The Hobbs Digest

Cold Comfort

Oh, the weather outside is frightful, and pretty much everything we hear about the economy points to bleak, hardscrabble times ahead. Noted Great Simplifer Thomas Friedman was on Fareed Zakaria's show on CNN today, where he pronounced, "I go into restaurants and I look around... I want to come up to people and say, 'You shouldn't be here. You should be home having tuna sandwiches. What are you doing here? Don't you understand?'" (His expenditures going out to eat are implicitly acceptable, unless he just walks into restaurants to tsk-tsk and march right back out the front door, but that point was not raised.) His provocative statement brought to mind two things for me: a) restaurants shouldn't necessarily be singled out as unworthy recipients of our discretionary spending, and b) yes, cooking at home makes so much sense for so many reasons, including thrift.

The most indomitable advocate of home cooking today has just come out with an updated edition of the best cookbook out there, How to Cook Everything. Mark Bittman, a New York Times colleague of Mr. Friedman, is a longtime champion of home cooks and believes passionately that everyone can use their kitchens--even tiny Manhattan versions, like his own--to produce healthful, delicious food to really be proud of.

On chilly days when leaving the cozy sanctuary of home to brave the outside world is just too intimidating, there are many simple, quick treats one can whip up in no time. Today I craved chocolate, and I craved creamy, and I realized that chocolate pudding could become reality with very little effort. I had just received my copy of HTCE and sought out the recipe for pudding, p. 950. Using gorgeous Guittard Nocturne (91%) chocolate I had received in a goodie bag from a pastry chef event, I invested approximately $0.85 of ingredients and 15 minutes, plus chilling time, to make a luxuriously silky chocolate pudding that would stomp all over some wretched instant version from a box.

There is ample comfort in knowing that the simple pleasures of life will consistently make us happiest, so if winter blues or financial woes have got you down, nourish your belly and soul with homemade food, the best kind there is.

Planning Thanksgiving

Our crowd keeps growing for Thanksgiving, and that is wonderful. I adore this holiday, with its focus on food and loved ones. There is no emphasis on gift-giving and its inevitably crass commercialism (I'm lookin' at you, Christmas!) and any conflict among participants is rather minor, at least in my experience. Of course, the cook is usually overwhelmed, there may be restless children, some may drink to vociferous excess, but first and foremost, Thanksgiving is a pretext to throw a pleasurable feast. I think it's a marvelous opportunity to showcase and celebrate foods from the New World. Isn't it jarring to think that chilies, tomatoes, potatoes, and papaya were introduced to the whole planet only a handful of centuries ago?

Turkey is, of course, the centerpiece of any traditional Thanksgiving, so it's important to roast the bird with care. I am investigating different techniques, but it looks like brining and a foil tent will be involved. Details to follow.

To accompany the turkey, there must be an embarrassingly copious display of side dishes. There must be mashed potatoes and some riff on cranberries. Sweet potatoes and at least one green vegetable in a creamy sauce are expected, too. Wines must be selected to accompany the wide breadth of flavors from the take-your-coat-off-and-nibble-on-something stage to the very end, when dessert is forced down sluggish throats. As for dessert, what kind of pie? How many pies? What about pies and a frozen dessert?

The concerns go on and on, and all home cooks have a lot of planning to do in the days ahead. As my own plans coalesce, I'll try to find a few minutes to rationalize them here.

Please never buy hummous again.

If you have a food processor, you should not buy pre-packaged hummous. This wonderful, healthy paste is ridiculously easy to make, and you have total control over the seasoning and texture, which leads you to infinite variations on this simple theme.

You will need chickpeas, tahini, olive oil, lemon juice, minced garlic, and salt. Canned, drained chickpeas are wonderful and any difference between them and dried ones, prepared by soaking for hours, is imperceptible here. The amounts are all to your discretion, but do go easy on the garlic. No single flavor should dominate.

Combine the chickpeas, tahini, and garlic in the food processor and blend. Add the oil and lemon juice gradually, until you approach the desired texture. Add salt to taste, and process until frosting-smooth. Serve drizzled with olive oil, paprika or any other spice or herb you desire.

Gazala Place

Ninth Avenue in Manhattan boasts an impressive succession of restaurants serving attractively priced food from around the world, but Gazala Place, a couple months shy of its one-year anniversary, is especially distinctive, since, according to the owner and chef, Gazala Halabi, this is the only Druze restaurant in the U.S. Ms. Halabi, a warm and enthusiastic host, hails from a family of cooks and restaurateurs in Daliat el-Carmel, the largest Druze village in Israel. Mention of the word "Druze" in the U.S. will generally generate puzzled looks. The Druze are a very small religious community concentrated in Syria, Israel, Lebanon, and Jordan. The actual religious beliefs of the sect, an offshoot of Shi’a Islam, are unknown to outsiders, and Druze cuisine is virtually unheard of in the West.

