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August 2008...

Chef Gwen
Powderhorn Ranch
Gourmet Week

Chef Gwen's Blog

Armed with a pen and fork, Chef Gwen reviews Palatte restaurant in Phoenix

    I’m quite certain that no matter what I write in this review, the newly opened Palatte in the historic Cavness house on the northwest corner of 4^th Avenue and Fillmore will be crazy busy for a long time to come. Most of the madness – elbowing your way to the cash register in the teensy hallway, jostling for one of the white linen topped tables, and balancing yourself in a rickety antique French lawn chair – is half of the restaurant’s charm. The other half is farm fresh ingredients, artfully presented plates of creative breakfast, brunch and lunch fare.

     Eating outside on the front patio or in the lush side garden is much more appealing than squeezing into the handful of tables nestled into two rooms of the old wooden floored house, and much quieter, too.  If there are no tables anywhere after placing your order, pass the time in the back room, home to the quaint Willows Home & Garden boutique, and pick up a few gifts to tuck away until the holidays.

Ambience alone isn’t enough to draw a crowd, and the young McHale team (she’s the chef and he works the front of the house) has constructed an eclectic assortment of mostly delightful dishes. Breakfast far outshines the lunch offerings, and is, fortunately, available all day. Lunch on the other hand, isn’t served until 11 a.m. The metal flip chart menus hang just inside the door, so don’t forget to grab one as you make your way to the cash register. You’ll likely have plenty of time to read it and the history of the Cavness house while waiting in line.

Something as simple as scrambled eggs is elevated to elegant with the addition of fresh herbs and tomatoes ($7). The simple white plate is embellished with a choice of bread (from local Simply Bread), and a choice between seasoned potatoes, farm-ripe tomato slices or seasonal fruit.

 The rustic ($7) is presented in a white bowl layered with two toasted, thin slices of multigrain bread, roasted asparagus, smoky bacon strips and two perfectly poached eggs. It’s much easier to look at than it is to eat. I slide the contents onto an empty plate and devour every last, glorious bite. 

 The prosciutto ($7.50), a square of golden puff pastry lined with crisp prosciutto, topped with apple wedges, sautéed sliced endive and covered with a slab of melted brie is almost as tasty as the egg ($7.50), another square of puff pastry encasing creamy house made crème fraîche and bacon slivers, topped with a sunny side up fried egg.

After tasting several egg dishes, I crave something sweet and ogle the roasted sweet potato pancakes ($7), with toasted pecans, spiced mascarpone and pure maple syrup. I want to love this dish but the inside of the two generous pancakes are not done, and my fork is gooey from uncooked batter. The mascarpone is mostly melted butter punched with a heavy dose of cinnamon. I eat around the edges to avoid the raw middles.

 On another visit just over a month later, I order the pancakes again and they are still not cooked through, although the mascarpone/butter is more mascarpone this time. The recipe needs tweaking – fewer sweet potatoes and a tad more flour? 

 Undeterred, I forge ahead through the lunch menu, tackling the beef sandwich ($8). The menu reads “slow-braised grass-fed beef, horseradish crème fraîche, arugula, crispy shallot rings on baguette.”  One dining partner is unimpressed but I think the sandwich hits all the notes it should. The beef is tender and the bread, again from Simply Bread, is crusty, chewy, and a perfect foil for the natural tasting beef.

 On another visit, I want to try the add-on salad of chilled Brussels sprouts ($5) with dried cranberries and sliced almonds, but I order too early, before the lunch menu switch. Instead, I order a glass of Prosecco ($6). It may be too early for mini cabbages, but it’s never too early for a splash of fermented grape juice.

The bubbly white wine, garnished with a whisper thin slice of green apple, pairs perfectly with the caramelized onion tart ($8). The buttery square tart is brimming with sweet, bacon flavored onions and is served with thick slices of juicy beefsteak tomatoes topped with capers and shards of shaved pecorino cheese.

About those Brussels sprouts – don’t expect them to stay on the menu. They weren’t there this summer (it was fava beans instead) and will likely rotate with the seasons and the whims of the chef.

 In addition to a small, boutique wine list and a handful of world beers by the bottle, Palatte offers a plethora of coffee drinks and teas by SerendipiTea, as well as fresh brewed iced tea ($2) and tamarind rose lemonade ($2.50). 

 Palatte doesn’t have dessert per se, but the glass case next to the register features a few baked items ($2.75) like a pretty paper and ribbon wrapped muffin (the flavor changes daily but I try a cranberry pistachio that tastes like it came from a generic mix).  I gobble a saucer-sized cookie (pecan/cranberry/chocolate chunk) on one visit and an espresso flavored brownie on another visit.

 Palatte is tres chic and most dishes shine with quality ingredients and vibrant flavors. So, no matter what I write, you’ll find me there again, sipping Prosecco, waiting for the sweet potato pancakes to come out done.

