Recently in Food and Spirits Category

Last month, I posted photos of my friends Mark and Leslie's triumphant R2-D2 cake, and I am happy to report that in the time since, the tasty dessert has become an Internet sensation. The story has been picked up by the Los Angeles Times as well as various news and radio outlets in Arizona, Boston, New Zealand, and Norway; not to mention such websites as Great White Snark, Fark, StumbleUpon, Slashfood, and, I'm happy to report, the official Star Wars blog at starwars.com. (ooooh)

Now, I'm not writing this just to toot my own horn (although, I rarely pass up an opportunity to do just that). No, I'm writing because I want to thank Mark and Leslie for giving my site such a huge traffic boost, and furthermore, since the whole point of the original post was to give their new bakery exposure, I'm super excited to say that as of yesterday, their cake has been viewed (on my site alone) by over 100,000 different people and counting! If you're in the NY area, be sure to check them out and tell them I sent you. Here's the link:

• Mark Joseph Cakes

Yesterday afternoon, while my friend Jash and I were getting drunk and watching TV, a most curious text message arrived on my phone. It came from my friend Caty, and for whatever reason, I felt the need to read it out loud (not a normal practice).

"This message is from my friend, Caty," I said, as if Jash even cared. "Just met Spike from Top Chef... You know him? He's nice."

Three. Two. One... MUTUAL GASP.

Maybe it was the booze or maybe it was our unhealthy obsession with Top Chef, but this news made Jash and I drop our jaws at the exact same time. (Sort of funny because it's not like the coolest news ever, even though it is pretty cool. I blame the booze). Anyway, I immediately called up Caty and asked her for the story. Turns out she had mixed up her bearded chefs. She had really meant to say "Andrew," who of course is just as awesome in our books. She said he was really cool and friendly and whatnot, but to be honest, the specifics are a little hazy (booze). All I do remember is that I commanded Caty to get a photo posthaste. And that's what she did. What a good friend. And what a cool chef. One more pic after the jump...

Hey y'all [said in Paula Deen voice]. I've written another post for DipDive.com, and this one focuses on Michelle Obama and Cindy McCain's respective cookie recipes — apparently the key to this election. Anyway, I'm curious as to how these recipes will turn out, but I'm not sure if I have the patience (or capacity) to make them myself. Any intrepid bakers out there feel like taking them on? Nevertheless, voice your opinion in the comments, and in the meantime, here's the intro to my article...

When it comes to predicting elections, we can refer to our usual tools of prognostication — charts, maps, trends, stats, data, logic, common sense — or we can turn to a more reliable bellwether: cookies. Yes, those small, innocuous, and oft-times heavenly morsels of greatness can hold the key to elections.

While seemingly unrelated to politics, it turns out that there’s a very special link between cookies and Presidential ascendancy. For the past four elections, the readers of Family Circle magazine have accurately predicted the next President based on the cookie recipes of the candidates’ wives. Whoever has had the more popular cookie has gone on to win the whole shebang. Why? Not sure. Maybe it’s because a scrumptious cookie recipe speaks of a candidate’s good judgment. After all, what candidate would ever allow a substandard cookie to represent him on the campaign trail? Anyone that abides by such silliness surely can’t be fitting for the White House. (Of course, by this logic, Ina Garten could power her husband Jeffrey into the Oval Office without a problem; so, as you can see, the theory is a bit flawed.)

Continue reading COOKIE MONSTERS: Michelle and Cindy Get Their Baking On ».

That's what you call a good Dad.

Yesterday, I posted photos of Mark Randazzo's latest incredible R2-D2 cake. Today, I received an email from Doug, a.k.a. the guy who ordered the cake, and he had this to say:

My son loves Star Wars from playing the Wii Lego Star Wars games. R2-D2 comes in different colors in the game (Blue, Red, and Black/Yellow) and he loves the Red R2 the most. So, a few months before I came up with the idea of having a Star Wars themed party. I had recalled your original post (which I came across on BoingBoing), and got in touch with Mark about doing a similar cake but in Maroon, as the piece de resistance of the party.

