Dinner Theater

It started innocently enough – Madame’s good friend Cathy announced that she wanted to do a dinner event for a group of high powered women. Madame thought it might be fun to do it at our house – after all we could surely do something at least as good as most restaurants – and for a lot less in a much more intimate surrounding. She can be VERY persuasive. I immediately enlisted help from Dave and sought input from Cathy. Cathy was no help! She gave us completely free reign, “You guys are the experts in the kitchen, surprise and delight me.” We took the admonition to heart and concocted a menu based around a few key ingredients and effects. The key ingredients were those Asian staples, Coconut and Kaffir Lime. We don’t have a coconut tree, but we have an elegant and much loved Kaffir Lime tree in the garden. He gives up his leaves for good causes whenever called upon. He was going to be in great demand. As for the effects, we wanted to make sure that the guests would have full, rich mouth experiences by varying textures, tastes, and temperatures.

We started with a cocktail of Kaffir Lime infused vodka, coconut water, simple syrup and vodka – an intensely chilled concoction full of flavor to offset the first, appetizer, course – Chiang Mai sausage.

Chiang Mai sausages are small, potent, delicious pork sausages served all over Thailand. They make great appetizers because they are easy to eat while balancing a cocktail, have enough flavor to work with strong drinks and they set your palate up for delights to come. However, there are a few challenges. The first is the pork. For these to work there has to be a significant amount of fat. Most pork we buy is too lean, but I discovered a cut that works perfectly. It is a ham. Now don’t be thinking cured and smoked and all of that – think a raw piece of ham, complete with fat cap. If you choose well, you end up with just the right amount of fat. In this case the piece of meat weighed about 2 ½ lbs and the fat about ½ lb. Also the fat is nice and firm – it grinds well without going pasty and nasty.

Recipe for Chiang Mai Sausage:

2.5 lbs. Pork,½ lb. Pork Fat,8 Kaffir Lime Leaves, Chiffinade,16 White Pepper Corns (whole, ground in mortar and pestle),16 Whole Coriander Seeds (ground in mortar and pestle),1 yellow onion (small diced), 8 cloves garlic, minced, 1 oz. Fish Sauce

On to the flavoring.

Red curry paste was a must – we need some of that heat. But the canned versions are a bit one dimensional. So we added Kaffir Lime leaves, salt (not fish sauce, but salt!), garlic cloves, white pepper, ground coriander, and onion to the mix. That brought it nicely into balance.

I have the most wonderful neighbors – and we share equipment that isn’t used every day. They have a meat grinder, I don’t. The rule is simple – I borrow the grinder, they get some of the resultant product.  All’s fair in the kitchen.

After removing the fat from the pork, and removing any skin from the fat, I ground the pork (twice) on the coarsest grind setting. The first grind was just the pork meat. None of the fat cap. No spicing either at that stage. For the second grind I added the minced Kaffir Lime leaves, the white pepper, coriander and onion interspersed with the meat. Helping to blend the spices into the meat. Then the fat. Mix the ingredients together – with a small can of red curry paste. It looked fabulous. Break a small piece off and fry immediately to check the seasoning. A little added salt, a final mix and it is ready for shaping. I had done the easy stuff. Now it was Dave’s turn – actually forming the sausage.

Cling wrap and skill to the rescue. Dave formed these beauties by rolling the meat tightly in the cling wrap – making sausages about 10 inches long and an inch in diameter. 5 of them! One of course had to go to the neighbor along with the return of the grinder. The sausages are poached in plain water (still in their plastic wrap) so that they partially cook through. Then to the fridge to rest and let the flavors blend.

All that was left was to bring them out of the fridge an hour or so before they were wanted and sear then gently on the flat top until they had some color and were warmed all through. It’s nice that these are served, like much Thai food, at room temperature. It’s important, of course, that they be thoroughly cooked. But they don’t need to be piping hot.

Served on Chinese soup spoons with a garnish of Thai basil, galangal and lemon grass they looked and tasted wonderful. Such a great start to a wonderful meal. Especially good with the robust cocktail. The evening was off to a wonderful start.

SOUP COURSE:

The ladies didn’t require much encouragement to come to the table where we served the remaining courses. The soup was a simple roasted eggplant/garlic/onion soup thickened with milk & splash of cream, and enveloping a sous vide chicken egg. This course was about mouth feel and aroma. It was silky smooth and by serving it in a double bowl – the inner bowl having the soup, the outer bowl had boiling water and rosemary delivering a rosemary perfume without actually adding rosemary flavor. The lushness of the soup was accented through the wine pairing of a Gewurtztraminer from Trimbach in Alsace.