Palatte

606 N. 4^th Avenue, Phoenix, AZ 85003

(602) 462-9400

Breakfast/Lunch

http://www.downtownbrunch.com

(A version of this review first appeared in The Arizona Republic) 

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Armed with a pen and fork, Chef Gwen spends a day at Simply Bread

(This article first appeared in Edible Phoenix, Fall 2007)

“Your bread is anything but simple,” I tell Harold Back, founding partner of Phoenix’s hottest bakery, Simply Bread.

“Ah, but you’re wrong,” he says.

I had already spent a full day at the bakery watching his partner Chef Jeffrey Yankellow go through the rigors of his daily baking routine. I was convinced that this was the most incredible, complex bread I had ever tasted. How could this possibly be simply bread?

 “If you think about bread,” Back continues, “it is really a foundation food. It is so fundamental, so elegant in its simplicity. For us, the focus has always been to make really good bread and in order to make really good bread, you have to make simple bread.”

A kosher, mostly organic bakery, Simply Bread has seriously elevated the quality of bread in the Valley since opening in February 2006. Daily production at the bakery has risen from 400 pounds a day when they first opened to 3,500 pounds a day on average, and occasionally a bakery-stretching capacity of 10,000 pounds a day, which happened just before Thanksgiving last year. Why did Simply Bread take off so quickly?

Back and Yankellow attribute their early success to an unwavering commitment to traditional methods of long fermentation, exceptional ingredients, absolutely no chemicals, preservatives or dough conditioners, and a shared passion to put craftsmanship before anything else.

Back was first motivated to open a bakery because he couldn’t find good bread. After years of prodding from friends, the former investment banker finally decided to turn his fervent bread-baking hobby into his vocation.

He called a company in San Francisco to buy commercial baking equipment. He was brusquely told that he couldn’t buy their equipment because he didn’t know what he was doing. If, however, he would take a baking course to learn the craft, he might be allowed to buy the essential ovens and mixers. Instead of being offended, it made perfect sense to him, so off he went to the San Francisco Baking Institute.

At the time, Yankellow was the head instructor at the San Francisco Baking Institute, preparing to represent the American team in the bread division at the renowned Coupe du Monde de la Boulangerie in Paris. The competition, held every three years, gives bragging rights to the country that captures first place to be called the world’s best bakers. Three months later, in April 2005, Yankellow and his team captured the coveted gold, beating out 11 other countries.

Shortly before that notable victory, as Back’s training at the Institute was winding down, he had convinced Yankellow, who was contemplating several job offers from bakeries across the country, to visit Phoenix. Back says, “I suggested to him that he should really consider going into business for himself instead of taking a job.”

After a couple of trips to the Valley, Yankellow was motivated not only by the opportunity to create a bakery from scratch but also the challenge of creating Old World, European-style breads in a desert. He and Back spent several weeks developing the styles of bread they wanted to produce, first in a home kitchen and then fine-tuning the formulas in the bakery two weeks before they opened. Both partners wanted the breads to reflect the region, just as terroir impacts a wine’s characteristics.

“Our sourdough has a very different flavor profile than our competition. We don’t add ascorbic acid (vitamin C) to the dough to give it that kick,” Back says. To do so would go against their philosophy of simple bread. “Others add chemicals or flavoring agents to their dough to mimic a certain flavor profile. We want our bread to reflect our environment.” As a result, he says, the sour flavor of Simply Bread sourdoughs hits the back of the palate in a subtle way, instead of the familiar twang of sour in the front of the palate that a San Francisco–style sourdough delivers.

Yankellow explains that the difference between their bread and mass-produced bread is taste, quality and shelf life. “Mass-produced bread is made to last months without molding from the addition of preservatives and chemicals. Our breads are not meant to last. They can’t compete with us on quality and taste.”

Back says the business model for bread is similar to that of wine, sort of an upside down martini glass without the base. At the wide bottom, a horde of companies are creating tons of bread—not very good bread, in his opinion, but lots of cheap bread. At the pointy top of the scale, only a handful of bakeries are producing superior, craft bread. He believes, and so do chefs in the Valley’s top restaurants and resorts, that Simply Bread is one of those handful of bakeries at the top.

Chef Kevin Binkley of Binkley’s in Cave Creek says, “Simply Bread is, I think, the best in the Valley. One of the things I like is that they work with you, to meet your specifications. I want to finish our bread here in the restaurant, so they deliver the bread par baked in the morning, and we finish [baking] it off during service.”

Yankellow credits the ingredients and the techniques he employs. “Each of our breads has its own personality, because each is made from a different starter,” Yankellow says. Even breads that are identical as far as the dough is concerned (but with different flavoring ingredients, like the specialty rolls) are made in small batches instead of one huge batch. Yankellow believes they taste better in small batches.

He uses a combination of pre-fermented dough starters called sponges and poolishes, made from straight white, wheat or rye flours, or a combination of them. Yankellow employs a key factor that Back says sets them apart from large and small bakeries: time. “Time is money,” Back says, “but time is also flavor.” Yankellow s  ays some of his breads ferment up to 36 hours if you include the time it takes to ferment a sponge or poolish. That time creates flavor, structure and texture.

