Valentine's dinner

Generally speaking im not a veggie person and cauliflower has always ranked really low on my list of acceptable vegetables the only time I've really liked cauliflower was at Cibreo-- the Michelin starred resto in Florence. Yeah, I hear you say, whatev. But I'm determined to get over it-- there must be a way to make tasty. Martha Stewart, predictably, to the rescue. This recipe is absurdly easy-- the hardest part is chopping the cauliflower up. But the results are perfectly delicious. I'm a cauliflower convert.

Martha Stewart's Roasted Cauliflower

1 head cauliflower, cut into small florets
1 tablespoon olive oil
salt and pepper (coarse)
1 tablespoon butter
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon capers
1 teaspoon caper juice

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Trim, and cut cauliflower into small florets; spread in a roasting pan or rimmed baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil; season with coarse salt and ground pepper. Toss to combine. Roast, tossing once or twice, until cauliflower is golden brown and tender, 20 to 25 minutes.

In a small skillet, melt butter over medium heat. Cook garlic cloves, stirring often, until lightly browned, 2 to 3 minutes.

Remove from heat. Add capers and caper juice. Pour over cauliflower, and toss to coat.

Posted from my iPhone

Sunday Dinner at Mom's

Going home for My Omnivore, as he is fond of reminding me, means going to Colorado Springs, not New York.

We arrived in April, My Omnivore assuring me that the weather would be great--"you'll love it!" Wait...where have I heard that before?

Part of the charm of coming home, if you can call it charm, is finding out what's changed and apparently alot-aLOT has changed in Colorado Springs which is now sprawled out vastly to the east and includes not only Petersen Air Force Base and Focus on the Family, but also two Whole Foods and a fine wine store in Colorado Liquor Outlet, where we picked up a couple of bottles of Magness Estates Merlot (a local winery that sources their grapes from the same place in Napa that Pahlmeyer does according to our helpful sales person) and the Pine Ridge Chenin Blanc/Viognier that I like so much. My Omnivore found himself confused and quite lost just getting to our hotel on roads that never existed in his childhood.

Some things remain in the same place though -- including the church of his childhood, Good Shepherd. It's not the small place he remembered though. New extensions, new windows, new buildings-- we wandered around the place with him exclaiming at every corner, much like I do in New York --"Wait that used to be the really good Glatt deli!!! And where is the Red Apple market??" Well, okay, so he didn't use those exact terms... but it was just like that...

One of the most beautiful new additions to the church are the stained glass windows created by Loy Jones, the father of one of Eric's childhood friends. When he and his wife Betty came over for dinner later, he brought along the pictures of the process from start to finish. I couldn't help thinking how marvelous it must be to be able to do something like that -- a craft that people have been practicing for centuries in much the same fashion.

The night we arrived the church was also putting on their "Living Last Supper" a reenactment of Dinner In The Upper Room. It seemed so fitting, seeing as we were already planning our own supper (though not the last one, by a long shot.)

One of our great aspirations was to make a nice dinner for My Omnivore's mom. So it was that on a snowy Palm Sunday (!! April? Yes, it's April...yes... April...), we imposed on Mom to pull out her slow cooker, picked up a couple of chickens at the local Whole Foods and made dinner for her and a few of the friends that Eric knew from childhood.

On the menu:

• Mixed olives
• Haystack Mountain's Snowdrop Goat Cheese
• Coq au Vin (recipe here)
• Smashed Yukon Gold Potatoes
• Brussel Sprouts with Lemon & Parmagiano (recipe below)
  
• Tarte Tatin with Sweetened Sour Cream (recipe here)
  

We picked a fabulous Colorado goat cheese from Boulder's Haystack Mountain called "Snowdrop," which I've had before, but never quite so fresh or quite so delightful.

Haystack also makes a number of other cheeses which I wish we'd had time to try. The Snowdrop has a firm dry center with a deliciously gooey, runny outside held together by a salty washed rind.

Speaking of delicious, I'm in love with Mom's slow cooker. Over the past few years, I've thought off and on about getting one, but now after hearing both Mom and My Omnivore's sister enthuse about how you can chuck your soup/stew/roast into the slow cooker, leave for work and come back eight hours later with dinner ready to go and the house smelling all fabulous--well, let's just say, I'm seriously thinking about some options.

