on in the kitchen of love. The bounty of spring is tidal waving it’s way into summer and it’s been bashing it’s way past the levies of my laziness. A post all-nighter trip to the farmer’s market drained me of about 80 bucks, but left me awash in fresh blueberries, strawberries, squashes, eggplant, sprouts, lettuce, fresh bay leaves, sage. The usual rampage of far too much good stuff for me to conceivably eat in a timely manner.

And in our amble through all things dirt-born and delicious we discovered most happy news! Fabiano’s amazing coffees are going to be served at the bar at Charlotte’s BakerEatery’s new location at 609 E. Olive! I’m wildly excited for them! But I better still be able to buy my kona too, or I’m gonna be a pissy Mr. Bloggerpants…

Speaking of pissy! It’s official. EoF has made it’s very first hate-hardon. Remember that rant a while back about the assault of the food Gestapo at the Vineyard Farmer’s Market? Me neither! But apparently the property owner and instigator of the rant does. Have you ever seen someone, as they’re about to confront you, begin shaking like they’re about to either have an epileptic episode?  That, or they’re gonna freak you all night long.  And then their opening phrase is shrill and quavers like formerly mute rooster who just got his voice box back?

It was like that. I haven’t seen barely controlled rage like that since Hulk Hogan stole the beautiful Miss Elizabeth from Randy Machoman Savage, as she pops off with a “I’m surprised to see you back here.”. Huh? That’s a line a bartender uses the day after you lost a fight to the local King of the Watering Hole. Hardly a witty comeback to the pithy smartass that threw you under the bus for having poor public relation skills. Mainly, I don’t see where the fight is. She has an unpleasant attitude and likes to run all over the place and pretend that she’s the bespectacled Red Queen of Vegetable Town. So, I suppose in that light, I did lose. Because she certainly didn’t learn that she is her own and the market's worst PR rep. Still, it’s amusing that I have apparently not only gotten her goat, but I have shaved it, given it a pink mohawk and tattooed “Hot Stuff” on it’s butt. People with overblown egos are fun!

So with the good coffee news and a bit of a giggle we flee back to the Hobbit Hole for a leisurely nap and to consider the dinnerly options. And while the larder is stocked to the gills with fresh and delicious, we’ve also got a few items on their last legs that we gotta get cooked up. Number one on that list was a pack of fresh asian noodles that we had picked up. Pretty much undried pasta noodles. And it hits me. I freaking LOVE pan fried noodles. With not a damn thing on ‘em either. No sauce, no sprouts, no pork. Give ‘em to me plain and crunchy and yummy! So we’re gonna give that a try. Chicken sounds like a nice and simple protein, we can marinate it in something nummerly. And I did grab some nice salad greens from Il Giardino Organico as well as some sprouts from The Sprout Lady and a nice head of green lettuce. So maybe I’ll throw together a vinaigrette for that.

PFN!!!!!

1 half package of fresh asian noodles from the Korea Market
Enough water for boiling
4 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons soy sauce

First, boil the noodles as indicated on the package. Like 5-6 minutes. Then drain the noodles. I don’t rinse because I like them to be a bit starchy and sticky later. Now heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a wok or frying pan. Make sure the noodles are well drained or it can splatter on ya, so be careful true believers. Toss ‘em in and arrange them into a relatively even, round, mess and fry on med-high heat. They’re moist, so it’ll take a few minutes per side to get the toasty brown color you want. Once you’re almost ready to flip, sprinkle the uncooked side with soy sauce and the remaining oil and then flip. It’s ok if you can’t pull off the perfect pancake flip, if it breaks up on your spatula, just give it the best turn you can. It’ll still be delicious and done in a few minutes. Crunchy, chewy, sticky, with a hint of salt from the soy sauce. So good!

Farmers market salad with grapefruit walnut vinaigrette

Salad

1 bag of mild mix from Il Giardino Organico
1 head green lettuce
1 handful mixed sprouts, beans and flowers from The Sprout Lady
½ cup chopped walnuts

Dressing

¾ cup grapefruit juice
¾ cup rice vinegar
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon honey from Bee Bob's
1 teaspoon black pepper
2 minced baby shallots from KMK Farms
1 clove minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced chives
2(ish) cups of olive oil

Combine all of the ingredients in a non-aluminum bowl except the oil and let come towards room temperature, about 10 minutes. Then whisk everything in the bowl together well. Afterwards, make sure your bowl is snug because this is a both hands move. While whisking like a madman, slowly drizzle in your 2ish cups of olive oil. Ish is because it’s to taste and until it’s emulsified. I like mine thin and tangy, some like theirs thicker and oilier. Your call, comrade.

Take all the salady stuff, toss into a bowl, lightly drizzle with the vinaigrette and toss again and serve!


