I Ate My Heart Out in San Francisco pt I: Commence Roadtrip pt III: Getting Cheesy in Carmel

This was my second trip to Carmel.  The first was last summer, where I spent a weekend there, but barely getting much of a taste of all the wonders that exist.  This place is like my mecca.  It’s Clint Eastwood’s town. CLINT!  I dreamily fantasize about running into him in his bar, Hog’s Breath Inn.  One of those moments where I walk in and order a beer and glance over to see a stranger’s back right next to the framed photo from Dirty Harry.  You know the one I’m talking about, with the gun pointing out and an amazing depth of field.  At the moment I sit down and the stranger turns around only to reveal that it’s him!  The very same Clint from that photo, side by side!

The actuality of this happening is so slim, but a girl can dream right?  Anywho, Carmel is a really nice quaint place to visit.  We decided to hit it up for breakfast before returning to the unending road and actually getting to San Francisco.

After walking the streets for a bit, and being completely ravished, we decided to stop at a small casual looking restaurant that boasted its freshly baked breads in the window.  An obvious chose for two Italians from NY I might add.  This little treasure is called La Bicyclette, a place I don’t even recognize from my adventures a year earlier.  We ordered what turned out to be adorable cups of coffee in glass mugs with a whimsical handle that wanted to weave around your fingers.  Cream was in a small cylinder.  There was no sharing here.  The little tray that it sat upon looked like some sort of art exhibit.  I really enjoyed that.  It’s not often I allow myself to experience pretentious coffee.  I know it was pretentious because each coffee came with a mission statement.  And I quote, “The cafe is where people from all walks of life, whether they are artists and writers, or business people and politicians, can come and interact freely…” Oh it goes on.  It’s funny because in the moment I absolutely loved this little piece of paper.  The idea that a cafe is more than just food and drink.  I think it was a combination of the road and blissful vacation that skews your perspective on such things.  Or maybe it was just the magic of Carmel, making it ok to leave such propaganda with each patron’s coffee.  Because if I ever went to a cafe in LA that had something like this, I would spit on the floor, knock my table over and leave in a huff.  Or probably something much less dramatic, but I’d be THINKING about doing those things.  Regardless, I decided I was enjoying this adorable little cafe, with its adorable loaves of baked bread, and its adorable cups of coffee.  It also helped that it was adorned with bowls of red onions and strings of garlic.

The menu was surprisingly small, a relief.  I wanted to just close my eyes and let my finger pick something for me this morning.  I settled on the quiche.  Why?  Because it had spinach, cheese, AND bacon.  That and the other option was a baked eggs dish, which you should all remember I didn’t take well to a few months ago.  If you don’t remember, check out my baked eggs post and the seething despair in those words.  I digress.  The quiche was a gigantic slab with crusted cheese on top.  In the end it was just far too rich for me.  I ended up picking through it for all the bacon (shocker) and leaving scraps that a child would have created to make it look like they ate more than they actually did.  Delicious, but too much for a girl who ate an insane amount of subpar seafood the night before.

The place had a great beer and wine selection, complete with a chalkboard menu of delicious sounding pizzas.  I almost wished we could stay for lunch or dinner because I was intrigued at the quality based solely on the fresh breads that were sitting next to us.  Taunting us.  We had to have them.  And we did.  But we didn’t go overboard, which was kind of amazing.  We bought 4 very small bread sticks to go with the cheese we were about to buy.  You know, very end of the title of this post.  The Cheese.

And now we get to my real motive for the trip to Carmel.  The two things I remember from the trip I took last time were amazing oysters and The Cheese Shop.  I wouldn’t shut up about it.  I bought 3 small wedges of cheese that I nibbled on for as long as I could.  So with this trip on the horizon, I kept planting that seed to my mom.  We could just ‘pass through’ and stop for cheese.  Honestly, she didn’t need much convincing.  After all, same genes, same love of cheese.

