I wonder how often Ruth Reichl sits back and thinks, “I can’t believe this is my life.”

Because as I read Garlic and Sapphires, like when I read Comfort Me with Apples, I had several moments when I could hardly believe I was holding a biography. The characters, the anecdotes, the whole story arc…too good to be true, it seemed.

In Garlic and Sapphires, Reichl writes of her time as the New York Times restaurant critic — a job she made all the more interesting by adopting different personae to go unrecognized at the city’s finest establishments.

But beyond Reichl’s extraordinary experiences and enviable career, I suppose I’m so in awe of her life because she is a brilliant storyteller. Her memoirs are a thrill to read, and the restaurant reviews peppered throughout Garlic and Sapphires show Reichl’s range and skill. New Yorkers might have disagreed with her gastronomic opinions, but they all ought to have admired her narrative style.

I loved the book. I only wish there were photos of her in costume because I’d love to see this woman as blonde and polished Chloe, hippie redhead Brenda, 68-year-old Betty Jones or tweed-clad meanie Emily Stone.

I can’t wait to hear more of Reichl’s great stories when she comes to speak at the Skirball Center in LA next month!

“This book will be your companion in the kitchen whenever you wish to create deliciousness.”

— The Flavor Bible

Wednesday is the one year anniversary of the publication of The Flavor Bible. James Beard Award-winning authors Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg asked us to mention something here, and I am happy to do it. The Flavor Bible has been incredibly helpful and influential to my cooking. It was just over a year ago that I moved out of campus housing and into a place with a personal kitchen. For someone who was comfortable with basic cooking techniques but looking to move away from the recipes, The Flavor Bible was, well, a godsend.

The book is organized like a reference book. After a lovely introduction to the components of taste, ingredients are included in alphabetical order with a list of complementary ingredients. So when you’re looking at that rotating spice rack wondering what the heck marjoram is used for anyway, you can easily find a wealth of information and hopefully be inspired to use it one day.

The Flavor Bible undoubtedly improved my culinary improvisation skills. A cookbook can only contain so many recipes, but this isn’t a cookbook. This book offers limitless possibilities. Next time you want to create a crazy ice cream flavor, find a savory use for macadamia nuts or decide whether tarragon would help or hurt your dish, make sure you consult The Flavor Bible.

Past references to The Flavor Bible:

• Andouille Sausage and Roasted Poblano Peppers
• Carrot and Cilantro Soup
• Jicama, Broccoli and Orange Slaw
• Acid Redux

Risotto had been on our list of things to make for some time, and a few months ago the slow-motion shots of a Venetian chef flipping risotto on Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations finally compelled us to buy arborio rice.

Since then, we’ve had three very successful risotto endeavors.

• Red Wine Risotto with Sausage and Mushrooms
• Red Bell Pepper and Tomato Risotto with Chicken
• Shrimp and Scallop Risotto with Saffron

Our first effort was a knockout taste-wise, but too ugly to stand alone in a blog post. (The internet can be cruel.) Then Sycamore chef Mike Odette let me borrow his risotto cookbook, which had great information and fun stories, along with delicious sounding recipes. A few notes:

• “Risotto is a simple dish, with relatively few ingredients. Consequently, each element gets its share of the limelight and sparkles individually on your palate.” — ie. Use butter, homemade stock and real Italian cheese
• Risotto doesn’t like shortcuts. The stock must be added a cup at a time so it is slowly absorbed by each grain. “Continue the game of add, stir, and wait, until the rice is just slightly resistant to the bite.”
• “Good raw materials. Simple cooking procedures. No unnecessary frills. That’s what Italian cooking is all about.”

Before Michael left, we finished off the arborio rice with our highest quality risotto yet. Homemade stock, a whole stick of butter, saffron, shrimp and scallops, and real Parmesan Reggiano.

Risotto Round I

Michael found a Giada De Laurentiis recipe that we modified by adding Italian sausage and locally grown mushrooms.

We knew our additions would work well after only 10 minutes of cooking. With just butter, rice, chicken broth and red wine in the pot, I could almost taste the un-added mushrooms. Sure, the brown fungi and brown sausage didn’t do much for the presentation of creamy brown risotto, but the flavors were spot on. As we ate the finished product, no one could imagine the dish with out the heartiness and slight spice of the sausage.

Somebody tell Giada.