Back and Yankellow spend an inordinate amount of time sourcing ingredients, from gigantic, plump, organic raisins from southern California to organic black walnuts from a farm in northern California to green olives imported from Greece. Every egg is cracked individually, to check for blood, a requirement for kosher certification. During an average week, that translates into about 5,000 eggs.

Simply Bread cooks its own organic black beans, roasts its own garlic and onions, and uses fresh jalapeños for their Southwest specialty breads. Yankellow discovered a beekeeper in Flagstaff who produces thick, almost candy-like organic honey. “I could use cheaper honey, but this beekeeper doesn’t add water. Other honeys can contain up to 18% water,” he says. He prefers to buy local over organic, and he’s thrilled when he finds something that is local and organic.

Every single piece of bread is shaped by hand. The bakery does take advantage of modern technology, such as an automated mixer than can hold up to 350 pounds of dough, and cutters that can cut the dough into equal portions for rolls and small loaves. The larger loaves are individually cut and weighed on a scale by Yankellow’s small team of bakers. The walk-in proofer/retarder is temperature controlled to slow down or speed up the rise before baking. The bakers roll racks of dough into the walk-in from the shaping room and a door on the other side opens into the baking room.

The French hearth oven is a big hunk of metal and stone, with eight doors on four decks, and is always set at 480 degrees. Another roll-in French oven used to bake soft breads and rolls is tall enough to roll in six-foot racks filled with dough. A revolving floor slowly turns the rack for even baking.

Seventeen breads make up the core of Simply Bread’s offering, but as many as 25 different breads may be baked on any given day. The breads have whimsical names, like Down Home, a dark, hearty multigrain that is a meal in itself; Sweety Wheat, a tender whole-wheat bread with a touch of that Flagstaff honey; The Champ, a seeded wheat bread with sesame, flax and toasted sunflower seeds baked throughout the bread for a contrasting texture between grain and tender bread; and Old Faithful, an all-purpose wild yeast sourdough. How did the breads end up with crazy names? Yankellow says, “We just sat around and thought about the bread’s characteristics and came up with a name that reflects the personality.”

The bulk of the breads baked daily are delivered to the Valley’s top restaurants and resorts, and a select few are delivered to the Valley’s A. J.’s Fine Foods stores. Surplus production is sold directly to the public in a little house that sits next to the bakery.

“The retail operation here is what I call ‘accidental’ retail,” Back says. The bakery over-produces each wholesale order to ensure that the order doesn’t come up short. The extra loaves and rolls are packaged and sold in the charming little storefront next door. The store is staffed by a former customer who was so smitten with the bread that she joined the company, and now spends her days treating customers to samples at the bread bar. In addition to the surplus bread, the store also sells other items made in the bakery, such as granola, organic dog biscuits, and Parve (no butter, no animal products) cookies and biscotti.

After tasting 24 different breads, I can’t pick a favorite—not one tasted ordinary. I am giddy over Ooh La La, a dense, crusty multigrain packed with toasted walnuts, tart cranberries and jumbo raisins, and The Classic baguette transports me back to Paris with just one taste. The pull-apart Funky Monkey is superb on its own, and sublime when turned into French toast. Is all of this really just simple bread?

As it turns out, making simple bread is not so simple. To create complex flavors, sharp contrasts in texture between a crisp, chewy crust and a moist, tender interior without the crutches of chemicals and conditioners is no easy feat. But that is what Simply Bread does, and the end result is nothing less than simply divine.

Simply Bread

2117 N. 24th St.

Phoenix, AZ 85008

(602) 244-1778

www.simplybread.com

Chef Jeff Yankellow, Head Baker

Harold Back, Founder, President

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Armed with a pen and fork, Chef Gwen ponders To Brine or Not to Brine

    Is it a simple or complicated question?  To brine or not to brine? There are more valued opinions than mine on this topic, but I want to share with you my experience. For the past 3 years, I've brined my Thanksgiving turkey. (Last year, I tried a heritage breed, and it turned out to be a disaster, even with brining, but that's a story for another day.)  Before that, I never cooked the turkey, my mom did.

    I still think the bird is overrated and I'd be just as happy with a table full of side dishes and no turkey but I can't seem to convince anyone else in my family that the world would not stop spinning if we skipped the turkey.

    Since there is going to be a turkey on the table, let's at least make it as moist and tasty as possible. I've found that brining is the easiest, most sure way to a moist turkey. I still baste with butter in search of the brownest bird, but brining is now my secret weapon.

    Soaking the meat in a salt water solutions does a couple things according to food scientist, Harold McGee, author of On Food and Cooking: The Science And Lore of the Kitchen. The meat soaks up the solution and then when cooked, it looses less moisture than it would have without brining. The salt also starts to break down the protein structure, which in turn tenderizes the meat.

    The standard brine is 1 cup of kosher salt, 1/2 cup of sugar per gallon of water. That's fine if you plan to brine less than 12 hours. If I brine for more than 12 hours, I think this ratio is too strong (it makes the bird and resulting drippings from cooking too salty), so I use 1/2 cup of kosher salt and 1/4 cup of sugar per gallon. It can take 2 to 3 gallons to cover a 12 pound bird, and even then it's not completely submerged, so I do some turning during the brining period.