So at 11am we sauntered over to the plaza, down the stairs, and into The Cheese Shop.  (Yes, I remembered where it was… slightly sick on my part, I’m aware.)  My favorite thing about this cheese shop is that you walk in and someone is thrusting cheese at you.  They don’t take no for an answer actually.  We were immediately in the hands of Blake, who took very good care of us, unknowing that we would be in there for probably close to an hour.  I came for the unnamed gouda, I announced.  This is the cheese I remember savoring the most, never able to get enough.  A taste and a wedge later we moved to the Netherlands, which had a surprising amount of fantastic cheese.  Blake took us through all kinds of delicious and surprising cheeses.  I honestly could have stayed there all day, shooting the shit and eating cheese, but there is only so much cheese one can eat before 12pm, so we decided to call it quits after deciding on 7 of our favorites to take with us.  Like an idiot, I didn’t write any of them down, so I’m going off of memory and the cheese brochure I left with.  Here goes:

• Unnamed Gouda- packed with flavor crystals!  FLAVOR CRYSTALS!
• Koko, which quickly became my new favorite- a cheese from The Netherlands made with coconut milk.  Those crazy kids are geniuses.
• Un- named Honey Bee- also from The Netherlands.  Very mild in flavor in comparison to the other booty, but still delicious
• Noord Hollander (another from The Netherlands)- a whiskey cheese, which was the most exciting for me.  Though I never did get around to trying it with a glass of scotch.
• Sharp Cheddar- can’t remember the name of this one, but he was an intense mofo.  I have Old Quebec Cheddar starred on my sheet, but who knows what was going on in my cheese- cracked out mind at the time.
• Raspberry Bella Vitano- a cheddar I remember from the last go around.  I had regretted not getting it, something quickly corrected this time.  These cheese was about to be all up in my mouth.
• The last was a soft cheese that we devoured when we got to San Francisco, obviously because it would have gone bad.  I know it wasn’t a brie because Blake made my morning with the pun he let slip out.  “It’s not but it should brie.”  (Puns about cheese- a man after my own heart.)  I am at a loss for its name though.  Fail.

We left in a daze, clutching our cheeses and ready to get back on the road.  All of the other cheeses lasted back to LA.  I wonder now what they would have tasted like later that day, rather than letting them sweat for 3 days before tearing into them.  They sure were sweaty guys by the end.  But that didn’t stop us from eating 3 very epic platters of cheese.  So thank you Cheese Shop, for bringing just a little more joy into my life.  Why it is I feel the need to travel 6 hours north to hit a cheese store is beyond me, but it’s always worth it.

Christmas Through Food- Pt II: The Italian Feast of Fish

THE ITALIAN CHRISTMAS FEAST

In my family, Christmas is officially celebrated with our Italian Family on my Mother’s side.  (Don’t worry… Easter gets the Polish side.  We’re very well rounded out.)  Since I’ve been old enough to care less about presents (I’m the baby in the family) this holiday has been strictly about food for us.  Sure, giving out and opening presents on Christmas morning is still fun, but we’re more excited about the cold Antipasto we’ll be eating while doing it.

So naturally, there is a feast, in Brooklyn, comprised of Fish.  This is a very tradition Italian event.  Every year, for as long as I can remember, Christmas Eve was spent dining on various seafood dishes.  And I have a huge family who loves to eat, so there was a wide variety and an abundance.

Unfortunately, like a true ass, I didn’t take any pictures.  This is truly a shame as this feast kicked the behind of all the other years.  So I will describe, in hopes you can gain an idea of the awesomeness I was surrounded by.

This was one of the first years I can remember that each family contributed to the meal.  Back in the day, it was just my Grandma cooking solo.  When the feast moved to my Aunt’s house, it was a combination of her and my Grandma.  A few years ago, all the daughters and granddaughters got together to make 100 rice balls (more on that later!!), but the entrees were still Grandma and Aunt Margaret based.

This year I returned to frigid Jersey to learn that my Father (not the Italian one) would be making his famous ‘Linguine with White Clam Sauce.”  This is truly a masterpiece and one of the dishes my Father has made many a time over the years.  He excitedly told me he bought a huge bag of clams that was on sale, not because he needed that many, but because he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get that many clams for a good price.

THE APPETIZERS

It is traditional for many of us to attempt to starve ourselves day of so that we can eat as much as humanly possible.  Throughout the meal itself, my cousin Margaret claimed she was going to try and stop herself when she became full because the year before she remembered feeling terrible after eating way too much.  With that, we all always arrive starving.  There’s usually crackers and dips and small things ready to wet your whistle.  You do a quick sweep around the room, kissing cheeks and wishing Merry Christmases before you toss your coat down and make way for anything you can shove in your mouth.  In true form, my Uncle Willie greets you with a glass of Sangria that will most likely put you on your ass for 2 reasons.

1.  It’s a Willie Surprise!  Which means it’s laced with booze.

2.  You haven’t eaten anything all day!

Seeing that we had an abundance of clams, my Father threw together a nice clams casino appetizer that my mother paraded around, somehow avoided every sidestep I took to get closer.  After popping one of these in my mouth and relishing in the crisp deliciousness, I went back for another to find a plate of empty shells.  This is another trademark of my Italian Family: gavones.

