When we arrived on the scene of our most recent public endeavor – an open-house reception and arts and crafts orgy at the historic Schindler House, where Hot Knives was given its own geodesic dome tent – we couldn’t refrain from collective fascination at the diversity of the kitchens we’ve occupied over the last couple of years for catering gigs. Carpentry work rooms. Zen monasteries and kosher kitchens. Parking lots covered in astro turf. And now this.
The Schindler house actual kitchen was like a museum; we were terrified of staining, breaking or otherwise disfiguring the spotless and serene landscape of the past…Thankfully, we had prepared for a very low impact on-site execution. We prepped our platters of hors d’oevres and dished out pickled treats amidst the happenings of the day.
The focus you might remember was playing with fresh pickling as a way to tarten your farmers market goodies without having to wait 8 weeks to taste ’em. Here’s a look at our lecture on “Fresh Pickles,” widely well received by the artsy and the chic. Of course there were a few exceptions: some bored, drop-jawed design dudes, a few off-put seitan virgins, and one man who really had a hard time with the pickled daikon. (Which is totally fine!)
Thanks again to Fritz for the new theater, and to Jacinto Astiazarán for the hi-res documentation.
Up next: recipes for all our little funk-bombs: Pickled Daikon, Cucumbers, and Grapes.
Until we drank this beer, the words “extra high” had no special meaning really. At least as far as beer and beyond our extended gravity bong phase in college. But “extra high” is, in fact, what the gold foil letters “XH” on the label of this Hitachino Nest beer signifies. Oh yes.
That “extra” refers to both the 8 % alcohol packed into this sweet baby bottle and the big, woodsy grain-alcohol polish that has been imparted to it by aging the beer in the same old oak casks used to mature a distilled sake called Shocyu.
(Cue illuminating gong crash please…)
Having tried a couple of the Kuichi Brewery’s other offerings — those medium-strength Japanese beers decorated with fat red owls and tossed with fusion twists like ginger and red rice — this brew stands out as a Belgian-style strong ale. We sipped XH on the porch one recent Sunday in the middle of stir-frying our dinner and immediately developed strong feelings for it. Golden like its reflective foil labeling, but with a slight hint of iodine-red, the beer itself is beautiful. Lifting a shorty glass, we caught hints of 5-spice rub…coriander and nutmeg for sure. What else… hops, malt, sake?
For all the “high” talk, the booze notes in this beer are fairly subtle — not like a sake bomb — save that for your Sapporo bombers. Instead, the sake-oak makes this beer taste almost like a sour Flemish red or a Geuze-esque wild ale. But more like the soft throat pucker that fresh lime gives a rice noodle soup, a background flavor that saves a broth form being tooooo oily. Or, in this case, too high.
Dairy Pairy: Rondin Des Brebis, a semi firm super funky sheep’s milk cheese. Soundtrack: T-Rex’s “Get It On”
When local artmaker Fritz Haeg asked Hot Knives to be part of his upcoming book launch, we just figured we’d do our quasi-catering thang (which entails setting the bar low with the whole ‘we’re bloggers, not caterers’ vibe and then bombing guests with insane food). Fritz had other ideas.
Known for throwing nutso art salons for years in his L.A. geodesic dome, Fritz has strong feelings about parties feeling spontaneous, not too planned, and more about DIY domesticity than any showy displays.
That basically ruled out just doing sneak attack appetizers with witty names.
Other ideas came and went — what about a bahn mi bar, or garden-to-table cooking on site, or maybe even serve-your-own dessert cones with fresh melons instead of ice cream… but nothing felt right. (Not to mention, the art institute hosting the book launch needed a health permit approved and county health inspectors insisted on us bleaching the melons.)
We had to wrestle with a new quandary: how can food be art? And more importantly how could our eaters be engaged with the grub without letting health inspectors bleach our fruits.
So we seized on doing something experiential and process-based. Instructional, educational and open for discussion, without sucking the fun out of the cooking. We learned to pickle! Pickling was perfect because its domestic, it gives home cooks new crayons to play with, and there’s plenty of lactic acid science facts to rattle off. Oh yeah, and we have enviable vinegar hook-ups.
Plus it gave us the excuse to dabble more in the dark arts of preservation, which we’d only flirted with before. Indeed, for the last month both our kitchens have been slippery with weird vinegars, funky from fermentation experiments and stocked full of giant daikon radishes. We learned a lot.