    I also add some spices to the brine, even though I've also just used salt and sugar. I like to add a couple bay leaves, a handful of peppercorns, and maybe some crushed juniper berries. Add whatever spices you want that go with the rest of your dishes. I've even seen people add orange peel and cinnamon sticks to the turkey brine.

    The only downside to brining I've experienced is salty gravy, as a result of the pan drippings being salty from the brined bird. That is one reason I tend to use the lower salt ratio to water for my brining mix. You can dilute the gravy by adding more unsalted stock, and just end up with more gravy than you really need. (Is there really such a thing as too much gravy?)

    I hope you give brining a shot. I think it elevates a dry, tasteless turkey to a juicy, tender one. If you've never brined, why don't you first try it on a chicken before Thanksgiving and see what you think? In the meantime, I'm going to start working on my side dishes.

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Armed with a pen and fork, Chef Gwen tackles the "original Philadelphia Cheesesteak"

    The bellman at the swanky Ritz Carlton on Broad Street in downtown Philadelphia does his best to dissuade me from traveling to south Philly in search of Pat's King of Steaks. "You don't want to go to Pat's," he says emphatically.

"You gotta go to Jim's if you want a really good cheesesteak," he pleads, completely missing the point that I'm on a mission to try the "original" Philadelphia cheesesteak, the one that started it all.

But it turns out that the original cheesesteak actually began as just a steak sandwich, sans cheese, in 1930 by brothers Pat and Henry Olivieri. Pat's King of Steaks is still run by the Olivieri family.

In 1966, Geno's Steaks opened across the street. There is quite a rivalry going on between the two cross-street operations, but each seems to claim a niche, and both are packed when we visit on a warm, fall Sunday afternoon. Geno's claims they were the first to add cheese, but the Olivieri family disputes that fact.

What's not disputed is the kind of cheese that makes a steak sandwich a cheesesteak -- Cheeze Whiz, from Kraft. Of course, both joints offer other cheese, including American and provolone. And you can get sautéed peppers and mushrooms, too, if you want. But the "original" is thinly sliced steak (they claim rib-eye, but I have my doubts after chewing on the meat), sautéed onions, and a generous smear of sunny yellow cheese whiz, all tucked into an Italian bread roll.

We heed the advice of the bellman, and first stop at Jim's Steaks on South Street. I can smell the steak before we even enter the corner spot. Once inside, the sizzling sound of steak and onions fills the air along with steam drenched with beefy aromas. I order a cheesesteak from a man flipping onions with a long handled spatula with one hand and holding a hoagie roll in the other. "I'll have a cheesesteak, please," I say, not really sure how to order it.

He asks if I want cheese and I say yes. "What kind of cheese," he says, impatiently tapping the spatula on the flat top covered with thinly sliced beef, in varying degrees of doneness. A gap between the cooking meat and a pile of roughly chopped white onions, also in varying degrees of doneness, is the guy's work space.

I say Cheese Whiz of course and his hands move quickly, taking a long flat spatula from an opened restaurant size can of Cheese Whiz and slathering the inside of a long Italian loaf. He scoops up a pile of meat and a pile of onions from the "done" piles and places them in the center of the flat top. He places the bread, cut side down on top of the pile of beef and onions, and then uses his spatula to turn it over, scooping, and tucking the filling as he turns it upright. "Next," he says to the guy behind me.

We make our way to a counter and sit down to taste our first ever, Philadelphia cheesesteak. Heaven. Caramelized but crunchy onions, deeply flavored beef that's tender, and just a smattering of gooey yellow cheese, all wrapped up in a soft on the inside and crusty on the outside roll. I now understand the facination with the Philly cheeseteak. It is quite simply delicious.

I can't wait to zip over to Pat's and Geno's to experience more cheesesteak nirvana. We first walk up to the "original" home, Pat's. The guy behind the window is rude and asks for my order. I tell him and he barks "One Whiz... Next!" But I ask him to cut it in half before he takes the next guy's order. "We don't have any knives back here, NEXT!"  Geez, so Pat's niche is being the cheesesteak Nazi, a la Seinfeld fame. OK. We bite into Pat's famous, original Philly cheesesteak and it's, um, boring. The meat is flavorless and tough. The tiny chopped onions aren't done. It's nothing to crow about.

So across the street we go and order another cheesesteak from Geno's. The service was much friendlier, but alas, they too don't want to cut the steak in half. What is that all about? This Geno's cheesesteak is very similar to Pat's. The meat is not quite as tough as Pat's but not nearly as tender or flavorful as Jim's. And Geno's really must think they started the Cheese Whiz addition, as our steak has gobs of it. At least the onions, while cut small, like Pat's, are cooked.

Sometimes, the original isn't the best. But I have to thank the original for inspiring the best -- Jim's Steaks. And thanks to the bellman at the Ritz. He really knows his cheesesteaks.

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Armed with a pen and fork, Chef Gwen explores Telluride, Colorado.

