zoramargolis

Hi, and welcome, fellow native Angeleno, to the land of mediocre Mexican food! I wish that I could support your enthusiasm for Mixtec, but I find it a "mixt bag" as it were. Tacos al carbon are ok, but everything else I've had there was not very good. Granted, I haven't been there in a couple of years...Maybe it's gotten better. You might like Taqueria El Poblano in Arlington and Del Rey neighborhood of Alexandria. The owner is a guy from Pacific Palisades who was homesick for L.A.-style Mexican food. My favorite thing to order there is tacos al pastor.

The 2003 Thorn-Clarke Shotfire Ridge Barossa Cuvee, a cab-shiraz blend that is as good if not better than the shiraz is on sale for $10.99 at Paul's in Friendship Heights this week. For some unknown reason, Parker did not revue the 2003, but he rated the 2002 92 pts. (higher than the 2002 shiraz). Parker reviewed the 2003 Shotfire shiraz in October, 2004 and gave it 89 points.

I am mystefied. Please explain these seemingly contradictory statements... I have on occasion considered taking that bus, or having my fifteen year-old daughter ride it to NYC to visit her aunt. Why will you never again take the bus?

Neal Peterson, the local pawpaw grower who used to come to Dupont for a few weekends a year, when he had ripe fruit to sell, has apparently gone out of the fruit business and is now selling seedling trees. See this article for more information about commercially available pawpaws: http://www.post-gazette.com/food/20030918pawpaw0918fnp2.asp As far as finding them in the wild, they are an indigenous native plant and can be found throughout the mid-Atlantic. They are common along the C&O Canal towpath--however I haven't seen many trees with fruit hanging. The leaves are dark green, shiny and an elongated oval in shape. There is a butterfly, the Zebra Swallowtail, which is dependent completely on pawpaw trees--if you ever see a large black-and-white striped butterfly, look around-- there will be pawpaw trees nearby.

Rajas de poblanos, is my guess.

My "house special" thirty-minute meal--usually minus the pesto/herbs! What I discovered after doing this often enough, is that it is almost as good, and is much quicker, to skip the browning step and just poach the meatballs in the sauce. This works well for pasta and also to make Indian kofta curry, by poaching the meatballs in Patak's curry sauce, or one of Trader Joe's curry sauces, and then serve over basmati rice. I usually have cracker meal or matzo meal on hand, so the step of crushing saltines can also be skipped.

No argument from me about this. I've been posting for years on local boards that Palena deserves to be mentioned in the same breath with Citronelle, Maestro and Laboratorio as the best restaurants in DC. I have had breathtaking dishes at Palena--the boudin blanc is the most ethereally exquisite morsel that has ever passed my lips. I have dreams about the housemade bacon. Ruta is a culinary magician. Does that mean that everything on the menu every night is always equally fabulous? He's human, how could it be? That isn't true anywhere else, either. The night I went to Maestro, I thought the highly touted Turbot in Hay Sauce was completely uninteresting. The fish was flavorless and the sauce no more than a clever idea. It didn't work for me at all. The rest of the dishes I had that night were fabulous. Does that mean I think less of Fabio's talent? Absolutely not! But when the bar is set very high, the diner's expectations are as well. No restaurant can bat 1,000. Is the sense of disappointment more acute when a dish doesn't deliver the anticipated measure of pleasure, in a place like Maestro or Palena? Unfortunately, for those gifted chefs like Frank Ruta, it is. Especially when the diner is someone who may need to save up and splurge on special meals only for very special occasions. Let's keep it in perspective, though. Crazeegirl expressing her disappointment on DR.com is not Sietsema in the Washington Post, although given the drubbing she's gotten here, she's not likely to express any opinions again, negative or positive. As a creative artist, I have had the exhilarating experience of being applauded and praised by audiences and critics. And the gut-wrenching, painful experience of being rejected and trashed in print. And I know with complete certainty that the people who praised my talent were perceptive and discerning, and that the idiot who trashed me was a mental midget who had no clue about the years of pain and passion that went into the work that he so viciously dismissed after a casual glance. So what else is new?

I stopped in for lunch on Friday, and ordered a small dim sum assortment. One of the four was a delicate turnip cake that was so delicious, I was tempted to order a plateful just of those. The texture was delicate, custard-like. And the flavor was sweet, earthy, salty. Just wonderful!