Then on to the scallop course. For this course we made a taro root puree. Using small while taro roots, peeled, boiled and then pureed with some cream and finished with a little butter. An interesting flavor reminiscent of potato, but a little more musky/funky. Also a tamarind sauce – made simply by heating a tamarind block with enough water to break it down and straining the result to give a thick, sour tasting, fruity sauce to offset the butteryness of the scallop. A little grape tomato/Thai basil salsa, a blanched, seared baby bok choy leaf and a beautiful dish. Secrets to cooking scallops are A) make sure they are completely dry, B) season with salt and a little pepper, C) cook on a hot flat bottomed surface – not non-stick. In this case a cast iron flat griddle with butter and grape seed oil. Finally of course, don’t overcook them. These were big, “dry” packed scallops from Rex’s in Dallas.

During the menu planning, we had decided to do BEEF COURSE, which was a flank roulade with a green curry paste filling and served with shaved frozen foie gras over parsnips. That’s about as far as the planning had gone. Of course the plate needed more than that. But I am getting ahead of myself. I had a whole (almost 2 lbs) of foie gras in my freezer. So obviously I needed to somehow turn it into a torchon. Now foie gras isn’t the easiest substance to work with. It has deep embedded veins that must be removed. It has occasional little blood pockets that need to be removed. It also gets soft and mushy – like working with thick hand cream very quickly. Anyhow, I prepared the foie with a sake/Kaffir lime marinade, wrapped it in cheesecloth as tightly as I could and set it in the fridge on an upside down egg carton so it would hold its shape. When the time came to cook it, we poached it in the immersion circulator at 44C for about 15 minutes, allowed it to cool, and froze it. A lot of work, but so worth it.

I had been given a copy of Chef McDang’s wonderful book on Thai cuisine and set about making a green curry paste. I am simply glad that I am not a Thai grandma. The work required pounding the ingredients in a pestle and mortar would drive me nuts if I had to do it often. Still, it was well worth it. Simple ingredients – toasted whole coriander and cumin, a couple of chili varieties (green of course), galangal, lemon grass, shrimp paste, salt, white pepper. It all came together nicely and was ready for the beef.

Getting flank steak tender enough to make a roulade is an exercise in meat beating. It is a pretty tough cut and required a lot of pounding. Finally we had it thin enough. Coat with the green curry (thinned with a little oil to make it spread evenly) and rolled up, tied with butchers twine and refrigerated until its time in the bath tub.

Meanwhile, the parsnips were bagged and cooked sous vide with a little butter and lemon grass. After an hour in the water bath at 85C they were almost cooked. Finished in the oven to drive off some of the water and concentrate the flavor and they were ready to go.

Red rice was cooked, cooled and then pan fried with a little onion, finished with cilantro completed the ingredients. The dish was served on a paan leaf – the leaf much beloved in the Indian subcontinent for wrapping a chewing mixture.  The final presentation has curls of grated, frozen foie gras all served on a white rectangular plate. This was a dish for the eyes as well as the palate.

And then the piece de resistance. The guests had been quite lively and animated all evening. We decided to build up the dessert with some theater. As we cleared the plates from the beef course, we placed small round plates next to each diner. The dessert itself was to be served inside halved coconuts.

It was a variant on chendol – that sweet coconut based dessert or drink known as Lorchong Singapore in Thai. Usually it is made with green bean paste noodles, soaked in a sweetened coconut cream – sometimes with some fruit added. We chose to use tapioca based ingredients, noodles, pearls and strips. The intent of this dish was to have a wide variety of different textures in the mouth and a stunning presentation. For fruit we used rambutans (“hairy” in Malay). Each coconut base is filled with a little crushed ice and a piece of rambutan. Some of the tapioca noodles, pearls and strips added, a teaspoon of a syrup made from palm sugar and pandanas leaves (screw-pine) poured over.

Meanwhile the alchemist – Chef David was foaming coconut cream into liquid nitrogen. This left a very cold, intensely flavored ice cream. The coconuts were served with their lids on, the guests invited to remove the lids and some frozen, vapor surrounded frozen cream placed into the lids. The room went completely quiet as the theater unfolded. Guests hurried for cameras to capture their own photographs of the high art. A spectacular end to the formal dining.

