Posted by Anita on 10.29.06 5:00 PM
Those of you who visit (or live in) Los Angeles have probably driven past one of the three Clearman’s North Woods Inn restaurants. They’re pretty hard to miss, looking for all the world like a giant log cabin, complete with “snow” on the roof and “icicles” hanging from the eaves. Inside, the rustique effect continues with stained-glass lamps, taxidermy specimens, and bordello-style “art” on the walls.
Once upon a time — in fact, until quite recently — the cocktail waitresses even dressed up in skimpy frontier barmaid costumes, complete with red-plaid shrugs and miniskirts short enough to show off their frilly underpants. The waiters still wear lumberjack outfits right out of Monty Python, with red-plaid vests, black pants, and arm garters. (No hats with ear flaps, alas.)
My mom and dad have been going to Clearman’s for more than 40 years, since before they were married. When we sisters were kids, it was one of the first nice-ish restaurants we ever went to. As you might expect from the decor, the menu runs the gamut from steak to steak, with a few minor detours into fried chicken and kabobs. Before your main course arrives, you always get a pair of salads — a red cabbage slaw and iceberg with blue cheese dressing — and artery-clogging cheesetoast, all served family style. And, of course, every steak comes with a baked potato as big as your head, groaning with fixin’s.
My middle sister’s the only family member who lives in Southern California these days, so our visits to Clearman’s are growing fewer and farther between. Truth be told, I don’t think the food’s as good as it once was. But we keep going, mostly because it’s a sentimental favorite… and probably also because you’ve got to love a place with signs in the bar insisting that you throw your peanut shells on the floor. We’re obviously not the only family that maintains a soft spot for the place, given that they sell their cheesetoast spread in almost every supermarket south of Santa Barbara.
Dad mentioned last week that he wanted us to make Clearman’s-inspired red-cabbage slaw for dinner over the weekend, and we happily obliged. We went whole hog (or is that cow?) by adding — you guessed it — steaks, potatoes, and iceberg lettuce with bleu cheese dressing to the menu. We hunted the local markets for the cheese spread, but came up empty.
When we told Dad about our fruitless search, it took him about 10 seconds to find a recipe for the stuff online. (You now know where I inherited my strong Google-fu from.) I whipped up a quarter-batch, Mom slathered it on some sliced sourdough bread, and we popped it under the broiler. The end result wasn’t bad — in fact, made with butter instead of the standard margarine, I think I like it even better than the original.
The red-cabbage slaw recipe comes from the L.A. Times, and we’ve made it regularly over the years. It’s perfectly fine on its own, but it’s even better mixed up with iceberg and blue-cheese salad.
“Just Like North Woods Inn’s” Red Cabbage Slaw
1/2 head red cabbage
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup + 1T red wine vinegar
3T sugar
4 tsp. salt
1 tsp. seasoned salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper
1/4 tsp. onion powder
Shred cabbage irregularly, with some coarse and some fine shreds. Combine other ingredients in a bowl (or shake together in a jar or bottle) and pour over the cabbage. Mix well and let stand, refrigerated, for at least a few hours, or over night.
Makes 6-8 servings.
family, meat, recipes, restaurants, SoCal
10 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 10.28.06 7:19 PM
Mom and I were killing time after dropping Dad off for an appointment this morning, so we stopped by the local branch of Sunflower Farmers Market. Despite the name, it’s really a supermarket, albeit one with a heavy emphasis on produce. You’ll also find a nice selection of Harris Ranch meats, bulk foods, and — if you need assistance in the supplements department — a cranky vegan to lecture you about how meat clogs your colon. (Seriously, though… 99% of the folks who work there are sweet and lovely.) The produce is nicer than what you’d find at the national megamarts in town, but if you’re a regular shopper at real farmers’ markets or even Whole Foods, you may be a bit underwhelmed. Still, it’s nice to walk into a store where the bulk of foods on offer are grown, not manufactured, and you have to go out of your way to find food in a package.