Plus, the slow cooker doesn't have to take up valuable countertop-- you can plug it in anywhere--the bathroom, say-- and let it go about its business while you enjoy your kitchen counterspace.

Brussel Sprouts with Lemon & Parmagiano

20-25 Brussel sprouts (choose heads that are firm and tight)
4 slices of thick cut bacon, chopped into small pieces
1 lemon
about 1/2 cup grated Parmagiano-Reggiano or Pecorino cheese
Salt and pepper to taste

Rinse and sort the Brussel sprouts removing any dead or dried out leaves, then slice into thin coins/ribbons, about 1/4" wide.

In a skillet or saute pan, cook the bacon over a medium heat until the bacon is cooked through (about 5 minutes) and some of the fat has rendered into the pan. Add the Brussels and lower the heat to medium low, stirring and cooking for about ten to fifteen minutes until the Brussels are softened. Squeeze the juice of one lemon over the Brussels and add salt and pepper to taste.

Put the Brussels into a serving bowl and sprinkle about 1/4 cup of Parmagiano over the top. Serve with extra cheese on the side.

Rounding out the meal was the ubiquitous Tarte Tatin. My Omnivore has a habit of requesting this dessert at every meal we make. I roll my eyes, but make it for him, because, after all, it is a pretty good recipe.

We used Braeburns and Golden Delicious apples this time, and I'm happy to report, there wasn't a speck left over after the dinner.

Ah, Wilderness! Dinner

"A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
Ah, Wilderness were Paradise enow!"

-- The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

It's been a long weekend. Actually a long week. But check this out: we cooked, I think, our most elaborate dinner to date, and have lived to tell.

Can I tell you a few things that we learned?
1) We are not Thomas Keller. Two people do not equal Thomas Keller, Three or more, probably do not equal Thomas Keller. He's weird--like supernatural weird. So before you go trying to cook some recipe out of his French Laundry cookbook, think. Carefully. That's all I'm gonna say.

2) Martha Stewart is on your side. I don't care what kind of a person she is in real life. I don't care if she scares small children or freaks you out with her individually stuffed peas. She knows her food. She knows how to set you up for a fancy party. Trust me.

3) It truly takes a village to complete one of these shindigs. None of us, NONE of us has all that you need to pull this off -- lean on your friends. Heavily.

Okay, so on we go. Here's our fridge--woefully inadequate as it is, but pressed into service again for our multi-course dinner in honor of our Russian friends, including three of our terrific local choreographers, and the lovely Lady Di, a ballerina from the Kirov and Bolshoi. Joining the guest list, Ms. Devushka and one of our gorgeous Bay Area dancers, whom I'll call La Muse.

As regular readers of this blog know, we've been prepping this for a few days, making stock bases, testing dishes.

With our schedules packed to brim with work, we needed a battle plan for the whole week. I won't put up the picture of our sauce-stained schedule but it went from Sunday all the way through a minute to minute schedule on the day of cooking. Good thing too, around course four, when the stress gets to be overwhelming, there's a comfort in just looking at the plan and, in an almost zombie-like fashion, following orders.

We check everything off the check list, pack it up into boxes and cooler and bags, stuff it into the car and away we gooo...

Here's the usual printed menu-- you might notice that what started out as simple printed recipe cards has gotten progressively more elaborate...

The Menu:

• "Borscht," Fried Red Beet Chip with Creme Fraiche and Dill
  
• Sformato of Celeriac with Duck Confit, Green Apple and Parsley Vinaigrette
• Cream of Cepes with Chervil Cream and Crispy Croutons
• Paupiette of Sablefish on a Bed of Melted Leeks with Syrah Sauce
• Herb Sorbet
• Venison with Pan-Roasted Butternut Squash, Braised Shallots and Wild Rice
• Montbriac Blue Cheese with Comice Pear Poached in Nebbiolo d’Alba & Toasted Walnuts
• Petit Fours and Rosemary Shortbreads
  

Ms. Five-and-a-Half, as always, arranged a spectacular table, with a beautiful centerpiece designed by her friend Tom Bastianon at Trillium Flowers in Petaluma.