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Late Season Wisconsin Apples – When Malus Domestica Leads to Heartbreak

A quick trip to the Great White North (not Canada, but close enough) afforded me the opportunity to pick some outstanding apples. Late season Cortland, Macintosh, and Honey Crisp varieties were being picked on this windy and cold mid-October Saturday morning just outside of Merrill, WI at Helene’s Hilltop Orchard. Finding this outfit required navigating back roads and primitive “compass” work (i.e. “Where the hell are we?”) that in the end found is just downwind of a port-a-john and jauntily parked on a hillside overlooking acres of mixed hardwoods hastily dropping their leaves.

Wisconsin is home to a significant apple industry that is, by and large, overlooked on the national level. Home to some 300 commercial orchards and nearly 1 million trees, the state’s crop returns in the neighborhood of 60 million pounds of fruit annually. We were there to do our part in denuding some of the stout little trees of their pectin rich prizes. Believe it or not, they let just anybody wander in to the orchard and grab whatever you want—for a price, of course.
“Just what in the hell is a peck?” Care to venture a guess? Turns out it is 10.5 lbs. of apples, although it remains unclear to me if the term peck only applies to the weight of fruits and not other things such as “a peck of goldfish . . .” or “peck of.38 caliber ammunition.” Yes, I asked. Somehow my sense of humor was lost on the earnest looking attendant hunkered down in flannel and polar fleece behind a flapping plastic windbreak. This folksy weight of measure seems to be a quaint carry-over from our agrarian roots that are often forgotten in the world of pre-packaged products sold in amounts determined by market research nerds.

Like an anxious 19 year-old sailor from Indiana during Fleet Week, I plunged into the rows of trees searching for the most attractive things I could get my hands on. And I was amply rewarded. Peeking out seductively from under every leaf and branch was a tarted-up Jezebel feigning a lusty invitation to be picked first. Not easily lured in (and trying to mask my obvious enthusiasm), I engaged in some heavy petting of the various wares before choosing the right one. Weed-choked alley ways guided me between trees struggling to hold their bounty. The wind whipped their leaves like a bikini-model’s hair and at their bases were countless scattered castoffs, bruised but unbroken, who could not hold on long enough to make the final casting call. My first bite of a shy little Cortland who winked at me with a smirk of sunshine rolling over her curves did me in. The orgy was on.

One of the genetic flaws of human evolution is the fact that at times like this we are only endowed with two hands. For every apple I ate, I tried to pick two. Cortland turned to Honey Crisp and then Macintosh as I wandered in a daze passed mothers and children endeavoring to simply fill bushel baskets and get out of the wind. No doubt I looked the part of an outsider to this wholesome Midwestern fiesta of fruit strolling around without a bag, bucket or bushel basket in hand and clumsily chomping bites of one variety after another. After pausing for yet another smoke break, I realized that the rest of my party was probably beginning to wonder what had happened to me—and they were carrying the baskets, after all—so I reconnected with them and added a few choice Honey Crisps to the collection. My estimate was that several pecks (being a newly informed expert on this unit of measure) had been secured. I was a bit astonished when the rest of the group collectively insisted on cashing out our bounty and finding a warmer den.

The orchard offered a variety of apple focused edibles (what a shocker) in a countrified barn replete with older women in floral printed aprons making pies and pushing apple cider on families with frosty children. Warm, oven-heated air mixed with the appropriate scents of flour, apples and sugar meant that jackets could be unzipped and the final act could unfold. I was satiated from my back-alley orchard encounters, and was more than willing to indulge the rest of the group in sampling some warm baked bites. Would it be pie, turnovers, struedel, or apple butter that now lured us in? This was all good and fine, albeit a bit too much Dollar Store meets Martha Stewart for me, since some food and a warm-up were in order. That is until I happened to notice the apple turnovers being made in the open kitchen . . .

