Lucques' Yellow Tomato Gazpacho

It's been hot and breezeless here in los angeles, and since I'm not into air conditioning, it's been a pretty sweaty week as well. I was coping OK until I made a frozen pizza for lunch and thought I was going to melt off the face of the erf. It didn't show signs of cooling down anytime soon, and I began dreading my next attempt.

"What am I going to maaaaaake? I don't waaaant to coooook anything."
To which Matt would say, "Can I turn on the air conditioning?"

So I was ecstatic to discover this no-cook / heatwave-approved attempt in Suzanne Goin's, Sunday Suppers at Lucques. If you live in los angeles, no doubt you've heard of Lucques, AOC or Tavern. But all you really need to know is that this cookbook is swarming with painstakingly difficult recipes, except this one that Goin calls "foolproof." Yeah, Suzanne? I'll see about that.

Sunday Suppers' version:

our version:

(Yeah. Ours is a little chunkier, but we'll get to that later.)

This recipe is all about the produce. Starting with some amazing yellow heirloom tomatoes.

A jalapeño and orange pepper.

Next we had to blanch the tomatoes, which means you try to make the tomatoes look like Blanche from The Golden Girls. We achieved this by dropping them in boiling water for thirty seconds (making them nice and hot) and then into an ice bath to cool off from all that promiscuity.

Here they are demoralized.

After chopping the supporting veggies, we threw everything in a bowl in preparation for blending.

And that's where the foolproof recipe turned on us--the blender was leaking. And when actually blending, the minimal leak turned into a flowing river of yellow gazpacho, so once things looked just crushed and mixed together, we stopped blending.
(This picture isn't worth a thousand words. It became a much bigger mess, I swear.)

The recipe called for straining, but because we had to pull it early, when we tried passing it through the strainer, we basically had no soup left. So we put everything in the bowl and embraced its chunkiness.

Personally, I think I would prefer it chunky, of course I haven't tried the Lucques-perfect strained version, but despite the blender malfunction, the end product was totally delicious, and after chilling it for an hour, it was incredibly refreshing. So maybe it is foolproof?

Oh, there I am, after eating a big bowl of soup. Ooops, cat's out of the bag. Gatsby here. Really is foolproof. byyyeeeeeee!

Kenny Shopsin's Mac 'n' Cheese Pancakes

Shopsin's version (above)

and here's (part of) mine:

(apologies for the overall jenky quality.)

Have you ever heard of Kenny Shopsin? I hope so. Matt and I are big fans and became even bigger fans after watching the above video (the one above mine, obvi) on the NY Times online Sunday magazine section.

Then, we got his book, Eat Me: The Food and Philosophy of Kenny Shopsin.
If you've now watched the video and/or are familiar with the book or (thanks doug d. for the reminder) the documentary on him I Like Killing Flies, I think you'll understand. If you have lived on the lower east side and visited his restaurant, Shopsin's General Store (check out the menu), I think you'll really understand. Now for... Mac 'n' Cheese pancakes!

There are three major components to mac 'n' cheese pancakes. Here are two of them.

The only other thing you need is pancake batter. Oh and a griddle/pan at the right temperature. This is important. Kenny dedicates a chapter to Pancakes and the Lost Art of Griddling and, as he would say, if it's not in the right range of temperature, "different, bad things happen."

The actual mechanics of the dish are simple: Pancake batter on the hot griddle. Drop on some elbow macaroni. Drop on some shredded cheddar cheese. Make sure your cell phone is on a string around your neck. Flip.

The pancakes were awesome, and surprisingly there's nothing strange about the way they taste. They're simply really really good, especially the ones where the cheese has become crispy on the outside but remains molteny on the inside, though we only got a few with this perfect textural combo.

Flippin' pancakes in full Shopsin regalia:

"Most of the times when a customer makes a special request, it's not about the food, but rather his own desire to be in control and to establish his own specialness. Making people feel special through this kind of ass-kissing is one of the services that a restaurant can provide to people who need it, but it's not a service that I want to provide... Some people tell me that they're deathly allergic to something and that I have to make sure it's not in their food. I kick them out. I don't want to be responsible for anyone's life-or-death situation. I tell them they should go eat at a hospital." - Kenny Shopsin

The Lobster Roll

Sometimes you just look at the cover of Gourmet magazine and say, "Holy crap. Get me some lobster and a hot dog bun asap." That's exactly what happened here. (And now I'm going to retire this issue for a bit b/c it's getting out. of. hand.)