Red Wine Risotto with Peas, Mushrooms and Sausage

Original recipe from Giada de Laurentiis’ Everyday Italian

• 32 oz. low-salt chicken broth
• 1 cup arborio rice, or medium-grain white rice
• 1 cup of mushrooms (our addition)
• 2 Italian sausage, removed from casing (our addition)
• 1 cup finely chopped onion
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1/2 cup dry red wine
• 1/3 cup frozen peas, defrosted
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh Italian parsley leaves (We used curly parsley and it didn’t taste wrong.)
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan, plus additional for garnish
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper (With the broth and sausage, ours didn’t need additional salt.)

Bring the broth to a simmer over medium-high heat. Cover the broth and keep it warm over very low heat. (Don’t forget to cover. We left it open and lost some of our liquid.)

Melt the butter in a heavy large saucepan over medium heat. (We used a big stockpot.) Add the onion and saute until translucent, about 8 minutes. Stir in the garlic and saute for 30 seconds. Stir in the rice and cook for about 2 minutes until the rice is toasted. Add the wine and stir until it is absorbed, about 1 minute. Add 3/4 cup of hot broth; simmer over medium-low heat until the liquid is absorbed, stirring often. Repeat, adding 3/4 cup of hot broth 2 more times, stirring often, about 12 minutes longer. At this point, the risotto can be made 4 hours ahead. Refrigerate the risotto (the rice will still be firm) and remaining broth, uncovered, until cool, then cover and keep them refrigerated until ready to proceed.

Bring the remaining broth to a simmer, then cover and keep it warm over very low heat. Brown sausage in a separate pan. Stir 3/4 cup of hot broth into the partially cooked risotto over medium heat until the broth is absorbed and the risotto is hot, about 3 minutes. Add the remaining broth and simmer until the rice is just tender and the mixture is creamy, about 5 minutes longer. Add chunks of sausage and chopped mushrooms. When rice is at the right consistency, stir in the peas and parsley. (We added our peas too soon, so they lost their bright green color.) Add the 1/2 cup of Parmesan. Season, to taste, with salt and pepper. Spoon the risotto into bowls. Sprinkle additional cheese over and serve. Serves 4.

Risotto Round II

Michael took the reins on this one. It was certainly prettier than our first risotto, and totally different, but just as good in taste. The tomatoes melted into almost nothing, but the bell peppers stayed just firm enough and offered a nice bite of sweetness. The chicken was salty and a bit spicy from red pepper flakes.

Tomato and Bell Pepper Risotto with Chicken

Michael’s original recipe

• 32 oz. low-salt chicken broth
• 1 cup arborio rice, or medium-grain white rice
• 1 cup finely chopped onion
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• 1 red bell pepper, diced
• 3 roma tomatoes, diced
• 4 chicken tenderloins, cut in small strips
• 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
• Fresh Italian parsley or basil

Bring the broth to a simmer over medium-high heat. Cover the broth and keep it warm over very low heat.

Dice the bell pepper and tomatoes, and set aside.

Melt the butter in a heavy large saucepan over medium heat. (We used a big stockpot.) Add the onion and saute until translucent, about 8 minutes. Stir in the garlic and saute for 30 seconds. Stir in the rice and cook for about 2 minutes until the rice is toasted. Add the wine and stir until it is absorbed, about 1 minute. Add 3/4 cup of hot broth; simmer over medium-low heat until the liquid is absorbed, stirring often. Just keep stirring and adding 1/2 cup of broth at a time as the rice absorbs the liquid.

When you have used a little more than half the broth, stir in the diced tomatoes and bell pepper. Keep stirring and adding broth 1/2 cup at a time until all the liquid has been absorbed, the rice is just tender and the mixture is creamy. Stir in grated cheese. Remove from heat and cover.

In a skillet with a little olive oil, cook chicken pieces with salt, pepper and red pepper flakes. When cooked through, serve on top of risotto with parsley (fresh basil would be really good, but we didn’t have it) and more grated cheese.

Risotto Round III

It is incredibly hard to pick a favorite out of the three risotto recipes we tried, but this might have been mine. Shrimp is one of my favorite foods — has been since I was a kid. (Another sign I was meant to be a foodie: when my elementary school friends listed their favorite food as pizza, I always chose shrimp, which was harder to draw with crayons, I remember.)