But before we give away the secret tips an proportions we found worked best, suffice it to say that the process took time. We chronicled the basics in the above video. In a few days, we’ll let you know how the Hot Knives Pickle Lecture Series went over with the art types.
Breakfast for vegetarians can often become the perfect pipeline for the over-processed. Faux chorizo, soy turkey sausage, and other forms of soy-plastic sodium bombs. The joy of chewy mixed meat and snappy bacon was the first thing found by many of us non-hogs; to us this habit constantly requires breaking.
This week we turned a blind eye to Yves, Morningstar and the rest, and in the interest of a timely and hearty breakfast turned to nature’s fake steak: The King Trumpet mushroom. Thanks to the produce buyers at our local Emporium of the East A-Market, there is literally a mountain of these holy horns on hand all the time. If you don’t live in L.A. there’s prolly a good chance that you can find these if you look thanks to these guys.
Served on silver platters for exhorbitant prices, this mushroom is the thing of chop houses and fine dining, but thanks to the growing influence of Golden Gourmet mushroom company, these earthen phalli can be yours for less than dry TVP. Serve up some of these seared mushrooms for brekky with farmers market, cruelty-free eggs and you’ll not just get yourself ‘down the road,’ you’ll find yourself well on your way to the next level.
King Trumpet Steak n’ Eggs
(Serves 2 )
1 King Trumpet mushroom
1 shallot
2 cloves garlic
2 fresh eggs
1 tsp. smoked salt
3 tsp. extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp. soy sauce
1. Slice off the bottom 1/2 inch off the King Trumpet. It’s equivalent would be the woody stem at the base of an oyster mushroom (the King’s close cousin). Now slice the mushroom into long fillets, about 1/2-3/4 inch thick. Rub with a little smoked salt and set aside.
2. Slice your garlic and shallots 1/4 centimeter thin.
3. Heat a medium-sized skillet (cast iron or non stick) on high heat for 3 minutes. Place the mushroom slices face down in the dry pan. After 2 minutes, flip the shrooms; they should have a nice tan by now and have begun to expel some of their water.
4. When you’ve colored both sides of each slice, drizzle in another teaspoon of olive oil to coat the “steaks.” Add the shallots and garlic in the empty space around the mushroom and continue to cook; flipping the mushrooms every minute or two to make sure they cook evenly and do not burn. When the mushrooms have crisped around the edges and are quite firm to the touch, they are done. Add the soy sauce evenly and toss to coat, remove from heat.
5. Serve with a fried egg of your choice, toast, and Sriracha hot sauce. Beverage:Cafecito Organico‘s BRazilian Peaberry Soundtrack: “Air Talk” with Larry Mantle
The air was stale and hot, lines were long, and at one point we thought it might actually never end. Yes, there was a certain undeniable Hieronymus Bosch-like quality to the recent Craft Beer Fest L.A. that Hot Knives helped organize. But at least the beer was cold, right? And it flowed like wine.
Actually, the event was more than manageable — it was a downright success. A baker’s dozen of rad California breweries donated handcrafted ales, sours, porters, stouts and barleywines. Nearly one thousand people packed the floor to old timey bands. And all the grub was vegetarian, tasty and free…while it lasted.
But if there was a surplus of any one single commodity at last month’s inaugural beer festival, it was hands-down the hot nuts at the Hot Knives’ booth. Yep, just simple tree nuts roasted in fancy oils and spiked with punchy spices. We brought 90 pounds of ’em so we never ran out. Rosemary, olive oil and sea salt made the pecans a big hit. Vanilla-honey and fresh nutmeg turned the cashews into crack cocaine. But the real powerhouse of the event, was an improvised recipe for spicy smoked peanuts we stumbled on up while ransacking Alex’s spice shelves. A touch of brown sugar, coarse salt, a kiss of cayenne, whollops of bright red Aleppo pepper and, crucially, smoked black pepper. We like to think it made plenty of people brave the line for that fifteenth beer.
See for yourself! Thanks to our cammy friends Helena, Amanda and Michelle who caught the fest on tape,
Smoked Beer Nuts
(Makes 2 cups)
2 cups raw, shelled peanuts
1/4 cup peanut oil (canola is ok)
2 Tbs. Aleppo pepper
1 Tbs. smoked black pepper
1 Tbs. granulated brown sugar
1 tsp. cayenne pepper
1 Tbs. kosher salt
1. Put a deep wok or cast iron skillet on high heat for several minutes before adding your raw peanuts and peanut oil. (You could also use a wok on an outdoor grill for extra smokey-summer-funtime.)
