The Gringo Taco

Growing up in suburban Los Angeles in the latter part of the 20th century, they were one of my favorite foods. If you grew up here too, you’ll know what I mean (unless you’re family was actually Mexican). They were ubiquitous. You loved it when your mom made them, and if you were staying the night at a friend’s house and you asked what his mom was cooking for dinner, you were ecstatic if he said that magic word: “tacos.” But not just any tacos, gringo tacos.

The gringo taco, updated

That’s not what they were called at the time, of course. They were just tacos. But having put a lot of time, travel and taste between myself and those halcyon days, I see them for what they really were. More

Niçoise Redux

Sometimes a salad is just so good you have to blog about it twice. And so, my friends, I invite you to join me on a virtual journey back to the French Riviera as we revisit the Niçoise, deconstructed and put back together.

Deconstructed Niçoise

I’ve been known to grumble on this blog about food trends. I never want to see another red velvet cupcake or Korean beef taco again. More

The American Series, Pt. V — Buffalo Chicken Wings

In the sacred domain of Sunday sports, the holiest day of them all is Super Bowl Sunday. And if there is a culinary sacrament most cherished by its practitioners, it would be the Buffalo wing.

Buffalos don’t have wings. But chickens do, and the story goes that a guy with a bar in Buffalo, New York stumbled upon the fabled recipe while either trying to stimulate his patrons to buy more drinks, or trying to use up a mistaken delivery of chicken wings. Whatever the truth, we say thank you.

You could veer from tradition and try this recipe with Tabasco or some other spicy red sauce rather than Frank’s Red Hot (available online or in most well-stocked grocery stores); you could use margarine or olive oil rather than butter, or bake your wings instead of frying them. People do all sorts of crazy things in life. More

Yeast of Eden

A frequently heard lament around my house is our inability to locate a good and authentic Parisian baguette anywhere in the city.

Fresh baked bread, Parma butter and speck

I’ve driven hours, all over the city, in search of the elusive loaf. Any time I see a French bakery, I stop and purchase a baguette. Some are decent, most are bad… but none are great. All of which led me to the conclusion that perhaps if I wanted a good baguette, I should be making it myself. But after researching the equipment and time required, and guessing that the result would likely be no better than anything I’d encountered in my Ulyssean travels about town, I realized I would not be adding the baguette to my baking repertoire. More

All You Knead is Love

I recall when I worked in pizza joints as a pimply kid, big beachballs of pizza dough churning in cavernous steel bowls beneath a massive metal Popeye arm. Industrial mixers made quick work of enough flour, yeast and water for 100 pies. But if you’re a home cook, why deprive yourself of the meditative pleasure of kneading?

Fresh savory rustic bread, just out of the oven

I sometimes see TV chefs mixing their dough in a Cuisinart. While this works perfectly well, your dough will never have that intangible mojo the best food has — the love that comes from a human hand. More

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