Saturday, November 27, 2010

Happy Thanksgiving Cheese Puffs

A belated Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

I meant to shoot up a storm and take pictures of every aspect of our Thanksgiving dinner, but things never go the way you plan when you're cooking like a mad woman and entertaining. Even though the truth of the matter is that my mom did most of the heavy lifting.


That woman is a rock star when it comes to the barbecue and when it comes to turkey. A gorgeous, crispy-brown, barbecued turkey was the centerpiece of our Thanksgiving meal. I'm not going to tell you how to do it, but I have to recommend preparing your bird this way at least once. It tastes smoky and fantastic.

We supped on carrot and cilantro soup, stuffing with dried apricots, giblet gravy, candied sweet potatoes with raisins, sautéed spinach with pine nuts, garlic and currants (one of my contributions) and cranberry sauce.

Of course we had sliced canned cranberry jelly on the table as well, because there are always at least two people in every family who do not want to give it up for anything.

Pumpkin pie -- yes sir! With whipped cream or crème fraîche.

But what I really want to tell you how to make is cheese puffs.

I was the most proud of the ultra-cinchy to make French Cheese Puffs from Canal House Cooking Volume 2. This is one of those recipes that makes you look like a sophisticated pro in the kitchen.

The puffs themselves are the height of sophistication -- airy and light, yet rich and buttery. These cheesy beauties are an elegant start to a fête -- definitely spectacular with a bottle of something bubbly. I see these as a natural for an intimate New Year's Eve dinner party with a bottle of Veuve Cliquot.

I used the exceptional Irish Kerrygold butter and a cave-aged raw milk gruyère. Delicious ingredients always help. You'll need to do a little heating, a fair amount of stirring -- at times vigorously -- and some spooning. Twenty minutes in the oven and that is all.

I actually completely forgot about the penultimate step in this recipe -- brush the dough with milk. I suppose my cheese puffs would have been shinier, but you couldn't tell that anything was missing at all.

Be sure to time things right, so that you are serving these warm, just moments out of the oven. These were a big hit with everyone from my husband and mother-in-law to nearly two-year old Fe.

If for some strange reason you have leftovers, store them in the fridge and heat them up for breakfast the next day. They won't be as amazing, but the warm cheesiness will start your day just right.

Canal House Cooking French Cheese Puffs

8 tablespoons butter
1 1/4 cups milk
2 pinches salt
1 cup flour
4 large eggs
1 cup grated Comté or Gruyère cheese

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Heat the butter and 1 cup of the milk over medium heat in a heavy saucepan until the milk is hot and the butter melted. Add the salt and a couple of grindings of pepper.

Lower the heat to low, and dump in all the flour at once. Stir vigorously, until a dough forms a thick mass and begins to pull away from the sides of the pan.

Remove the pan from the heat and beat in the eggs one at a time, until each egg is completely incorporated into the dough before adding the next. The dough will be smooth and shiny. Stir in the cheese.

Spoon walnut-size spoonfuls of dough onto parchment-lined sheet pans. They should be about an inch apart. Brush the tops of the puffs with the remaining milk to make them nice and shiny.
Bake until puffed up and golden, about 20 minutes. Serve warm.

Makes about 3 dozen.

Crème Fraîche -- Fun With Buttermilk Part II

If you make your own ricotta -- which you really should do -- you will doubtless have a lot of buttermilk hanging around your refrigerator. Might as well put it to good use.

Just two tablespoons of the misunderstood stuff, plus one cup of heavy cream, and you are well on your way to a dense bowl of crème fraîche that you have concocted, yourself. There is no reason to spend five or six bucks at Whole Foods, when a dish of it could be thickening on your counter, right now. It is amazingly simple to do, and you get the satisfaction of creating something wonderful.

We drizzled the tangy cream over our carrot soup for Thanksgiving dinner. It is equally delicious spooned on pumpkin pie for a less sweet twist on the classic whipped cream or vanilla ice cream. I like it as a base for a dressing for butter lettuce with some snipped chives. Smoked salmon, boiled new potatoes, caviar, and cucumbers are all enhanced with a dollop of crème fraîche.