2. Lower flame to medium heat and stir nuts vigorously every 30 seconds to keep from uneven blackening. Cook this way for about 5 minutes, or until peanuts show visible signs of browning.
3. While stirring add in the Aleppo and smoked black pepper. Hold off on the other spices and continue roasting for 3-4 more minutes. Try a peanut — it should be slightly cooked but still chewy (they will get crunchier once cooled).
4. Remove nuts from heat and slide into a ceramic mixing bowl. Add the brown sugar, cayenne and salt. Real spice heads may want to add 1-2 teaspoons of your favorite hot sauce (any more will make your nuts damp and weird).
5. Serve with cold beer. Beverage: Lagunita’s Ruben and the Jets Soundtrack: Triple Chicken Foot’s “Old Plank Road”
This is undoubtedly the only recipe we have ever developed with a church potluck in mind.
Our favorite local brewer, Mark Jilg, the mad man (in a good way) behind Craftsman Brewing in Pasadena was hosting the annual fundraiser for his mom’s Unitarian Church congregation at his brewery. He said he needed something for the old people to bite on so they didn’t get shit-faced. Flattered and giddy that whatever we dreamed up would be taken between glugs of Heavenly Hefe, Poppyfields — maybe Triple White Sage if we were lucky — and the just completed O’Stout, which Mark brews with oyster shells.
In the end we settled on still-warm loaves of crusty ciabatta, citrus zest and coriander seed hummus, French feta marinated in olive oil and radishes dipped in truffle sea salt and butter. But perhaps the shining moment was thinking of the church ladies scooping up this thick vegan cream of white beans pureed with a base of sage-almond stuffing.
Next time we plan on whipping it up with wild white sage from the San Gabriel foothills, the way Mark does for his seasonal white sage release. Besides cleaning a room of evil spirits and reducing swelling, turns out the native plant tastes bad-ass. For the meantime, green’ll work just fine.
White Bean Sage Puree
(Serves 15-20)
8 cloves garlic
2 cups extra virgin olive oil
1 cup almonds
1 white onion, chopped
1/2 cup fresh sage leaves
4 cans (15 oz) cannellini beans
1 Tbs. white balsamic
1 tsp. sumac
Fresh black pepper and salt to taste
6-8 sage leaves for garnish
1 cup Grapeseed oil for frying
1. Start by making garlic confit: Peel all the garlic and place the cloves in a small saucepot with 1 cup of the olive oil (submerging them). Place on medium heat. Let the oil heat to a rolling sizzle and then remove and rest it. Set aside and it will finish cooking as it cools.
2. Next prepare the “stuffing.” Roughly crush the almonds with a chef’s knife or a mallet. Place a large sauté pan on high heat and add a touch of olive oil. Then add the almonds and chopped onion. Turn down to medium.
3. Toss or stir the mixture every minute and toast for about 5 minutes. Meanwhile, roughly chop the sage leaves and toss in. Continue toasting for another 3 minutes, or until almonds are mostly toasted. Set aside.
4. Empty your beans into a strainer and thoroughly rinse them.
5. Most likely you’ll need to blend the mixture in two batches, divvy up half the beans and add to a food processor. Toss in half the stuffing mixture, season with half the sumac and half the balsamic, as well as salt and pepper to taste.
6. Puree vigorously adding a slow drizzle of the garlic confit and olive oil. Only use half. Now keep blending and add 1/4 cup water. The mixture should be thick and creamy but loose enough to thoroughly move about the blender. If it appears too gunky, add more water until its spreadable.
7. Use a spatula to empty puree into a large mixing bowl. Repeat the blending steps with second half of the ingredients. And combine both batches.
8. Finally, prepare a quick garnish of flash fried sage leaves by bringing a small saucepan of Grapeseed oil up to high heat for at least 5 minutes. Wash and thoroughly pat dry the sage leaves. Prepare a plate with a paper towel and a slotted spoon. Drop leaves into hot oil and wait just 10 seconds before fishing them out. Rest to dry.
