blais bliss

Whatever my opinion on reality television in general, Top Chef definitely ranks amongst my top three current television shows, and in fact beats out all other food related shows, including Alton Brown's Good Eats, if only because Good Eats is only a half hour long and Alton Brown keeps selling out to the Food Network and accepting gigs on other, fairly stupid shows. Anyway, I digress.

My dad shares my love for Top Chef and brings to the table a certain amount of common sense and foresight, and so decided to make a reservation at Richard Blais'--one of the, err, "Cheftestants" that made it to the season finale this season--Buckhead restaurant home as part of our July 4th celebrations. We weren't particularly sure what to expect; a late-evening telephone to the restaurant to check on the dress code introduced to us "Ted" (must have been a pseudonym) who informed my stepmother that ladies should come to the resto "sexy casual".

In reality, home is located in an old house, and has all sorts of fun charms, including real silver flatware left over from the previous occupant (another restaurant), enormous wine glasses and portholes into the kitchen (ask for table thirty for a great view). Sexy casual is an excellent way to describe the dress code and style, and even the menu, which features all kinds of twists on overwhelmingly delicious southern basics.

This post isn't really about the dreamy meal though, it's about the dreamy experience with chef Richard Blais, who took several minutes out of his busy evening of chef-ing it up at the kitchen of home to make the meal incredibly special for me. We checked that he was cooking when we arrived. That shocked me, as in true jaded New Yorker fashion I imagined that celebrity (or even semi-celebrity) chefs didn't cook in their restaurant kitchens all that often, and especially not on holidays. As we were left to our table (yes, the aforementioned table thirty), I witnessed Richard pow-wowing with some staff and perhaps due to my awkward and embarrassing reaction, he came over to greet my party and was as friendly as could be. He chatted with us and wished us a wonderful meal and we sat down and had one.

At the end of the meal when Richard was doing the rounds and the waitress came by to ask us if we needed anything else (we were bordering on stuffed over the cornbread cake with coffee ice cream, blueberries and caramel-butter sauce, not to mention the Coke float with vanilla-cardamom ice cream), I asked her if Richard would sign a copy of the menu for me. We were working on the check when Richard stopped by and asked us how our meal was and so on, not carrying my signed menu. I figured no one had told him or he had forgotten and since he was working I wasn't going to pressure him, but then, before ducking his faux-hawked head back into the kitchen, he asked if we'd like to see the kitchen. I stammered out a "yes, please" and he told us that our waitress would bring us in when we were done settling up and she did. She also brought me the day's menu which he'd drawn all over, and scribbled with birthday messages and other sweetnesses (my birthday is in forty-five days). Fans of the show will understand when I say that Richard showed us his nitrogen tanks and circulators, he introduced his protein chef and showed us where he approved the night's dishes. At the very end of the evening he shook my hand again and said he hoped to cook for me again.

I was too nervous to ask all sorts of intelligent questions and so on, but what really impressed me was his graciousness as a chef. I am guessing his run on Top Chef (a very successful run at that) has popularized the already nifty home, and I am sure he was busy enough without bringing a troop of six diners into his kitchen. Instead of shunning his guests, he was a charmer and a true host. He made me feel absolutely special and he guaranteed that I would travel to home again on a future trip to Atlanta. His faux-hawk may not be bobbing behind the portholes as he chugs water and furrows his brows, but his excellent, sometimes hilarious, food will be on the table, and that in itself is well worth the trip.

perfect (ridiculously simple) tomatoes for salad

I don't like the texture of raw tomatoes in my salad, and having purchased some gorgeous spinach yesterday as well as some lovely, ripe organic roma tomatoes, I decided some roasting was in order this morning. These take three hours to roast but only about six minutes to prepare, and are more flavorful and exciting than regular tomatoes. Roasted tomatoes are excellent on pizza (a nice contrast with the relatively mild, less sweet sauce) or chopped up and tossed into pasta with olive oil, garlic, and spinach. The roasting time can be adjusted to suit your preferences; 1 1/2 to 2 hours will yield juicier, but still heavenly, tomatoes that will play nicely with pasta or on bruschetta. Make as many tomatoes as you need or desire, but keep in mind that you'll end up with a lot less than you started with. Many people dress these up with garlic, herbs and the like, but in my opinion the plain kind are the most versatile.