Crème Fraîche

1 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons buttermilk

Heat the cup of heavy cream up to body temperature in a heavy saucepan. Add 2 tablespoons of buttermilk and stir. Pour the mixture into a glass bowl and cover with plastic wrap. Leave on your counter for 24 hours, until thick. The crème fraîche will keep for a few weeks in the refrigerator. You may repeat this process, substituting your homemade crème fraîche for the buttermilk the next time around.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Shaved Fennel, Radish and Parmigiano Reggiano

I love this salad. It's crunchy and refreshing -- a little bit garlicky and a little bit salty.

I've been making it ever since Kelly and Mark of Kelly's French Pastry in Santa Cruz taught me about it in 1994.

This fennel salad is very simple to make and is almost always what I'm looking for when I want something acidic and bright to even out a meal. This might be the relief you need amidst all the upcoming stuffing, gravy, sweet potatoes, and creamed spinach.

Just suggesting.

You'll need fennel, radish, parmigiano reggiano, lemon, olive oil, garlic, and salt and pepper. That's it. The dressing is my go to for many of the salads that I throw together at home. I'll add a little mustard, or anchovy or champagne vinegar depending on the salad and my mood.

If you have a mandoline or a Benriner, great. If not, a sharp knife will do. The radishes and fennel ideally should be very thinly sliced. On lazy days at my house, the slices get a bit thicker. Definitely not the end of the world!

The measurements in the recipe are rough guidelines. Even with the dressing -- just taste, taste, taste. You'll know if it is citrusy enough for you.

Shaved Fennel, Radish & Parmigiano Reggiano
1 large bulb fennel
6 radishes - french butter, red, or easter egg
A hunk of Parmigiano Reggiano for shaving
2 cloves garlic
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Freshly ground pepper

Carefully using a mandoline or Benriner, thinly slice the fennel and radishes into a medium-sized bowl. Using a regular peeler (not the y-shaped variety), shave curls (maybe twenty or so) of the Parmigiano Reggiano into the bowl.

Smash the garlic cloves and place them into a small bowl, discarding the skin. Add the lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste. Let sit for about ten minutes. Whisk in the olive oil, and taste for seasoning and acidity. Does it taste good to you?

Toss enough of the dressing with the salad to lightly coat. Taste, and season with additional salt and pepper. Serve. Save any remaining dressing for arugula tomorrow.

Serves 2-4

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Ceviche de Pescado -- Mario's Peruvian & Seafood

I had to wait for an hour and a half at the Hollywood DMV today, just so I could renew my driver's license. I'm glad I planned ahead appropriately, so that there was a little light at the end of that nightmarish tunnel -- Mario's Peruvian Seafood is just a few blocks away, on the corner of Melrose and Vine.

It has been several years, since I've been to Mario's. Suffice it to say, I've been a bit consumed with parenthood, and Mario's had sadly slipped my mind.

What a pleasure it was to get reacquainted! Mario's is still a rather dumpy little hole in a strip-mall wall, but when you're busy eating and sweating over some of the most esculent Peruvian food in the city, the ambiance doesn't really seem to matter.

Many dishes on the menu can cause a person to develop intense longings, especially the lomo saltado, but the dish that I have harbored the deepest cravings for is the ceviche de pescado. The other ceviches are quite good, but somehow I am always the happiest with the soft sweet fish.

The heat from the aji amarillo (Peruvian yellow chile) in the addictive green sauce and the ceviche is marvelous. It has a different effect on me than other chiles. My lips burn and my eyelids sweat, yes, but I also get funny shivers up and down my body from the heat.

I love that feeling!

The ceviche comes with chopped celery, which adds a complementary crunch to the soft citrus-cooked fish flesh, chopped cilantro and a giant pile of sliced, raw, red onions. I stayed far far away from the onions. They kill me.

On the plate you'll find a hunk of boiled potato and a homely portion of corn on the cob that despite being either from a can or boiled to within an inch of its life, is still sweet and somewhat compelling. The potato and corn are both good tools for soaking up the copious amounts of yellow liquid on the plate, and nice instruments for delivering that addictive green sauce, that I mentioned before, to your mouth.

I'm a fan of all of the parts of the dish. I even appreciate the few crunchy wedges of iceberg. They have a mild cooling effect. And you need all the cooling you can get. The ceviche marinade is extremely citrusy, very spicy, and just the right amount of salty (yes, that was me in the corner spooning up the liquid like soup).

I experienced the the warm glow from the ajis amarillos the whole drive home to Echo Park.