I used to be able to buy Sazerac Rye at the Montgomery County Liquor store in Bethesda. If you want a really drop-dead delicious, authentic Sazerac cocktail, you gotta make one with Sazerac Rye in a glass rinsed with Pernod. It is the Woodford Reserve of rye whiskeys-- omgod, so smooth, complex and delicious. Also, breathtakingly expensive. I believe it is made in Kentucky despite its Louisiana origins. Alas, they seem no longer to carry it at the MOCO stores. Anyone know where to find it? I have a friend who lived in NO and graduated from Tulane. I used to bring her a bottle of Sazerac as a gift on special occasions. No can do no more until I find it again.

What about hot water? Why not bring some in a thermos if there isn't a source for any, and use the water to rehydrate noodle or grain-based soup-in-a-cup-type options. Annie Chun's or Thai rice noodle bowls sold at Trader Joe's aren't bad, and there are some Asian-flavored cup noodles at Whole Foods that aren't too bad. I survived on those for a long time when I had no lunch break and had to eat while working at my desk.

An improvised dessert worked well, using leftovers from last two Sundays at Dupont Market. Bread pudding with peaches and mascarpone, using half a loaf of brioche, three peaches, three eggs and a cup and a 1/4 of milk, some sweet butter, turbinado sugar, vanilla and cinnamon, and half a container of mascarpone. Baked in a waterbath in a 300 degree oven for fifty minutes and left in the oven with the door closed for about a half hour after that. Served warm with whipped cream. Let's put it this way-- "It might have been better with vanilla ice cream" was the only criticism.

Costco in Pentagon City had the same clamshells of plums yesterday. I also saw them in bulk at the Social Safeway this morning. The other noteworty thing I found for the first time at Costco yesterday was Genova tuna in olive oil--the same brand they sell at Trader Joe's. The Costco four-pack price was $5.49.

This has been one of my favorite whites this summer. Costco Pentagon City is selling it for $12.99.

This is a question I am raising because of an experience I had last night. I am not going to name the restaurant, because it is not the most relevant factor. I'll just say that it is a "dressy-casual" neighborhood place that is highly regarded here. I ordered an entree from the specials list that centered around "dry" scallops. The price was $24. A large plate was set in front of me. Centered on it were two pan-seared scallops and one scallop-sized cake of crusted risotto. There was one stalk of baby fennel, about the size of my ring finger and a few halves of red and yellow cherry tomatoes. A few spoonfuls of broth (?chicken probably, it didn't have much flavor) completed the dish. Now to my astonished eyes, this was a small plate portion on a very large plate and at a highly inflated price. The risotto was probably left over from the previous night-- cakes are what you do with leftovers, right? Kind of dry. The scallops were sweet and fresh--cooked a tad less in the center than I like, but not enough to complain about. After all, I do eat scallop sushi and these were very fresh. But $24? Come on. High quality dry scallops RETAIL for about $20 a pound, and you get 8 to ten of them. Where were the labor costs? Other dishes that were sent to the table were fairly pricey but the portions were reasonable and involved more prep work. So what think you all? Should the price reflect the costs, or is it reasonable to artfully arrange a plate and charge a lot because it is an entree? The food tasted fine-- I didn't feel justified in complaining about the quality. I sure would not have ordered the dish if I'd known what the stingy portion would be. How do you complain about that, other than to ask the waiter about the size of the portion? I will do that if I ever go back (it was my first visit).

I grew up eating "koteleten" --Russian-style pan fried burgers made with ground beef or ground veal and panade (only my mother used cracker meal soaked in milk instead of bread in cream). However, they were always seasoned more assertively than just with salt and paprika. Like onion, garlic, Worcestershire, pepper. When I make Veal Koteleten a la Pojarsky, I use ground veal, finely chopped shallot, a drizzle of white wine in the panade, finely minced fresh herbs (parsley, tarragon, thyme, chervil--depends on what I have in the refrig), grated lemon zest, salt and white pepper. The ovoid patties are rolled in seasoned cracker meal and pan fried in oil and butter. Served with fresh lemon wedges. These babies are deLICious, not Gerberous in the least. Much as I admire Frank Ruta--we're going to the cafe for dinner tonight--the thought of a ground veal patty seasoned only with salt and paprika sounds unworthy of his exceptional talent. I mean, when I go to Palena, I'm looking for something a bit more than what a making-do Polish housewife might put on the table.