Incidentally, since the flavors are concentrated here this is an excellent use for tomatoes that are watery or less flavorful than you'd like.

perfect tomatoes

8-12 roma tomatoes
2-4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
sea salt
fresh ground black pepper

Preheat to 275. Line a roasting dish with aluminum foil (easy cleanup; not necessary). Drizzle 1 tablespoon olive oil into pan and use the back of a spoon, or a basting brush, to spread evenly. Wash tomatoes. Split each in half lengthwise, and using a paring or other small knife, cut around the stem. Using a small spoon, scoop out the tomato innards and discard. Place tomatoes, cut side up, in roasting dish. Drizzle with olive oil to your preferences, about 1-3 tablespoons. Sprinkle tomatoes with sea salt, again to your preferences, and a little bit of fresh ground black pepper. Put tomatoes into oven and leave them alone for 1 1/2-3 hours. Tomatoes are ready when your house smells amazing and/or they look about as dry as appeals to you.

Yields X fantastic tomatoes.

procrastination cauliflower

What to do when I have hours of writing and work ahead of me?

Decide to roast a head of cauliflower and two heads of garlic, of course.

This didn't come out how I planned (I wanted something somewhat firm and slightly caramelized), partially because I left the pan covered with foil too long in the oven, and partially because my housemates shut the oven off in the middle of cooking, probably because no one expects the oven to be on at midnight. The resulting cauliflower was still delicious but soft, and to exploit this, I'm eating some of the leftovers lightly mashed with a fork for lunch. This tastes nothing like mashed potatoes but is much more flavorful and little healthier. I could envision different herbs, spices or cheeses incorporated, but I like the simplicity of this preparation. This recipe is ridiculously easy and makes an often hated vegetable incredibly palatable. Plus, garlic is really good for you and this recipe has around fifteen cloves of it.

procrastination cauliflower

1 head cauliflower, cut into florets and rinsed
2 heads of garlic
olive oil
sea salt
(freshly ground) black pepper
pecorino, or some other hard grating cheese

Preheat the oven to 375. In a large baking dish (I used 13x9 Pyrex, I do wonder whether metal would improve caramelization) Pour a little olive oil into the bottom of the pan and spread it around. Toss the florets of cauliflower in the oil so that most have a light coating (do the oil to taste, I like to air on the side of caution with only a couple of tablespoons). Cut off the tops of the garlic heads so that all of the cloves inside are exposed. Don't be too precious about losing garlic--there will be plenty. In fact, if you don't love garlic as much as I do, you might want to use just one head. Put the exposed heads in the pan, nestling them in with the florets. Add a little more olive oil right into the open heads of garlic to prevent burning, and then salt and pepper the whole pan, and don't be shy. Cover with foil and bake for about 35 to 45 minutes, until the cauliflower is the texture you prefer. Now pluck those open heads of garlic out of the pan, they are full of one of the most delicious substances known to man: roasted garlic. Pop the cloves out by squeezing the head. If you are smarter than me you will let them cool slightly first. Mash the cloves with fork and toss thoroughly with the roasted cauliflower. Top the whole mess with grated pecorino and pop back into the over for a few minutes, uncovered, to melt the cheese. Eat.

perfect for vacuuming + an honest look

Nothing much to say about these Dolce & Gabbana sandals, except they're fierce. I really hate when Christian on Project Runway says that, but it is absolutely true of these. They're fairly plain until you notice the back. They are the focal point of whatever you wear them with. At Nordstrom.

Honest Look: Tonight, I tried the recipe for brown rice suggested by Abi of Heat Eat Review, and it worked. I baked a loaf of whole wheat bread (it just came out of the oven) and made enough vegetarian chili to eat it for lunch or dinner everyday this week. Overall, I'm happy. I wish I'd managed to squeeze in the brussels sprouts, but, sadly, no.

At least I picked out some really yummy cherries from the grocery store.

to cook tonight

vegetarian chili
brown rice (trying new method)
roast brussels sprouts
bread (if I am not too lazy to go buy whole wheat flour)

The brussels sprouts don't really fit but I'm just roasting them to have as lunch for the next few days. I love brussels sprouts, and they are a secret, fetishistic love.

off my game

Despite craving a little comfort this afternoon, I decided to once again tackle my personal white whale: cooking brown rice. Seriously, I think I'm cursed. White rice is never a problem (but I try to stick to whole grains so I rarely cook it for myself), but brown rice is finicky and I can't think of one time I've done it just right. Many a night I have just given up or ordered a pint of brown rice from the local Chinese restaurant to eat with something that needed rice.

Well, the rice turned out a bit moist. I really hate that word "moist". But that's how it was, just a little too much liquid. I probably should have left it in the pot longer, but I was trying not to burn it. It didn't end up mattering so much, as I was planning to make lazy fried rice with garlic and onion an egg and soy sauce and shelled edamame. It turned out delicious anyway.

But it would be nice to figure out the secret to the rice. Suggestions?