Shrimp and Scallop Risotto with Saffron

Recipe pooled from ideas in Risotto: A Taste of Milan

• 1 quart good stock (seafood stock is preferred but we used a homemade chicken stock)
• 1 cup arborio rice, or medium-grain white rice
• 1 stick butter
• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• 1 cup finely chopped onion
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• 2 or 3 small tomatoes, chopped (romas or those on the vine, not the huge tasteless ones. Halved cherry tomatoes would be good, too)
• large shrimp and scallops, or other seafood (Hard to say how much, depends on how far you want to stretch the meal. There were just two of us so we only had a few shrimp and scallops each. Also, we used sea scallops and cut them smaller. Otherwise use bay scallops. We used tail-on tiger shrimp.)
• pinch or two of saffron
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan Reggiano, plus more for serving on top
• handful of fresh basil, chiffoned

Bring the broth to a simmer over medium-high heat. Cover the broth and keep it warm over very low heat.

Clean and peel the shrimp. Cut the scallops if needed. Dice the tomatoes, and set aside. Chop the onion.

Melt half the butter in a heavy large saucepan over medium heat. (We used a big stockpot.) Add the onion and saute until translucent, about 8 minutes. Stir in the garlic and saute for 30 seconds. Stir in the rice and cook for about 2 minutes until the rice is toasted. Add the wine and stir until it is absorbed, about 1 minute. Add 3/4 cup of hot broth; simmer over medium-low heat until the liquid is absorbed, stirring often. Just keep stirring and adding 1/2 cup of broth at a time as the rice absorbs the liquid.

When most of the stock has been used, melt the remaining butter in a large skillet. Add seafood and cook until shrimp turn pink. When nearly cooked through, add seafood to the risotto pot.

Add saffron to the remaining broth. Keep stirring risotto and adding saffron broth 1/2 cup at a time until all the liquid has been absorbed, the rice is just tender and the mixture is creamy. Stir in grated cheese. Remove from heat and cover.

Slice basil and prepare bowls for serving. Top dish with the basil and more grated cheese.

Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant is a quality compilation of accounts on cooking and dining alone. I got it during the going-out-of-business sale at The Cooks Library. I like short nonfiction pieces, and I knew with graduation ahead of me I’d probably be eating alone more often.

The book features 26 essays from a former editor of The Onion, a New York Times food columnist, a screenwriter, some novelists and other writers. The range of styles means a everyone will find a few essays they love and some they’ll forget, but the book is never boring. I had two favorites, one of which I read aloud to Michael, the other Kat.

Courtney Eldridge’s “Thanks, But No Thanks” brought out a range of emotions as she talked about the differences in how she ate as a child of a poor Catholic family and how she dined with her Israeli husband and mother-in-law, both with strong opinions on what makes a proper meal. The husband is now her ex and she’s learning to cook and eat alone. It was touching and often hilarious in its matter of factness.

• “You know I’ve often heard Anthony Bourdain bandy the word ‘orgasmic’ about, and I’d always roll my eyes thinking, well, no shit, you’re a man: that’s a given. But still, the chef’s special at Sushi of Gari is a culinary multiple orgasm.”

My other favorite essay, also memorable for its sometimes snarky perspective was “Que Sera Sarito: An (Almost) Foolproof Plan to Never Eat Alone Again.” Besides making me laugh repeatedly, Steve Almond struck me because I could relate to how he felt about writing.

• “I would love to tell you that learning to cook was part of my journey toward actualization. I would love to tell Oprah this. I would love to tell Oprah this while weeping. But I learned to cook for a much simpler reason: in the abject hope that people would spend time with me if I put good things in their mouths It was (like practically everything else I do) a function of my desperation for emotional connection and acclaim. Most writers are driven by the same impolite needs, though it is terribly unfashionable to admit that this is the case. Ironically, the act of writing itself is a terribly inefficient way of gratifying these needs, particularly in this age of joyous illiteracy. Cooking makes a lot more sense.”

As writers, we’re looking for people to listen, for people to understand us.  Cooking does seem to be a better way to get their attention. Why do you think have so many friends lately?

[Edit] Recently saw a book called What We Eat When We Eat Alone, which is the same idea with different essays. It just came out, but has anyone read this yet?

I didn’t know anything about Comfort Me With Apples when I saw it at the school library. It was simply an orange hardcover without any summary or critical praise. But I knew Ruth Reichl was important in food and its journalism, and I figured I could learn from her writing.

