melty goodness.

Thinking of you: honey walnut bread with honey mustard, avocado and sharp cheddar. Yum

I love that melted cheese* and mashed avocado makes people think of me.

*Cabot extra sharp, to be exact. You East Coasters don’t know what you have going for you. 

Location: Tacos Delta, 3806 W Sunset Boulevard, Silver Lake

Price: $1.29 per taco

I currently live in a city where you can walk ten feet in any direction and get a taco. That’s not something to take for granted.

In light of this, I am proud to announce The Plate Gazer’s first series: my hunt for Los Angeles’ best tacos.

I’m hardly the first to attempt this task, but as a newcomer to one of the most sprawling cities in the United States, I figured delicious, bite-sized Mexican food is a good guiding light.

First up was Tacos Delta. It was on my way home from Intelligentsia, which is a must-do in Silver Lake, if only for the hipsters-and-adorably-stylish-moms people watching. I went for the classics: a carne asada and a carnitas. The tacos themselves weren’t the softest, and the carnitas was pretty dry. The carne asada was slightly better, but still lacked some flavor. I do give them bonus points for their friendly service (the man behind the counter pointed out their homemade hot sauce, which was arguably the best part of the taco) and their adorable outdoor-ish seating area. Overall, I’d score them a 5 out of 10.

If you have any suggestions for where I can take my taste buds to find a great taco, tweet at me @theplategazer or e-mail theplategazer@gmail.com.

The most instantly jealousy-inducing lobster roll.

So for those of you who don’t stalk me via Foursquare (which you’re more than welcome to start doing), I made the big jump from the Atlantic to the Pacific last week. I now live in an adorable four-bedroom split level in Silver Lake with a rotating cast of characters (AKA my roommates and subletters) and a backyard equipped with a copper-colored charcoal grill. So yes, be prepared to find all of my grilling experiments here popping up here sooner or later.

In the meantime, however, I’m still experiencing the occasional pang of homesickness. After living in Montreal for 18 years and Boston for four, you get used to certain things, like being in the same time zone as your family and most of your friends, public transportation, and rain boots. But perhaps the greatest luxury I took for granted was the holy grail of seafood dishes: the lobster roll. So when I got a text from my mother — a lobster fiend of the highest order — with this photo, part of me ached for summer on the east coast.

But the beauty of this lobster roll is that it was made from scratch, at home! Though mom has yet to disclose her recipe, I figure that once I get my hands on a lobster or two, I can send her an equally-jealousy-inducing text back. Nothing like cooking revenge.

I’m going to go with this Food Network recipe from Jasper White, the mastermind behind the Summer Shack. If you’re still a Massachusetts resident, you need to eat there immediately: their fried clams were voted Best in Boston by Boston Magazine last summer with my help. Seriously, they’re crispy and crunchy and godly.

But I digress. This recipe is great because it’s simple, but if you want to go crazier, please do: it’s a lobster roll, so really, you can’t go wrong.

And yes, that’s the East Coast girl in me talking.

Ingredients

Lobster Salad:

• 1/2 pound fully cooked lobster meat or 1 (2 1/2 pound) live lobster
• 1/2 medium cucumber, peeled, seeded and finely diced
• 1/4 cup bottled mayonnaise
• 1/2 tablespoon fresh tarragon
• 2 small scallions, thinly sliced
• Kosher or sea salt
• Freshly ground pepper
• 2 to 3 New England-style hot dog buns
• 2 to 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
• Pickles and potato chips as accompaniment

Directions

perfectly grilled roast chicken, brie, arugula, roasted red peppers & caramelized onions

Location: Flour, 190 Massachusetts Ave., Cambridge MA

Price: $7 to $10 for sandwiches

***

Graduating takes a lot out of you.

Yes, you expect commencement to be emotional, slightly awkward (please, what is with those HATS?) and long. But no one tells you how hungry you’re going to be once your degree is in your hands and everyone is out on Tremont Street, rushing their separate ways to avoid the last bit of Boston’s misty excuse for rain. I’m pretty sure my entire family’s blood sugar dipped drastically at the exact same time.

But we had an afternoon cocktail party at  River Gods, my favorite neighborhood bar and second home, to get to, so we sped back to Cambridge. And right on the way, like a beacon of hope and fresh-baked bread, was the newest location of Flour, Harvard-grad-turned-Boston-food-legend Joanne Chang’s homage to carbs.

I’d been dying to try it since I heard about the South End location, but the fact that I waited until I graduated and packed up my Central Square apartment is borderline blasphemy.