Marinated chicken breast with soy lemon thyme sauce

2 chicken breasts
4 tablespoons soy sauce
1 cup Ramos Torres muscato blend wine
½ cup rice vinegar
1 lemon
½ cup minced shallots
3 cloves minced garlic
3 sprigs fresh thyme
3 bay leaves
1 teaspoons minced fresh sage
2 tablespoons chili sambal
2 Fresno chilis
2 tablespoons minced chives
1 teaspoon corn starch dissolved into 4 tablespoons of water

Put your chicken breasts in a plastic bag and pour in all of your wet ingredients. Slice half of the lemon and place the slices into the bag along with the juice of the remaining half. Put in all of the herbs except for 1 sprig of thyme and 1 bay leaf. Slice the Fresno chili and add it along with the sambal and then seal the bag. Allow to marinate for anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour. I prefer the hour. Then take the chicken from the bag and add to a frying pan with 2 tablespoons of oil and cook covered until done. Depending on your hen-boob thickness that could be a short or long time. But nobody wants chicken tartare. Take your done chicken and set aside.

Now take all of your marinade goodness that you reserved and strain out most of the chunkies. I was able to do this mostly just by pinching the end of the mouth of the bag so it trapped most of the stuff while the liquid poured over. You could use a strainer too I guess. If you’re a pussy. But anyway! Juice in pan, use a whisk and whisk up any of the brown bits left from the chicken and toss in that last sprig of thyme and a bay leaf and simmer until it begins to reduce. Now, instead of fully reducing this (because it’d be WAY too salty) we’re going to thicken it with some corn starch. So get it to a nice bubbling simmer and adjust the taste to your liking, then begin to whisk in some of your corn starch slurry until your sauce reaches the consistency that you want. My first shot, I went a little overboard and wound up with a Gulf of Mexioesque gravy blob. But texture aside, the flavor was still nice over the chicken.

If I weren’t such a purist about pan fried noodles, I probably would have cut up the chicken and added it to them and then toss the whole affair with the sauce that we made. But I am. However you don’t have to be, so if you do wind up doing it, let me know if it’s as good as I would hope, or if it tastes like a bag of dicks. You never know until someone else tries it and complains, right?

So here’s hoping that you’re out there being insane and experimental. Saying “Damn the torpedoes and ladies in bad hats and lederhosen!”. There are already too many bad influences out there that make it seem inconvenient or messy or unfun or whatever, to make your own food. Fuck all that! Our farmers turn out far too many delicious delicacies. Far too much of the rare and never before seen. And I eat far too well to ever consider letting such small things and minds prevent me from enjoying one of my dearest pleasures outside of boobies. Haters gonna hate, eaters gonna Eat Out Fresno.


-Pook

Eaing Out A Gamers Piehole

It’s been a much more sedate weekend so far. And that’s not so bad overall. It’s a dice rolling, Dungeons and Dragons kinda weekend. Not D&D proper, but Savage Worlds, an offshoot of another fun pen and paper game called Deadlands. But you’re not here to verify that I’m a card carrying nerd. It’s about food right?

Well, to the point, the lady of the gaming cave also mentioned that she wanted to have a Make-Your-Own pizza party. So, of course I absolutely must take my contribution to the most absurd extreme possible. And since it’s an Eye-tahl-euhn type dish, it’s straight to Sam’s Deli I fly!

I did establish that I intended to go over the top early on and got together a rough shopping list. So I wander into Sam’s and begin my slow, teasing meander with the store. She’s like a lady. You don’t just sprint right to her meat counter and start spanking the prosciutto. You ease into things with her wine section. Take a casual stroll, all the while eyeing your naughty desire. Everybody knows what you’re there for, but there are the societal niceties to be observes before you get into her well preserved meat slurry…if you know what I mean.

But before I indulge my porcine desires, I need to secure the base for the red sauce I volunteered to make. So 2 cans of the San Marzano puree and a small tin of paste is first. Plus I’m eyeing their rather vast selection of anchovies. But I’m fairly certain that my spurting desires are going to sink my budget long before I can indulge in comedy pizza toppings. So I pinch off that stream and divert back to the original reason I need to change my underwear.

Oh my beloved meat counter. When daddy finally wins the lottery, he’ll just walk in and wave at the length of the glass and and say “I’ll take it.”, like a stoned, fat kid looking at a Taco Bell menu. There ain’t much behind the glass that I wouldn’t quiver with delight at the idea of eating it smothered in cheese on some crusty spaghetti sauce bread. This is gonna be hard as hell to stay in budget.

