Tag Archives: Dinner

Thanksgiving to Friendsgiving

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This year’s thanksgiving wasn’t really typical, but it sure was long. About half way through the almost week long celebration, my stomach just started hurting. Not upset, hurting, but more just hurting.  Like it was yelling at me, “No more!”.

Why, you ask?

Day One:
Actual thanksgiving. We started the festivities by FaceTiming the Bylsma/Shurtleff clan back east and even participating in the traditional shot or two of whiskey that comes along.  Thanksgiving with my family one of the things I miss most about being back east, so it was great to see their faces and to be in that kitchen, as confusing as it was, for just a little while.

Brad had to work so Steve, Sarah, Suzi and I went in to eat our feast with Brad at Fords. Ever been to a restaurant on Thanksgiving? It’s freaking weird. I was thinking about “The Christmas Story” scene the whole time when they are in the Chinese restaurant on Christmas. Although our food was absolutely Thanksgiving appropriate, it was stupid expensive. That, however, is an issue I’m not going to get started on… The food was delicious with good company and I’m really, really glad we could bring a little holiday cheer to Brad’s workday.

Day Two:
This was Black Friday. Feast at our apartment with Steve and Sarah. Espresso and Vanilla Bean rubbed rib roast, brussel sprouts, sweet potato spears, mashed potatoes, braised greens, cranberries… Amazing. And this is all after walking around Montana Ave on Black Friday and stopping in to R+D for appetizers and drinks. We had to all cook a feast together at least once while we were together. That’s just what the Mathews and the Toasts DO!

Day Three:
Ok, I worked Saturday, but I was training so I got a free meal. Ate way too much. Ugh. This was the first day my stomach started hurting…

Day Four:
Toasts get back from San Diego. I get out of work early. We make shredded chicken tacos. We all eat a disgusting number of burritos and of course, we have a bottle of wine or two.  Then we make “deconstructed apple pie” with pigs and crabs cut out of pie crust, a Jack Daniels Honey spiced sauce, and Jack Daniels whipped cream.  Um, AMAZING.  One of the best drunken desserts I have ever participated in.

Day Five:
I seriously couldn’t eat this day. The Toasts heated up leftovers before they left to drive back to San Fran, but I just ate a bite or two then had an orange. Stomach was painful this day.  Had to rest. Prepping for the next day’s feast.

Day Six:
Ok, picture this…

Three chefs, a turkey, a Guinness goose, lots of wine, thirteen friends, people in from Stockholm, three homemade pies, brûléed macaroni and cheese (That’s right, they took delicious Mac and cheese, added more cheese, then took out a torch and brûléed it. This really happened), Brad’s Brussel sprouts, my mom’s sweet potato banana casserole, and every other Thanksgiving side you could possibly imagine. “Friendsgiving”. Topped off with an impromptu piano serenade that just about made my night. It was swanky. It was fun.  And it was delicious.

Day Seven?
I feel disgusting. Full, happy, delicious, satisfied, jolly and disgusting.

I do not diet. I don’t really need to because I typically eat really healthy and I’m blessed with a good metabolism. Fruits, vegetables, yogurt, i love it. But after this past week of every type of fat and calorie and butter being pumped through my veins, I’m reminded of Padma from Top Chef. I read somewhere once that she enjoys every dish during the season, not caring about or counting the calories along the way, and then she goes on a crash diet as soon as filming stops to get her figure back.  No booze, no cheese, no junk.  Lots of exercise.

At this point I was considering fasting. I’d eaten enough food to feed a family for at least a month. Juice detox maybe? Too extreme? I’ll never get through it. I mean, I work in a restaurant. It’s not possible.

So I decided today that my compromise is that I will be eating super crazy healthy for the next week (or until I can’t stand it anymore). This meaning cutting out dairy and wheat as much as possible and sticking to lean meats, fruits, and veggies. And even in the twelve hours since I decided this, I’ve found it extremely hard. Especially with all of the leftovers we still have in the fridge. And a husband who loves ice cream and cookies…

Thanksgiving, why did you do this to me? Why did you last six days and four feasts?

It is not easy being a chefs wife. Not easy at all.