I love that feeling!

Mario's Peruvian Seafood
5786 Melrose Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90038

Monday, November 15, 2010

Richard Olney's Pork Chops and Apples in Mustard Sauce

I was reading in the L.A. Weekly about Jonathan Gold's ten most battered cookbooks. And although he shares his top ten with us in a rather self-satisfied way, there is no denying he has quite a few gems in his top ten. In all honesty the few that I don't already own, I'm tempted to add to my collection, post haste.

Seeing Richard Olney's Simple French Cooking on the list filled me with pleasure. Simple French Cooking is one of the best French cookbooks around. I've had my copy for about fifteen years, and while it is unlikely that mine is as battered as Gold's, it is dog-eared and worn-out from frequent perusal and use. There was a point in my life when I'd carry it with me everywhere, simply to assure good reading at all times.

Olney brings to your kitchen the rustic cuisine of France. From hot onion omelets with vinegar to gratin of endives and bacon, to the more extreme, lambs' frivolities (that's testicles, folks) and calves' brains (Joseph, you should probably pick up a copy!), this essential French cook book truly teaches you French cooking.

One of the easier recipes that I have been preparing for years is Pork Chops and Apples in Mustard Sauce. It is a more sophisticated take on the classic American pork chop with a spoonful of applesauce. Beautifully browned pork chops are tucked into a bed of thinly sliced apples, and drizzled with white wine deglazed pan drippings. These are then cloaked in a thick mustard and heavy cream mixture.

Yes, the use of heavy cream is a bit decadent, but this recipe is the perfect reason to make an exception and allow a bit of extra fat into your life. The apples, mustard and cream form a luscious bed for the meaty chops.

One big recommendation -- use bone-in chops. Foolishly, I did not do so this last time. Big mistake! Meat -- especially pork -- is almost always more moist and more delicious when cooked on the bone. My boneless chops were just a hair overdone, and that is hugely disappointing when the preparation is so terrific.

I typically serve this over some sort of tiny pasta. I like the way the sauce coats the slippery noodles. This time around I served the chops with more vegetables and some roast potatoes -- also very good, but the amount of sauce produced sort of begs for a bed of something.

Pork Chops and Apples in Mustard Sauce

2 pounds apples, quartered, cored, peeled, sliced thinly
1 tablespoon butter
4 pork loin chops about 3/4 inch thick, pared of excess fat
1/4 cup dry white wine
1 cup heavy cream
About 1/3 cup Dijon mustard (to taste)

Spread the apples in a lightly buttered gratin dish (large enough to hold the chops placed side by side without forcing) and bake in a 400 degree oven for 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, cook the salted chops in a bit of butter over medium heat until nicely colored on each side, 7 or 8 minutes per side. Arrange the chops on the apples' surface, deglaze the pan with the white wine, reducing it by half, and dribble it over the surface.

Mix the cream and the mustard, adding the latter progressively and tasting. Salt lightly, pepper to taste, and pour the mixture over the chops and apples, shaking the dish gently to be certain the cream penetrates the bed of apples. Bake 15 minutes longer at the same temperature.

Serves 4

Saturday, November 06, 2010

The Tasting Kitchen

As of last Tuesday, A. and I have been married for four years. This time around we've been together for about eight and a half. Long ago, when we were in college we spent a rocky two and a half years together. Adding that up, we come to eleven years all together.

Not bad! Some might even say surprising.

We decided to wait until the Friday evening to really celebrate. With Fe. slumbering at my parent's house, the night was our's.

There is a lot of pressure to pick the right restaurant for all of the important occasions. Last year we went large and dined at The Dining Room at the Langham, with Michael Voltaggio at the helm. That was extraordinary. I wish I had been blogging back then.

This year, with only one of us gainfully employed, we weren't going that big. I was thinking Lazy Ox or Osteria Mozza again, because I love love love them both, but A. had something else in mind. The Tasting Kitchen in Venice.

I had read good things and was game.

Running this plan by our dear friends and partners in many foodie escapades, RiRi and Jophes, as Fe. calls them, I started having doubts. Maybe The Tasting Kitchen wasn't special enough, or was the kind of place at which you dined only if you happened to have another reason to be way the heck out on the other side of town. I started thinking Mélisse and began to lose confidence.