Well first we need pepperoni. And they’ll totally slice it to size if you buy a full stick. And it was only a half pound. So, we’re doin good so far. I MUST get some of Sam’s home cured prosciutto, so a quarter pound of that. On to a halfer of Calabrese and Molinari salamis, some buffalo mozzarella for margherita pizzas and a couple hot Italians. I’m bracing myself for the pain. Thirty bucks! Right the fuck on! I got change to pick up a couple pizza skins and the aforementioned anchovies for food comedy! Piiiiiimp. Got out for under $40 and I got braggable meat to swing around at the party!

It’s Fresno, so with triumph must come comic tragedy. In this case, it was me getting a new video game and totally slacking off on picking up the 1 secondary herb that I really needed to make the red sauce absolutely fucking perfect. So…around 4 a.m. I finally tear myself away from my digital mistress and jump into the truck for a run to the 24 hour Maxxipad Grocery Store. Dude, there are a fuck-ton of bike riding tweakers on the road at that hour on Blackstone and Barstow. A small flock was sweeping through the parking lot, presumably looking for bits of string and lost crack rocks to fuel their meth inspired Death Ray.

So, after dodging speed aficionado piloted forklifts and getting conflicting opinions on what constituted a retail spice section by the very heroes who stocked it, we’ve scored a fresh clove of garlic and small tub of dried marjoram. Nothing like a nigh-morning adventure for under $2. Now, back to the Hobbit Hole for some dead tired cookery, because there’s no way in hell I’ll wake up early enough to make a sauce that’s worth a shit. To the fire!

This bad boy is to taste, so you get ingredients, but it’s up to you to figure out what ratios you like in your sauce. But it started out with two quart cans of San Marzano tomato puree and 5 cloves of fresh (spicy!) garlic. From there it’s salt, olive oil, red wine vinegar, sugar, honey, oregano, marjoram, basil, sage, thyme, black and white pepper, red pepper flakes, 1 italian green pepper, tomato paste and dill. Basic hints would include going light on the salt, thyme, vinegar, sweeteners, pepper and thyme. Too much can really start a May Revolution in your sauce pot and it’ll be well out of your control. Start with your tomatoes, half the garlic, a dash of olive oil and a little salt. Then start to build your flavors on that foundation. Once you can taste that particular herb in a quick slurp, back off and work on some of the others. Eventually you’ll find the balance you like between that kitchen sink of Italian herbs, acidity and sweetness. The trick in this case was my being baffled by an underlying bitterness (to my palate) that I couldn’t figure out since I hadn’t burned anything. It was the lack of dill. A bit of abuse to a few sprigs we had drying on a hook and suddenly the bitter was gone and a nicely assertive sweetness was in it’s place with a smooth link between it and the acid being facilitated by that dill flavor. FINALLY! It’s almost 8 in the morning and I’ve still got to make a damn character!

If sleep came, I was unaware of it. For the 4 hours of laying down, I think 3 were spent imagining topping combinations and fretting about if the sauce was the right caliber for an adult’s tastes without being so strong that the kiddies, who’d be flitting about, wouldn’t like it. I know it’s sad. But whatever petty boy-hobby fantasy football crap that keeps you up at night is somewhere in the same realm of sad, so eat my ass. I give a shit about those rare moments I get to attempt to show off my food holier-than-thou-ness. Not that I actually in my own transcendent nature. But when all your friends know that you’re a food blogger, it ratchets up the stress level on making edible shit that may even taste good.

Ugh. Morning. Coffee. Lovely girlfriend using her feminine wiles to lure me back into the daylight world. Lovely, sucky girlfriend. Ok, up, showering, getting Picasso Pants together. In the interim, she had used the Sam’s receipt as a fairly accurate checklist and has all the food pimpery loaded and ready to fly up to Coarsegold for our middle aged nerdgasm party. And thank whatever uncaring cosmic entity that has internet connectivity, for that woman. Without her, half of this blog would just be me whining about everything that I forgot in my eager rush to slobber all over whatever calorie bearing item that caught my temporary fancy. So, we’re Mitch All Together as we head out of town.

Here’s that part where I tell you all about my 70th level half Avatar bard/thief who did this amazing thing to a dragon’s butthole. And I know you don’t game, but this is one of those universally funny dragon butt stories. We’ve all done this to a dragon’s butt once in our lives. What’s that? You haven’t? Well I supposed I could get some friends together and we’ll hold a small dragon down, so you can give it a shot. Seriously, it’s fun. All the cool kids are doing it. Roll a d30. Ooops, you failed. Dragon herpes. Sorry hoss, never seen that happen before. (Lies)

And so dinner time finally slinks it’s sultry way between the 100 stories we all know and re-tell to push the game back while the breeders children have their various crises and triumphs of mono numerical emotional chaos. Finally, it’s time for the adults to play with yeasts and fires and meats that have been preserved through salts and bacterial action. Sorry nerd brethren, but daddy has a sexy new game that’ll make him fat and poxy and generally unattractive and it’s called cooking.