9. Add leaves in pretty arrangement with another splash of olive oil. Serve bean puree as a dip with torn chunks of fresh baked ciabatta. Or serve as composed bruschetta plate or even as a dip with crackers. Beverage: Craftsman’s Triple White Sage Soundtrack: Animal Collective’s “For Reverend Green”
Call it overcompensation, but we have a fondness for heavy doses of protein in all its veggie forms. Nuts. Beans. Soy. Crunch. Chew. Slurp. Sometimes all in one dish!
Sunday afternoon, we found ourselves sipping a sake-aged beer on the porch and started jonesin’. So we cooked up this bean noodle salad that is essentially bean on bean on bean with nuts. Rather than wheat or rice noodles, we used those delicate, transparent bean threads that look almost like razor thin fiber optics in little bunches. In went seared tofu strips (bean!) and freshly boiled emerald-green fava beans (more bean!). But we still needed a crunch, so we stir-fired up some Vietnamesey peanuts with lemongrass and garlic, and served them alongside the noodle bowls.
A chiller Sabbath we cannot recall.
Viet Peanuts
2 cups raw, shelled peanuts
1/4 cup peanut oil (or canola)
6 cloves garlic
2 Tbs. dried lemongrass powder
1 tsp. ground coriander
1 tsp. ground clove
1 Tbs. kosher salt
1 lime
1. Bring a large sauté pan or wok to high heat and dump peanuts in. Toast for 1-2 minutes and then add peanut oil. Stir thoroughly and often (every 30 seconds) with a slotted spoon to keep nuts from burning.
2. Meanwhile, peel the garlic. After peanuts have been roasting for about 5 minutes, add the garlic, using a garlic press to squish the cloves right above the wok. Stir. Add the lemongrass powder and clove and keep stirring.
3. After about 10 minutes the peanuts will be mostly cooked but not yet crunchy, this requires resting and cooling them, so remove from heat. While the pan is still hot, squeeze lime juice on the nuts and toss in the lime peel. Stir again. Add salt to taste. Let cool.
4. Crush if desired, using a mallet or chef’s knife.
Bean on Bean Noodle Salad (Serves 4)
1 Tbs. peanut oil (or canola)
8 oz. firm tofu
2 Tbs. Sriracha hot sauce
1 lbs. fresh fava beans
4 carrots
4 scallions
1 cup fresh cilantro
1 lime
3 bundles bean thread noodles
2 Tbs. sesame oil
3 Tbs. Soy sauce
3 Tbs. black vinegar
3 cloves garlic
1. Start with your tofu: We always recommend pressing it of its soy water for 10-15 minutes using a phone book and several paper towels. Once pressed, slice it into long rectangle pieces about 1 centimeter thick. Heat a large non-stick or cast iron pan on high heat with peanut oil. Once hot and oil evenly distributed, place tofu down gently.
2. Let the curd sizzle, but shake the pan gently to keep it from sticking too much. Let cook about 3-4 minutes. Lift a corner of each slice with a spatula to determine how cooked it is: You want a strongly browned skin. Sear on both sides.
3. While the second side sears, meaning you’ve got a brown side up, squeeze a Sriracha landscape; crosses, circles, a cat face. When the second sear is complete, flip the sriracha side down and repeat on the un-chilied side. Keep in mind the Sriracha will burn slightly and make you cough; don’t let it cook more than 2 minutes on each side.
4. Now prepare your favas. Set a pot on high heat with about 4 cups water. Add a touch of salt. While you wait for it to boil, peel the fava beans from the pods. Once boiling, add beans and cook for 4-5 minutes. Prepare an ice bath in a large bowl. Pick a fava out and test it, you want a slightly giving texture. When done, strain (save the hot water, you’ll use it in a minute) and rest the beans in the ice water to cool for at least 5 minutes. Peel ’em by popping eat of its shell: using your thumbnail, nip off the bottom part of the skin and squeeze the fava opposite end, the bean will come right out.
5. Now prepare the rest of the veggies. Using a vegetable peeler, make carrot ribbons by running it along the length of each carrot and collecting the long, increasingly wide threads. Save the carrot core for another dish. Slice scallions into half-inch sized sections. Pick cilantro leaves and combine all in a bowl. Toss with juice of one lime and let sit.
6. To make the dressing, slice and mince the three cloves of garlic and combine in a small bowl with the sesame oil, soy sauce and black vinegar.