And jalapeno, lime juice and salt. I have been known to (gasp) make pico de gallo in my Cuisinart, leave some in the bowl, add avocado and garlic and whiz it up for quick guac. I know, the texture is so much better when it's made in a molcajete, but sometimes those chips and margaritas are hollering, and I'm in a hurry. Then, I have table salsa and guacamole. And happy campers. Here are a couple of tips from someone who has made guacamole gazillions of times over many years: throw one or two small tomatillos in for every medium sized avocado. It adds a slight acidic tang without lots of lime juice thinning the guac out too much. Also makes each avocado go a bit farther when feeding a crowd, especially since tomatillos are the same color as avocados. I always add fresh tomato, but too much can muddy the color. There was a popular myth years ago, that if you put an avocado pit into the bowl of guacamole, it will keep it from turning brown. I did it for years until I realized that it was bs. A good dose of lime juice is essential, and if you are making it in advance, put plastic wrap over the bowl and press it down so the film is in direct contact with the surface of the guacamole.

Back in the days when "Honk if you love Jesus" bumper stickers were all the born-again rage, I really wanted to print "Honk If You Love Cheeses" bumper stickers for fellow members of the sybarites movement. Perhaps this could be a joint venture of Cheesetique and Rockwellians.

Barbara Hansen was the Food Editor of the Los Angeles Times for many years, and has written several very good books. I have the book you are referring to, published in 1980 by HPBooks in Tucson. It was one of the few (other than Diana Kennedy's early work) Mexican cookbooks published in the US before the 1990's that was truly authentic. It has really nice photos, too. I have a 1944 wirebound book--*Elena's Famous Mexican and Spanish Recipes* by Elena Zelayeta (Edited by "A Group of San Francisco Home Economists") Which has a mixture of authentic recipes and others that have been geared to the "gringo palate"--there is a notable absence of chiles in most of them. Elena was a restauranteur in San Francisco who authored several cookbooks. At that time, Mexican food was usually called "Spanish" when it was geared to a gringo clientele- - "Mexican" having quite a negative connotation of peasant food that was inedibly spicy. One of the early Mexican restaurants which opened in Hollywood in the late '20s was called The Spanish Kitchen. When I helped my elderly parents move, my mother gave me the abovementioned and several other old cookbooks. There's the *Russian Cook Book for American Homes* ©1942 (price $1.00), a fundraiser compilation book published by Russian War Relief, Inc. Recipes are credited to, among others, celebrities like James Beard, Nathan Milstein, Prince Matchabelli, Oscar of the Waldorf, and The Russian Tea Room. I am also in possession of *Madame Chiang's Chinese Cookbook* ©1941, which has a price of 25 cents on the cover, and absurdly racist illustrations inside. It starts out with twelve different recipes for chop suey. Most of the recipes call for "Vie Tsin" gourmet powder, which I assume is MSG. Then, there is The *Rokeach Cook Book*, ©1933, which is half in English and half in Yiddish. It is full of ads for Rokeach kosher products, like *Nyafat*--"Foods prepared with NYAFAT are easier to digest and cause no heartburn" the ad copy promises. All of the recipes call for Rokeach products, naturally. The section of meat dishes has recipes for sweetbreads, smothered tongue, and calf brain croquettes, as well as "Leftover Meat #1" and "Leftover Meat #2" -- very little in the way of seasoning in any of the recipes except for onion and paprika. My MIL gave me an undated cookbook that came with her set of Guardian cast aluminum cookware, which she bought in the mid-1940's. Wonderful color illustrations and photos, and clearly written by very earnest nutritionist-home economists. It is relentlessly middle American--not a smidgen of garlic in anything. The section about salads is all for molded gelatine salads, of course. The chapter heading is: "Salads That Will Inveigle the Family Into Their Full Vitamin Quota." Mmm. Delectable!