If you’re someone who thinks that the bread makes the sandwich, well then, this bread will blow your mind. But the ingredients in the middle are just as fresh. My nana and I both got the grilled roast chicken with brie, arugula, roasted red peppers and caramelized onions. My mom went with the roast chicken with avocado and jicama slaw, which has resulted in us both being obsessed with jicama. Dad, ever a classicist with his sandwiches, chose the roast beef topped with horseradish, crispy onions and tomato. But you can’t go to Flour and not have a baked good, so we finished off the meal with an intensely fudgy brownie and crumbly blueberry square.

Naturally, I had a bite of everything, and it was all perfect: just the right balances of ingredients and ratios, and OH MY GOD, that bread. Those PASTRIES.

Those Harvard grads don’t mess around. And trust me, neither do Emerson grads.

So, the world didn’t end today.

But just in case it was going to, my mom and I recreated one of the best salads I’ve ever had in my life: the mindblowingly good Green Goddess Salad at Green Street Grill, with warm, grilled romaine lettuce, crispy polenta croutons, and thick slices of ripe avocado.

The salad was the perfect starter to dinner on this gloomy-gorgeous Friday night, and was topped off with a homemade goddess dressing that’s actually way easier to make than you’d think. This recipe is a slightly altered version of Ina Garten‘s, the woman responsible for getting me obsessed with cooking (and for teaching me everything I know about roasting a chicken).

Ingredients

• 1 cup good mayonnaise
• 1 cup chopped scallions, white and green parts (6 to 7 scallions)
• 1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (2 lemons)
• 2 teaspoons chopped garlic (2 cloves)
• 2 teaspoons anchovy paste
• 2 teaspoons kosher salt
• 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1 cup plain yoghurt

Clockwise from right: barbecue sauces, mashed potatoes, mac 'n cheese, pulled pork and ribs.

Location: Redbones Barbecue, 55 Chester Street, Somerville

Price: Entrees will run you about $7 to $20, depending on how crazy you get. I recommend getting crazy.

***

Since I drove through the South a couple years ago en route to drop some friends off in Los Angeles, I’ve had a serious life goal to do a cross-country barbecue trip. I dream of zig-zagging the United States in some slick convertible emblazoned with ribs and cornbread decals, earnestly in search of the country’s best barbecue.

I have a sneaking suspicion, however, that I’ll end up right back in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Redbones is what they call an institution. Since 1987, people have been flocking to its brightly colored, two-floor dining room and intimate bar for great beer (they have a whopping 28 beers on tap) and even better southern food (yes, north of the Mason-Dixon line).

The last time I was at Redbones with two barbecue-loving friends, we couldn’t decide what to order, and ended up springing for the family-style meal for four, which comes with:

1 Rack of Memphis, St. Louis or Texas Beef Ribs
1/2 BBQ Chicken or Jerk Chicken
1 Pt. Pull Pork, BBQ Beef, BBQ Chicken or Jerk Chicken
1 Pt. beans & 1 Pt. Cole Slaw
4 Pieces of Cornbread, 4 Rolls & BBQ Sauces

And yeah, we ate (most of) it.

Their trio of barbecue sauces, which vary in heat and texture, are worth the wait  alone — yes, there was a 20-minute line at 6 p.m. on a wednesday when Tal and I went for some pre-senior week fuel — though I may be biased; I have a deep-seated belief that barbecue sauce makes everything more delicious.

I’m just as much a sucker for their mac n’ cheese and fall-off-the-bone Arkansas ribs, but really, anything you order is going to be epic, authentic, and artery-clogging. Bring a friend or three…sharing is pretty much required, not to mention a reflection of good, Southern manners.

Location: The Farm on Adderley, 1108 Cortelyou Road, Brooklyn

Price: $8 for this hearty breakfast; brunch will run you $8 to $12

***

Disclaimer: The Farm on Adderley is not a farm.

Well, not quite, though the restaurant is charmingly (if not ironically) rustic despite its Brooklyn location and uses as many locally-grown, artisanal ingredients as it can. As they explain on their website,

The name comes from an expression that [co-owner] Gary Jonas grew up with in South Africa that basically means a long shot. Adderley is a main thoroughfare in Cape Town and to have a farm there is somewhat of an impossibility. “If that ever happens I’ll buy you a farm on Adderley”, so the expression goes.

Five years after its opening, I think they’ve gotten their theoretical farm. The place was packed when my wonderful friend and fellow foodie Jen (follow her blog, you won’t regret it) and her tres-chic New Yorkers friends whisked me into the gorgeous, sunlit little dining room. There were lots of adorable babies with cooler style than anyone my age and a smattering of hungover hipsters, but the real sightseeing is the food, which is so fresh it very well could’ve been grown/milked/raised next door.

I got the farmer’s breakfast — fluffy scrambled eggs sprinkled with parmesan over swiss chard, served with a slightly-sweet brioche and home fries. Jen let us all indulge in her french fries, which were well-worth the extra carbs.

If you’ve got dreams of expansive farmland in the close quarters of the city…this might be your place.