Our theme was "Ah, Wilderness," so the final assembly had everything from forsythia to little wild mushrooms. Honestly, this is something I could never even visualize, much less execute. Thank goodness there are talented people out there!



So as I said, it takes a village to do one of these things. We busily borrowed from all sorts of kind folks who were actually extraordinarily generous with their kitchen goods.

Ms. Food Snoot loaned us her mandoline -- ours is horrible and just doesn't cut anything. But having used this all week, I have to say, I am so springing for one of these things. Brunoise, slices of beets--it slices, it dices, it even juliennes.

From Ms. Five-and-a-Half's friend Wayne, came these elegant ruffled crystal plates, which we used for dessert -- so delicate I barely wanted to even pick them up (Have I mentioned that I've had a little problem um, holding anything lately. Especially if it's expensive?)


Wayne's an artist (Check out his website to see some of his work.) and he gamely joined in the planning fun, also loaning these gorgeous Faberge candlestick holders and this beautifully bound copy of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam from the 1920s.

No pressure.

So as usual, we descended on Ms. Five-and-a-Half and Mr. Thirteen's kitchen and took over pretty much every exposed surface.




When we began planning, Ms. Five-and-a-Half left me a message, "Okay, start thinking of a menu that doesn't have borscht or pierogies."

It's a sort of sense of inborn perversity then that My Omnivore suggested we do an amuse of beet chips with a dollop of creme fraiche and a sprinkle of dill, and call it "Borscht."

Beet chips actually cook down A LOT when you fry them. I knew that already from past experience, so I bought the biggest beet you've ever seen in your life -- really, the size of a small child's head. Honestly. Like six inches in diameter.

They cooked down to about and inch and a half in diameter.

It was quite a process -- and let me say how grateful I was for the mandoline in this case.

But the efforts were woth it. The flavor of the beet was intensified and the bit of creme fraiche and dill just gave you that fleeting image of borscht in your head.

By the way, I have to say I love my new little plates. It's utterly silly, but I love them.

Okay, the first course was based on a terrific starter I had at Babbo's in New York. The hardest part of this one is making the celeriac puree. By the way, it's worth the trouble to run the celeriac through a food mill and then also blenderize it with a stick blender to get it super creamy. The texture of the resulting sformato will be ungodly creamy.

Sformato of Celeriac

• 2 cups bechamel sauce, recipe follows
• 1 pound celeriac
• 1-2 cups milk
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 pinch freshly ground nutmeg, or to taste
• 1/4 cup grated Parmesan
• 2 eggs and 2 yolks
• 2 ounces butter
• 1/4 cup fresh bread crumbs, lightly toasted under broiler
Bechamel:
• 1 stick unsalted butter
• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 4 cups hot milk
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

Cut the celeriac into 2-inch cubes and put into a medium pot. Cover with milk and bring to a simmer (do not allow to boil). Cook until the celeriac is tender (about 30 minutes) then remove celeriac with a slotted spoon and puree in a blender or food processor. If the mixture is too thick, add a little of the milk. Set aside to cool.

Make the béchamel sauce as follows:
Melt butter in a 2-quart saucepan until frothing. Remove from heat and stir in flour with a whisk. Cook over low heat for 4 to 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Add 1/2 of the hot milk and whisk until smooth. Add remaining milk and whisk until smooth. Bring to boil, add nutmeg, lower heat and simmer 10 minutes. Can be used hot or cold.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

In a mixing bowl, mix the pureed celeriac, the bechamel, salt, nutmeg, Parmesan, eggs and yolks. Stir until thoroughly combined.

Butter 12 1-cup oven-proof dessert cups for individual servings and coat with bread crumbs. Divide the celeriac mixture into the each cup-- each one should be about 2/3 to 3/4 full. Fill a 12-inch baking pan 2/3 filled with hot water.

Place the cups on the baking pan, so that they are standing in the hot water. Carefully place the baking pan into the oven. Bake until the top of the sformatos are golden brown and a dipped toothpick comes out clean, about 35 to 40 minutes. Remove and allow to cool 15 minutes.

To serve: Turn the sformatos out onto plates and serve.

We served them the way I had them at Babbo's, with a little salad, shredded duck confit and julienned tart green apple.

