The Blue Sweater Club

My friend Max and I thought of starting a new club. It'll be called The Blue Sweater Club. All the members will wear blue sweaters. The inspiration came from Max himself, who owns a cashmere cardigan dyed Pantone blue from Japanese fast fashion retailer Uniqlo . His sweater is one shade happier than smurfy. I own two blue sweaters, both V-necks. I had to lop off the sleeves of the cashmere sweater after the elbows deteriorated into holes from overwear (I'm not that much of an egghead to get elbow patches). The cotton version is a cute periwinkle color. I like to wear it with striped blue socks like these. I recently learned that Comme des Garcons designer Rei Kawakubo is also partial to blue knitwear. She's one of us! I need to find more musicians to recruit for The Blue Sweater Club. Miguelito complained that I don't write about music enough to warrant the full name of this blog. So I made a barter with Miguelito's pal Maximus: If he can get me tickets to see The Boredoms when the Japanese noise-art band rolls into L.A. in March, I'll make him a roast chicken. Because I changed the menu at the last minute to Vietnamese chicken curry, Maximus joked that he was going to take me to see Hot Chip instead. My curry is worthy of The Boredoms!

For a side dish, I roasted the leeks left over from the larder that I used to make potato-leek soup last Sunday.

I think this meal is good enough for a two-concert trade. After all, I adhered closely to my mother's recipe, which called for lemongrass, coconut milk, potatoes, carrots, sweet potatoes and big chunks of chicken. Just check out the close-up.

Farmer's Market Feast

On Sunday, Max and I carpooled to the Hollywood Farmer's Market. I was inspired to make potato-leek soup after hearing the chef from Los Angeles' Lou recite a simple recipe on the radio show "Good Food." I filled my bag with leeks, Yukon gold potatoes, Meyer lemons, dandlelion leaves, Page mandarins and dill. The first three ingredients were all I needed for the soup.

I cut the potatoes into small cubes.

I sliced the leeks into half moons and then "sweated" them in a generous amount of butter. Per the Lou chef's suggestion, I used a bit of the green leaves to give the soup some color. But most of the flavor came from the firm white stalks.

After dumping the potatoes into the pot with the soft leeks, I added enough water to cover the veggies by three inches. I then cooked the dandlelion leaves in a steamer set right above the soup mixture. Talk about efficient cooking!

After simmering the leeks and potatoes for an hour, I pureed them in my brand new food processor.

The seasoning was quite simple: I added the juice of one Meyer lemon and sea salt to the puree. Chilled, this soup would be perfect in the summer. But cooking a winter vegetable like leeks in warmer temps would be antithetical to the whole philosophy of farmer's markets, which endorse cooking fruits and vegetables during the months that they are harvested at their peak.

I stuck to simplicity in cooking the dandlelions as well. I drizzled an excellent olive oil that my Italian photographers gave me, along with a sprinkle of fleur de sel, on the bitter greens.

I made so much soup that Miguelito and I had it for dinner twice. For the rerun, I made one of my mom's classic salads out of cucumber, white onions, dill and a plain vinaigrette. Miguelito prepared his childhood comfort food: cubed steak with button mushrooms cooked in butter. East meets West!

Savories in Sin City

The trade show circuit that I run circles in twice a year makes a long and excruciating stop in Las Vegas. On the recent installment, Miguelito helped me to balance my professional obligations with a bit of silliness. After treating me to Cirque du Soleil's acrobatic-intensive Mystere show, he picked up fun sunglasses for the both of us at a $10 shop in Treasure Island Hotel. We're such rock stars!

Rock stars must eat. Daniel Boulud's restaurant in the Wynn Hotel cooks up yummy meals that earned one star from the Michelin critics.

The problem with Las Vegas is that no matter how classy the food is in a restaurant, the atmosphere reeks of campy condescension to the tourists who stroll the roulette tables clutching foot-high plastic containers filled with liquor. At the start of our dinner, this giant frog rose from behind the high wall to serenade us.

The cote de boeuf with big onion rings.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. On my last day in the Glitter Gulch, I made a point to wake up early to eat at Bouchon with Max. To fuel himself for one more trek around the Las Vegas Convention Center, Max slurped up the baked eggs. Don't worry that the brioche toast was burnt. Our attentive waiter promptly offered to bring a new plate of toast for Max.

