It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

When the holidays arrive, beginning with Thanksgiving and its obscene American sister-tradition — Black Friday — right up through New Year’s Day, most people look forward to twinkling Christmas lights, festive holiday songs, workplace potlucks and Secret Santas, eggnog and elves.

While I’ll admit I am not immune to these seasonal pleasures, it is another arrival that I look the most forward to — the sudden and magical appearance of stacks of red and white boxes in the refrigerated section of my favorite stores. More

A Whale of a Tapa

One of my favorite scenes in the Pixar film, “Finding Nemo,” is when Marlin, Nemo’s father (a clownfish voiced by Albert Brooks) is worried that an approaching whale is going to eat him and his pal, Dory (a blue tang voiced by Ellen Degeneres). Dory says, “Don’t worry. Whales don’t eat clownfish. They eat krill.” Just then, a school of panicked krill passes by, screaming, “Swim away!!!” “Oh, look!,” says Dory, “Krill!” as the massive open-mouthed whale swims up behind them.

Dory & Marlin as the whale approaches

I’m always one for a culinary adventure, but I must say, I never thought I would actually eat krill. After all, I’m a human, not a baleen whale. But things changed when I read a recipe for a tapa called tortilla de camerones in a cookbook by the great Spanish chef,  José Andrés. They were lacy little tempura-like fritters of small whole shrimp originating at a famous restaurant called Casa Balbino in the Spanish province of Cadíz. They looked delicious — right in my “fried” and “crispy” wheelhouse. So I resolved to make them. More

Heaven Sent, Via Kentucky

I am fortunate to have not lost many friends over the years. There was a rash of deadly car crashes in high school, reckless kids gone almost before they began, but since then things have pretty much been quiet. With the exception, that is, of one of my dearest friends — a Southern gentleman named Dann Byck.

Dann at Byck’s Department Store in Louisville, 1977

Dann would bristle at that description of him, which is exactly why I use it. He had a good sense of humor. We met at a coffee joint on a snooty street in Santa Monica where we would both sometimes sit in the mornings and watch the beautiful Range Rover mothers push their babies past in Italian-made Peg Perego strollers. More

What’s the Bigoli Deal?

Oftentimes when I have a specific ingredient I want to cook, I’ll have a vague recollection of a wonderful dish I had once, read about or made myself that uses said ingredient. And then I’ll set out — sometimes successfully, sometimes not — to remember what it was and find it.

Venetian bigoli in salsa

That was what was happening on a lazy Sunday afternoon as I contemplated what I was going to make for dinner. I felt like Italian, and moving jars, bags and boxes around in the pantry, I discovered a forgotten bag of whole wheat spaghetti. More

Random Thoughts for a Thursday

Sometimes when I’m out at a pub or bar, I’m amazed how much beer I can drink. I’m not some hefty beer guzzling dude or Japanese competitive drinker, a Kobayashi of quaffing. But somehow, against the laws of physics and reason, I can make beer disappear like the most talented illusionist.

Hot dog eating champion Kobayashi

Recently, we went out to Duke’s in Malibu for Taco Tuesday, and I ordered a pint of pale ale. It was gone in about 48 seconds, so I ordered another. That one lasted a little longer, but was still empty well before the food even arrived. So for my third I went the inexpensive route and got the can-of-Modelo beer special. Or two. More

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