Family-style

First, the bad news: I didn't make it to Calle Ocho, or to Mosaico, or even to Joe's. The Murphy's Law of family visits is that no matter how much of a food nerd you are, you'll never eat at the fabulous restaurants in any town where your family lives.

Which is fine. I had my arepa, I had a tasty shrimp salad at a dockside spot in Aventura, and we had lots of cheesy fun at The Melting Pot in West Alligatorville (ok, outer Kendall). Sometimes it's nice to take a break from the la-la food scene, or even the chowhound scene, for that matter. We did share a terrific caramel apple from this spot at the Broward County Fair. But poor Broward County. It's a sorry day when your county's ag fair doesn't have enough actual agriculture left to fill a party tent. Just a bunch of sad rabbits and some agitated chickens.

Miami? Nice...

Big goings-on this week: Californiaeating is off to Miami to visit the in-laws.

Miami, land of tropical fruits, arepa carts, and t-shirt suits. I love Miami. I even love the in-laws. But since Scott does not come from a family of cooks (kitchens are more of a decorative element for them), we'll be having a catered turkey dinner by the beach. This kinda goes against all that is holy for New Englanders and food nerds, but I had my fill of Thanksgiving food this summer, so I can roll with it. And they sure know how to throw a party.

Anyone have any Miami restaurant recs? We've been to Norman's and Joe's. But we still haven't made it over to Calle Ocho in all these years. This time, I want some good Cuban and Caribbean food.

Olive me, olive you

I bought some really beautiful olives this weekend at the farmer's market (at $10 for 2 pounds. Suckaa!). But better to get soaked by the hippie farmers than by Monsanto.

Anyone have advice to share about brining them? I'm planning to go the standard salt/garlic/chilies/peppercorn/bay leaf route, but I'd love some input. Anyone ever done an oil cure?

Sicko

What are the chances? All my happy plans for this weekend have been felled by a double whammy of biking accident and stomach flu.

Yesterday, coasting down the final (steep) hill after a ride around the city, I hit the brakes too suddenly and went flying over the front of my bike. Thankfully, no major injuries, aside from a badly banged-up knee (I'm dragging that leg around the house like Igor) and some bruises.

Then, this morning I woke up to a gory case of stomach flu: fever, more aches, and...you can imagine. Scott comes in every so often to make sure I'm drinking my liquids (he's acting on prior experience), and he and our friend Grady have stepped in to do my share of the cooking for a movie screening that our neighbors are hosting tonight. The party will go on, while I comfort myself with saltines and ginger ale.

Our neighbor Meredith is a chef, so she's doing most of the work: braised beef with a pepper relish and biscuits; arugula, grapefruit, and avodaco salad; broccolini; and persimmon pudding with vanilla ice cream. Our contribution is a vegetarian butternut squash lasagne (this being San Francsico, it's the veggie alternative).

Grady is cooking as I type. What a treat it is to sit and read while someone prepares dinner in the next room. I can smell the sqash roasting, the garlic and the rosemary. It's Sunday night, my fever is going down, and the world feels very cozy, if a little achy still.

[Note: Scott says I soft-pedaled my description of the accident. Watching me fly through the air, he thought he was facing young widowerhood (that's a real word, I checked). But I come from good peasant stock. My people have been falling off horses for generations.]

Zuni tunes

Title-writing skills continue to deteriorate here at California Eating...

Last night we went back to Zuni Cafe to celebrate the arrival of G, a real food lover and former Boston compatriot. Some places, like Zuni and Chez Panisse, make me feel like a pilgrim worshiping at the sacred sites. California looms so large in your consciousness when you're living on the east coast and studying American food, and I still feel a little thrill when I try the signature dishes.

One classic, the house-cured anchovies, was everything I'd hoped it would be. Anchovies walk that fine line between the sublime and the foul, but these were fantastic. No oily-fishy residue here. Just a rich briny wallop in a tiny little tender package.

The roast chicken was also perfect, but the bread salad underneath was soggy with oil. It went way beyond unctuousness to something closer to greasy. Eh, it was probably just an off night.