7. Return the fava water to a boil to cook the noodles. Add a teaspoon of sesame oil. Once boiling, add your bean threads and lower to medium heat. Prepare another ice bath. Be vigilant about watching the bean noodles. Let cook about 3 minutes and test one; they should be slurpable and not too soft. Remove and strain and dump in ice water to cool for 5 minutes.
8. Slice your cooled tofu into thin 1-inch-longstrips.
9. Combine all ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Toss with dressing and serve. Soundtrack: Spacemen 3’s “Walkin’ with Jesus” Beverage: Kiuchi’s XH Hitachino Nest Beer
Pouring ‘one out for your homey’ may have become a white boy cliché years ago, but the honest sentiment behind it — to share your spirits with the spirits — dates back centuries.
The distiller’s version of this superstitious notion is called “angel’s share,” and was first stumbled upon by booze-men on both sides of the pond, both in Scotland and Kentucky. Naturally. Whiskey makers there would transfer their goods over to wood barrels for aging, in the hopes of instilling their grain juice with some of that sweet oak sap. But then when they’d go to bottle the stuff they realized that some of it had plum disappeared. The angels were sipping their share… Or, if you’re sober enough for science’s explanation, evaporation was claiming a small percentage of the liquid into the ether.
Offering up samples to ghosts has been less a part of beer brewing here in the States for the simple reason that few brewers have the patience to store their booze for the time it requires to submit it to the elements. The good folks behind the Lost Abbey beers decided to change that by squirreling away their Angel’s Share brew for more than six months in brandy barrels. And boy, did the surfer angels of Carlsbad, California find the stash or what! They skimmed the suds clean off the top: A bottle of Angel’s Share is bone-flat, like a peaceful lake or a stout poured once for a party and left out for a week. The color is black but not ‘Black Album”-black. It’s somehow blue-black velour with a tinge of amber-waves. Wafts from the glass boast several sweet pantry spices — but especially vanilla-cognac-cream. Impossibly strong and pungent, there are gluts of glucose here. Cane sugar lip gloss over beer breath.
The first time we enjoyed this beer, our friend was pouring. He’s plugged into the beer bar scene and yet he’d driven all the way to North County San Diego to wait in line with the other fans. The wait was two hours and the bottles cost $25 a pop. Everyone was limited to two per person. We didn’t quite get it. Then we sipped this sweet black grease, took it in deep, and smiled back at him curling our outstretched hand into a incredulous fist. It was all we could do to keep from pouring a small share onto the clean wood floor. Soundtrack: Black Angel’s “Black Grease” Dairy Pairy: Blu Di Bufala, Italian raw buffalo milk blue
Though the term “escabeche” formally refers to pickly-preserved fried fish in Spanish cooking, to us it’s the stuff of plastic bags. Here in L.A., a taco truck is generally considered remiss if they don’t hand out free sides of escabeche — big glowing orbs of spicy carrot, pickled jalapeños, and sweetly spiced white onion mingling in their combined brine, precariously pressing the creased baggie to its limits.
Well, while cooking up a roasted mushroom taco the other day, we wondered about making a sauce based on escabeche to save us the trouble of running down to the store or are nearest wheeled taqueria. By roasting off the carrots, peppers and onions, blending them with vinegar and spiking it with a little clove, we got something similar to the pickles but in a squeezable form.
We used it on the tacos, fried potato taquitos, even a lemon yogurt coleslaw. But one week later, we still had half a squirt bottle of this briney brew (it gets tarter over time). So, we boiled up a cup of wild rice and a cup of quinoa and made a sweet corn-rice salad! Guess what the dressing was…
Escabeche Puree Makes about 3 cups
2 lbs. carrots
6 jalapeños
1 white onion
1 Tbs. olive oil
1 Tbs. kosher salt
1 Tbs. ground clove
1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup grapeseed oil
1/8 cup water
1 Tbs. lime juice
Fresh black pepper to taste
1. Pre-heat an oven to 375 degrees.
2. Chop off the carrot tops, if any, the pepper tops and slice the white onion into half-moon slivers. Additionally, slice the jalapeños in half. Throw all of the above into a shallow roasting pan and toss with olive oil. Season lightly with kosher salt and half the clove (half for later). Cover pan with aluminum foil to prevent scorching.