Needless to say, the cake was an amazing hit with my son (who has the nickname "Tres" as he's a third) and I wish I had a lot of pictures to share with you on his reaction. I'm usually the photographer in the family so I actually have only one of his immediate reaction, which is below. Everyone had nothing but gushing things to say about the cake and the party. And, I should mention, the cake was really really good - it wasn't just pretty!

Mark and his team were great and he came to my home personally to deliver R2. I will keep Mark on my rolodex for years to come.

Other things we did at the party: dressed up in appropriate outfits (my son and I were Boba and Jango Fett), made homemade lightsabers and used them in a "keep the balloon in the air" event, had Star Wars musical chairs, presented Jedi Knight certificates, did Star Wars coloring, and the like. It was two hours (which is about the limit for a four year old's attention span) of great fun.

My work here is done.

Two more pics from the party after the jump.

Back in February, I introduced you to possibly the best R2-D2 cake ever, created by my friend and professional baker, Mark Randazzo, who just started up a new bakery, Mark Joseph Cakes. Turns out I wasn't the only one amazed by this creation. The post drew the attention of BoingBoing, Gizmodo, Elite Choice, and many others. While I loved the traffic, I was even happier that Mark and his wife Leslie, who both run the bakery, got so much exposure. I told them that the next time they make an R2-D2 cake, they have to take more pictures for me to post about.

Well, thanks to the Internet buzz, it wasn't long before someone came calling. Mark once again whipped up an extraordinary R2-D2 cake, which had to have blown away the four year old birthday boy who received it. Even better, judging by the photos, it appears as though R2 is really one giant red velvet cake with RICE KRISPY TREAT LEGS. I want one. Now.

Whether you're a Star Wars enthusiast or simply a lover of cake, you have to see this.

Last Friday, in an effort to save some money, I decided to stay in and watch the National Spelling Bee, thus turning down the many, many invitations I had received to go out to the hottest clubs and party with the city's celebrity elite. It was a hard decision, for sure, but sometimes even I must find refuge from the flashing lights and gliteratti. However, as exciting as watching awkward middle schoolers was, I still felt like the night needed some sort of augmentation — a little pizazz to keep things interesting. What better way to spice up the festivities than by making my first ever batch of muffins? After all, B-Side Blog reader SpecialK had so kindly purchased me a muffin tin after having seen my previously misshapen baking exploits; so why not put it to use?

And so with a shopping basket in hand and a dream in the heart, I happily bought a packet of mix and plunged down the rabbit hole that is homemade muffinry. Photos after the jump.

People who've been reading this blog may know that I'm sort of a sucker for the Trader Joe's food display. Without fail, I come home from that place with one or two items I never even dreamed of purchasing, and this past Tuesday was no exception. For some reason, my eye caught a benign jar of "Thai Green Curry Simmer Sauce," and within seconds I was eagerly stuffing it into my plastic basket. I don't know why, really. Maybe it's because I've been on a little Thai kick recently. Maybe it's because I'm a huge fan of curry. Or maybe it's just because I was hungry and impressionable. I don't know. Whatever the reason, the promise of quick and simple Thai food emanating from my very own kitchen was too exciting for me to resist, and so I purchased the seductive little jar and brought it home for what would hopefully be a culinary trip to the depths of Bankok. A few photos after the jump...

It's very fashionable to hate McDonald's. To some, the fast food chain represents the simplification and destruction of American culture by corporate giants. To others, they are sly enablers and profiteers of this country's growing obesity epidemic. But me? I LOVE THEM. That's why I was only too happy to march down to the local outpost and try the company's newest offering: iced coffee.

To be fair, McDonald's has been offering this beverage for a few weeks now, but today was the first time I actually felt motivated to take on the caffeinated beast. My thoughts after the jump...

It's sort of funny that last night's Top Chef episode featured a taco challenge because I've spent the past week in a veritable taco-haze, eating those little nuggets of Mexican joy with reckless abandon. In fact, I'm in such a taco fever that I did the unthinkable: I tried to make some at home. The results were mixed.