    For me, it doesn't get any better than escaping to the mountains in the middle of the summer. This summer, we took off for Telluride, undoubtedly one of the most picturesque spots in the Rocky Mountains. It is one of the most popular ski destinations, and as weird as it sounds, summer is their slow season.

    It's not because of the lack of hiking, fishing, or shockingly beautiful views. It's not because the town holds a festival every single weekend during the summer, including the "No Festival" festival. And it's certainly not because the lodging, while not cheap, is not unreasonable. We stayed in a one bedroom studio, with a full kitchen, living area, and bedroom with a king size bed in a gorgeous dog-friendly mountain lodge for less than $250 a night.

    After a week at heady elevations, cool nights and warm days, I may have figured out why it wasn't crowded.  The dining scene is a disaster. It's not from a lack of restaurants, the town is loaded. It seems, however, there isn't anyone there qualified to run them. Maybe the professional managers and servers take the summer off. Nearly every restaurant was advertising for help. And I know why. The service was terrible everywhere, and the food was unmemorable in most, but not all of the restaurants we dined in.

    Amazingly, it was the inexpensive, Mexican restaurants that seemed to be the only ones on their game, from the little La Tapatia Taqueria trailer located in a park on the main street, to the casual indoor-outdoor La Cocina de Luz on the opposite side of the street. The taqueria lunch, for two, was $12. You order at the window and pick it up a few minutes later. They don't have servers. You order at the counter at La Cocina de Luz, and some one brings it to you, but you bus your own table, so they don't have a need for table servers.

    The upscale restaurants are the ones struggling. One in particular is an Italian restaurant, La Piazza del Villaggio, at Mountain Village, a short gondola ride from the town. The inside of the restaurant is artfully designed with muted colors and clean, modern furniture. But nobody eats inside the restaurant during the summer. The restaurant has nearly as much seating outside in the pretty courtyard with views of the mountains. If only they could figure out how to cook and then serve the food. We spent $60 for one teeny Caesar salad, one entree and 2 Amstel Light beers. We ordered two glasses of wine (they never showed up) and another entree that was so inedible that we sent it back. It was a pesto linguini dish that had enough pesto for 100 dishes. The restaurant manager eventually stopped by our table to find out why we sent the dish back. If he seriously couldn't tell, he has no business being in the restaurant business.

      Not every restaurant experience was that bad, but not one was memorable, as it should have been. We had a tasty dinner at Siam, a relatively new Thai restaurant off the main drag. We had great beers at the town's brewery, Smuggler's Brewpub, and Baked in Telluride, a hippie-like bakery, was a pleasant surprise with hearty muffins and multigrain breads that are also available in the gourmet market at the top of the gondola. The one restaurant we had high hopes for was packed the night we arrived without a reservation. That's too bad, because, I'm guessing here, since it was the only restaurant in town where you needed a reservation, it might have been the best. I did the next best thing, I bought the restaurant's cookbook, Honga's Lotus Petal.

I bet you are wondering how can I complain about taking a vacation in Telluride. I guess I just can't leave my work at home. 

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Armed with a pen and fork, Chef Gwen takes stock of her fridge...

  It’s all my tile guys’ fault. They were working on Saturday, and I felt like I should do something for them, like bake cookies. Of course, I only think of this after they tell me they’re about done.

    So I rummage through my pantry and find a cookie package mix. I don’t know where it came from, probably a culinary conference, as I rarely bake (you know the story).

    Normally, pre-packaged mixes aren't my style. If I’m going to bake, I’m going to make it as difficult on me as possible.

    As they clean up, I’m in the kitchen whipping up the gourmet cookie mix. I got a whiff of something, but didn’t think anything of it. For three days my house has smelled of glue, dust and sweat.

    Ding! The timer goes off and I retrieve the cookies from the oven and catch that scent again. Hmm. As soon as they cool enough to move to a cooling rack, I break one open to taste.

    Yuck! Gag! Spit, hurry! The cookies are beyond rancid. That smell was flour gone bad. Eeewww!

    The good news is I didn’t announce my planned treat, so I slip them a little cash tip instead, which surely is appreciated more than a warm Toll House.

    It made me realize it was time to clean out the pantry, and then I opened my fridge and decide it needs more immediate attention.

    Since when did I need two jars of Mango Chutney, both opened, only missing a couple of tablespoons? And how long had they been there?

    I found an opened jar of Dundee Ginger Preserves. Can’t remember when (or why) I bought that. It wasn’t spoiled, but seriously, should ginger be preserved for spreading on toast? I already have strawberry, blackberry, and apricot jars, all opened, of course.

    The “longest surviving” award has to go to a jar of lobster base I found on the top shelf, back right corner. I bought it 10 years ago for a lobster bisque recipe I was testing for my first cookbook. The recipe didn’t make the cut, but the jar lived on, hidden for years. Can you top that?

    Another “what is this” discovery is a jar of Nopalitos. I don’t like fresh cactus (it’s slimy like okra with a grassy taste), so whatever made me think I should buy it in a jar?  As I opened it to pour the liquid down the drain, I tasted a piece, a green bean-looking sliver. Hmm, imagine that! It actually tasted better than fresh. It was pickled. Vinegar is a wondrous thing.