Right across the intersection from Sunflower, hidden in the back of a little industrial park, the amusingly named Great Buns Bakery specializes in fresh-baked breads. I should warn you that there’s nothing artisanal about this place; it’s a large-scale operation, with all the baking done on site in a thoroughly charm-free industrial bakery. One of the employees told us that they supply bread to “90% of the restaurants” in the area, and there certainly were dozens of pallets of rolls and loaves stacked up right on the retail floor, tagged with the names of local shops and eateries. But ‘big’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘bad’: The breads I’ve tried all taste great — the ciabatta in particular – and the prices are competitive. We picked up a loaf of day-old bread for $0.99 today, and it tastes just fine. I’ll just ignore the fact that all the staff wear aprons that say “Keep your hands off my Great Buns”.
[[Update 3/21/07: Just got word from Mom that Great Buns was destroyed in a fire last night: Fire Guts Las Vegas Bakery]]
We still had a few hours to fill, so we consulted the yellow pages and plotted a course to North Las Vegas. Past the end of The Strip, the area near Las Vegas Boulevard and Cheyenne Avenue feels a bit like the wrong side of the tracks, but it’s actually a vibrant shopping area.
We first stopped in to the aptly named Thai Market and spent a good half-hour browsing the aisles of its small storefront. The woman working the cash register noticed Mom’s bewidered look, and made a point of telling her to please let her know if she needed any help. The selection was good, but not great: a nice assortment of packaged goods, a few housewares, and a tiny produce cooler. (When we got home, we realized that there’s a larger Thai market in Downtown, pretty close to Lotus of Siam… I sense a Thai field trip coming up.)
Next up was Super Mercado del Pueblo, a little slice of Mexico right on the fringes of Sin City. The market’s strip mall — which reminded me much more of semi-urban Mexico than the shops of Mexican-American neighborhoods in California — also houses a self-serve car wash, a beauty parlor, and a shoe outlet (3 pairs for $20!). As you walk in the door, there’s a portrait studio, a jewelery shop, and an insurance agent …and, of course, slot machines… it’s still Vegas, after all. The market itself is clean, busy, brightly lit, and friendly; at least three employees greeted us during our brief browse, offering help. The meat counter advertises Harris Ranch meats, with a seemingly endless selection of mostly Latino-style cuts; nearby, a well-stocked dairy counter has all of your queso-related needs covered. The large, comprehensive produce section’s offerings looked a little chewed-on, but you can’t beat the prices: $1 for 15 limes, anyone? They make a village’s worth of tortillas every day on site, too… many of the 24-packs were still warm — mmm! Two walls were covered with cellophane bags of every kind of dried chile, herb, and nut imaginable.
We passed at least three more Safeway-sized Latino grocery stores on our way back to pick up Dad. Definitely plenty of opportunities for a mercado prowl in the future.
Sunflower Farmers Market
3365 E. Tropicana Avenue (at Pecos)
Las Vegas, NV 89121
702.777.0650
Great Buns
3270 E. Tropicana Avenue (at Pecos)
Las Vegas, NV 89121
702.898.0311
Thai Market
3297 Las Vegas Blvd. North (near Cheyenne)
Las Vegas, NV 89115
702.643.8080
Super Mercado del Pueblo
2987 N. Las Vegas Blvd. (near Pecos)
North Las Vegas, NV 89030
702.649.7780
family, Mexican, shopping, Thai, travel, Vegas
Comments Off on Sin City shopping
Posted by Anita on 10.27.06 10:33 PM
Not quite five years ago, my mom and dad retired to Henderson, just outside Las Vegas. Their neighborhood — a megasized age-restricted community — is one of those places where you can get hopelessly lost among all the similar-looking houses as you whiz past the golf course, the gigantic rec center, the three-story waterfall… You’re miles from the nearest grocery store or restaurant, or anything else other than a few thousand houses that look pretty much like your own.
But — as much as it’s the kind of development where I’d never choose to live — it’s a pretty cool place in one important respect. Since all the houses in their section were built to order around the same time, everybody moved in pretty much at the same time. Many of my parents’ neighbors had left behind friends and relatives in their old hometowns, and were anxious to make new friends.
My mom found her place among a great group of ladies who live on her street and beyond. They moved to Henderson from all over the country (and, originally, all over the world), so there’s a nice assortment of interests and personalities. In various combinations, they shop together, line-dance together, play Pickleball together.