So now that it’s late and the salad I made for dinner obviously didn’t fill up my stretched stomach, I raided the pantry for healthy foods and found the goods to make myself a snack that I haven’t had in years.

Have you had ants on a log recently? Delicious!! And peanut butter and raisins are usually my go to snack on a piece of bread. On celery, they’re delicious and even more healthy. And I felt like I was four years old again.

I couldn’t quite tell, but I think even Gibson was jealous.

So I gave her a little bit of peanut butter. She’s too cute to resist.

We will see how long this lasts…

Pop Up Restaurant Anyone?

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Earlier this week I came across a post on Eater LA about a Pop-Up restaurant this weekend only on Abbot Kinney.  Two chefs, one from Joe’s Restaurant and one from Axe (pronounced Ah-shay), were taking over some place called Capri for the weekend and hosting a $65, eight course tasting menu.  I forwarded it on to Brad.  Sounded like our kinda thing.

I sort of forgot about it because Brad never read the article and basically just said, “Yeah, ok.  Sure.”  We both had off Friday.  We love Abbott Kinney.  We love new restaurants.  We would probably end up going.  Sure.

And then Wednesday, as we were cranking what was probably an illegal U-turn on Electric Avenue (yep, that’s a real street name and every time we drive on it I sing the song) trying to find parking for our favorite coffee shop Intelligentsia, a black SUV pulled up next to us and rolled down the window.

Kris Tominaga, who Brad knows from Joe’s Restaurant, leaned out of the car and handed Brad a flyer.  We were obviously blocking traffic in so many directions, so we just exchanged a quick hello and “of course we’ll be there” before waiving our apologies to other angry drivers, completing our illegal maneuver and parking.  But the flyer put two and two together.  Kris was the chef from Joe’s who was hosting this pop-up this weekend, Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing.  One example of how sometimes illegal U-turns have beautiful endings.

We called and made a reservation while waiting in line at Intelligentsia (because there is ALWAYS a line – this is part of the Intelligentsia experience), and checked out the menu. And then I rubbed it in that I was one step ahead of Brad in something having to do with restaurants for once.  Boo-ya.

**Brad didn’t care.  He still knew both the chefs AND the guy who answered the phone to take the reservations, so he is still exponentially cooler than me.  And always will be.  Damn.**

 

So yesterday, Brad and I had a fantastic and crafty Brad and Kelly day off (I’ll update you on the crafty projects soon!), and after a two hour long Skype call with my parents, we headed over to Venice.

Directly across the street from one of the best restaurants in the WORLD (Tasting Kitchen) and one of the best restaurants in Los Angeles, if not the United States (Gjelina), Capri has never been successful.  I had never heard of it, but people tell me it was over priced and always empty.  Last night, as WISC, it was bustling, bright, and lively.

All white with white Christmas lights and brilliant, simply framed celebrity photographs lining the walls, it was a clean and classic atmosphere.  The brown craft paper laid on top of classic white table cloths was set with mismatched china (borrowing from their neighbors across the street?) and simple kitchen towels for napkins.  Mismatched chairs made it feel like a big family gathering where all the seating in the house was pulled together.

I love the feel of the ‘fancy mixed with simple’ trend going on now in restaurants.  Beautiful food served on amazing dishes in an environment that feels comfortable. People want the quality of fine dining food without the air of snobbery that can come along with it.  People want to feel like you are a chef inviting them into your house for a home cooked meal, not like they have to worry about which fork goes with which course.  This all goes double in Venice.

Also, I love white Christmas lights.  If Brad would let me, I’d have them up all around the house all year long.  When we have a restaurant, believe me I will sneak in Christmas lights some way.  Last night, I believe it was the Christmas lights that did me in.  I knew this place was going to be awesome.

I was right.  The menu was phenomenal.  The food was fantastic.  Our server was amazing and she told us the story behind every taste of wine and every dish she put in front of us.  The wine parings were out of this world and complemented both of the dishes each taste was meant for in big, bold and different ways.  Even the china was fun – we got the plate voted “Most Likely to Be Stolen By The End of the Weekend”.

Look at that ‘STACHE!!!

And then we made sure they saw that we gave it back.