This next is a recipe out of Martha Stewart. You can make it up to three days ahead and then just heat it up to serve when you're ready-- it was the easiest course to put together the whole evening and it was one of the best. This is why I love Martha. By the way, spring for the Italian porcinis, they're way more fragrant than the American ones we tried. And feel free to increase the amount liberally.

Porcini Mushroom Soup

• 3/4 cup dried Polish or porcini mushrooms (about 3/4 ounce)
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 3 medium leeks (about 1 pound), white and pale-green parts only, finely chopped and rinsed well
• 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 3/4 cup medium sherry, such as amontillado
• 5 cups homemade or low-sodium chicken stock
• 1/2 teaspoons finely chopped fresh thyme
• 2 pounds assorted fresh mushrooms, such as cremini
• Coarse salt and freshly ground pepper
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1 cup whole milk

Cover dried mushrooms with 2 cups boiling water in a heatproof bowl; let stand until soft, about 30 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer mushrooms to a cutting board, and finely chop; set aside. Strain soaking liquid; set aside.

Melt butter in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add leeks; cook, stirring occasionally, until soft but not browned, 10 to 15 minutes. Stir in flour; cook 2 minutes. Add sherry; whisk until smooth. Whisk in stock, thyme, and reserved soaking liquid; bring to a boil. Reduce heat; simmer 5 minutes. Stir in dried and fresh mushrooms. Remove from heat.

Pour into a large bowl. Working in 3 batches, puree soup in a food processor, making sure there are no remaining mushroom pieces; return to pan. Bring to a simmer; cook, stirring occasionally, 15 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Stir in cream; bring just to a simmer. Season with salt. Stir in milk; cook until just heated through. Serve immediately, or refrigerate, covered, up to 3 days; reheat before serving.

Ah the Paupiette of Sea Bass. Our bugaboo. If you're observant you'll note that the potato wrapping is not on the fish. That's because it all slid off in the cooking process.

We worked hard to not freak out as this is the THIRD time this damnable, DAMNABLE dish has thwarted us.

As they started coming apart in the pan in the flipping of the fish we conferenced on what to do. "Take them off." I barked angrily. If I could have wrung Daniel Boulud's neck, I would have.

But then I'm torn-- should I wring Boulud's neck first or Thomas Keller's?

This stuff takes nerves of steel, and ours are more or less at the stage of aluminum foil by this point and we have our biggest high-wire act to come. The Thomas Keller Venison Chop with Pan-Roasted Butternut Squash and Braised Shallots. We added wild rice to this mix because it could be cooked and quietly sit on its own.

I won't reprint the recipe or process here because this is the dish which we started preparing on Sunday (veal stock), continued on Monday (remouillage of veal bones), went on in the wee hours of Tuesday (veal reduction), and Thursday (Veal "Quick" Sauce). My Omnivore handled the venison famously, I must say, searing the chops--which we got at my new favorite meat supplier, Polarica--minute and a half on each side, and then a little rest in Beurre Monte.

The venison was perfect, although if I'm being honest, I think the butternut squashes needed more attention-- they were pretty, but underdone. Still, altogether it was a lovely dish-- but just complex enough to make your stress level rise.

Our pièce de résistance though is the cheese course. We've done this one before and it was crazy good: Montbriac cheese with Toasted Walnuts and a Comice Pear poached in Nebbiolo d'Alba. Here's the thing: when we made this years ago, we threw this course together based on a rumor of a Thomas Keller (there's that name again) pairing, and got a wine recommendation from someone at the SF Wine Club, or someplace...we couldn't remember. We also couldn't remember what the !#$^** wine was, because I didn't blog it. We knew that it was an inexpensive Italian, we knew it was red, and we knew it went together perfectly with the Montbriac. That's all. Let that be a lesson to me. Must blog everything so there's a record...

So this course became our Great White Whale. Long--LONG-- did we seek the answer to our simple question -- a red wine to poach a pear in so it would go with the cheese. You wouldn't believe how much resistance we ran into. We went from wine shops to wine bars, toting along pieces of Comice pear, toasted walnuts and little wedges of Montbriac (a creamy cow's milk blue from the Auvergne region) for people to try. But the most frustrating thing was how many folks would listen to our expanation of what we wanted, and then say, "But what you really want is a white wine, a sweet wine, Champagne, a dessert wine, try this Eiswein, you don't put red wine with blue cheese, horrors--Mon Dieu, Quelle Horreur!"