A. suggested I get a grip. I calmed down.

The doubts started resurfacing when we were driving down Abbot Kinney. My god, it was insanity. There were people and food trucks everywhere. What on earth had we stumbled into? I later was informed by my sister that this madness happens every first Friday of the month on Abbot Kinney.

Too many people.

There were more doubts when we walked into the restaurant. A. turned to me and asked, "is this what Portland is like, now?" Right. We kept reading about how the chef, Casey Lane, came from Portland and had imported his Portland aesthetic to Los Angeles.

What we witnessed was more west side night life than Portland. The young folks clad in black seemed more interested in having a hip place to drink and shout at each other over the music (at least it was BeachHouse!) than in dining in a restaurant that focused on serving honest, local, seasonal food.

I was very skeptical. But I swore to A. that I would forgive the restaurant its scenster-vibe, if only the food would deliver. I'm like that every time we go to a new restaurant -- optimistic and hopeful, always ready and willing to be wowed. I am rooting for the restaurant -- on its side completely, until it lets me down.

Though I was rather unimpressed by the casualness of our waiter, I must admit that he did not once lead us astray. We ordered cocktails. He suggested something with Rye and Apple Jack, which I loved. It was a little bit like a less-sweet Manhattan. A. had a Rotten Scoundrel, which contained aquavit, fernet, and something else.

The menu is intriguing. At first, it was hard to puzzle out how best to order. The waiter led us in the right direction, suggesting that we start with a cheese and charcuterie platter. Or maybe that was A.'s suggestion. In any event, the waiter had us on track in no time, even suggesting a great bottle of wine to complement our meal.

The meat and cheese board that we received was extremely well curated. Forgive me for not remembering the specifics, I was very busy getting caught up in the moment. There were four cheeses, three of which were satisfyingly stinky. Two were from Ireland, including a blue. Nestled between the cheese were figs and walnuts and a sticky smear of honey.

I had been hoping for the rillettes, even asked the waiter to put in a good word for us, but no such luck. I thought I'd be just a little heart-broken, but the rustic country paté was so good that I got over it fast. The prosciutto was sweet and striped with fat. There were also two salamis; the best possessed a little heat.

In reading Yelp, I noticed that everyone was gaga over the bread served at The Tasting Kitchen. It's understandable. People do tend to go nuts over warm, crusty bread. It doesn't hurt that there was apple butter and sweet butter with Maldon salt to spread all over. Just stop by La Brea Bakery and ask for the peasant loaf, and you too can be enjoying this at home. Be sure to throw it the oven for a spell, to insure maximum satisfaction.

Next we shared the Fritti Misti. This was a completely different experience than the Fritti Misti we enjoyed at Mozza, two weeks prior. This batter was sharp and crackly -- really really good. There were squash blossoms stuffed with ricotta, thin wedges of sweet onion, and delicate leaves of crisp parsley. The ping pong-size balls of house-made mozzarella were pure salty and gooey pleasure. I'm not sure I've ever tasted deep-fried olives before, but the Lucques were a definite hit. All could be dipped in a perfectly acceptable aioli.

The pastas at The Tasting Kitchen are supposed to be excellent. We decided to share one -- rigatoni with lamb and anchovy. The presentation wasn't much (and the rigatoni looked strangely like penne), but it didn't matter a lick, once we tasted the dish.

The braised lamb was gorgeous, rich and deeply satisfying. The use of anchovy was very clever. They go so well together. The anchovy gives the lamb added body and a mysterious savory element, while not tasting a bit fishy. Anchovies are such brilliant and delicious chameleons.

I liked the wisps of dandelion greens hiding here and there, and the shaved Pecorino Romano lent the dish a solid salty finish. I am anxious to try to recreate this at home.

Thankfully we were on to our final dish. I say thankfully, not because the food was lacking or we weren't having a super time, but because we were so tired. Our reservation was at 9:30. That is really a bit too late for us to start these days. With Fe. keeping us on an early schedule, we conk out earlier than we used to. The other issue was the extended waits between dishes. The place was packed, so I'm guessing the kitchen was slammed, but the service was seriously slow-go. I can't take that when the evening starts late.

By the end, all I wanted to do was lie down. I was completely passed out in the car on the way home.