THE MAIN MEAL

The first course was ready to rock which included 3 different kinds of pasta, set up buffet style on the counter.  You had your choice of the first to be served, then like any other overbearing Italian family, you took what you wanted.  Like I said, we were eaters.  The first was a shrimp scampi my Aunt Margaret made.  Holy Hell!  This was absolutely delightful.  The shrimp were cooked perfectly– tender yet not mealy at all.  There was a perfect butter/oil/wine love affair happening with garlic to give just enough flavor, but allow the shrimp to really sing.

The second pasta dish was a classic and one of my Mother’s favorites.  It was a Cauliflower sauce.  As a kid I remember my Mom making this and to this day, still love it.  It’s a thicker red sauce that surprises you because your typical Cauliflower flavor doesn’t kick you in the face.  All of the ingredients blend together to create a subtle yet flavorful dish.  It was the best I’ve had in a long time.  I would expect nothing less from my Grandmother.  The woman knows her way around a kitchen.

The third option was my Father’s.  As I previously stated, this was a favorite dish of my nuclear family’s.  I was used to it only having baby clams, so it was an exciting voyage when the real shelled boys were out to play.  My brother and I both agreed this was my Father’s best version.  I don’t know what he did to that wine sauce, but it was absolutely perfect.  It was such a light tangy flavor covering the linguine with the clams waiting to burst forth with commanding presence.  A true masterpiece.

Of course there was bread circulating throughout to sop up whatever sauce you were blessed to have left on your plate.  And I’m talking real Italian bread from Bensonhurst– the Italian neighborhood in Brooklyn.  This is the very thing I’m often dreaming of that you just can’t find in LA.

As people began finishing up, we were all instructed (loudly of course) to hang on to your forks and pass your bowls down.  I helped my Aunt J clear off the table while the other dishes that were heating up in various pyrex dishes were thrown onto the table in no particular order whatsoever.  That was another beauty of how our family dines.  You put as much as you can on the table and everyone takes what they can get.  It’s rare that there’s any competitive nature because there’s usually an incredible amount of everything.  So you can eat slowly and savor what you’ve got in front of you.

My attempt was to take small portions of everything, so that I could eat each thing and not want to burst afterwards.  The first thing that came at me was fried Garduna.

I need to break away  here and explain something.  There are two things my entire extended family looks forward to on Christmas Eve, mostly because they are not prepared at any other time of the year: Garduna and Rice Balls.  Garduna is part of the celery family and can be a very fickle beast.  My sister took the reigns one year in preparing this family favorite, so I got all the inside juice.  You need to boil it enough to make it tender, but not too much so it’s limp.  There should be a crisp texture to it, but it can be so tough sometimes that you just want to give up trying to eat it.  It is then breaded and fried and one of the most delicious treats at our table.  I’ve never seen it anywhere besides our Christmas Eve dinner (not that I’ve really searched for it), and I don’t think I’d want to because that’s one of the ways it stays special.  Oddly enough, I couldn’t find any pictures of Garduna, just the place in Italy.  So it’s up to your imaginations!

The rice balls (usually served around the beginning of the meal, but this time were at the very end) are another savory treat.  Rice is prepared with a mixture of butter, oil, cheese, and touch of marinara sauce for color and flavor.  This combination is VERY important and can completely change the taste of your rice ball.  You scoop up a pawful of rice, indent the middle to create a little well, and add a tablespoon of a delicious meat combination with peas.  You then scoop up more rice and cover to create a ball.  You then toss that baby into a deep fryer and viola!  One of my favorite little surprises!

Moving on.  Salmon fillets were passed around.  I LOVE salmon.  I greedily swiped a piece and went for it.  Out of all the fish dishes, this wasn’t my most favorite, but that’s just because the caliber of everything was so high.  It was a little dry, probably due to the reheating process, which is always rough on salmon.  There were hints of dill and light sauce.

The next thing that came across my plate was a Tilapia Fillet.  And Holy Crap I still can’t forget how delicious this was.  I don’t know what sauce this was cooked in, but it was fantastic.  It fell apart as you touched it, teasing you with how juicy it was.  I’m salivating just thinking of it and must get this recipe to try.

The one thing that was missing this year was the traditional seafood salad.  I personally didn’t miss this, as the octopus legs are something I generally steer clear of.  But several family members were sad it didn’t make an appearance.