I've seen the film. I thought it was mildly interesting, rather primitive agit-prop, and that the director should study with Michael Moore before he makes another documentary. I've read all sorts of anti-Nossiter, pro-Nossiter, pro-Parker, Parker-bashing, Neal Rosenthal is the Messiah stuff here and in other places. Both camps have positions that have some merit. The concept of anti-corporate, artisanal holdouts certainly is romantic. The problem is, there are a many who are making good wine and just as many, if not more who are not. In the '80s, Parker was the kid proclaiming that the emperor (ie. many high-end bordeaux producers) had no clothes. They were selling a name and a label, and filling the bottles with swill. Sounds kind of like what Yellowtail is doing now. By focusing on what was in the glass, Parker almost single-handedly caused the French wine industry to clean up its act. The concept of terroir is commendable, but as far as I can tell, the term is often used to sell thin, sour, tannic or off-tasting wine. I don't have a wine cellar in which to lay down old-style bottlings that need six or ten years to turn into something drinkable. Nor do I have a budget that allows me to take a lot of chances and buy things that I may or may not enjoy. Most people are like me, and that explains the rise of the critics and the consultants. I attended a tasting of artisanal Burgundies where there was maybe one wine out of fifteen that I could see myself enjoying. Forget about buying--I couldn't afford any of them. But example after example was thin, insipid, sour stuff. I'm afraid that my taste runs to mouth-filling fruit. If I want a thin, sour beverage with my dinner I'll drink lemon water. I don't like everything Parker recommends--I have a few importers whose name on a back label is what I look for. Neal Rosenthal isn't one of them.

I bought a whole fresh duck at Super H, which was fine. But Super H does not have duck legs for $1.99 a pound, which are perfect for making my latest obsession, duck confit. At Wegman's, d'Artagnan confit sells for $8 per leg!

A trip out to Han Ah Reum yesterday (Aug. 24) proved to be a major bummer. A half gallon of skim milk, pull-dated September 3 was completely curdled when opened last night. Early this evening, I went to prepare six fresh duck legs, pull-dated August 29, and they were off. A twenty-minute bath in acidulated water did not remedy the problem. I carry a cooler with blue ice in my car for summer shopping trips, so it was not me. Drive all the way out to Merrifield from DC to confront them with their rotten duck for a $12 refund, or fuggedaboutit? Factoring in time and the cost of gas, I decided on the latter. My husband wants me never to go there again. Well, the new Great Wall supermarket down the road from HAR looks like it's just about ready to open. Maybe they'll sell fresh duck there... sigh.

My daughter just spent a few days in NYC and brought home some cupcakes from Sugar Sweet Sunshine on Rivington Street. They were fabulous, and cost less than CakeLove's, where I went once out of curiosity and was seriously underwhelmed.

I direct your attention to this amazing article from the Los Angeles Times by Linda Burum. I have been a fan of her writing for many years. We should be so lucky to have a food journalist of her caliber in DC. http://www.latimes.com/features/food/la-fo...y?track=tottext So, DC wine mavens. Where are the local sources for these (and other) cool sakes? Other than Tako Grill's sake bar, which I already know about. I'm particularly interested in retail, not just restaurants.

Recipes for fennel that I have been reading recently call for the fennel to be quartered, cored and cooked in liquid first, before roasting. I didn't do that. I just shredded a couple of fennel bulbs finely, tossed it with some halved fresh figs and thinly sliced onion, drizzled it with EVOO, salt, lemon juice and a little bit of honey, grated some lemon peel on it and stuck it in a hot oven for about fifteen or twenty minutes, stirring to toss it a couple of times while it cooked. It still had a little bit of crunch, and the anise flavor was there, but in a subtle way. I love the flavor combination of figs, lemon and anise.

All the sweeter, 'cause they are free! I am a wild berry fanatic--when I find some, my husband tells me that the determined set of my jaw and my intense focus are indicators that he'd better just leave me alone until I'm done picking. We call it "an attack of berry-berry"... The last summer we lived in Vermont, back in the mid-seventies, was a banner year for wild berries. I picked enough wild strawberries to make gallons of preserves--each berry is about as big as the tip of your index finger, which gives you an idea of how many hours I spent combing the old meadows for patches of them. Then, there were the dewberries, the black caps, the blackberries, and the wild grapes...