Gourmet's version:

our version:

So, this is a slightly stockpiled attempt from back when my mom was in town visiting from Pittsburgh. I was looking forward to her guiding me through the hard to stomach Annie Hall-inspired process of murdering live lobsters, and over the phone, she seemed game.

But once she was here and I mentioned that I'd done some Internet research on lobster murder, using the word "roe" in the process, her face scrunched up in an unsettling way. It was as if I'd reminded her of something she'd sworn herself to forever forget. "Oh, Amelia. It's disgusting."

Then, later, while we were at Whole Foods for pavlova ingredients, she held up a package of tails. "Can we just get these?"
"No, mom! We need live ones for the attempt factor."
"The majority of the meat is in the tails, you know."
"Mooooommmm! You're ruining everything!"
In the end, it was a matter of logistics. Too many things to do and the trip to Santa Monica Seafood fell to the wayside.

So, I give you, a tail:

First step, disappoint the lobster.

Next, embarrass them.

According to the online comments on Gourmet's site, this sans-mayo version of the lobster roll seems to have been a bit of a rabble-rouser. Instead of mayo, the lobster, celery, and parsley are tossed with an olive oil/lemon juice/salt mixture.

And while I think it would have been delicious with mayo, once you've tasted this version, I don't think you can really argue with it. I mean, look at this guy. He's a total champion.

The Honey Caramel Peach Pie

While on an all-out bon appétempt dessert bender, I enlisted the help of my friend Sara for some good old fashion honey caramel peach pie making. What can I say, the July issue of Gourmet has really spoken (and continues to speak) to me.

their version:
our version:

Disclaimer: The picture contains a photoshopped thumb. Any resemblance to my own thumb is purely coincidental.

After an eventful ransacking of whole foods for ingredients, we got started by kneading the dough for the pie crust. The trick was to knead it until the dough became as tender as a baby's bottom.

Then, we blanched, peeled, and chopped 3 pounds of local peaches butts.

At this point we realized that there was almost certainly some manner of toddler in the kitchen with us. We took comfort in the knowledge that like a bee, it was most likely more afraid of us then we were of it, so we let him do his thing and just stayed the pie course, doing our best not to engage it with any quick or aggressive movements.

Ever boil honey, sugar and water to make homemade caramel? It smells amazing. Plus, this part was by far the most relaxing as the naked baby had left peacefully and without harming us.

After chilling the pie crusts in the refrigerator for one hour, we got to work rolling them out.

Then, tossed the fresh peaches with the honey caramel sauce and filled the pie:

The coast seemed clear for a moment...

but 70 minutes later, after it was pulled from the oven, guess who came waltzing back demanding the entire pie??
Many thanks to Sara and Dash. Without their help and picture-taking, this post would've been very different...Let's just say, I wouldn't have been crying with laughter as I uploaded the photos.

**ALSO, please feel free to post suggestions in the comments section for something you'd like us to tackle. We are feeling silly with this rash of successes and welcome an overly ambitious potential failure!**

The Pavlova

Two reasons why I wanted to make Gourmet's three-layer berry and brown sugar pavlova:

1. They begin the recipe with: "By its very nature, a Pavlova is a little wild."

2. It seemed like a perfect 4th of July dessert (because it's red, white and blue, not because it's named after Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova or that it's an important part of the national cuisine of both Australia and New Zealand).

Let's compare...

Gourmet's version:

We wanted to make our version a little more American:

OK, our version, for realz:
(This makes our non-successes feel like ancient memories.)

So, my mom's in town visiting and we've got to thank her for buying us a third cake pan, which made this recipe way more efficient and workable. (The meringue bakes for one hour and then cools for one hour in the pan, so it really would've slowed us down to have to wait.)

And while we're thanking my mom, thanks again for the second-hand KitchenAid, as this meringue called for about 7 minutes of beating, 5 of which were on high speed.

The mixture was like nothing I'd ever worked with before -- almost like a sturdier, brown sugary version of marshmallow fluff.

And let's thank Whole Foods for stocking amazing locally-grown strawberries:

Check it out--mother/daughter mashing up some berries.

We whipped the cream and then all that was left was the assembly.

Not exaggerating, I think this was my favorite dessert we've made to date. It was so airy and refreshing yet chewy and completely satisfying.

I think my mom sums up our efforts brilliantly.