Pictures of this grand culinary adventure, as well as some other Mexican-themed goodness, after the jump...

I had quite the celebrity sighting yesterday. It wasn't so excellent because of the star wattage — although, that was pretty cool —  but more for the bizarre randomness of the entire event. I'll explain.

It was about 7 PM, and my friend Jash and I decided to stop in at Angelina's Frozen Yogurt, one of the few fro-yo spots in Los Angeles that I can tolerate (mostly because it's not overpriced and, more importantly, they serve flavors beyond just plain and green tea. I mean, seriously, what is up with the flavor nazis? But I digress). Anyway, as we walked into this humble shop of icy dairy goodness, I noticed an old woman off to the side receiving what appeared to be a lifetime's supply of frozen yogurt. She seriously had so much, I thought she might be on some strange, geriatric office run. The whole thing was kind of bizarre, and I just figured she was an old coot doing some typically old coot-ish thing.

Well, I stood by the registers and waited to place my order, but of course, the server was busy tending to Miss Haversham in the corner. I looked over again, but before I saw the woman's face, I was distracted by her ever growing collection of yogurt. She had ordered pretty much the largest size you can get, which I think was about a quart. Now, most people when they get a quart of ice cream or frozen yogurt, they usually put a lid on it and bring it home to devour over the course of a few days. This woman, however, was going to eat the whole damn thing. I could tell because the server continued to pour frozen yogurt into the container way after it had reached appropriate lid-containment levels. Yes, there was a full on fro-yo swirl at the top of this gargantuan load, but I merely shrugged it off. I've seen crazier things in L.A.. And besides, if this woman wants to stuff her face with fro-yo, all the power to her. There are some days when I wish I could be just like her.

Anyway, the server finally came over to me, and after I placed my not-so-healthy order (regular sized Belgian chocolate with peanut butter cup topping. Heh.), I glanced back at the dairy-lovin' lady for no real reason. I don' t know why I did it. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was because she was hovering generally in the peanut butter cup region. Whatever the reason, for the first time, I actually saw her face, and something suddenly clicked in me. I was staring at a legend.

A few months ago, I saw Giada De Laurentiis making a most peculiar sandwich on the Food Network. It involved brie, chocolate chips, basil, and a panini maker. Everything about it seemed wrong, but I couldn't help being intrigued —  especially when Giada insisted that the sandwich was delicious despite its unconventional ingredients. Ever since then, I've wanted to give the chocolate and brie panini a whirl, but I just couldn't bring myself to buy a whole wedge of brie and a bag of chocolate chips for one sandwich experiment. There was something about it that just seemed entirely too indulgent. As a result, I waited around, knowing that eventually, the ingredients would somehow someday find their way into my kitchen.

Hard to believe, but this recreation of R2D2 is not made of plastic. It is 100% edible. That's right, ladies and gents. You're looking at a cake. Of course, sugary recreations of R2D2 are nothing new to this planet, but one sample search of "R2D2 Cake" on Google Images reveals that this might just be the best version ever.

Now, before you put your hands on your hips and give me the skeptical Mo'nique face, rest assured that this is no prank. I can vouch personally for this fondant masterpiece. Turns out it was actually created by my friend Mark Randazzo, a professional baker who just set up shop in NYC. And the answer is YES, I am shilling for him, but for good reason. I mean, look at that damn cake!!! If you're not convinced, check out the cakes at his new site, markjosephcakes.com. I guarantee you'll be impressed.

Last week, when I blogged about eating a Cadbury Creme Egg, I had no idea that the post would elicit a whopping 10+ comments (which is a lot for this fledgling blog). I was even more surprised at the fervent outcry for more pictures of the egg's gooey, sugary center. Okay, it was really only three comments, but who am I to deny the readers what they want? Like the accommodating blogger that I am, I went to the drugstore and fetched another Cadbury Creme Egg, happy to imperil my daily caloric intake for the sake of my dear readers.

Photos of a second Cadbury Creme egg — insides and all —  after the jump.