For dessert, we had our second amazing biscuit of the day on Abbot Kinney (the first was a buttered quince paste biscuit for breakfast at Gjelina Take Away), and Brad said WISC’s beat out Gjelina’s hands down.  I ranked them neck and neck.  Buttery heaven.

As we drove back down Abbot Kinney on our way home last night, stuffed full and a little tipsy (just me), we passed the Otherroom and reminisced about my first birthday here in LA, just three days after we moved from NY to LA.  A friend of mine from college met us out at the Otherroom (her suggestion, I had no idea where to go), and we began our Abbot Kinney love affair with the Mick Jagger painting that was hanging right at the entrance.  That night we thought AK was a crazy little street with amazing window displays and such cool people.  Almost two years later (!!!), we are still finding new and amazing places on the street and still marveling at how cool all the people are.

WISC will only be around this weekend and will reopen to occupy the Capri space again for all of December.  I know for sure that Brad and I will be back as many times as we can afford to make sure that this new addition to AK sticks around into 2012.

Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing, thank you for the great time and for the delicious meal and best of luck to you!  We can’t wait to see you again in December!

Pasta Cravings and Kitchen Rules

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I love spaghetti.

This is not an understatement.  I would eat spaghetti six times a week.  Maybe seven if Brad didn’t feel like cooking.  And even without switching up the sauce or anything.  Just spaghetti and red sauce out of the jar.

I studied in Florence, Italy in the summer of 2004 and I was surrounded by amazing Italian food.  I took a class that was called “Italian Cooking” every Wednesday night where we would make these INCREDIBLE italian dishes with this large Italian man named Stefano.  I loved Stefano.  I also took his “Italian Wines” class, so he kind of wined and dined me – true Italian style.  AND he could pronounce Bylsma.  That is a major in with me.  I remember I told him I was impressed he got it right ont he first try and he said:

“What, Bylsma?  That’s Dutch.  Everyone knows Bylsma.”

That was one of the reasons that I fell in love with Italy, I think.  No one knows what Bylsma is, where its from, or even close to how to say it.  Gosh, America, keep up.  Everyone in Italy knows Bylsma.  Duh.

But anyway, back to spaghetti.  I might have had that one fantastic meal with Stefano every Wednesday night while I studied in Florence, but the other six nights a week, I went to my favorite little market and made myself pasta with red sauce out of the jar.  Of course it tasted amazing because I was in Italy.  And I was a poor college student.  And especially because the Euro/Dollar conversion was not exactly in my favor.  Best spaghetti I’ll ever have.

But nowI have this (sort of) problem.  I crave spaghetti.  I leave work at midnight and just want spaghetti.  And spaghetti is not the best thing for a girl’s figure at midnight.

I sent this picture to a girl I work with at 11:42 pm after we had closed down the bar together and I told her about my spaghetti obsession.

So last night I was home alone, doing some work and playing with my new iPad (!!!!) when I realized I was starving.  Of course, I had some spaghetti and red sauce on hand, but I decided to spice it up a little bit.  I cut up some chicken into strips and made me some “chicken parmesan” if you will.  And everytime I bread and fry something I am reminded of one of Brad’s kitchen rules.

Just to bring you up to speed if you have never been in our kitchen while Brad is cooking, there are what I like to call “Brad’s Kitchen Rules”.  I sometimes have to remind him that we are not in a professional kitchen and the health inspector is not coming by our apartment. (Which, actually one time she did for a completely un-kitchen related problem.  He likes to bring that up.)  Working in a kitchen 50-60 hours a week, the rules of the kitchen have been engrained in his head.

I also like to remind him that when we first met, I didn’t do dishes for a week.  They would sit “soaking” in my sink until they didn’t fit anymore and then maybe I’d throw them in the dishwasher.  Brad does not allow that to happen anymore.

The first rule that I will teach you is one of the least important in Brad’s mind, but it’s one of my favorites because if I screw it up I just have to wash my hands and start over.  And its probably the rule I’m best at.  So it’s a good place to start.

I present the first in an ongoing series of “Brad’s Kitchen Rules”.

Wet Hand/Dry Hand

So when I was making my chicken parmesan last night, I got my whole breading station set up.  I mixed together bread crumbs, garlic salt, italian herbs, lots of parmesan cheese, and chili pepper.  Then I beat an egg in a bowl.