Like a beacon to homesick and hungry Druze from all over the country who have heard about and sought out this sliver of a restaurant, a sajj is visible in the front window. This round, domed griddle, which looks like a wok turned upside-down, is used to make the characteristic, napkin-thin pita of the Druze. This bread reminds me of the rumali ("handkerchief") roti I've enjoyed in Northern India. Next to the sajj, right next to the front door, you will usually find a tray of bourekas, flaky pastries as big as squashed softballs, topped with black and white sesame seeds and filled with Gazala's whim of the day, usually spinach, meat or goat cheese and sun-dried tomato, the last combination being so ethereal as to inspire obsession. These phyllo pastries resemble two doughy New York Jewish staples—bagels, in shape, and knishes, in concept—but these bourekas have the virtue of being simultaneously light yet substantial.

With the exception of a few novel transliterations here and there, most of the menu looks familiar to any fan of Eastern Mediterranean cuisine. When asked what constitutes the essence of Druze cuisine, Ms. Halabi explains with a mischievous chuckle that most of what she learned to cook is "Israeli things…but we fix it." Gazala uses a uniquely Druze (and secret) blend, hand-ground and imported directly from her grandmother's spice shop back in Daliat el-Carmel. She dismisses the spices found here as flavorless and lacking a certain terroir. She makes her own yogurt, which is the base for several dishes on (and off) the menu, from thick, tangy labanee to ash al-saraia, an alluring, honey-sweetened dessert that is a sort of Levantine tiramisu. Gazala acknowledges that she could cut corners here and there with ingredients to save money and a lot of effort, but feels this would betray her principles and her mission to provide authentic, honest Druze cooking.

Ms. Halabi hadn't even heard of The New York Times when Peter Meehan's positive review was published in February, so she was dumbfounded when there was a line out the door for four days beginning on the morning after publication. She is thankful for the benediction of the Times review, an honor to which any ambitious restaurant aspires, but she did not open Gazala Place seeking critical acclaim. Far more important for her is the recognition she enjoys back in her very traditional birthplace, where women's roles outside the home are usually limited to part-time work. Most women toil in the house, cooking and cleaning and generally making life comfortable for their husbands. By coming to the United States and opening a successful restaurant—in New York City nonetheless—she has become a hometown hero and, most importantly in her own view, an ambassador for Druze cuisine and culture.

Gazala Place
709 9th Avenue (between 48th and 49th Streets)
New York, New York  10019
212.245.0709
BYOB

A weekend in LA: The Dish, Part 1

New York often turns up its nose at Los Angeles--and everywhere else, for that matter--but that great, shining city on the other coast gives us no room to slouch when it comes to eating. New York can't even come close to boasting the variety of restaurants serving Mexican, Persian, Thai and Vietnamese fare. I didn't have the chance to try what LA offers in the vast universe of Asian cuisine, but the first thing I ate, fresh in from the airport, was the legendary ice cream of Mashti Malone's, an ice-cream parlor specializing in Persian flavors like rosewater, pistachio, pomegranate, saffron, mango, etc., in intriguing combinations, some laced (vermiculated, actually!) with noodly faloodeh, or vermicelli. One half of the freezer features these exotic, perfumed treats, while the other caters to less adventurous customers who may consider Neapolitan to be somewhat outré. The shop, in a very unassuming strip mall dominated by Mashti's huge sign, half-English, half-Farsi, also sells irresistible packaged treats, like sohan asal, a honey almond brittle that  makes a mockery of the concept of portion control.

LA is the kind of place where yoga classes are canceled due to a full moon, where ancient spirits are honored on construction sites by women with long gray braids and tambourines, but it is rich in one of the most down-to-earth cuisines in the world: Mexican. I enjoyed a wonderful brunch at the new ¡Lotería Grill! on Hollywood Boulevard, right next to the Geisha House, a self-described "combination of five-star sushi restaurant set in the atmosphere of a surreal high-class brothel." Hoo boy! Much more to my taste, ¡Lotería! is the latest venture of chef/owner Jimmy Shaw, who rightfully has quite a following in the LA food world.

I loved this beautifully airy space upon entering. Seated on the patio, where we could enjoy that typically beautiful LA weather and the typical Hollywood Boulevard parade of sidewalk-stargazing tourists and local characters, we ordered smoky huevos rancheros en salsa morita ($10) and huevos divorciados ($10), slathered in salsa ranchero and salsa verde, with a side of the best chorizo I have ever eaten. Among the aguas frescas ($3), we sampled lip-smacking watermelon and lime. We also enjoyed a round of rather tame but delicious jalapeño margaritas ($12), in glasses rimmed with chili and salt.

After the feast, which started off with the requisite but better than usual chips and salsa, we were stuffed but couldn't resist the persuasive charm of our waiter, Frederico, when he recommended the flan de cajeta ($5), which turned out to be a stunner, really the Platonic ideal of this too often disappointing dessert.

Oh, could there be a New York branch of this wonderful restaurant in the cards? ¿Por favor?