Bahn mi perfection.

Location: Saigon Sandwich, 696 Washington Street

Price: $3 … yes, you read that right.

It’s all about the cilantro. Or maybe it’s the daikon. Or the crispy-crunchy-soft-all-at-once french baguette.

Whatever it is, I cannot believe I’ve gone through four years steps away from this place and didn’t know about their $3 banh mis until this month.

The banh mi, for those of you who have yet to discover their magic, is possibly the only good thing to come out of colonialism. Essentially, it’s a traditional French salad sandwich made with far more delicious, native Vietnamese ingredients: all the beauty of French bread with all the intense flavor and spice of Southeast Asia. The meat fillings range from barbecue chicken to pork to Vietnamese sausage. The vegetarians amongst you can even get some tofu in there.

I’m addicted to the ones that Saigon Sandwich throw together for a mere twelve quarters, blocks away from my school. The curry chicken is amazing, but the shredded pork is a classic. I’ve been known to eat two in one day.

Don’t tell too many people, though. It’s one of the best secrets downtown Boston has going for it.

]]> http://theplategazer.wordpress.com/2011/04/04/saigon-sandwich-banh-mi/feed/ 1 teabeare Bahn mi perfection. http://theplategazer.wordpress.com/2011/03/25/always-perfect-banana-bread/ http://theplategazer.wordpress.com/2011/03/25/always-perfect-banana-bread/#comments Fri, 25 Mar 2011 17:45:52 +0000 Talia Ralph http://theplategazer.wordpress.com/?p=283 ]]>

Frosted, chocolatey, banana-y fuel.

My roomates and I, being the slightly crazy, Type A college seniors we are, sometimes pull all-nighters. And the other night, our all-nighter’s success hinged on banana bread.

Now, I’m not a stress-baker by any means: I much prefer to stress-cook or, my personal favorite, stress-eat. In fact, even on my best days, baking’s not my strong suit. But this banana bread has been my go-to baked good for years: even the flour-and-sugar-challenged like myself can pull it off. I’m pretty sure it helped me win over my co-workers at WBUR this summer, even though I baked the same thing for them five times.

Plus, smashing bananas is always cathartic.

Ingredients

• 3-4 ripe bananas, smashed
• 1/3 cup of melted butter
• 1 cup of sugar (3/4 will do it if you’re trying to pretend this is good for you)
• 1 egg, beaten
• 1 teaspoon of vanilla
• 1 teaspoon of baking soda
• pinch of salt
• 1 1/2 cups of flour

Instructions

1. Preheat the oven to 350F.
2. Mix melted butter with the mashed nanners.
3. Mix in sugar, egg and vanilla.
4. Sprinkle in the baking soda and salt.
5. Add flour last, mix in well.
6. Fold into a greased baking sheet or muffin tin.
7. Bake for approximately 1 hour or until golden brown.
8. For extra awesomeness, let it cool and frost with chocolate icing.

You want a slice, don't you.

Location: 225 South 9th Street, Columbia, MO

Price: $14.95 for a medium with all these fixins’

Officially, I’m in Columbia, Missouri with my roommate Sarah for True/False, one of the coolest documentary film fests in the world*.

Unofficially, I’m here to eat pizza. Shakespeare’s pizza, to be exact.

Sarah’s been keeping Shakespeare’s propaganda (read: plastic beer cups) in our kitchen for two years now, and talking it up for just as long, so the craving has been building for quite a while. After a long day of travel — which started with some bad decision making that included getting no sleep, slid into a 4 a.m. wake-up call, and took us through Memphis before finally touching town in Columbia — and our first film, we were famished.

So naturally, we split a whole pizza. The whole pizza you see above, to be exact.

My theory about pizza is that it’s not about the crust, or the sauce, or the cheese, or the toppings: it’s about ratios. I’m no mathematician, and I don’t belong to the thin-crust team or the deep-dish delegation. I believe that you need to have just the right interplay between all of the pizza elements. If one piece of the delicate balance fails, the whole pizza fails. And yes, I’m aware that I could write inspiring food-themed teamwork posters.

Shakespeare’s knows what I’m talking about. Their crust is doughy, but crispy enough to support the mounds of stuff they let you pile on it (in our case, a heaping dose of banana peppers, broccoli, green pepper, tomato, onion and artichoke hearts). the sauce is awesomely tomato-ey, but not too saucy or overpowering. And I mean, you can’t really mess up melted cheese, especially when it’s shredded, high-quality provolone.

I now understand how Sarah’s dad Don managed to make enough money tossing these pies to buy his first black pick-up. He says he could still do it, too.

…Bring Shakespeare’s to Boston, Don. DON’T DEPRIVE US ANY LONGER.

* No, I haven’t been to Sundance. And yes, I’m totally biased.