A Perfect Day for Vino and Flatbread

It's been well documented how much Christine and I love our meandering journeys through Santa Ynez's wine country, with its sunny hay-colored rolling hills and majestic oaks along smooth highways and cool breezes. We set out a few months ago after Keith Saarloos invited us to the Tasting House for a family-and-friend gatherings on a scorchingly hot day. The sun might've been blasting through an empty sky but it didn't deter us from feasting upon dry-rubbed ribs and delicious corn salsa while lounging around in the shade. We stopped at our now de-rigeur spots, Santa Barbara Farmer's Market and La Super Rica before driving the leisurely 1.5 hours to Los Olivos.



There's a singer guy whom I could only wish to be, wearing shades while wiping sweat from his brow, belting tunes only Christine could identify (the human reverse-jukebox she is at knowing every imaginable song ever made). There are massive quarter-pieces of Grana Padana, shaved off and eaten with warm, ripe grapes (the eating kind). The grill has fall-off tender baby back ribs, sweet-glazed halibut chunks, and enough quesadilla to make Chef Ludo Lefebvre and Rick Bayless spar on an adobe rooftop. Christine and I are happy as clams, or perhaps tamales on this bucolic Californian countryside.



Keith shows us the special back room where they store a slew of magnums and the #1 bottles of each wine available in their second "vintage". The room, designed by his wife, couldn't be any more pleasant, lovely, and inviting. It just begs you to linger, sip wine, eat cupcakes, and just let the hours pass.



Before going up to Los Alamos for Full of Life Flatbread's highly lauded pizzas, Keith gives us the OK to stop by one of the vineyards, located on a flat area nearby the highway entrance. The plants are lush, but the air is warm like a sauna. Christine and I waste an hour or so underneath a towering tree, sipping a bottle of chilled Daughters Chardonnay.



Saarloos & Sons
2971 Grand Ave, Los Olivos, CA
saarloosandsons.com

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Formerly "American Flatbread", Full of Life Flatbread resides in a wooden structure along the dusty mainstreet of Los Alamos, a town with more antique shops and old buildings than people. We stepped into the back room, brightly lit as half the dining room opened up to the patio. The sun was waning and we were hungry for some piping hot flatbread straight from the wood burning oven. We started out the meal with a couple of cold beers and the highly lauded heirloom tomato salad. The tomatoes seem warm, freshly picked from the fields though the included burrata wasn't up to the standard we'd had in LA. It didn't matter, we chomped through this dish in minutes.



If you ever saw Christine and I order, we're radically different in our approach. Christine likes to maximize the experience by making sure she's checked over EVERY single item on the menu in complete detail, to make sure that we're getting the best dish. Then when push comes to shove, she will be adamant in asking the server what his or her favorite dish is, often going with the suggestion. On the other hand, I usually gear my eyes toward three or four dishes that catch my fancy and pick one that I'm confident with A) best reflect the restaurant's approach/ingredients/strengths and B) be something I happen to want that evening. What you won't find at Mozza is Flatbread's wonderful accmmodation, where we ordered half Pepperoni & Peppers (with poblano chilis) and Mushroom & Caramelized Onions. The best of both worlds.





The crust is thin but not achingly so like many New York pies, the warm baked dough puffy on the edges and emiting delicious wafts of the wood-fired oven. The bottom is just crispy enough to give a crunch while the fresh toppings make it a joy to eat. The mini-slices make it easier to share amongst the two of us, as even an odd number of slices would result in either a game of rock-paper-scissors or just me conceding the last bit to Christine.



Dessert was a beautiful apricot tarte, baked in the oven and capped with a small mountain of whipped cream. The flavor was rustic and simple, the perfect cap to this day in wine country.



Note: Flatbread is only open 5-10PM on Fridays and Saturdays, with a prix fixe supper on Sundays from 4-8PM.

Full of Life Flatbread
225 West Bell Street
Los Alamos, California
(805) 344-4400

Crabfest at Hungry Cat

She's been waiting. Four long years of reading about so many great experiences at Hungry Cat's wild and crazy Crabfest, an annual gathering of gourmands, gustatory pros, and gluttons. Rickmond of Rameniac was saying that in prior years, when the pristinely fresh Maryland blue crabs were available for unlimited consumption, it would be an all-out gorge fest. I actually hadn't read too much about the event itself - I only heard Christine's wishes to attend this year about, say, 4106 times. Literally.