One of the other things that Mom and her friends like to do is cook, so they formed a Recipe Exchange Club: They each take turns hosting a potluck, and everyone brings their dish’s recipe to share. Or, at least that was the original idea… apparently nobody’s brought recipes since the first “meeting”, because they all cook dishes that they know by heart. It’s evolved into an excuse for a casual meal together where the women sit in the dining room and talk about mahjong and their part-time jobs, and the men sit outside on the porch, admiring the view of The Strip in the distance and talking about poker and football.
Mom and I were in charge of dessert for tonight’s gathering. Since most of Mom’s friends aren’t big dessert-eating types, we decided that something fruity, and not too sweet, would fit the bill. Mom tinkered with a recipe she found on All Recipes, and came up with a great dessert that I bet also makes a tasty coffee cake.
After the amazing spread of dishes these ladies made, I wasn’t sure that any of us would have room for cake. But we sat and talked after dinner, and — lo and behold — everyone found space for a slice.
Caramel-Apple Cake
4 apples – peeled, cored and diced (approx. 4 cups)
1 T sugar
2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
—
3 cups all-purpose flour
3 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
2/3 cup vegetable oil
1/3 cup applesauce
1/4 cup apple juice
2 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
4 eggs
1 cup chopped walnuts
Preheat oven to 350F. Grease and flour a 10-inch Bundt or angel-food cake pan. In a medium mixing bowl, combine the apples with the 1T sugar and the spices; set aside. Sift together flour, baking powder and salt; set aside.
In a large mixing bowl, combine the remaining sugars with oil, applesauce, juice, vanilla and eggs. Beat at high speed until smooth. Fold in flour mixture, then add in chopped walnuts and apples.
Bake for 55 to 60 minutes, or until the top springs back when lightly touched. Let cool in pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack and cool completely. Serve slices with homemade caramel sauce.
baking, dessert, entertaining, family, recipes, Vegas
1 Comment »
Posted by Anita on 10.25.06 8:52 PM
On the way to take my sister to the airport for a red-eye flight, we decided to stop off at Bellagio to check out the massive pumpkin patch and have dessert. We wandered through the conservatory, eyeing dozens of exotic and enormous pumpkins, many of which topped 500 pounds. We also spied a few plant-sculptures of Mallard ducks, which appeared to be made partly of broccoli and cauliflower!
Right next door to all this healthy fodder, you’ll find Jean Philippe Patisserie. In addition to eye-popping mini-desserts, luscious gelati, and crepes made to order, Jean Philippe is also home to the world’s largest chocolate fountain.
Now, when I heard the words “giant chocolate fountain”, my imagination conjured an overgrown version of one of those gadgets you’d find at a bad Jersey wedding. But I should have known that the Bellagio wouldn’t stoop to something so crass. [cough]
Here’s an excerpt from the press release announcing the fountain’s debut:
Standing 27-feet tall, the masterpiece circulates nearly two tons of melted dark, milk and white chocolate at a rate of 120 quarts per minute. […] Three rivers of dark, two of milk and one of white twist and swirl from vessel to vessel, flood across then spill down to the next carefully positioned receptacle. The colored streams and vessels are staggered, creating a mosaic effect in earthy shades of cocoa, gleaming viscous surfaces and refracted light. Having finished their acrobatic tumble down the tiers of this colossal chandelier, each rivulet funnels into hidden melting tanks, recollects and begins the journey once more.
Sounds like a bunch of PR hype, but in fact, the darned thing really is mesmerizing. Neither the statistics nor my photos do it justice.
Being as it was a Sunday evening, the pastries were rather picked over and looking much the worse for wear. I chose a lemon-meringue tart, which tasted like it had been sitting around for more than just the workday. Mom and Sis wisely opted to share a scoop of chocolate gelato and a bananas Foster crepe. The crepe was nice, although the banana topping looked pretty sorry — no great surprise, as it was kept warm in a hot-fudge pot. The gelato’s deep, bittersweet flavor was my favorite taste of the evening — and I’m not even a chocolate lover.
I’m sure I’ll give Jean Philippe another try, perhaps earlier in the day when the pastries are fresh… if only to see that fountain again!