3. Stick the pan of veggies in the oven for about 15-20 minutes. Once carrots are fully cooked but still orange, remove pan and let sit to cool. Toss out half the jalapeño slices to keep mixture from losing orange color and from being too hot.
4. In a food processor, pulse the roasted goods while slowly adding the grapeseed oil, and then the apple cider vinegar, and finally the water. Consistency should be that of a thicker puree. But if it remains too thick to properly blend, add an additional teaspoon of each liquid (oil, vinegar, water). Add the rest of the ground clove and another pinch of salt to taste. Beverage: Lost Abbey’s Angel’s Share Soundtrack: The Fall’s “I Am Curious Orange Overture”
Ages ago, the Romans celebrated the first sight of Asparagus spears with a chariot race. The finest legionnaires loaded their carts with the first crop of wee phalli and raced hell bent to the Alps. While the reward for the victor of said produce-run evades our foggy brains, the end result never will: This was perhaps the fist example of frozen vegetables.
Here and now, the first crops of asparagus happened months ago; but the race for asparagus is eternally rewarding. Here’s a slightly more challenging recipe for our favorite farmer’s market triumphs. Take some time and pay tribute to your own little empire. Raw Asparagus Salad (Makes one)
8 Asparagus spears
1 Lemon
1 Tbs. XVO
1 tsp. sherry vinegar
1 tsp. sea salt
1 tsp. ground pepper
1/2 cup walnuts
6 oz. fresh chèvre
10 chives
1 blood orange
1. Cleaning the asparagus: Take a spear and hold it between two fingers about 1 inch above its end. Using your other hand, bend the lower extremity until it breaks; discard the broken piece and trim the end.
2. Zest half the lemon and the blood orange into a mixing bowl. Juice the lemon into your bowl and add a splash of water.
3. If you do not have a mandolin, slice the asparagus in half lengthwise. Place each half cut side down on your cutting surface and slice lengthwise as thin as you possibly can and toss them with the lemon water: this will keep the slices from oxidizing and turning brown. NOTE: If you DO have a mandolin now is a great time to improve your skills. DON’T BE A HERO: this is also an excellent chance to shave off your fingertip (if you do it will grow back, just ask Alex). It is preferable to use a Japanese mando with a ceramic blade for this recipe.
3.5. Hold the asparagus tipped end towards the blade of your mando. Apply pressure from the top with your fingers, and gently press the spear against the outer lip of the mandolin (this will keep you cutting straight and safe). Slide the spear down the blade and you’ll get nice ribbons of asparagus. Place your ribbons in the mixing bowl with the lemon juice, and toss to combine.
4. Toast the nuts: Heat a cast iron skillet, or heavy bottomed sauté pan, on high and toss in your walnuts. Let cook unmitigated for about 3 minutes and then give ’em a stir. Repeat. When the nuts are fragrant and lightly browned add a pinch of salt and pepper. Drizzle on 1/2 tsp. of olive oil, stir to combine and remove.
5. Place a hefty pinch of minced chives on the cutting board. Place about 1 tsp. of chevre onto the pile of chives and press it into a little pancake. Lift the pancake off the board and fold it in half in the palm of your hand. Squish it flat and fold again. The heat form your hands will warm the cheese, allowing it to form better balls. Using your fingertips, roll your lump of cheese into a sphere. Repeat with the rest of the cheese and chives. (If you manage to not eat all the goat cheese: place in a shallow bowl or Tupperware and cover with olive oil. These will keep in the fridge and get rad-er every day for more than a week)
6. Using your sharpest knife, slice off the top and bottom of the blood orange, cutting just deep enough to get past the pith. With the cut bottom adjacent to the cutting board, slice downward to remove the peel making sure to cut along the curve of the fruit to avoid loss. Hold the now nude fruit in your hand and make careful incisions on the inside of each line of pith to free the segments of the orange. Do this over a bowl to catch all the juice.
7. Remove the asparagus from its marinade and add the blood orange juice to the mixture. Add the mustard and then whisk in olive oil slowly to emulsify.
8. Plating: Make a sheet of shaved asparagus by layering the slices on your palm, they will adhere to each other just enough to make a little blanket. Place a pile of the toasted walnuts at the center of each plate, drape the pile with yer asparagus blanket, top with orange segments and accompany with rolled chèvre.
Beverage: Hitochino Red Rice Ale Soundtrack: Al Green “I’ve Never Found a Girl”