So, I made sure to heed her desire when HC offered to make reservations for us. It was a long month waiting, but the day finally arrived. We had an early 11AM reservation inside the restaurant, which made it ideal for lighting. Actually when I was doing the post-processing for these photos, I was almost giddy because of how great they came out. Seriously, these photos aren't because of me, it's because of this amazing soft lighting that just blanketed the room in perfect food photo lighting. I can easily relive this meal because of it.

Matty Eggleston, a friend and a polished yet creative bartender helped put together the fruit-forward cocktail program at Hungry Cat. Though he's no longer officially associated with Hungry Cat, he was there for the Crabfest and said hello to Christine and me. Matty has made us delicious drinks at The Varnish and the recent Rosangel Hibiscus Rum competition at Malo (where he also won first place with his nutella-based Lullaby cocktail), though he know consults on the budding cocktail program at Wurstkuche.



Chef David Lentz was manning the large stoves up front where he and another cook were steaming up the still-live blue crabs. A quick detour/lesson on blue crabs. They're cultivated and raised all along the Atlantic Coast and Gulf of Mexico. They're harvested using "crab pots", wire mesh traps and sorted out by male and female since there are catching limits for female crabs. An old adage goes that if the abdomen or "apron" looks like the Washington Monument, it's a male, if like Capitol Hill, a female. I'm not sure if the crabs we had were all male or female, but a flavor difference isn't noted in the meat. We did, however, encounter delicious creamy sacs inside the shell which we surmised was either the eggs or the liver. Either way, it was as delicious as warm ankimo, or monkfish liver, if not more tender and luscious in texture. Final note: why are they blue? The beautiful bright blue pigment Alpha-crustacyanin interacts with a red pigment, astaxanthin, forming a greenish-blue coloration. When the crab is cooked, the Alpha-crustacyanin breaks down, leaving only the astaxanthin, which turns the crab red-orange (quoted from Blue Crab Archives).

We were lucky enough that Chef Lentz prepared these the classic Maryland way using Old Bay Seasoning, a brilliant red seasoning that's heavy on celery seed, bay leaf, salt, and pepper. It was so good that Rickmond dared us to lick the clumps directly off the steamed crab 'aprons", an almost masochistically salty goodness that made me feel like a cow on a salt lick. My doctor, who's concerned about my hyper-tension, was probably frowning somewhere.

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I didn't get any cocktails since it was morning, but I did get a taste of each of these beverages. The first is a Black Eyed Plum, made with cachaca, muddled plum, basil, and lime. It was just sour enough to balance the overweening sweetness. It sure looked fantastic. Fiona had a vodka-based drink with fresh orange and peach slices to tame the fiery liquor. Rickmond had a julep-like bourbon drink mixed with cream and berry. It too was quite strong on the liquor, so I made sure to have just a small sip. The last was an IPA from Port Brewing, which paired well at a later point in the meal with the softshell crab salad.



We started the meal with a simple but effect amuse bouche, a modest crab salad atop a mini bun, buttered and toasted for our enjoyment. It was a little difficult to eat so I just took the meat off and bit into the bread while picking up bites of the meat with my fork. It wasn't overly sauced with mayonnaise and the fresh crab was delicious. A nice start to the meal.



Next was a comforting, well-seasoned soup aptly dubbed "The Pride of Baltimore", laced with dreamy whists of tender crabmeat swirled into a rich stock of aromatic vegetables and undoubtedly crabshells. I was eager to dip the superbly grilled cornbread into it, though it held on its own quite well with a mild yet sweet corn flavor.





Probably my favorite "prelude" dish of the morning was a beautiful roasted softshell crab salad, placed atop fresh mesclun greens, crispy bacon, sweet white corn, (true) blanched haricot verts (my favorite vegetable), and a gentle vinaigrette that bound it lovingly together. The lightly breaded softshell crab was a wonder of texture and flavor, bursting with juices. The entire construction was on the border of my unction-tolerance but I survived without too much fuss. I gobbled it down, glad that everyone else had a dish of their own. I was almost unwilling to share it.