I do have one other criticism, though, which remains constant with every visit: Could the staff please act just a little happy to have you there? They may as well introduce themselves with, "My name is Jeffrey, I'll be your waiter tonight, and I couldn't give two shits about it."

But I'll be back, because it's just that good...

The other CIA

Do you find that taking a couple of days out of the office almost isn't worth it because of all the work you have to make up? That's where I am right now. But I wanted to jot down some quick observations from the Worlds of Flavor conference I just attended at the CIA Greystone campus.

1) The CIA must have done some mad fund-raising because that place is swank. The stone buildings, the gardens, the platters and platters of Spanish cheeses and crab and wild mushrooms. The wine. It's so...well, it's so Napa.

2) The last week of October and first week of November may be the prettiest time of year to visit the valley. The vines changed color overnight, and the valley floor was all gold and red. And the sun was set at a lower angle, so the light never got washed out like it does in the summer. The olives were ripe, too (I took that photo on the grounds of the Krug winery).

3) I have to get to Marnee Thai as soon as possible. Chef /owner Chaiwatt Siriyan was a guest speaker (here he is giving a demo class), and his food was phenomenal. Great Thai food has that same heady perfumey quality as Indian food, but it's so bright and refreshing. I have been trying to recreate eggplant in green curry (I'll post the recipe when I get it right).

4. Every night, the conference organizers turned the huge barrell room into an international night market lined with booths featuring the foods of Spain, Mexico, India, Viet Nam, Thailand, Turkey, Persia, and North Africa. It was extraordinary (though packed, with nowhere to stand -- a recurring theme). The food was prepared by a battery of chefs who were flown in to speak and cook at the conference. I'm still craving a dessert from the Thailand booth: little bannana leaf packets stuffed with a sweet rice flour and coconut milk dough surrounding a caramelized coconut center.

5. For a man who spends his time traveling the world to eat at fancy restaurants, R.W. Apple is a pissy and impatient grump. This is the second time I've heard him speak at a conference, and the second time I've watched him bully and embarrass audience members who take too long to pose their questions or forget to say their names first.

If you get to have this kind of fun for a living, you have a moral obligation to at least be pleasant.

Napa time

What a silly title. Sorry about that.

But I am heading up to Napa today for the CIA's annual "Worlds of Flavor" conference. Here's their description:

Each year, the Worlds of Flavor International Conference & Festival transforms the Napa Valley campus into an amazing crossroads of world food and culture. More than 50 leading chefs, cooks, cookbook authors, and other culinary experts from Latin America, the Mediterranean, and Asia as well as from across the United States will head up the prestigious guest faculty at this CIA anniversary event.

Over the last 15 years, American menus–and the chefs and operators who create them–have undergone a profound, even revolutionary transformation. For most of our culinary history, we have been largely tethered to Northern European traditions–with France often representing the gold standard in fine dining–while a host of “ethnic flavors” beckoned our palates from the fringes of the industry. In the late 80s and early 90s, however, what we now call “world cuisine” started to catch the imagination of American consumers and the dining public.
First it was broader interest in regional Italian flavors, then a collective grasp of the larger Mediterranean, then regional Mexican and other Latin flavors. Next, fascination with an expanded range of Asian flavors emerged, from China and Japan to Southeast Asia and India–and finally we have now come to a “tipping point” that represents a remaking of the American culinary landscape. Once we thought it was sensible to rank the world's cuisines, but today we see a more level playing field with many cultures contributing brilliant ideas to the world table. Whereas before we thought of “American cuisine” and “American food” asbeing separate from other cuisines of the world (the latter often referred to as “ethnic foods” or “international foods”), we now increasingly think of American food as world food.

Doesn't that sound fun? These are the moments when I think, This is my job? How in the world did I finagle that?

I'm also happy to see that, with the term "world food," the good folks at the CIA have come up with an alternative to "ethnic," which is such a ridiculous bit of imperialist residue. As if some group (Brits? The French?) are the standard-bearers of humanity. No, French food is ethnic food, too. Anyway, I'm preaching to the choir.

I'll try to post any interesting news from the conference.