Maybe I was ruined by my whole-hearted digestion of American Terroir by Rowan Jacobsen. Or maybe I just lost my way in the foodie fetish of “picking my own” farm-to-table fantasy. Regardless, my disappointment was profound. Right in front of my eyes—and the rest of the huddled masses—was a white pail of processed “Apple Turnover Filling” perched on the end of a prep table and being hastily slopped into pre-made turnover sheets by a pimply teenager with IPod headphones stuffed in her ears. Cue: sound of tires screeching to a halt. . . “What the fuck? An orchard that doesn’t use their own apples?”
Tragic. For all that was “right” with the world on this mid-October day, I realized then and there that there is a sound reason why some are inclined to keep the lights off and the blinds closed when engaging in certain delights. Some things are best left as mysteries. Some mysteries are better when they remain unsolved.

Follow Will Fleischman on Twitter @willfaoro

Maker of Pickles & Rib Jams- Teller of Tales, Bearded Culinary Agitator #Beard

Also see Hello-Hello by Will Fleischman on Beyond the Kitchen (China)

Chef McDang and Chef David Gilbert Cook for High Profile Event in Los Angeles

Los Angles, California,  once a city that I called home, but in recent years has become a stopover on my way to the far East, however the most recent trip had a different agenda—one with a complete culinary focus.  This trip to L.A. did not need a connecting flight to Asia because Asia “the far East” came west.   I was honored when invited to join “The Escoffier” of Thai Cuisine, Chef McDang, for a high profile event for the Los Angeles Thai Consulate at the private residence of the Consulate General.  If you’re not in the loop of “Who is Chef McDang?” Then perhaps you should take a look at the Bangkok episode of Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations for a reminder of who this globally known chef is! Time was precious and with a tight turn around from an intense week of countless hours of cooking demonstrations and a 200 person charity event I had to make my 5:30am cross country flight.  Like a stubborn oyster I had to pry myself from my bed with little shut-eye.  The four hour flight and time change allotted me the opportunity to finally catch up on well needed sleep and review the detailed menu and itinerary for the long weekend.

My arrival to “The City of Angles” was immediately jam packed with calls like the morning L.A. traffic on the 405.  I felt the chaos of  Bangkok, just without mopeds squeezing between the stand-still cars.  Before I met with McDang I went to see some old childhood friends for lunch at one of their favorite restaurants in the San Fernando Valley.  Yes, I said THE VALLEY- but surprisingly it has come a long way since I left Los Angles in 2005.  We enjoyed a simple lunch at a local deli and after catching up I wished my friends well because it was time to jump into the boiling pot of Tom Ka with McDang .

Chef McDang had previously sent me the entire weekend mapped out, from transport times, food preparation schedule, off site dinners, staffing, and events.  We were on a tight schedule, but the bonus was that Som, (one of McDang’s chefs) was there from Bangkok.  Som not very familiar with the Western ordering system (or culture) came back with 25 lbs. of trout filets– filled with pin bones. Instead of wasting time I just took over and informed Som that in America you can actually get these ordered without the pin bones.  She was embarrassed, but the message was delivered with a bit of sarcasm (often missed by eastern cultures) seemed to be lost in translation.  Picking pin bones reminded me of my time in Amsterdam in Chef Kat’s Michelin Star kitchen.  Som took the pan of iced pin bone-free fish and went in the back to the second kitchen to prepare the TOD MUN PLA.  I know she felt bad and fulfilled my request for some homemade  SOM TOM, a true Thai treasure. Thankfully, with Som in Los Angeles she took care of the nuts and bolts (minus surgical removal of the pin bones) while we added the finishes and helped direct traffic.  

Som Tum Video- What great memories this dish can bring….

How to make a green papaya salad from Beyond the Kitchen on Vimeo.

Chef McDang not only showcased his authentic Thai dishes but also introduced some of his new style- which he called -Modern Thai Cuisine.  These dishes maintained the integrity of the essential fundamentals of Thai food.  Great weekend cooking and playing in the kitchen with my friends, Som & Chef McDang.

Just a Taste of Columbia, South Carolina

A recent trip to Columbia, South Carolina was more of a family get together to celebrate my cousin’s nuptials than my usual gastronomic explorations to the ends of the earth.  My last trip to the southern historical city was back in 1999 on my way out of Charleston to Atlanta’s Hartsfield airport to board a plane for Mission Maya.  We all know family is precious and great to spend time with, but what always has baffled me is the attempt to catch up for lost times in 72 hours.  This was enjoyable but allowed everyone to drule over my niece which provided me the perfect escape route to explore the food scene.  Unshackled I found myself like Houdini slipping away for a few hours each day to crack the shell of this peanut shaped city.  I conveniently worked my way around the mobs of hotel guests feasting on the “included breakfast.”