    Moving on, I tossed a jar of red currant jelly (2 teaspoons left), an opened can (NEVER DO THIS…it is a recipe for food poisoning) of chipotle peppers (always transfer them to another non-metal container), a half used jar of barbecue chicken marinade, a rock hard lime, and the list goes on.

    I’ll embarrass myself if I keep going, and you get the drift. Now I have one whole shelf empty. I think it’s time to go grocery shopping. Who knows what treasure I’ll find and how long I'll keep it.

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Armed with thoughts of summer, Chef Gwen dreams of cool, crisp salads...

    I might wax poetic about summer today, because it's June, and it's the beginning of that stretch of time that's full of lazy days, fresh berries at the market that actually taste like berries and don't cost an arm and a leg, and thoughts of backyard barbecues. The sun rises early and goes to bed late, teasing us with warm, gentle days and fooling us into thinking we have more time to play, cook and eat.

    And then I remember the other thing about summer .... heat. Others go to the movies to escape the heat while I head to the grocery store. My favorite part of summer is meandering through the produce aisles, gawking at all the fresh corn, taunt green beans, red, ripe tomatoes and luscious peaches and nectarines.

    I start fantasizing about cool, crisp salads, packed with crunchy vegetables, sweetened with peak-perfection fruit and topped with smoky grilled fish. I love summer.  And more often than not, a big salad is our reward at the end of the sun-soaked day.  I'll never get bored with salads. There are as many variations in creating a salad as there are stars in the sky.

    What constitute a salad? Pretty much anything, as long as it includes vegetables and a dressing. I start with greens. Sometimes it's spinach, sometimes mixed baby greens, or butter lettuce, or watercress, or arugula. Then I think about vegetables. I shave carrots, slice brightly colored bell peppers, red onion, and maybe something green, too, like steamed sugar snaps, broccoli, or green beans.

    Now I need a vinaigrette. The vinaigrette possibilities are just as endless. Maybe I'll do an Asian flavored vinaigrette with ginger, soy, and sesame seeds, or a fruit based vinaigrette with strawberries or blueberries. How about an island-inspired vinaigrette with coconut, lime and mango? Whichever vinaigrette I choose, I make a little extra to marinate my protein.

    Speaking of proteins, I love to grill fish in the summer, from the fleeting Copper River Salmon to the always available tilapia, or catfish. Shrimp and scallops are also on my summer radar, as is pork tenderloin, free-range chicken breasts and flank steak. I also love to grill chicken sausage to top my salads, and there are endless brands and flavors these days.

    Finally, I top my salad with toasted nuts, or a sprinkling of cheese. I love to pair salty feta with the strawberry and grilled chicken combination, or Mexican Queso Fresco with a salad of grilled corn, chile-dusted shrimp and tossed with a lime vinaigrette. Just thinking about these possibilities is calling me to the kitchen, right after a trip braving the heat to the grocery store. How about you?

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Armed with a paper towel, Chef Gwen rules the kitchen...

    I have an addiction. Well, perhaps several, but I just noticed this one this weekend as I spent most of the day in the kitchen cooking for a small dinner party. I realized that I went through an entire roll of paper towels in a matter of a few hours.  

    What was life in the kitchen like before the invention of the paper towel? I've come to rely so much on the paper towel that I might as well throw away all my cloth towels.

    One one hand, I feel guilty about tearing off a sheet every time I need to dry my hands, soak up a spill, or dry off fruits and vegetables after I wash them, or using a wad of paper towels to soak in oil before greasing down the grill.

    I rationalize that the towels are biodegradable, and I'm saving energy by avoiding an extra load of laundry.

    I came by this PT habit honestly. I remember my mother buying paper towels in bulk. When she'd get down to just two or three rolls in the pantry, she'd panic and stock up again.

    She only bought Viva paper towels, sometimes white only, other times with some silly little print. She scoured the weekly ads looking for her beloved Viva on sale.

    I'm not as good about hunting for coupons, and I don't care for Viva either -- it's too thick and too soft. For some reason, I'm stuck on Bounty, and I'll buy 10 rolls of the stuff at Costco. Maybe I use more because I know I have a bountiful stash in the garage?

    My younger brother uses paper towels as much, if not more, than I do but he buys the "select-a-size" and judiciously uses a half sheet when I use a whole sheet.

    The kitchen paper towel was introduced in 1939 by the Scott company. It was a natural extension of the disposal sani-towel Arthur Scott invented decades earlier to help prevent the spread of the common cold...that and he ended up with a mountain of paper rolled too thick to use as toilet paper. 

    So even though I don't use a Scott brand of paper towel, I owe Mr. Scott a debt of gratitude for making my life in the kitchen much easier. Or perhaps I should hold him responsible for my newest addiction.

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Armed with an empty stomach, Chef Gwen visits her favorite Mexican Restaurants...