I became quite uncharacteristically testy, I must say. Some guy in a wine store would start saying, "But I just can't help thinking that this little white would be..."

And I would cut them off. "We want red. RED! Yes, we know all about white wine and blue cheese, but we're asking for RED. What part of "RED" don't you understand?"

What was ultimately educational about this whole exercise, I guess, is that we learned which wine stores to go to where they'll actually listen to you, who you can ask a challenging question of, who is willing to think outside the box. And I'm gonna name names: one I mentioned above, the guys at Wine Club and Guilhaume Gerard at Terroir.

Terroir is a great place to sit and chat with some really knowledgeable folks about wine, especially organic, biodynamic wines. But I will say this: Dagan, you're a great guy, but when you kept pushing the whites, when you said, "Well, now this white is what I'M talking about...," I knew you were NOT PAYING ATTENTION. Guilhaume, on the other hand, quietly took a nibble of Montbriac, walnuts and pear and thought about it. And every so often he'd come back with a thought. Ultimately we didn't use any of his red suggestions, but he totally won me over.

"You guys are rebels aren't you? You're outside the box," he observed.

Anyway, long story short, Italian red wine for poached Comice pears, budgetricious-- Nebbiolo d'Alba. Extra-special points to Floribeth at the Jug Shop for correctly surmising that it must be a wine from the Piedmont, because a Barolo or a Barbaresco would have been her choice. Nebbiolo d'Alba is made from the same grape, but far more in our budget range. Victory, at last! By the way, I've mentioned the name Nebbiolo d'Alba about fifty times here because I never want to forget it!!!

Comice Pear Poached in Nebbiolo d’Alba

• 4 Comice Pears
• ¾ cup sugar
• 1-1/2 cups dry red wine such as Nebbiolo d’Alba
• 1 Tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
• pinch of salt
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Combine the sugar, wine, lemon juice and a pinch of salt in a saucepan and bring just to the boiling point, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Lower the heat, and let simmer for 5 minutes.

Peel the pears, cut them into quarters and remove the cores.

Add the pears to the hot syrup, cover and cook gently for 20-25 minutes or until the pears are tender. Do not allow to boil.

Stir in the vanilla extract. Cool the pears in the syrup then chill in the refrigerator.

Serve with ripe Montbriac cheese and walnuts blanched in milk and then toasted.

Oh, so spectacular and so satisfying. I love Montbriac. And I love that we prevailed and served a RED wine with BLUE cheese.

And as promised, here is the recipe for those Rosemary Shortbreads. They were a last minute thing I threw together, but they're super easy to make on short notice.

Rosemary Shortbread
2-1/2 cups AP flour
2 sticks unsalted butter
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1-2 tsp chopped rosemary
1-2 Tbsp granulated white sugar

Combine first four ingredients in a bowl, mixing until combined. It will be dry and crumbly, but keep kneading until the lumps are out.

Press the dough into a 9x 13 pan and score "cookie lines" and prick the tops. Sprinkle granulated sugar across the top

Bake at 300°F for 30 min.

-----------------------------------
Some good links:

• Wayne David Hand's website
• Nikolai Kabaniaev's site
  
• Viktor Kabaniaev's site
• Trillium Flowers
• Daniel Boulud and those Paupiettes
• One of my favorite bloggers, Carol cooks Thomas Keller's venison
• Babbo's recipe archive
• Divine Delights for those fabulous petit fours

Kitchen Table Project: Nixtamal and Posole

Another project. Corn. I've been fascinated with corn ever since I read about the huge variety of types, in gorgeous colors and all sorts of shapes and sizes.




I say with some remorse, that one year after my friend of the Dissipated Fog sent me these gorgeous, multi-hued samples of Peruvian corn, I STILL haven't tested them.

Part of the problem was not knowing how to cook them, or deal with them properly.