Oh boy were there mussels making the rotation as well.  I’m sad to report that I can’t remember what kind of sauce they were swimming in.  By that point I had eaten so much and this was a few weeks ago, so memory is failing.  I will say that they melted in your mouth though.  I had been craving mussels for a while and these hit the spot.

Next on the docket were fish cakes.   Yum!  I’ve always been a fan of anything fish that made it into cake form.  From what I remember, these were a touch firmer than they needed to be, but still super delicious.  After all, when you’re cooking for 22 people, you’re going to have to reheat things that were made in advance so not everything is going to be completely perfect.  That being said, I still wolfed down my fish cake rather happily.  My brother actually had the genius idea of throwing the remains from my father’s clam sauce on top.  That guy is somethin’ else!

I know there was a salad (I know, who would dare allow room for salad with all this gloriousness sharing the same table) and probably a few other things I’m not remembering.  Forgive me!  I think I did pretty well with this list.

DESSERT

Every year there is always an array of fruit and cookies.  There’s chocolates being passed around, coffee is being made, and usually some sort of decadent nonsensical cake that has too much fruit packed in odd places.  The most important things are my sister’s rainbow cookies and my grandmother’s cheese cake.  Both are highly envied and of course, only made for Christmas.

The only picture I chose to seek out because you must find these gems if you've never had one!

If you’ve never had a rainbow cookie, God have mercy on your soul.  You are missing out on one of the better creations on this earth.  They can be found at any Italian bakery, and up until a few years ago, it was the only place we knew how to get them.  When my sister decided she was going to master these cookies, we all took a sigh of relief, knowing they would always show up each Christmas.  They are the layered marzipan cookies featured above.  Hence the name, rainbow cookies, and they are absolutely delightful.  You can learn more about them on my sister’s blog.  They are never leftover as my family always greedily enjoys as many as they can.

My grandmother’s cheesecake is the other marvel.  It’s better than any cheesecake I’ve ever had and I always make room for at least a small piece.  My sister also recreated this once in her hometown and claimed that everyone she served it to begged her to make it again.  Like I said earlier, Grandma doesn’t fool around.

This was how we ended the night, with the exception of my Mother and I sneaking small pieces of dried sausage that was specifically bought for the next morning.  This is the part of Christmas I look forward to the most, well, that’s also shared with the Beef Wellington my father makes each Christmas day.  But it’s all about the eating that brings my family together.  And I couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Dentists

I’ve never liked dentists.  Ever.  As a kid my mom allowed me to eat fruit snacks and fruit roll ups, which has always been my guilty pleasure, which resulted in a shit ton of cavities as a youngster.  I’m talking baby teeth cavities.  So visiting the dentist was often like that scene in Brazil— torturous.  Moving forward I began to think I just had bad teeth.  As a grown up I still have a good amount of fillings in my mouth, making it rather difficult to eat ice cream most of the time.  Curses!  But I became very neurotic about my mouth.  After going through braces at a young age, I decided if I took stellar care of my teeth then the dentist wouldn’t be a threat.  So I floss every day, brush at least twice a day, and use mouthwash to keep those pesky cavities away.

As a 24 year old living in LA, I get excited about having health insurance in general.  The idea of having dental insurance is not something I’ve given a second thought until a few months ago.  I had never wanted to pay for it because that’s an extra $30 a month!  It wasn’t until I was leaving my old job, that provided benefits, that the accountant told me I could apply for dental coverage and get rid of it at any time.  So I threw down the extra loot and proceeded to do nothing about it, as I was still wallowing in shit storm that was my life at the time.

Come January 1, I will again be paying for dental insurance.  And I realize that it has been probably at least two years since I’ve gotten a cleaning.  I understand how disgusting that sounds.  I think this is one of those moments that defines my further growth into adulthood.  In your early 20’s it’s easy to keep up with the ‘invincible’ feeling you carry around with you as a teen.  As someone who used to be a chain smoker, I was a big fan of thinking my body was god- like in the sense that it could not be defeated by anything.  Now when I buy a pack of cigarettes every once in a while, I feel their weight when I visit the gym and I can honestly say that is why I aim to stop smoking- because it fucks with my cardio.

Part of me yearns to go back to those adventurous days of college where all I did was drink a ton of coffee and chain smoke to get through the days.  Where my first few apartments were the most magical things in the world, and I was able to take on tons of commitments energetically while going on no sleep.  But that’s also part of new phases- nostalgically looking back on the previous ones.

All in all, screw dentists with their pointy metal tools that count your teeth and electric tools that smell like burning.  Am I right?

And there’s always the possibility of ending up like this poor kid…

Intelligentsia Cafe- Never Again

It's just too pretty. That should have tipped me off.