It's always dangerous for me to go to drug stores because I usually emerge with some impulsively purchased piece of candy. Yesterday, I found myself staring down a box of Cadbury Creme Eggs, and I had to ask myself: is January too early to partake in an Easter confection? And am I a bad Jew? I decided the answer to both was a resounding no. As is the case every year, I couldn't deny myself the delicious, chocolatey, enamel-threatening treat. So I bought one and ate it, but not before snapping a few pics in honor of this candy's triumphant seasonal return.

This is what happens when I get sick, people. I blog about minutae. I mean, really? Am I really about to post about a Cadbury Creme Egg? Even though there's no hook or story to go with it? Really? Really? Eh, it's Friday. No one's reading anyway.

We were all deeply shocked and saddened by Heath Ledger's untimely death yesterday, and while those in New York City have manifested their grief by erecting a candlelit shrine for the actor, I've paid tribute the only way I know how: with yogurt. Yes, in honor of Heath, I ordered my frozen yogurt tonight with a topping of Heath Bar Crunch. It's a small gesture, but heartfelt nonetheless.

In one of the more disturbing articles of recent memory (or at least since I woke up this morning), the New York Times revealed that mercury levels are "cray cray high" in raw tuna sampled from twenty different Manhattan eateries. Okay, maybe they didn't say "cray cray," but they did use the equally alarmist phrase, "mercury levels so high that the Food and Drug Administration could take legal action to remove the fish from the market." Cue the dramatic organ music.

Yes, apparently mercury and tuna are a match made in heaven, and the more expensive the fish, the higher the mercury. That's because high-end tuna tends to come from fat fish, and fat fish tend to have consumed more mercury by virtue of being FAT. The good news is that the crappy stuff in the supermarket is probably the safest of the bunch, but the luxurious sashimi one might find at Nobu (or Nobu Next Door, which was cited in the article) could have higher mercury levels. Oy. It should be noted that yellowtail and albacore don't carry the same threat.

Of course, a random sampling of Manhattan restaurants does not necessarily mean the results are the same countrywide. Experts in the article say it's a high probability that mercury levels are similar elsewhere, but then again, that could just be the opinion of one man. Truth be told, this could be just one of those Chicken Little exposés, and while that may be the case, for now, consider me RATTLED.

And yet... I still really want some sushi for lunch now. ARGH.

• High Mercury Levels Are Found In Tuna Sushi [New York Times]

Recently, during my travels through the Internets, I came across a blog, Dessert First, that among other things, features a nifty section devoted to dessert recipes. Now, I'm no cook, and I'm certainly not a baker, but when I saw an entry devoted to chocolate tartlets, I became intrigued. Over the past few months, I'd become increasingly enamored with this simple pastry, and so it was with a ravenous curiosity that I clicked the link to see just how these tiny morsels of heaven are made. To my surprise, the recipe seemed startlingly easy —  so much so that I thought even I might be able to do it. Nothing is ever as simple as it seems though, and knowing this, I was sure to whip out my camera and document this culinary saga.

Back in September, I went on a highfalutin jaunt to Paris with some friends, and while there, we had lunch at a cozy, New York Times-recommended bistro called Chez Michel. The meal was delicious — some of the best mussels I've ever had — but nothing could prepare me for the cheese plate I had ordered for dessert. Turns out the plate was less a of plate and more of a miniature fromagerie. No dainty slices of brie here — just giant blocks of cheese. It could have fed ten people. We were all so shocked when this leviathan offering of dairy products descended on the table that I immediately whipped out my camera and snapped a quick photo.

Little did I realize this offhand pic would soon become the toast of the Internet. Okay, maybe that's an overstatement. It's only been viewed twenty times. BUT I was most honored when the editors of the online travel resource Schmap contacted me about using the photo in their latest Paris guide. I'm not going to lie: I was floored, and I don't even know why. It's cool and everything, but when I received the email, I literally felt like I had been nominated for an Academy Award. I think it's because it was like two in the morning, and I was tired and/or delirious. Nevertheless, I've since come down from my Schmap-induced high, but I remain quite flattered that the editors saw artistry (or at least functionality) in my pic. To check out the photo in all its Schmappy context, click here.