The book I picked, however, was more about her than I imagined. Lavish descriptions of food, I expected. Stories of foreign meals and incomparable ingredients, of course. But this was, above all, the story of her life. Food was obviously a large part, but more in a Philip Seymour Hoffman, best supporting actor sort of way than top billing in a blockbuster.

Comfort Me With Apples starts with Reichl landing a job as a restaurant critic. Young and overwhelmed by the glamour, she quickly assumes the persona she thinks she should have, even though it’s antithetical to the Berkeley commune lifestyle she otherwised lived. Before she realizes it, she’s in Paris having an affair with her extravagant boss. She stays with her husband until another affair several years later.

In between reflections on her complex love life are tales from famous kitchens. She befriends Alice Waters, visits her idol Mary Frances (MFK Fisher to the rest of us), and follows Wolfgang Puck around like it’s her job. Oh wait, it was. I found myself both jealous and inspired. I want to eat! I want to travel! I want to write!

Reichl’s life takes so many turns in the second half of the book, I refused to put it down. Smitten like Deb Perelman’s kitchen, I plowed through the last 162 pages last night after work. When I read the last sentence at 2:30 in the morning, I nearly cried. (Probably from exhaustion and relief as well as an emotional reaction to the prose.)

Had Reichl made the whole story up, I would have enjoyed the book but swallowed the perfect ending and forgotten about it. Knowing that this life, these characters are real…it just fascinates me to no end.

An appreciation for good food makes the book that much better, but it’s more something to amuse your bouche while you explore the mind and follow the impressive trajectory of the now editor of Gourmet Magazine.

I, in the meantime, have been once again reminded how much life there is ahead of me, and have renewed excitement about all its possibilities.

Anyway, back in February I picked up Beard on Food (an unpleasant title to anyone unfamiliar with the man who might have been the first celebrity chef). The book is a collection of his favorite columns and recipes, starting with the perfect hamburger and ending with Saltimbocca all’Emiliana, a delicious-sounding dish with spinach, veal scaloppini, prosciutto, sage and Marsala.

The essays were all written before 1974, which means they are filled with reminders of how much has changed over the years. We’ve come a long way since the time when wasabi needed to be called “green Japanese horseradish.” Today nearly anyone will answer “yes” to Beard’s query, “Have you encountered pita?” And let’s be thankful that avocados are no longer called “alligator pears” and are not “a very expensive delicacy.”

At times Beard is quite funny. My favorite line being: “Two of my best friends are a stripper and a zester. In case that raises some pretty wild visions, let me hasten to say that they are not girls but gadgets, and I couldn’t do without them in the kitchen.”

You can tell Beard was a man who had profound appreciation for food. Many of his columns are dedicated to a particular ingredient, and he kept his recipes simple enough for each to shine. One essay was called “The Sardine, a Small Miracle.” He talked about one of his favorite sandwiches, “homemade bread, well-buttered, spread with mashed sardines, a few drops of lemon juice, and a thin slice of onion, eaten with a glass of beer or wine.”

I thought about sardines. In my head I didn’t think I liked them, but then I wasn’t sure if I ever really had them. Did I actually dislike them? I decided to buy a tin and find out.

I followed Beard’s recipe for wined sardines on toast. If I was going to like sardines, it was going to be with butter, onion, garlic, wine and lemon, that’s for sure. Turns out all those things are delicious with the little fish, and my friend Marissa agreed. She didn’t think she liked sardines either until actually tasting them this way on homemade bread. So if you’re on the fence, as we were, I feel this could open your horizons. And it would probably make the late James Beard proud.

Wined Sardines on Toast

• 2 tbsp Butter
• 1 small onion chopped
• 2 crushed cloves garlic
• 3 inch strip of lemon peel
• 1 cup white wine
• bay leaf
• two 3 ¾ oz cans sardines

In a small pan, melt butter over medium heat. Saute onion until it begins to soften. Add garlic, lemon peel, wine and bay leaf. Simmer about 10 minutes, then pour over sardines. Marinate an hour.

Serve warm or cold with fresh bread. I made Peter Reinhart’s Italian bread, via Smitten Kitchen. We had this with some angel hair pasta (with zucchini, spinach and bacon) for dinner. Then the remaining sardines and toast served as my lunch the next day.

I used to have a pile of more than a dozen cookbooks near my bed. Most were library books, some were Michael’s, one was chef Mike Odette’s. When the semester ended it was time to return them all. I was left with two books of my own:

“Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant: Confessions of Cooking for One and Dining Alone” and “Brownies” …how appropriate.