So the other day when I wandered into a bodega while waiting for my burrito at a little place along San Bruno, I thought, you should just look for the slaked lime. Not lime like "little green limes," mind you, lime like "calcium hydroxide" lime.

It's a process that's been used by MesoAmericans for some 3000 to 4000 years. And as with many curious chemicals that we use to cook with, but DO NOT EAT, please note that it is highly caustic, can cause internal bleeding, possible perforation of esophagus, severe pain, vomiting, diarrhea, and collapse. Just sayin'.

So anyway, there it was, this poisonous caustic chemical innocently sitting there in a plastic packet for $0.89. I scooped up that and a bag of gigantic, pale, white cacahuatzintle kernels, which are usually meant for posole.

An experiment. A Kitchen Table Project.

It would be easier of course, if a cat were not sitting on my instructions, but what can you do? I'll go from memory...



So we split a handful of the kernels off into a small pot and boiled them only in water.
Nixtamal

1-1/2 lbs cacahuazintle
2 quarts of water
2-1/2 Tablespoons slaked lime (Cal)

In a large non-reactive pot, mix the water and lime until it is completely dissolved (the water will still look milky) and bring it to a boil over a high heat. Add the corn to the pot, skimming off any kernels that float on top. Bring the pot back to a boil and then lower the heat and simmer 20 minutes.

Fascinatingly, the corn went from white to yellow, a pretty bright yellow as it cooked. Note from the picture left that the corn we bought was con cabeza, that is, it still has the little pedicel or tab where the corn kernel used to be attached to the cob. You can also buy cacahuazintle that is already descabezado or pedicel removed.

After 20 minutes, turn off the heat and let the pot cool for 15 minutes.

Drain the corn in a colander and rinse under running water--you'll notice that the skins have turned into a sort of gelatinous slime that is easy to rub off with your fingers -- although I advise wearing rubber gloves because the chemicals did really dry out the skin on my hands a lot!

You can also use a sharp paring knife or your fingernail to pick off the pedicel or the rough tab at the end of each kernel. (This was the key step that we skipped, but don't. When you make posole, you want the kernels to bloom--kind of like soft popcorn, and it won't if you don't pick off the pedicel.)

By the way, if this skin-shucking process sounds tedious, it's evenmore so in real life. Jeez, my respect to all those Mexican grandmas who cook for the family of 20 every day.

Posole

1 1/2 pounds pork shoulder, trimmed of fat and cut into bite-sized pieces
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
2 cloves
5 peppercorns
1 teaspoon Mexican oregano
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon salt
2 quarts water

4 guajillo chiles
4 pasilla chiles
1 cup water

Condiments (which in my opinion are not optional.)
shredded cabbage
sliced radishes
dried oregano
chopped onion
chopped cilantro
avocado slices
limes wedges
corn tortillas, sliced into strips and fried in canola oil

Heat vegetable oil over medium-high heat in a large stockpot or Dutch oven. Brown the pork pieces until they have a nice dark crust. Reduce heat to medium and add chopped onion. Saute over medium heat until the onions soften.

Grind the cloves and peppercorns using a mortar and pestle or a coffee grinder. Add the garlic and spices and continue to cook, stirring constantly, for about one minute. Add 2 quarts water and simmer until pork is tender, about 2 hours.

Meanwhile, de-seeds ancarefully (i.e. with hands covered in rubber gloves, remove the seeds and veins from the dried chiles, and toast briefly on a dry skillet. Transfer to a saucepan with 1 cup of water, and cook until over low heat until tender, about 30 minutes. Once cooked, blend the chiles with enough water to make a smooth sauce.

When the pork is tender, add chile sauce and nixtamal (along with its rich cooking liquid) to the pot. Simmer for another hour.



Serve posole hot in soup bowls, with a selection of condiments for the guests to add as they wish.

If the posole had actually bloomed, it would have been better, but tasty...very tasty!

Political Fondue Party- Dippity-Doo-Dah

In my entire life I've never before had two candidates I really could actually truly vote FOR. Seriously.

But of course, we live in California, so not only are we responsible for selecting the next president of the United States, we also have to vote on a half a dozen propositions, money for parks, gas tax, authorizing slot machines for casinos, extended retirement for police officers -- jeez louise-- don't even ask. We'll set aside for a moment my questions about why _I_ have to do this when we pay people to go to Sacramento to make legislation and deal with budget issues.