Actually, I’m not even sure if they call themselves a cafe because they just might be too cool for that.  I stand corrected, they are a coffee bar.  As I’ve mentioned a few times, I’m still rather new to the Abbot Kinney neighborhood.  On Fridays, I take the opportunity to take a walk and grab coffee and breakfast before work.  After my abrupt disgust and animosity towards croissants last week I decided to try a new cafe.  I strolled down the street in the opposite direction and saw a large cup of coffee in the air, pointing to me saying, “This is what you’re looking for.  I’m a fucking cup of coffee as a sign.  Get your ass in there.”

I didn’t see the name of the place, but took my place in line.  It was one of those moments where the camera pans over to the line ahead of me and creates a larger depth of field, making the line seem abnormally long.  I was supposed to be at work at that moment and saw 15 minutes of my life being sucked away.  I decided to wait.  Because I needed that coffee dammit!  I looked around and began to question my decision.  The gaggle of girls in front of me had ripped jeans, tall flat footed boots worn over their jeans.  Big black framed 90’s glasses adorned the blonde who parted her hair very far on the left.  The guy in their group had a buttoned up cardigan with tightish pants and converse sneakers.  They were all beautiful.  Where the ef was I??  My eyes swept the outdoor sitting area that was next to the line.  It was just cubes of wood used for both benches and tables.  Dogs were tied up and left to wander while their owners sipped on frothy coffees.  One little mutt had an afro.  Her owner had both Uggs and fingerless gloves on.  I am totally allowed to judge that.

As I slowly crept my way into the entrance I peered through bodies to see what kind of tasty delights were encased at the counter.  I couldn’t read a damn thing, and the little menu they had on the side table by the door only included teas.  It was finally my turn and I was greeted by a very nice barista, but one more belonging with the beautiful people who ordered in front of me.  He was very helpful and chipper, sporting a short haircut with stringy bangs he was trying to grow out.  The rest of the baristas were very obvious hipsters and I was beginning to feel more out of place.  After all, I’m in ‘young professional’ garb with the faux pearls to prove it.

The place seemed very modern and ‘cool.’  The back area was for sitting as well, keeping up with the wooden cubes as furniture and I saw people drinking teas and coffees off of trays.  To stay and have your coffee or tea there, gets you an ornate glass decanter with a small cup on a tray.  You serve yourself your coffee for as long as you’d like.  I very much like the idea of this, for a day of lounging at a cafe.  I do not like the idea of this when I’m waiting for my coffee to go, as the process is still the same.  Upon asking for a medium coffee to go, I was asked if I wanted the Kenyan rubbledygarb.  I can’t for the life of me tell you what that man said to me.  I asked him to repeat it and still had no words.  I just smiled and told him that was fine.  He proceeded to tell me it was very good.  Great.  What I didn’t know, was that they were going to brew my very own individual cup right now, in front of me.  As I was already running late this was not very helpful.

I finally got my coffee and picked out a Cranberry something muffin with Rosemary.  This was the first one I saw and let’s face it, I’m a sucker for anything Rosemary.  I try and put that shit in everything.  It’s a little taste of heaven.  I was rung up and almost swallowed my gum when I was told my total was $8.50.  Jesus.  Thank god I didn’t choose to get fancy this morning or my ‘breakfast’ would have been over $10.  I decided this was a necessary step to try this place out and immediately knew I probably wouldn’t return.  This is just a little too out of my price range for a breakfast consisting of no eggs.  In fact, this is on par with most lunches I purchase.  No bueno.

I walked over to add milk and was met with two options: Half and Half, and Soy milk.  I think that says it all.  I have a strict routine I’ve been following for a while now, of using both Half and Half and Skim milk, due to the fact that at home I uses non fat Half and Half.  I’m kind of used to the fact that some places don’t offer Skim as an option, but no 2% or anything?  That was a bit strange.  I had a very short and nice conversation with the woman next to me, who exclaimed, “Don’t you just love their coffee!”  I took a sip.  And it’s great.  No joke.  They know what their doing.  BUT.  Do I love it for $4 a cup?  Not really.  Throwing some cinnamon in my Dunkin Donuts ground coffee at home does the trick for me, and that’s FREE.

Sorry to say, Intelligentsia, I don’t think I’ll be returning to wait in your long line and then wait longer for you to brew my expensive cup of coffee for one.  Excellent service and charming baristas, but that’s just not worth the price.  Seeing that it seems you have regulars strolling in and a long line in the morning, I don’t think you’ll be missing me.