    My favorite cuisine is Mexican. I could eat Mexican food three times a day, seven days a week and still want more. I like all types of Mexican food from the cheap, Tex-Mex style I grew up with to the elaborate central Mexico fare served to Mexican aristocrats to everything else in between. Here are three of my favorite valley Mexican restaurants, and while all three happen to be the more upscale fare, I do recommend Tee Pee (602.956.0178) on the northeast corner of Indian School Rd and 42nd Street for very basic, very cheap, everyday Sonoran Mexican grub.

Spotted Donkey Cantina

34505 N. Scottsdale Rd.

480.488.3358

Pros: Artfully decorated; comfortable seats; seriously delicious spicy food; good margaritas; accepts reservations.

Cons: Delicious house fried chips and salsa aren't free; it's a little dark at night (bring a flashlight to read the menu); service is slow when they're packed, which is Thurs-Sat evenings; expensive; a little far north if you are centrally located in the valley; but well worth the drive.

Must order: Nachos...they're not your standard nachos, but three layers of stacked, flat, round, fried corn tortillas with gobs of moist slow-roasted pork in between, and two spicy sauces: brick red chile and roasted tomatillo. Topped with manchego and Monterrey Jack cheese with a drizzle of Mexican crema, this appetizer can easily fill in as a meal.

Los Sombreros Mexican Restaurant

2534 N. Scottsdale Rd.

480.994.1799

Pros: Ambience is rustic: set in an old house just south of Thomas Rd.; authentic central and southern Mexican food, artfully prepared; impressive guacamole presentation and taste; chocolate tamales for dessert; best margaritas in town.

Cons: Only accept reservations for parties of 5 or more; always busy/crowded; not open on Sunday; service is spotty.

Must order: anything on the entree menu, especially the crab enchiladas, mole poblano, and lamb adobo, and of course, the tamal de chocolate.

Barrio Cafe

2814 N. 16th St.

602.636.0240

Pros: Artsy decor; cozy; original and fresh traditional southern Mexico food (no chips and salsa, no rice and beans, no Tex Mex); outstanding guacamole and great margaritas.

Cons: always crowded (except early or late lunches); parking is difficult to non-existent; food isn't as spicy as the other two restaurants.

Must order: tableside guacamole, topped with pomegranate seeds; cochinita pibil, (slow roasted pork with sour orange); chiles en nogada (roasted poblano stuffed with chicken, fruit and topped with almond cream sauce.

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Armed with a box of chocolates, Chef Gwen ...

    Forget roses! On Valentine's Day, I want chocolate. And I'm not too particular about what kind of chocolate. Anything but Hershey's will do.  

    I never really bought into the whole Valentine Day phenomenon. Before I married, I never seemed to be dating in February, so it was just a depressing, over-commercialized holiday to me. After I married, Valentine's Day wasn't something I looked forward to either. I married my best friend, and remember helping him pick out Valentine's Day presents for his former girlfriend, who was nuts about Valentine's Day. So I shunned the holiday. Pretty dumb, huh? All those years of self deprivation.  All those years without a box of chocolate to chase away the February blues. What an idiot!

    I've finally come to my senses, and these days, I welcome the traditional box of chocolates. Sometimes, I'm the one bringing home the box of chocolate to my husband. He doesn't eat as much chocolate as I do, so I know that at least half the box will be mine, all mine.

    Here are my favorite chocolatiers. The "C" in Bernard C stands for Callebaut, one of the premier baking chocolates in the world. Hotel Chocolate is based in England, and we have English friends who visit every year, with a box of Hotel in tow. I suppose if you really want to be romantic, you could fly your sweetheart to England to pick up a box. Godiva is probably the most accessible, with retail locations all over the U.S.

    And for the chocolate connoisseur, instead of a box of chocolates, why not give a subscription to the ultimate chocolate magazine, Chocolatier?

Bernard C Chocolates

Hotel Chocolat

Godiva

Chocolatier Magazine

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Armed with a champagne flute, Chef Gwen samples sparkling red wines...

    Remember Cold Duck? If you do, forget it. If you don’t, count your blessings. That sickly sweet, purple bubbly wine popular in the 70’s is nothing compared to the luscious, deep red sparkling wines that are suddenly hip.

    If you want to serve something different, something special this New Year's, opt for one of the dynamite crimson sparklers that tickles the taste buds and presents a visual spectacle as a bonus.

    Today’s best sparkling reds hail from Australia, and are primarily juiced from the Syrah grape, called Shiraz, Down Under. Winemakers top off their sparkling reds after the second fermentation (the one responsible for the bubbles) with a proprietary “liqueur” or sweetening agent, often vintage Port. The sweetness is meek, not overt, used foremost to enhance the fruit qualities, not to produce a sweet wine. In fact, many have a dry finish.

    Pouring a flute of sparkling Shiraz is an exhibition, creating an eye-catching mauve mousse that settles into a deep ruby body. Now that you’ve gotten your guests’ attention, watch with muted amusement as they sip the juicy nectar. Curiosity turns to delight and surprise as the fruity bubbles burst over the palate. Sparkling Shiraz is an ideal holiday bubbly to pair with roasted meats, strong cheeses, and even rich chocolate desserts.