We also had a requisite heirloom tomato salad, well-seasoned with a tangy vinaigrette and covered in slices of mild pecorino cheese and arugula. The tomato nearly melted in my mouth while the rather firm cheese provided a contrast. I could've done without the cheese, though it did afford a gorgeous photo.




While we waited for our lot of six crabs (each) to come, I had a little fun with the camera and the adorable little wooden hammers we got for crunching up the crabshells. She doesn't seem amused.



We were also given a potato salad, more straightforward than particularly ground-breaking, but it was an effective side dish to the crab feast awaiting us.



At first you think - six blue crabs? I could take that down easy, but these puppies are pretty big. At first you're timid, but then you forget your manners and attack with all fingers and limbs and taste buds. The first bite of the sweet, delicious meat is heavenly, laced with Old Bay spices and the immediate warm heat of the steamer. It's a process digging out the meat from various crevices and orofices, each find a lucky treat for the able forager. The table was instantly quieted by munching diners though a loud thud and crack of the hammer filled in the blanks. Personally I relish the legmeat, especially the claw. it's the perfect piece, the tenderloin or better yet, the proverbial "oyster" of the crab. The bigger legs offer similarly good meat though without an entire mouthful like the claw gives. The inside proffers the custardy, rich crab "butter", initially disgusting in sight, but easily compensated by its distinct, buttery flavor. There's really no other way to describe it. Once you crack open the shell, you divulge into the synchronous sides of flesh which offer the largest overall cache of meat. It's tough to dig through but its as rewarding as it is arduous. The meat is cleaner, simpler yet worlds more flavorful than dungeness crab.



We kept eating, and eating, and eating until it all just started tasting the same, though the diminishing marginal utility was only ever-so-slight. It's like getting sick of foie gras, truffle, and caviar but without the expense attached. I ended up busting through 3.5 crabs before having to leave for church. I heard by the end, there wasn't much appetite for the standard-issue peach cobbler. Some diners were full for days, weeks (actually mostly just for the rest of the day). This sort of Lucullan meal, an almost scandalous feast of monumental proportions, will live on in our memory, only to be awakened next year for Hungry Cat's annual Crabfest. Make reservations early, and come ready to eat.



Hungry Cat
1535 Vine St
Los Angeles, CA 90028
(323) 462-2155

Office Space Recipe: Green Tea Hot Cocoa

You all know. Those of you who wear button down shirts, nice suits, maybe ties (like me) or a business "dress". We're all office denizens, the cubicle brigade, toiling in our rolling chairs and basking in flurescent light. Food blogs are a diversion for us, unless you're unfortunate enough to have them blocked at the office. Eater is our homepage, or better yet, FoodGPS. We live for Wednesdays when the Food Section gets posted online. If we're truly within divine grace, we have access to Twitter so we can tweet away at work, employing a crafty alt-tab if we hear the bosses' footsteps.

Like me, sometimes you're at the office late, way after the shadows dim and the sun sets. To help me and all you office readers pass the time, I want to help you get a little creative at your desks and galleys or kitchens. I'll have a recipe like this every once in a while when inspiration comes. This one came when I was on my way to the restroom. I love the flavors because you get something almost nutty and mellow from the green tea, which balances out the sweet cocoa mix. It adds complexity to your standard issue hot cocoa. When I let the hot water churn the cocoa, I just think of Willy Wonky's Chocolate Factory, and how he said the waterfall churns the chocolate into a smooth, luscious consistency. Thinking about it, I'm going to go make another one right now.

Green Tea Hot Cocoa

1 thick office mug
1 bag any generic green tea
1 packet of hot cocoa powder
2 plastic stirs or 1 wooden stir

Fill a thick mug with boiling water from your coffee machine hot water tap. Let rest for 1 minute.

Pour out water into sink and re-pour another 4 tablespoons of water, give or take. Soak the green tea bag for about 2 minutes, occasionally lifting it up to let the flavors come out. Discard teabag.

Pour in packet of hot cocoa. Ever so slowly, pour hot water into the mug, letting it churn the cocoa mix into a frothy mix. Don't pour more than 8 total ounces, or one small cup's worth, as any more would dilute the hot cocoa.

Complete by stiring with two snappy plastic stirs or one wooden stir, like the ones we have at our office. Make sure every bit it incorporated.

Enjoy.

Serves 1