Milquetoast

Scuola di Pizza: Part I, The Dough

2010-06-25T18:06:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week I attended a pizza making class at Pizzeria Mozza's "scuola di pizza." Faithful readers of this blog (are there any?) will recall that nearly four years ago I wrote about Mozza on the eve of its opening here. Since then, the restaurant has become a staple in LA and so successful that soon the Mozza empire will be expanding to Singapore, of all places. I like the place and I like the pizza, even if it is not really in the Neapolitan style that is much more au courant. So, I jumped at the chance of taking the class, even though it came at a fairly steep price ($150) and significant risk (that they might not be teaching the actual recipe, but rather some dumbed down version allegedly "more accessible to the home chef" but which also coincidentally protects Mozza's trade secrets. See my previous comments on secret recipes here).

The class turned out to be pretty good, even if there were a few disappointments. I'm going to write up everything we learned. In this post, I will talk about the dough. In later posts, I will move on to the sauce, toppings, and final preparation of the pizza.

If you have ever tried to make bread or pizza dough, you know how challenging it is to do it well, and more particularly, how changing very subtle variables (not just the ingredients, but also the mixing and dough handling methods, ambient temperatures, and rising times) creates very different results. That's why it can be hard to duplicate a specific crust without good instruction. Mozza's dough has a unique quality. It is crisp and chewy without being doughy. I was curious about a few things. What type of flour are they using? Is it a natural starter or a traditional yeast raised crust? Are there any additions to the dough beyond the basics (flour, water and salt -- and I assure you it is possible to make an extraordinary pizza with just these ingredients). What is the moisture content of the dough? How is the dough handled at each stage?

When I got to the class, I eagerly flipped through the supplied recipe book to start answering these questions. Once I'd read through the dough recipe I was worried: I could tell that there was no possible way this was the recipe they used in the restaurant. The provided recipe took only three hours from start to finish. It is simply impossible to make a perfect pizza dough in three hours; fermentation times of 24 to 72 hours are typically used by professional bakers. And I could tell that other factors (like the amount of yeast used) was a multiple of the amount that would be used by a professional baker. Typically home bread recipes compensate for the short rising time by adding yeast; that's why home baked bread often has an unpleasant, excessively yeasty taste. I was half ready to confront the teacher on these facts.

I didn't have to; he opened the class by admitting that this was indeed a dough recipe "adapted for the home kitchen" (grrr). And he did say that the "professional recipe" did require a 72 hour fermentation. But, there were two things that comforted me. First, I suspect that the basic mechanics of the dough are likely the same as the "real thing" and with some experimentation I think I can adapt it to a 72 hour fermentation. And second, in under a year the Pizzeria Mozza cookbook will be printed, and it will include the entire detailed recipe for those who want to tackle it.

In the class we were able to try this dough and compare it to the real thing, and I will say that it was pretty good -- much better than any other three hour pizza dough I have ever tasted. So, this is still a recipe worth knowing and there are quite a few subtle tips I picked up. I left happy to learn it.

First, to answer the questions I came in with:

What kind of flour? I learned that the flour that Mozza uses is called Mello Judith. This is a commercial flour made by Conagra which is only available in 50 pound bags from restaurant suppliers. I did manage to buy a bag of it, so if anyone wants some let me know and I can share. It is a moderately high protein content flour (about 11.9%), but slightly lower that some bread flours. You definitely want a bread flour for this recipe, but the specific flour can have big results on the end product, so I think it's a good idea to use the same one they do. Protein content is also not the only variable; there are different types of wheat and ash content. The way the wheat is aged also impacts the product.

What ingredients? In addition to flour, water, salt and yeast, the Mozza dough contains olive oil, honey, rye flour, and wheat germ. I have never used wheat germ in a dough before, but it strikes me as a good idea. It adds a great nutty flavor. Very little is used, so you would never even suspect that it is there. A small amount of rye flour also enhances the flavor.

Natural starter? This recipe doesn't need a natural starter, and the chef said that the restaurant doesn't use one either. The restaurant recipe uses a traditional sponge dough and a 72 hour fermentation. What this means (most likely) is that about half the flour from the recipe is mixed with an equal proportion of water and a small amount of yeast. This is allowed to ferment for a couple of days, and then the remainder of the flour and water is added and then handled according to the recipe. I plan to try a 72 hour fermentation using this technique.

Moisture Content? Most professional recipe doughs have a substantially higher moisture content than typical home recipe doughs. They are very sticky and hard to deal with if you don't know the right techniques. Mozza's is no exception. The recipe presented was 85% hydration (the ratio of water to flour in the final dough, by weight). I'm working on a bread right now that is at 90% hydration, so some doughs are even wetter. If you check any home recipe, you'll find much lower suggested hydration (once you work out the math).

Dough Handling Techniques? The recipe includes a 14 minute machine knead (in multiple stages). This might not be necessarily in the 72 hour fermentation as over longer periods, dough basically kneads itself. The dough is very lightly handled for the most part, and instead of being punched down it is lightly folded like an envelope (see below). There were also a few ideas I hadn't heard for rolling the actual dough balls.

So without further ado, here is the recipe they presented.