Jean Philippe Patisserie
3600 S. Las Vegas Boulevard (inside Bellagio)
Las Vegas, NV
702.693.7111
dessert, family, travel, Vegas
5 Comments »
Posted by Cameron on 10.24.06 7:25 PM
I don’t think that I can keep up with the Queen of Hearts’ six impossible things before breakfast, but this past Saturday I had two new experiences.
Our friend Craig’s dog Koko passed away recently. The official statement read that Koko succumbed to age and infirmity, but insiders whisper that a pack of squirrels in sunglasses was seen hurriedly leaving the grounds on the sad day. Of course, squirrels do pretty much everything hurriedly, but that’s whispering insiders for you.
At any rate, we were honored to be among a small group of friends asked to gather to celebrate Koko’s life. Given Craig’s fondness for wine, I figured that there would be a bottle or two open, but I was completely unprepared for the that table that he had laid. A long-time fan and collector of Karl Lawrence wines, Craig set out an uninterrupted string of Cabernet Sauvignon that started in 1991 and ran all the way up through 2003.
It was the vertical to end all verticals–I have never seen anything like it before in my life. The wine was identifiably all of the same provenance, but it changed from year to year. Some of the changes were due to differences in mix or grape, but as we moved to ever-younger wines, the tannic spine disappeared behind a layer of fruit. It was like watching a movie of someone aging, run in reverse. It was a marvelously poetic way to celebrate the course of a life.
At last, someone raised their glass and called for a toast to Koko. We rattled the trees with our homage, and I’ll add my own here: To man’s best friend, and to family.
drinks, entertaining, family, wine & bubbly
6 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 10.22.06 11:49 AM
For years, my family’s observed a rather lowbrow holiday breakfast tradition: Cubed ham and quartered hard-boiled eggs in a cheddar-infused bechamel sauce, served over toast. It’s the kind of impossibly rich dish that should come with the name of a good cardiologist, so it’s best left to the “a couple times a year” section of the recipe box.
I’ll probably lose all foodie cred when I admit that, originally, this concoction was made with both Spam and Velveeta — the ham and cheddar are relatively modern improvements. We still call it Spam ‘n’ Eggs for nostalgia’s sake, even though no actual spams have been harmed for years. At least that’s what I used to be able to say…
It’s not an official holiday, but my sister and I are both visiting my folks, and this morning Dad announced that he had a craving for Spam ‘n’ Eggs. Mom offered to run down to Vons and pick up some ham — we had all the other ingredients on hand — but Dad stopped her short.
“Not ham. Spam.”
“Real SPAM?” we all asked in unison.
“Yup.”
So we indulged him. And, you know, it wasn’t bad. Of course, you could put dog kibble in cheese sauce and it would taste pretty good. Still, unless you’re overwhelmed with morbid curiosity, I highly suggest you stick with ham.
Spam ‘n’ Eggs
6T butter
6T flour
5-6 cups milk
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
pinch of dry mustard
3/4 pound ham (or 12-oz can Spam Lite, if you must)
6-8 hard-boiled eggs
1 loaf English muffin bread (or other good toasting bread)
Cut ham into 1/3-inch dice, and set aside. Quarter eggs vertically, and set aside.
Melt the butter in a large saucepan over medium heat, until foaming subsides. Sprinkle with the flour, and whisk well and cook until bubbly and whitened. Add 5 cups of milk, and continue to whisk until just below a boil; reduce heat. Continue to stir until thickened to the consistency of pancake batter. Add cheese and mustard, and stir until cheese melts. Thin with more milk, if desired; you want the sauce to be spoonable, but not runny. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper to taste.
Add the ham to the sauce, and continue to stir until heated through. Reduce heat to low, and set the egg quarters into the sauce, taking care not to dislodge yolks, if possible. Push eggs down into the sauce, and heat through gently.