 Mashti Malone's Ice Cream
1525 N. La Brea Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90028
323.874.0144

¡Lotería! Grill
6627 Hollywood Blvd.
Los Angeles , CA 90028
323.465.2500

No-Sweat Pickled Beets

Now here's a real pickle surprise. You can make a fabulous, summery treat with ease! If you don't consider yourself a beet person, that's probably because you've only been exposed to icky canned specimens, drained of all pizazz. Beets--or beetroot, an alternative name that acknowledges the utility of the flavorful greens--come in all sizes and jewel-like colors, and all of them are suitable for this simple alchemy. My recipe is an adaptation of that from the indispensable bible of the home cook, How to Cook Everything, by Mark Bittman.

• 1 1/2 pounds beets 
• 2 small or 1 medium-to-large red onion(s), sliced in rings
• 1 1/3 c. vinegar
• 1/4 c. sugar
• 1/4 c. maple syrup
• 1 1/2 T sea salt
• 1 t cardamom seeds
• 1 t grains of paradise
• 1 t coriander seeds
• 1 t whole allspice

Remove all but an inch of the greens, if attached, and scrub the beets under running water. Boil gently for 30-60 minutes, until a paring knife pierces the beets easily. (I prefer steaming them in a pressure cooker under high pressure for about 20 minutes--it's quicker and keeps the kitchen cooler.) Allow the beets to cool, and remove the skin and any rough, knotty areas. Cut the beets in thick slices and, if you like, quarter these slices to make rustic wedges. Bring the vinegar, sugar, salt and spices to a boil in a rather large saucepan and add the beets and onions. Cook for just a minute or two, and then allow to cool. Refrigerate what's left after serving, if anything, and consume within a couple weeks--shouldn't be a problem.

Strawberry Shortcut and Pickle Surprise

Check out these two hilarious videos made by late video artist Tom Rubnitz in 1989.

Her Yolk is Easy

Heidi Rogers, the affable owner of Frank Music Company, runs an old-fashioned shop. Classical musicians know that this is the best source for printed music and unparalleled knowledge about it, dispensed freely. Transactions here are recorded with pencil, there's no computer in sight--the only database is Heidi's brain, and she's pretty hard to stump--and there are signs posted to remind patrons of the cellphone ban. There are a few bins to browse through, but purchasing music here is like going to the pharmacy. You give your request at the counter, and Heidi retrieves what you seek from the towering rows of shelves behind.

Frank Music is also a source of something completely and unexpectedly down-home here in midtown Manhattan, just a few doors down from the address of legendary disco palace Studio 54: farm-fresh eggs. Heidi brings in eggs to sell at the shop, laid by the chickens she keeps at her weekend home. As she declares in this profile in the New York Times: "Why be in one dying profession when you can be in two: music dealer and farmer?" Just try to find such synergy with an online merchant!

I couldn't resist buying a dozen along with my scores, but these eggs are cash-only. Since I only had plastic in my wallet and couldn't produce the $5.50, Heidi let me take the eggs with an IOU. This touching gesture of trustworthiness, along with the friendly chat, made this seem like a journey back in time, when customer service wasn't an empty buzzword. Now that I have a new source for eggs, I'll be stopping by this NYC institution more often than my need for buying music dictates, and it will be a pleasure.

Frank Music Company
244-250 West 54th Street, 10th Floor, New York, NY 10019
Telephone: 212.582.1999
Store hours: Monday-Friday 11-5

Interview in El Diario Vasco

For those of you hispanohablantes out there, check out this interview of me by the lovely Begoña del Teso for Spanish newspaper El Diario Vasco. We spent a memorable afternoon eating, drinking, and chatting in San Sebastián, where I had the immense pleasure of visiting recently. Reports and photos to come soon!

Istanbul Food Diary: Dinner at Medi Şark Sofrası

Just off the always-crowded main drag in Beyoglu, Istiklal Caddesi, you can get your kebab on in the most satisfactory fashion. Be aware that the portions on offer at this wonderful restaurant are HUGE, so consider ordering for at least two fewer people than actually are in your party. Just order the mixed platter from the wonderful staff, and get ready to receive an enormous tray filled with, from top to bottom, bulgur (or rice--it depends on the kitchen's whim, from my two equally satisfying visits), grilled tomatoes, pickled and raw vegetables, stupendous chicken wings, grilled chicken, lamb kebabs, lahmaçun, and grilled peppers.

They don't serve alcohol, but ordering the gorgeously frothy, homemade ayran, yogurt mixed with water and salt (far, far beyond the sum of its parts), served in a copper cup with a ladle, is a must!

When the meze platter of deliciously crisp vegetables arrives as a prélude to the feast, this huge, steaming poof of bread covered with sesame and nigella (I think!) seeds will come for immediate demolition. Such simple, honest, delightful food!

When you have a table outside, Istanbul's ubiquitious kitties can't resist approaching. Would you be able to resist this face?