    Jam-packed with fruit flavors, Sparkling Shiraz offers a stimulating alternative to bone-dry brut Champagnes and sparkling wines made from the traditional Chardonnay or Pinot Noir grapes. Deck your halls this holiday season with red bubbles.

     Here are three delicious sparkling reds to try at your holiday gathering.

• Rumball Sparkling Shiraz SB16. Winemaker Peter Rumball is credited for reviving the sparkling red category in Australia and here for that matter. Focusing exclusively on sparkling reds, he tops his sparklers with vintage Port, creating a slightly sweet, bright berry tasting wine. It’s like biting into a juicy ripe strawberry.

• Majella  Sparkling Shiraz. The least sweet of the three, the fruit is pronounced with caramelized berry flavors, and a hint of smoky earthiness lingers on the palate.

• Trevor Jones Sparkling Red Wine. A blend of Grenache and Shiraz, this sparkling is lighter in color and flavor, and the Grenache grape really shines through with bright cherry notes. A tad more astringent than the other two, it finishes slightly dry. If you like Grenache, you’ll love it with bubbles.

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About that Baking Thing...

    A baker I am not.  The whole scientific process intimidates me.  Even after six weeks of professional baking during my culinary education, I still shudder when I think about the impact salt can have on yeast.  Did you know that salt can kill yeast?  That’s heavy!  How do I keep salt and yeast separated long enough for the yeast to have a fighting chance?

    I believe bakers are different from normal folks. They are born with an innate ability to judge things that I cannot.  They know what the dough should look like and feel like.  They know how high it should rise before punching it down.  And by punching, do they mean actually hitting the dough?  And how hard?  Their vocabulary is a secret code with undulating terms such as proofing and scaling, creaming, foaming and of course, the muffin method.  It’s a conspiracy.

    They know what’s missing after only one bite of a cake or bread. Susan Prieskorn, my talented Chef instructor in beginner baking class, took one bite of my angel food cake and said, “You forgot to add vanilla, didn’t you?”  How did she know that?  I tasted it and didn’t notice vanilla was missing.  It tasted like fluffy egg whites and sugar to me, with a texture reminiscent of a dry sponge.  It’s a sixth sense, I tell you.

    Testing the bread and pastry recipes for my cookbooks proved to be enormously rewarding for me.  If I can bake breads and cakes, anyone can.  You do have to follow the directions, as the ingredient amounts and seemingly inane processes are developed for a specific purpose, like creating a chemical reaction that causes the bread to rise.  It’s not as free form as creating a sauce, which is driven entirely by taste.  But baking has its sweet rewards.  The smell of freshly baked bread is outdone only by the first bite into a hot buttered slice of soft, yeasty bread.  It’s worth the stress of mixing, kneading and punching and keeping the peace between salt and yeast.

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Armed with a pen and fork, Chef Gwen chills in Cabo San Lucas...

    Why we would leave 110-plus degrees in Arizona to arrive in 110-plus degrees Cabo San Lucas is beyond me, but we did. And I'm so glad we did. If you're going to suffer through the heat, it's much better to suffer on a beach, with a margarita in hand. The breeze helps, too.

    Cabo is changing, though. The hotel where we stayed (and adored) is being torn down, making way for new private homes and condos. I'm not surprised, even though I am heart-broken. Situated on prime real estate, Hotel Hacienda Beach Resort, was run by a family of gracious Mexicans who knew exactly what hospitality was. We were greeted by cheerful bell men, one taking our luggage, the other handing us a cool margarita while shuffling us towards the reception desk.

    The hotel was a sprawling white stucco complex with cool saltillo floors, fountains everywhere, and meticulously landscaped gardens. The main restaurant on the second floor had an expansive patio with a killer view of the Bay of Cabo, part of the Sea of Cortez before it meets the Pacific ocean just beyond the tip of Baja.

    There are fancier resorts (The One and Only, and Las Ventanas al Paraiso, both in the stratosphere of nightly rates and favored by celebrities), and there are the usual Spring Break party hotels, but Hacienda was authentic and unique. We felt like guests at a wealthy Mexican landowner's home. The rooms were spacious and comfortable, with classic Mexican decor.

    Julie Schwab, a Cabo travel expert says the demise of Hacienda is a huge loss for Cabo. She recommends Fiesta Americana as the next best thing. It's owned by a chain of Mexican resorts, but at least it is still an authentic Mexican resort. I guess you'd better hurry, though, if you want to experience it. It might not be too long before other savvy developers set their sites on that property, too.

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Armed with a pen and fork, Chef Gwen breaks in a new grill...

    I took over grilling responsibilities from my husband soon after I graduated from culinary school. It wasn’t much of a battle. Jeff readily handed over the tongs, even though he is great at the grill. After 15 years I knew the hotspots like the back of my hand on our little Weber, and I could grill with my eyes closed.

    When it finally gave out, I decided I needed to upgrade. You know, get one of those fancy-shmancy ones – one befitting of my culinary skills. So the search was on. I contacted friends who were experts in grilling and with some sage advice and a few trips to the BBQ store, I decided on a DCS Professional 36”-inch monster.