The point of wet hand dry hand is to get all that chicken battered and not have your hand completely battered by the end of the process.  It can get very messy.  So I assigned my right hand to be the wet hand – the one that touches the chicken and dips it into the egg…

And my left hand was the dry hand that covered the chicken with the bread crumb mixture.  Since it never gets wet, it doesnt have big clumps of breadcrumbs sticking to it.  See?  (the thumbs up means I actually did a good job.  Minimal bread crumb stickage.  Brad would be proud.)

Basically, I melted a whole lot of butter (I mean, if you’re eating pasta at 11pm its already bad enough, you might as well add a lot of butter) and fried that chicken up.

Brad must have liked it because the pots are still in the sink.  That’s when you know you made something good – he forgot his own rule!  And that almost NEVER happens.  Even Stefano would be proud I think.

And Me, the Leftover Queen

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Yea, so you saw that Brad cooked another amazing meal while I Skyped with the folks last week.  But we have a bad habit of cooking like we are feeding a small army (you are always welcome for dinner, we invite our neighbors all the time), and with it usually just being the two of us we have some extreme leftover food.

 

Good thing I rock at leftovers.

 

Here was my late lunch/early dinner today.  Wild Arugula salad with Roasted Corn, Cherry Tomato, Homemade Balsamic Vinaigrette and Chilled Skirt Steak.

 

 

Beats a PB&J anyday.  Yum.

My Husband, the Chef

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Have I mentioned I am married to a chef?

Seriously, ladies – If you are not already in a serious relationship, find yourself a chef to marry.  It makes life delicious.  And it helps if he’s really hot and a pretty amazing guy, too.  That makes life delicious, attractive and awesome.

This is my delicious, attractive and awesome chef husband Brad.

When Brad and I are not working in a restaurant, we are eating amazing food or planning the next amazing food that we have to put in our mouths.  For us, life pretty much revolves around meals.  What we are eating  now, what we will eat next, and where we have to eat soon.

We get two nights a week off together (if we’re lucky) and we usually have planned out early in the week what we are cooking one of those nights and where we are eating the other night.  When you live in LA, there are a million amazing hole in the wall restaurants just waiting to serve you up your most amazing meal ever.  We are seldom disappointed.

This weekend (our weekend is Thursday/Friday.  It’s kind of awesome.), we finally got to try out Son of a Gun, which is an AMAZING restaurant on 3rd in Hollywood right by the Farmer’s Market.  The chef/owners used to work with Brad’s boss, Ben Ford, and then branched out to write a cookbook, a catering business and eventually started their own place.  Their first restaurant was Animal, a meat based concept that is also down in Hollywood and also amazing.  Brad loves the amount of bacon, pork belly, and foie gras that is on this menu.  I wish there were more vegetables.  But last time we were there we ate across from Drew Barrymore and Justin Long, so I don’t complain too much.

One day I will give Son of a Gun a proper review, but for now I’m just going to tell you it was amazeballs.  Reminded me of a classed up East Coast seafood shack…  Felt like home.

So this brings me to tonight.  I felt like steak.  We decided we would grill.  We went a little crazy at Whole Foods and thought we were having more people eating, so we got a ridiculous amount of food.  This is usually the way our nights go when we decide to stay in instead of go out for dinner.

I skyped with my mom and dad while Brad chopped, diced, mixed and tenderized, so I cannot take credit for hardly anything on the table.  I did , however, make the horseradish cream sauce, and I did do a lot of the dishes afterward.  And Gibson helped out whenever she was needed to clean the floor, so we all contributed in some way.

The final menu?

Heirloom tomato salad with burrata.  Grilled potatoes and corn on the cob.  Olive oil bread (Brad called it “Mario Bread” because he totaly stole the recipe from Mario Batali’s restaurant).  And last but certainly not least – Skirt steak with chimmichurri and my horseradish cream sauce.


Just a typical Friday night meal.

I die.

To those who we thought were coming over for dinner, you totally missed out.  But don’t worry, we have lots of leftovers.  And we will probably do it again next Friday night, so clear your schedules.

West Coast

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Last night I took this picture before getting dinner at Brads old restaurant, Bar Pintxo…