Columbia has come a long way since my last drive through, it was nice to see their “downtown” revived and new eateries blended together with the old watering holes of the past.  My family has no hesitation when it comes to eating out, or exploring the unknown, however it usually helps them when I am there to lead the voyage.  They all love the dive restaurants, but are often scared to just walk in, so I had to do some scouting and find the best local food, because otherwise there was no way I was going to survive.  My first move was to call my cousin who was out and about kissing his last hours as a bachelor good-bye.  He provided me several recommendations and off I went, camera in stow, wandering the streets of downtown Columbia.

My M.O. has always been to get to the roots, find the farmer, discover the “mom and pop”, and seek out these artisans that have built a reputation for being THE BEST!  And that is just what I did.  My oldest cousin’s advice was to first wander North of the hotel through the former Bohemian neighborhood and check out the Greek joint and another chicken outfit that had been there probably since the South Carolina General Assembly in 1786!  I dipped into both places quickly and discovered nothing unique (well, by my standards) at these places except that they were mom & pop’s.  I grabbed a cup of iced tea and a snacked on some lamb at the Greek joint only to forget that you must specify in The South whether you want SWEET or UNSWEET tea!  Ooops, sugar overload, even the Greeks seemed to have merged from honey to sugar to please those Southern palates!

That afternoon I walked through the up and coming downtown, passing by the state capitol building and other historical buildings, but in my eyes Columbia had nothing on my old stomping grounds of Charleston.  My cousin did mention that the food truck movement had begun to take off and was growing slowly much like their population of approximately 130,000.  I knew the move to Twitter or any social media was going to happen about as fast as changing the liquor laws from airplane bottles to free pour.  It’s The Deep South lets not forget,  one benefit they have is their “no rush” lifestyle.  This must explain their patients and love for slow roasted hickory pork BBQ.

My brother-in-law (A BBQ aficionado in his own right), father, and myself were primed to get a slice of “hog heaven” from a shady roadside shack somewhere, but we knew we would have to expand our search past the downtown area.  We did some internet research and talked to the locals at the front desk and sure enough everyone had a different opinion of “Where is the BEST Q!”  We screwed up (which is only an excuse to visit my cousin again) and found out about a true shack that cooks a whole hog every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday– when the hog sells out it’s “Closin’ Time!”  I was kicking myself a thousand times over for doing edits on another project instead of stuffing my face with South Carolina swine!

It was Sunday and options were limited (don’t forget it is still the Bible Belt), but I was not willing to settle for some food I could eat anywhere, so we packed up the clan and headed to Maurice’s Piggy Park.  We arrived at the Piggy Park to see a vintage corrugated metal car port supported by thick metal poles, then as we turned our heads we saw the hospital white painted formal entry way to the restaurant.  I took a stroll around the building first because wanted to see this well visited Columbia relic.  The brick exterior must have been an add on to an old house because there was clear distinction between the front facade and rear of the building where the huge flue raised to the gods.  The stacks of dry Appellation hickory wood acted as a remote exterior wall hiding the kitchen door.  My opinion there was no reason to put the charm on the place and cover the door, it was a Columbia heirloom and had been there for over sixty years.

Across from the original restaurant there was the bottling plant.  Maurice’s BBQ produced and bottled their own mustard BBQ sauce.  It had been years since my last indulgence in true Carolina Q so was ready to get down and dirty. When it came time to place the order at the walk up register there was naturally mass chaos amongst everyone, but we made it through ordering a variety of items to try.  I stuck with their classic.  My first experience should be the original before I instill my trust to pit master’s dreamt up new concoctions or modern designed masterpieces.  My classic sandwich was straightforward and had about six ounces of 18 hour slow smoked pork shoulder mixed with their famed mustard sauce.  Between my brother-in-law and the rest of the family it was fair to say we sampled 2/3rds of the menu.

I had high hopes with the amount of kudos this place was given at the hotel and along with other Columbia residents I had spoke to, but regretfully will say I should have just drank a bottle of French’s mustard and skipped the pilgrimage.  The sauce  overpowered the succulent pork and created a sunflower color to the sandwich.  The beans and slaw were solid, but after all the items we tasted, the majority winners were given to the pork hash and go-to banana pudding.  I know we all felt the brand held more clout than the food, that’s sad, because they have just been voted the Kiplinger’s Business Magazine as the BEST Mail-order BBQ in the country. I know the Bessinger family name has been around the South for three generations and their restaurants in Charleston are still family owned and operated.  I doubt that Maurice Bessinger would let YELLOW #5 be a prominent color (or ingredient) over his slow cooked divine-swine.