Having said all that, I am glad we ordered the cod with parsnips and shaved black truffle. Very glad. All the menu said was -- cod, parsnip, truffle $35. I wasn't sure what was coming. It turned out to be black cod that was cooked beautifully and sported a perfectly crisp skin. The fish was resting on a bed of mild parsnip purée. The shaved black truffles were strewn over the top.

I can't complain about perfectly cooked fish and black truffles.

I wish we had possessed the stamina and appetite for dessert, but by nearly midnight we were done. I would happily revisit The Tasting Kitchen in Venice for cocktails and/or dinner. For us it was a success.

The Tasting Kitchen
1633 Abbot Kinney Blvd.
Venice, CA 90291

Wednesday, November 03, 2010

Mangiare In Famiglia at Mozza -- The Veneto Region

When A. told me that he was using the money from his prestigious Founder's award at work to go with his team to a Mangiare In Famiglia at Mozza, I thought he was super-cool. When he explained that spouses, including me, would not be attending, I turned a vile color of green.

I was ugly inside.

I'm not sure I have ever felt so consumed by envy. I tried to keep most of the feeling bottled up inside, because I was on the verge of a toddler-style tantrum about the whole thing. Very very unattractive.

I dropped hints for weeks and hoped that somehow, someone would drop out at the last moment. I went so far as to book our babysitter for the evening, in the off chance that things went my way.

I think I would have been jealous, even if I hadn't been to Mozza's five-course Mangiare In Famiglia featuring Heritage USA pork. But I had, and that knowledge and experience fed my longing.

I shaved my legs and plucked my eyebrows on the Friday afternoon, knowing full well that I wasn't going, but still clinging to a tiny shred of hope. At about 4:30 p.m. I picked up my C.S.A. vegetables with Fe., leaving my purse in the car.

When we hopped back in, I grabbed my phone and noticed that I had missed two calls, and had messages from both A. and our good friend and A.'s co-worker, Joseph.

I am not exaggerating when I say my heart started racing. I was giddy before I was even told that one sorry soul had dropped out at the last minute.

I was in!

At 7:30 p.m. we were walking into the Scuola di Pizza at Mozza looking at the welcoming spread before us. Chad Colby and Nancy Silverton know how to whet your appetite for a feast. There was a generosity to the prelude of the evening that was exceptionally inviting and indicative of what lay ahead.

Spread out on the lengthy table that seats about 22, were platters layered with pink curls of prosciutto. House-made grissini were lying in stacks within everyone's reach. Not far away was a little pot of perfumey truffle butter. There were also plates of long red peppers cloaked in green -- a salsa verde of sorts (my memory is already messing with me here).

Mere moments passed and glasses of Prosecco were being passed and then came the offer of the exquisite foccacia. I've never experience foccacia like this anywhere else -- perfection! Right out of the wood-burning oven, it was crispy and chewy and oily in precisely the way you would want.

Tragedy struck when there was no more to go around.

At the same time, I really had learned my lesson last time. The trick with these meals is pacing yourself. And though the temptation is great to gorge on every last piece of prosciutto that does not make it a good idea. We hadn't even started the first of the five courses from the Veneto region.

While the welcome food-wise was superb, I must say that the warmth of the welcome from the staff this time around didn't seem as enthusiastic or engaged. Nancy Silverton did not greet us at all and Chad Colby spoke with us briefly much later in the meal.

Perhaps the excitement of a new endeavor was still in place during our first family dining experience at Mozza. This time the service seemed sloppier and the heartfelt welcome was absent. It seemed more like a professional operation and less like an intimate party that we had luckily been invited to. Nothing grave -- just a small observation on my part and A.'s.

I hadn't read about the Veneto dinner in advance, so the menu was a complete surprise. To my delight and everyone else's at the table the first course was Fritti Misti - gamberi, triglia rossa e calamari. For those of you not fluent in Italian, that was large prawns (head on!), rouget or red mullet and well, calamari.

Fritti Misti is a pretty easy sell. Most folks get excited about good fried food. This was outstanding fried food. All of it was cooked perfectly. The rouget was gorgeous -- almost as soft and creamy as a panna cotta. The batter that coated all the sea creatures was crisp and light. I'd guess beer or seltzer.

The accompanying garlicky aioli was extra runny and heavy on the citrus, absolutely exactly how I prefer it for this application. I was very nearly ladling it onto my plate.