Meanwhile, toast the bread and keep warm in a towel-lined basket until all slices are toasted. When ready to serve, place two slices of toast on each plate, and spoon the egg-sauce-ham mixture over the top.
ps: Happy birthday to Rocky, my Spam-loving friend.
breakfast, family, recipes
7 Comments »
Posted by Cameron on 10.16.06 9:34 PM
When I was a kid, my mom made bread. There were years when she only made it once in a while and years when she made it every week. Her baking rhythm was inversely proportional to the sophistication of our surroundings. There was a solid year or two when we lived on a 16-acre farm in rural New Hampshire. During that time, we ate home-churned butter on home-baked bread and washed it down with whole, unpasteurized, unhomogenized milk (from whence came the cream that spawned the butter).
Mom’s bread was rustic, and not in any big-bubbled, artisanal, sourdough fashionista sort of way. She used whole grains and honey and god knows what else, and one slice would see you clear through marching up the hill and back down again, especially if that slice was carrying a load of cheddar cheese and had just spent some quality time in the toaster oven. Serious stuff, my friends.
Serious, and for a young lad exposed to all the temptations of a modern industrialized society, all too easy to take for granted. You have no idea how I longed for white bread in those days. I dreamed of Wonder bread, layered with Oscar Meyer bologna and processed American cheese, dressed with Heinz ketchup and yellow mustard.
I never really had a chance at being a baker. One summer, while working at a bistro in Portsmouth, NH, one of the part-owners began to teach me how to make croissants. I stuck with him for a while, but I was soon distracted by being a teenage boy in a seasonal vacation town. Hell, Guns ‘n’ Roses Appetite for Destruction went huge that year, and I could never square getting up at oh-dark-thirty to fold dough with late-night dart games fueled by weed and beer.
These days, we buy our bread. The closest thing that we have to a house loaf is the pain de mie that Acme Bread sells at the Ferry Plaza farmers’ market in SF. Despite the pretentious surroundings and occasional bursts of hipper-than-thou attitude from the purveyors, it’s damn good bread. It’s the sort of white bread that I’d imagine my mom would have made if she’d put her mind to it: a tight, even crumb balanced by a crust that’s chewy without being overbearing.
Note: This post is in honor of World Bread Day 2006
baking, family, farmers markets, shopping
3 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 09.08.06 7:46 AM
I know, I know… not very creative. But even though I’m back in foggy ol’ SF, I feel like I’m permanently parched from the Vegas jaunt. And — as if I needed another excuse — it’s Mom’s favorite.
Gin & Tonic
Fill an 8-ounce highball glass 1/2 to 3/4 full of ice. Add 1.5 ounces good (but not great) gin, and top up the glass with tonic. Garnish with a wedge of lime, squeezed if desired.
Drink of the Week, drinks, family, recipes
9 Comments »
Posted by Anita on 09.06.06 10:50 AM
Mom had a craving for pizza, but we wanted to stick around the house to be with Dad. It was way too hot to turn on the oven, so we considered the grill. Cook’s Illustrated had a grilled pizza recipe [*link removed] that sounded pretty good (and less elaborate than the Mario version in Food+Wine), so off we went.
We had a little chicken left from dinner the previous night, and plenty of basil from a friend’s garden. Mushrooms, fresh tomatoes, and mozzarella cheese rounded out the toppings.
The dough’s pretty wet, so it takes a well-floured hand — and all the tricks listed in the recipe — to get it rolled out. Even then, three of the four pizzas more closely resembled free-form amoebas than nice, round pies. But they sure did taste good… maybe not as good as real pizza, but a nice weeknight option (and a great way to use up leftovers).
—
* Edited to add: We removed the link to the Cook’s Illustrated pizza recipe in July 2008 in protest of their bullying tactics.
cooking, family
Comments Off on Grill’s night out
Posted by Anita on 09.06.06 9:52 AM
Ever since she was a little girl, my sis has been an egg-o-maniac. I know my memory’s got to be faulty, but it seemed that soon as she was tall enough to reach the stove, she was whipping up gorgeous fried eggs every morning before school.
In our house, Cameron has the egg juju (in addition to the biscuit hand and many other culinary skills I covet), and my already mediocre skills have lapsed into downright dustiness. So it stands to reason that when I’m visiting family, it’s Patti who gets called on to turn oeufs into omelettes. I’m tasked with sauteeing mushrooms, pouring juice, or setting the table… and happily so, ’cause I know what’ll be on my plate in mere minutes.
breakfast, cooking, family
Comments Off on The egg maven