I look forward swinging through Columbia again to try more of their Q and emerging food truck scene with my newly married cousin, of course, after ducking into the catacomb of speakeasies and my old haunts in Charleston.

“T-Birdie’s” first trip for BBQ. (Sporting her BTK outfit! The #1 fan!)

Jalapenos to Habaneros Santa Fe, New Mexico

I received a call from a close friend and fellow Chef, Stephan Pyles, inquiring if I would like to join him for a cooking and eating trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico. I tossed the invitation around in my head for a few short minutes or seconds (more like it), and responded with “That sounds excellent, never been to Santa Fe, when do we leave?” I had been to Albuquerque in the past, but like most people (myself included) compared the Siamese cities as the same, but reality is they more like jalapenos to habaneros.

We checked through several suitcase size boxes of perishable food that had been securely packed in dry ice and strapped with enough duct tape that not even Harry Houdini could had escaped. With a little time to kill like all dismal passengers waiting for their departures we headed into Chili’s Too for a quick bite. Unfortunately not much more to report than Buffalo chicken salad and a cheeseburger for us- however we felt it was Tweet worthy. Not sure why…

The New Mexico sky reminded me of the transparent blue water in the Caribbean, speckled with small floating clouds that were reminiscent of the jelly fish from a recent SCUBA diving trip. Boxes and luggage in tow we stepped outside and were hit with the rejuvenating cool breeze coming from the Sandia mountain range to the East. This was a nice relief from the concrete cracking sun and stagnant air of the Lone Star State.

My first impressions of Santa Fe reminded me of the Pueblo photos from my eighth grade history book and playing with clay in Mrs. Shopal’s art class. The beige-boxed architecture is picturesque and spiritually soothes the mind has unfortunately adopted a touristic element that eventually creeps into all majestic places. Thanks to Cyrus Holliday’s vision it put the town of Santa Fe on the “official map” in the mid 1800’s. The downtown buildings were once occupied by old saloons and trading posts are now home to high end eateries and art galleries. Our first stop, Starbucks. How authentic Santa Fe, green chili coffee anyone?

On to more important things, we made it to our accommodation, which was an original 1930’s hand crafted adobe home that even Ol’ Martha Steward would bow down to. Our hosts were gracious and accommodating to our odd requests, between food storage and last minute culinary “innovations” they surely deserve a mention and perhaps a metal! The food was packed away for the following evening’s dinner and we descended down the dusty gravel road to Geronimo Restaurant.

We were joined by the owners of Geronimo for a nice three course meal. Stephan and I swapped plates (back and forth) and tasted nearly everything on the table (including reaching over for a bite of Colorado lamb from the owner’s wife!). The eating frenzy started with the smear of Hudson Valley foie gras terrine on golden brioche, and crunchy bites of Maryland soft shell crab “B.L.T.”, bringing me back to my days at The Inn at Perry Cabin. I ordered the Maple Teriyaki Scottish Salmon for an entree (lightest dish on the menu), but the description sounded like a game of go-fish with missing cards. Let’s say before my mouth could finish saying the word s-a-l-m-o-n to the server, I was interrupted and told to try the sea bass instead. Apparently the food police has not paid a visit to Santa Fe since the global craze of sustainable fishing.

The main courses came out and did not establish that strong presence like the appetizers. The first bite of the sea bass sent a message to my brain that triggered guilt. The sea bass was cooked perfectly with their addition or play on ramen noodles. The chef used soba noodles in a lobster-miso broth garnished with undressed arugula. Perhaps I have always been a purist, but that combination was a far stretch from anything authentic. The free range chicken was hmmm, how do I say this… an unexpected jaw massaging exercise. We concluded dinner with the pastry chef’s interpretation of an American childhood favorite- mandarin orange “creamsicle” cake, and a selection of house made sorbets and ice creams. Both desserts and the others that were shared around the table were very good, I was reluctant to share my frozen treats, especially the toasted coconut sorbet! The owners were very kind and gracious to host us for a wonderful evening in their Canyon Road restaurant.

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