So, the lady of the house, we’ll call her Raquel, had pre-prepped through her magical baking skills, 3 different dough batches. The most braggable was the Italian herbed dough, which reminded me of several of the nicer bakeries I used to go into in LA once the focaccia craze hit. The second was a medium dough. And the third was an Alton Brown recipe, once she had cut the flour in half and still it was damn near a cannonball. Which brings me to another odd point. A lot of Alton’s recipes suck ass. His prime rib recipe/method rocks for sure. But a good number of his scientific tried and true recipes come out tasting like well seasoned mandrill ass. And to her credit, she was able to cut some moisture into the taffy-like density of the dough and soften it into a workable texture to pound out some pretty fine looking ‘za’s.

I was secretly smug that the kids and the husbandly type opted for Dirty Uncle Pook’s Red Sauce. And secretly relieved when nobody had to lock themselves in the shitter for an hour. But now for my pizza! For I brought friggin anchovies! And god damn, if’n it wasn’t said wisest before I could make up the words. They smell like cat food. And it’s “hairy” with fine bones. So we toss the furry catfish bait into our gobs and chew. As the flavor sets in, it’s completely swept away by a violent wash of pure salt. I think I’ve found my dirty old man delicacy that will keep the wee ones from hanging around me after I’ve started my mid-morning libations. “Hey kiddo! Wanna anchovy? Well then bugger off! And get me another beer!” Ahh youth.

Sufficed to say, I may have picked up some boozery libations prior to the gaming and cookery. And I might just have buggered off to the back yard for a smoke and a pleasant stare at rocks’n’trees’n’things, so I fairly well missed what most of the parently types put on their own pizzas. All I know is that the pepperonis were decimated and there were some really fun eye contact moments when folks sampled the Calabrese salami before topping their pizza with some. That’s one of those special salamis that pretty much knocked Genoa off of the pedestal that I had it on for about 30 years. Though I was shocked that I came home with so much prosciutto left. Poor kids, don’t know what they were missing. I however had some serious plans in mind.

Oh the food-snob shame! I had completely forgotten all of my pizza skin slapping skills in the intervening 8 years. So as I’m trying to hero my way through my dough, I’m just watching Mrs. EoF cringe and wince at my complete lack of technique. Finally hubris had to fall prey to reality and I shamefacedly stepped away from the board and allowed my lady fixed my screw ups and left me with a workable pizza skin. Ok, back to my know-it-all expertise. You start with a thin, light coating a sauce and light dusting of cheese as a basic foundation. Then the first layer of pepperoni. Then more cheese. But leave the ‘roni’s still peeking through. Then a layer of Calabrese with a few studs of buffalo mozzarella. Then more cheese. Then the Molinari and the squarsh blossoms and another dusting of cheese. Finally, it’s prosciutto roses to top off my gift bouquet of meatly goodness to myself for Fat Drunk Bastard’s Day. My thighs are fucking quivering in anticipation!

425 degree oven for…until the cheese starts to brown! There’s a sky scraper stack of shit on that pizza, yo. It need’s time to let fire stuff run up and down that majestic column of artery clogging mouth-sex that you’ve compiled. Wait until your crust is gold and creeping towards actual brown and make DAMN SURE that your mozzarella browns and lightly crisps on top! You want your toppings to fully cook and meld with the meat mess you’ve progenitored. Do it right and people will remember your pizzas more fondly than the stripper at a bachelor party. And that young lady could shoot an ice cube across a room!

The beloved woman also made a really smoking riff on the margherita pizza with fresh squash blossoms, prosciutto, basil and a couple anchovies to keep her dusky Italian soul going “Squeeee!”. I had a bite and it was really quite lovely. Sweet and pungent with basil, light creamy buffalo mozzarella, with just a little salty bite here and there from the anchovies and prosciutto. Not wholly traditional, but when something tastes that good, tradition can find it’s own damn ride home.

Normally the blogpost roundup goes here. But I don’t see much of an overarching lesson from today other than to never take old yeast from your mother-in-law and to take TV people recipes, especially leavened baking recipes with the proverbial grain of salt. At the end of the day, he’s really an actor that is trying to get his well paid content in the can. Sucks that they might be shooting a show with a completely different recipe because it looks better on TV. But, it’ll really bake you noodle if you found out how many well dressed food pics are of items that are totally not food and in some cases rather toxic. At least the pizza was real. And I totally killed an entire army of Orcs single handedly, with the butter knife of Chthanteroch. That’s what level 70 does with all purple gear and the Mysteriously Sparkly background trait. So damn cool.


-Pook