“Alone” is a compilation of personal essays on solitary cooking and eating. I love creative non-fiction, and this book was filled with touching stories, witty writing and very different perspectives on how people deal with food when they’re by themselves. (I’ll write more about the book in another post, but I recommend it highly.)

Brownies is a recipe book Michael got me. I imagine that with him gone, I’ll be wanting to make that comfort food a lot more often.

Here’s a brownie recipe I made while he was still in town — cherry almond brownies. And check out more of what we’re reading here.

Cherry Almond Brownies

“Old Fashion Brownies” recipe from Linda Collister’s Brownies with my additions of cherries and almonds

• 4 eggs
• 1 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 1/4 sticks of butter, melted
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract, or almond extract, or a little of both
• 1 cup and 2 tablespoons flour
• 3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1/2 cup or more maraschino cherries, chopped, plus some of the syrup
• 1/2 cup chopped almond pieces
• 1/2 cup bittersweet chocolate chips (Ghirardelli 60% cocoa are my favorite)

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Break eggs into a mixing bowl. With an electric mixer, or really quickly by hand, whisk until frothy. Then whisk in sugar. Continue whisking as you slowly add the melted butter. Whisk a minute more, then add vanilla extract.

Sieve the flour and cocoa powder into the bowl and stir in with a spatula or wooden spoon. When thorougly combined, add chopped almonds and cherries, plus a little of the syrup that the cherries come in.

Pour batter into a greased square or circle pan (8-9 inches). Bake for about 25-30 minutes depending on the pan size and your oven’s own temperment. Always err on the side of less done.

These are very thick and rich. They should definitely be served with whipped cream or ice cream. (I liked whipped cream with these since it’s lighter.) For presentation, dust with powdered sugar.

I love to flip through cookbooks, but lately I’ve been more interested in food theory — books about ingredients, techniques, flavors, etc. Besides not being able to stick to a recipe to save my life, I prefer to learn the concepts behind cooking. It’s like that saying: Give a gal a fish recipe and she’ll eat for a night. Teach her how to cook it and she’ll eat for a lifetime. Or something.

I found an incredibly interesting book in the university library called The Flavor Principle Cookbook. It discusses the flavor principles and cooking techniques of several cultures, and then offers examples of traditional dishes and unique ways of combining ideas from different regions. This seems progressive for 1973.

I loved reading about the flavor principles from each culture, noticing the overlap and slight differences among them. For instance:

• Olive oil + tomato + garlic = Southern Italian
• Olive oil + tomato + saffron = Spanish, Southern French
• Olive oil + tomato + mixed herbs (thyme, basil, oregano) = Mediterranean, Provencal
• Olive oil + tomato + cinnamon and/or lemon = Greece, Balkans, Middle East

You can almost draw a map and follow the cuisine.

And what about Asian food? (That entire continent and nearby islands are so rarely appreciated as individual cultures.)

• Soy sauce + sake + sugar = Japanese
• Soy sauce + sherry + ginger = Chinese
• Soy sauce + garlic + brown sugar + sesame seeds = Korean
• Soy sauce + garlic + molasses + peanuts = Indonesian

These are still very basic formulas, but they get you to start thinking. After reading this book it was so easy for me to explain to my friend Annabelle why she enjoyed Indian food so much. Annabelle’s parents are Venezuelan and she grew up in Los Angeles. Naturally, she grew up eating Latin food. She hadn’t tried Indian until last month, but she loved it. Well if we consider the flavor principles of both cultures, we find a lot in common. Tomato, garlic, cumin, coriander/cilantro and hot peppers are all basic components of many Indian and Latin dishes.

The Flavor-Principle Cookbook is out of print, but if you can find it, I highly recommend it. I learned a lot, and we had a lot of success with her bulgar-stuffed chicken with a honey-sesame glaze.

This book is cool.

My class is nothing like this book.  ::sigh:: My class is missing lore.

I don’t want to work for Kraft Foods or memorize all the chemical names for fake sugar.  I want to learn about lore dammit.

Oh well.  I took the class because my advisor said I needed 3 more random credits to graduate.  I thought maybe, just maybe I’d be interested in the topics. University lectures have let me down once again.

On a brighter note, my sandwich was fantastic.  I think we’re making Indian for dinner tonight?  I hope so.