Our larger problem is that we have to actually read the accursed props before SuperTuesday. This year we've actually been organized enough gather together a group of like-minded (i.e. also confused) friends on the Sunday before the election, so that we can all read through and argue the pros and cons.

We originally billed it as a Political Pizza Party, but it seemed appropriate to promise our constituents one thing and then deliver another, so we turned it into a fondue party instead. It was partly inspired by Melissa Clark's recent piece in the New York Times of course, but we did the Martha Stewart twist, because her Spanish fondue sounded wintry and warming.

We escaped the 70s without a fondue pot, so we worked with candles and All Clad instead and that worked just perfectly.

And instead of cubed bread, I tried making grissini. The bread sticks were actually quite yummy on their own, although I have to say, the smooth surface means that the cheese doesn't stick quite as well as it does to rough bread pieces.



Political Fondue Party Menu

• Classic Fondue of Appenzeller, Gruyere and Emmenthaler
• Spanish Fondue of Manchego and Brigante with Red Bell Pepper and Sherry
• Semisweet Chocolate Fondue and Lemon Madeleines

For dipping, we also offered lightly steamed broccoli, new potatoes, fennel slices, red bell pepper slices, cherry tomatoes, cornichons, olives and chorizo as well as the grissini. There were also chunks of Gala apples and pears for the chocolate.

Um... there's a paw in that picture.

Um. Excuse you.

Our arrangement attracted the attention of the Cheese Kitty, who inspected all concoctions, before settling on my knee to keep an eye on the action.

Classic Fondue

1 clove of garlic, split
1 1/2 cups dry white wine
1.5 lbs of swiss style mountain cheeses such as Gruyere, Emmenthaler, Raclette or Appenzeller
2 Tbsp cornstarch
2 tsp fresh squeezed lemon juice
white pepper
nutmeg

Grate the cheeses roughly and combine in a bowl, tossing with cornstarch.

Rub the cut side of the garlic clove over the surface of the pot and then add the white wine and bring to a boil. (I also chopped the garlic up and threw it into the pot too.) Add the cheese in handfuls, stirring until the cheese melts. then add in lemon juice, and if desired, pepper and nutmeg.

Serve hot!

Spanish Cheese Fondue

1 clove garlic, split
1 1/2 cups dry Spanish Sherry
1.5 lbs Spanish Cheese such as Mahon, Manchego, Idiazabal (We used an Italian cheese called Pecorino Brigante, but it worked quite well in this recipe)
2 Tbsp cornstarch
1 small red bell pepper, ribs and seeds removed and finely minced
Salt and pepper to taste

Grate the cheeses roughly and toss in a bowl with cornstarch to coat the cheeses.

As with the recipe above, rub the cut side of the garlic on the surface of the pot, and then add the sherry and bring to a boil. Add in handfuls of the cheeses and stir until they melt. Stir in the red bell pepper, salt and pepper. Serve hot!

And this one is SUPER-easy:

Chocolate Fondue

1 cup heavy cream
1/2 lb semi sweet chocolate (we used 58% cacao El Rey)

Heat the cream over a medium heat, but keep an eye on it so it doesn't boil. When steam begins rising off the cream, add in chocolate and lower the heat if necessary to keep it from over boiling. Stir until the chocolate is melted and then serve -- hot! We served with some madeleines and fruit.

We have no fondue forks either, so we improvised by rubber-banding triplets of bamboo skewers together-- which turned out to be highly effective and way cheap.

Oh, and positions?

Proposition 91- Gas Tax: NO
Proposition 92- Community College Funds: (unable to decide!)
Proposition 93- Term Limits: NO
Proposition 94- Indian Gaming: NO
Proposition 95- Indian Gaming: NO NO
Proposition 96- Indian Gaming: NO NO NO
Proposition 97- Indian Gaming: FER PETE'S SAKE-- NO ALREADY!

And bonus for San Franciscans:
Proposition A- Parks Improvements: YES
Proposition B- Defer retirement for Police: YES
Proposition C- Global Peace Center: NO (How did this even get to the ballot? Sheesh.)

Oh, and New York won!!!