The next course was Risotti -- porcini, mollusch, monello di mare. If you are a big fan of risotto, the porcini, clam, and sea urchin risotti would likely drive you wild.

I'm not entirely certain, if it was me or the risotti, but I was not over the moon for this course. I may just not be that turned on by risotto. Listening to the conversation at the table, people had very differing takes on all three. Some felt the clams were strong. Some felt the porcini was perfect, others said too strong and salty. Everyone's taste buds seemed to be having a different experience.

I felt the flavors were quite good. The sea urchin was very subtle, sweet and ever so slightly metallic. I liked the lemony clams. The porcini was assertive, but satisfying for it. I heard some comments about saltiness. That might have been thanks to the busy little risotto taster who was tossing in salt by the handful.


Reflecting on that course, the rice seemed slightly too al dente to me. I'm not Italian, and I'm no risotto expert, so maybe I'm off the mark. Honestly, I could have easily done without the risotti.

In many ways, I loved the Polenta al Anitra Ragu, but it was't perfect either. A rich, salty duck ragu with olives and chanterelles can be hugely satisfying. Unfortunately, this ragu was too one dimensional. I was dying for a gremolata of some sort, or just more chopped parsley (the parsley that was present helped a lot) and a healthy dose of lemon zest. The ragu was begging for a hit of acid or something else bright to bring it to life.

There were comments about the dish not satisfying texturally -- too much soft on soft. I disagree. On a brisk evening, ragu over polenta is comforting like nothing else. I can't imagine this being served on rice, although wide slippery ribbons of pasta, perhaps.

The Fegato di Vitello alla Veniziana was challenging for many. People just don't eat veal liver as much as they used to. Although the offal craze that is currently under way may be starting to change that.

There were comments at the table about liver being remarkable due to it's possessing the texture of pre-chewed food. I don't know about that.

I haven't had calf's liver or veal liver in a long time. I liked the mildly bitter flavor and appreciated the earthiness of the mushroom accompaniment. I'll confess that I did fatigue of the entire dish rather quickly. Again, I can't say for certain if this had to do with preparation, my personal taste, or both.

Our fourth course was the Bolliti Misti -- a mixed boil that included tongue, chicken, brisket, and the sausage called cotechino. This was a pretty great dish. The meats were served with a bright, herbaceous salsa verde and a nostril clearing pear mostarda.

And as if that were not enough, sautéed spinach and mashed potatoes were presented alongside. I shout hurray whenever I get a plate of greens, so that alone pleased me. And the mashed potatoes. Oh, the mashed potatoes! I've never tasted any so creamy and smooth before. Dyn-o-mite!

The tongue! It was so soft and luxurious -- a pleasure to have in my mouth. The brisket was beautifully fatty and falling apart. The chicken didn't make much of an impression, but the cotechino's salty, greasiness made me wish there was a little bit more to sample.

It must be tough for the kitchen to strike the right balance between too much and too little food. At the pork dinner, there was an absurd abundance of food. This time around at our tasting of the Veneto region, I noticed that some folks were searching around for more of certain courses - the foccacia, the fritti misti, the bolliti misti. Sadly the people on my left barely got to sample all of the bolliti misti offerings.

And then, dessert.

Why didn't I listen more carefully to the pastry chef describing the process for making her riso gelato?! What I would do for just one more bowlful!

The dessert was off-the-charts fabulous. The Torta di Polenta or polenta cake was moist and chewy. Covered with crunchy hazelnuts and dusted with confectioner's sugar this not-too-sweet cake went swimmingly with the gorgeous rice gelato. There were pieces of rice in the gelato that had somehow plumped up, but retained a texture like nothing I've experienced before in my interactions with the grain. The texture was almost chocolately, but without the melting.

I'm not even a dessert person, as you may have noticed, but this was tops -- truly brilliant.

Later that night, I am happy to say, I did not feel like dying. Yet another difference from our pork tasting experience at Mozza's Scuola di Pizza. While this meal didn't quite live up to our first Mangiare In Famiglia, I am deeply grateful to A. for managing to squeeze me into the experience. Minor complaints aside, this was a remarkable evening.

I am already lustfully eyeing this month's offering, Beef in the Style of Tuscany.

Mozza2Go/Scuola Di Pizza
6610 Melrose Avenue
Los Angeles, CA 90036