Oh, and as for the cheese, it was quite tasty. We quickly deduced that it was indeed a traveling plate, meant for consumption by multiple tables. Probably not the most sanitary of practices, but oh so very European!

• Chez Michel [Schmap!! Paris]

The Machines Are Here. And They Bring Cupcakes.

When you think of the intense, bloody, testosterone-fueled Terminator franchise, only one thing comes to mind: cupcakes. It's a pairing as old as time itself. Well, banking on that classic robot-cupcake association, Fox is promoting its new series, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles by giving away free cupcakes at venerable Los Angeles cupcake institution, Sprinkles. To some it might seem like a strange tie-in, but when I first read the notice in Eater LA, I was out the door so quickly you would have thought a T-1000 was charging down the hallway after me.

Photos of this adventure after the jump.

One of my favorite writers in the blogosphere is none other than S. Irene Virbila, the Los Angeles Times's head food critic. Her reviews are known for their brutal honesty ("It may be all right for a drink, but the confusing concept, lame cooking and general ineptness make Hidden a no-go zone for anybody who cares about food.") and their terse, understated outbursts of approval. ("Fun.") Personally, I love reading them. But what's even better are S. Irene's occasional posts to the LAT's food blog, Daily Dish. Her recent New Years entry, a lush glimpse into her world of fireside caviar binges and Provencal daubes, was an instant classic, but now, it seems as though The Virbs may have outdone herself.

In today's Daily Dish, Virbila extols the virtues of spices, specifically those which boast a certain tactile interactivity:

AND HOW! Who hasn't felt the toe-curling, orgasmic thrill of a well-employed microplane? The Virbs then goes on to explain her unorthodox method of keeping her spices unlabeled, thus allowing her to revel in the whimsical joys of sniffing out her unknown quarry. To some readers, this might reek of highfalutin, esoteric crap. To me, it's glorious.

•New Spices for a New Year [Los Angeles Times]

When I went to Trader Joe's tonight, I wasn't particularly in the mood for corn chowder, but when I came face to face with a towering display of these little cans, I found myself instinctively reaching for one — and for a very simple reason: its bulbous midriff. Had the corn chowder been packaged in merely plain old cans, I would have gone my merry way. But these soups were in miniature kettles!!! Or rather, miniature kettle-type cans. I don't know if kettles play a prominent role in the world of chowders, but I knew one thing: I HAD TO HAVE ONE.

Sadly, packaging masked a mediocre product. The chowder wasn't that bad, but it was just entirely too salty, almost like a chicken broth, minus the chicken. Some black pepper helped matters out, but overall, I'm not sure I'd buy this product again.

And for no other reason than I was bored/procrastinating, some bonus pics of my dinner after the jump...

Animal activists, avert your eyes. Above is a slab of that most delicious of French staples, foie gras. I came across this photo late last night while I was both hungry and nostalgic for a meal I had eaten earlier this year in a little French bistro named Chez Michel. Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that browsing shiny, delectable images on an empty stomach is nothing short of a horrific idea. Yes, ever since my flickr adventures, I've been relentlessly craving foie gras, but in the absence of any readily accessible goose liver, I've simply had to sate myself by staring at this photo, which is really quite counter-intuitive, if you think about it. Nevertheless, I fear that I may have glanced upon the culinary version of The Ring, except instead of being haunted by images of a little girl, I see foie gras. And instead of an ominous phone call, my stomach rumbles. And instead of dying, I just get hungrier. Okay, it's nothing like The Ring at all. Point is that if you love foie gras like I do, once you look at this picture, you won't be able to think of anything else.

Many thanks to the blog Desserts First, whose author snapped this tempting photo. If you're hungry but the foie-gras isn't doing much for you, I promise this site will have plenty for you to wag your tongue at.

"Happy Kwanzaa, black people.  From me and my breasts!"