I had the honey yogurt parfait.
Strawberries tinted the base of the glass jar. A sweet clump of oatmeal, raisins and cashews floated atop the thick mass of yogurt speckled with vanilla beans.


Before I glanced at the list of specials, I ordered a plain croissant to dip into my yogurt. Once I scanned the day's delicacies, I became curious about the strawberry croissant. Max and I ordered one to share. It was a plain croissant that was halved and then baked with a strawberry paste and a crunchy coat of flour and sugar.

Eating one-star food all the time can be boring. So my first meal back in L.A. was sausage pizza from Taste Chicago, which was conveniently located between the Burbank Airport and my house. Max and Josh got a kick out of the fact that Joe Mantegna and his missus own the low-key pizza joint. There's even a signed picture of Fat Tony, the cartoon character whom Mantegna voices on "The Simpsons," hanging on the wall.

San Diego and Supercross

The past month was all about action: covering an action sports trade show in San Diego, hanging out with Miguelito everywhere and going to a Supercross race in Anaheim. It's tiring to be immersed in all that busy-ness. Sometimes, I just want to eat room service food on my bed, as I did one night when I stayed at the swank Ivy Hotel in San Diego.

The lobster club sandwich I ordered came with sweet potato fries. The toasted bread became cold and hard pretty quickly. I had to dump the bread and pick at the lobster and avocado with a fork.

The nice thing about staying at the Ivy was that I could stop by the Pannikin Coffee, Tea & Spices shop on my walk to the convention center where the trade show was held. For three days straight, I ordered a tea au lait, or tea steeped in steamed soy milk. I tried Earl Grey tea one morning, Indian chai on another and rooibos when I felt mellow.

Tea was not on the menu for the Supercross competition I saw in Anaheim. Diesel and dirt don't mix well with the hot elixir as they do with ice-cold whiskey and Coke.

I did warm myself up before the race with a steaming cup of champurrado at Yuca's annex on Hollywood Boulevard. It's hot Mexican chocolate thickened with masa.

The champurrado was so filling that I almost didn't have enough room for my two tacos. But there was no way I was going to relinquish my taco stuffed with cochinita pibil, the stewed pork that won Yuca's first restaurant a James Beard Award. I made room!

Adventures with a Roast Chicken

Last Sunday, Miguelito and I decided to roast a chicken. We bought a $10 free range bird and seasoned it generously with sea salt, freshly cracked black pepper and olive oil. We cooked it covered in a 400 degree oven with the breast side down over a bed of baby carrots, parsnips and Yukon gold and red potatoes. After 30 minutes, we flipped the chicken over and cooked it without the lid so that the breast would become crispy and golden.

For the next 30 minutes or so, we prepared our side dish: roasted tomato and arugula salad. We roasted the sweet grape tomatoes in olive oil until they were slightly charred and very mushy.

Then we dumped the tomatoes over a bowl of baby arugula leaves.

The heat from the cooked tomatoes wilted the arugula. I seasoned the salad with some sea salt and pepper.

Miguelito's vintage Wedgewood stove cooked the bird to perfection.

See how crispy the skin is, how caramelized and tender the winter vegetables are.

I have carved a lot of fowl in my time. But this bird was cooked so perfectly that I just had to tear the meat off the bone with a fork.

The sommelier suggested a bottle of syrah.

Divine Sunday dinner.

For dessert, we got two mini eclairs from a neighborhood bakery. We also shared a Norwegian cookie that Miguelito's paternal grandmother gave him.

Unable to finish an entire bird in one night, we saved the leftovers for Monday's meal: chicken pot pie. We shredded the remaining meat and vegetables and added some chicken broth, along with frozen corn, green beans and peas. For a thickener, I dissolved a couple of tablespoonfuls of flour in milk and dumped it into the mix.

We didn't have the time or energy to make our own pie crust. After all, we had to work during the day! So we picked up two ready-made pie crusts from the grocery store. I baked the bottom crust for 10 minutes so that it was firm enough to hold the delicious glop that we'd spoon into it.

Because the filling was fully cooked, we just needed to bake the pie until the crust turned golden brown. Slap your papa--this pie looks so good!

For the Monday salad, we took the easy route by adding some sweet grape tomatoes to baby spinach tossed with French dressing. I wasn't as successful serving the chicken pot pie as I was baking it. So it appeared like a blob on the plate. It was so yummy that Miguelito scarfed down his portion in a jiffy and kept asking me if I was going to eat all of mine.