INGREDIENTS: (yield: 6 pizzas)
22 ounces warm tap water
1/2 ounce compressed yeast (if dry yeast is used, the amount might be different)
26 ounces bread flour (they use Conagra Mello Judith)
1/2 ounce dark rye flour
1/4 ounce wheat germ
1/4 ounce mild honey
1/2 ounce kosher salt

a) water in bowl of kitchenaid mixer

b) add yeast; let sit to dissolve

c) add all ingredients EXCEPT salt (this is important; adding salt too early to a yeast dough interferes wth it)

d) mix using dough hook on low speed, 2 minutes

e) increase speed to high (#2 on kitchenaid) and mix for 6-7 minutes

f) add 1 to 8 tbsp of flour, ONE tablespoon at a time, until the dough starts to pull away from the sides of the bowl. it will be VERY wet and it won't come away clean from the sides of the bowl). This was to me, one of the most essential parts of the recipe to get right.

g) continue to mix for another 5 minutes

h) place the dough into a greased cermaic, plastic or glass bowl (NOT metal)

i) cover with plastic wrap tightly, sealing the bowl with another piece of plastic wrap or twine (I hadn't seen this done before).

j) let rise at 68-70 degrees for 45 minutes

k) turn dough out on to a floured work surface. "turn each edge of the dough toward the center, acting as if the dough has four sides" (this is the gentle punching down operation)

l) put the dough back in the bowl, cover again with plastic and let rise another 45 minutes

m) divide dough into six 7 ounce balls

n) the actual process to shape into balls is somewhat difficult to describe without pictures or a video...

o) the balls are proofed on a floured sheet for one more hour before being shaped into pizzas

to be continued...

Jonathan Gold on eating live octopus tentacles

2008-12-08T14:24:00.000-08:00

"For the first time I appreciated the strategic importance of the sesame oil–salt dip—not just because it tasted good, which it did, but because the suckers on the tentacles are still fully functional, and the coating of slippery oil prevents them from maintaining their death grip on your tongue."

This is not a joke

2008-11-29T22:55:00.001-08:00

Jean-Paul Sartre is sitting at a French cafe, revising his draft of Being and Nothingness. He says to the waitress, "I'd like a cup of coffee, please, with no cream." The waitress replies, "I'm sorry, monsieur, but we're out of cream. How about with no milk?"

In case of fire...

2008-11-27T01:15:00.000-08:00

Si Hoc Legere Scis Nimium Eruditionis Habes

2008-11-26T19:29:00.000-08:00

Translation:
"If you can read this, you are over-educated."

I'm still planning on washing my hands

2008-11-25T21:29:00.001-08:00

From The Economist:

"PUBLIC displays of untidiness, such as graffiti, may promote bad behaviour, but when it comes to personal cleanliness the opposite appears to be true. A study just published in Psychological Science by Simone Schnall of the University of Plymouth and her colleagues shows that washing with soap and water makes people view unethical activities as more acceptable and reasonable than they would if they had not washed themselves."

Thank goodness for Yahoo! Answers

2008-11-25T20:26:00.001-08:00

Religious saying of the day

2008-11-24T22:16:00.000-08:00

"Google can't satisfy every search."

Math

2008-11-23T17:07:00.000-08:00

An infinite number of mathematicians walk into a bar. The first one orders a beer. The second orders half a beer. The third, a quarter of a beer. The bartender says "You're all idiots,"and pours two beers.

My last thoughts on the election

2008-11-23T16:03:00.001-08:00

Back from China...

2008-11-23T15:44:00.001-08:00

Peanut Butter Moment

2008-11-12T21:39:00.000-08:00

A friend called me today. She was in a store that was selling $14 peanut butter and wanted to know if I wanted her to buy it for me.

The slogan on the jar said, "We started with nuts. Then we went crazy!"

It's nice to have friends who know what you appreciate.

A modest proposal

2008-11-06T22:16:00.000-08:00

Following the passage of California Proposition 8, which outlaws gay marriage, I am readying my own California voter proposition for 2012.

It is clear that we need to level the playing field, so that homosexuals have the same rights as heterosexuals.

It is equally clear that the California people have spoken: homosexuals should not be allowed to marry.

My solution? Outlaw marriage entirely. Not only would it make us all equal, life would be much more fun.

The election race I was watching

2008-11-06T20:13:00.001-08:00

Take the high road

2008-11-01T22:07:00.000-07:00

When officials asked for the Welsh translation of a road sign, they thought the reply was what they needed.

Unfortunately, the e-mail response to Swansea council said in Welsh: "I am not in the office at the moment. Please send any work to be translated".

So that was what went up under the English version which barred lorries from a road near a supermarket.

"When they're proofing signs, they should really use someone who speaks Welsh," said journalist Dylan Iorwerth.

Money vs. Time

2008-10-31T14:07:00.000-07:00

From a recent interview with artist Damien Hirst, who just completed a price record setting auction of his works:

Q: Is it more important to give time or money?
A: I don't have enough time at the moment. I don't even do my own paintings.

Who will be the next president?

2008-10-19T12:28:00.001-07:00

The Shoe Bomber Remembered

2008-10-18T20:24:00.000-07:00

In the current issue of The Atlantic, Jeffrey Goldberg writes about how easy it is to circumvent the TSA's security systems. You can read the article he wrote here: http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200811/airport-security

I wrote Mr. Goldberg the following letter.

* * *

Dear Mr. Goldberg:

Up until today, my least favorite person on earth was the shoe bomber. I hate him not because he attempted to smuggle a bomb in his shoes, but rather because I now have to take my shoes off at every airport checkpoint in the world.

Now, however, you are my least favorite person in the world.

It is obvious to anyone with a fourth grade education that the airport security system does not work. It is there to make passengers feel better about flying. Ultimately, anyone who wants to kill a lot of people can do it. That's one of the problems and risks of living in a free society. The good news is, the odds of any one of us being that person who dies at the hands of terrorists is pretty darn low.

As a result of the self-evident things which you have written in your article, I am sure that 300 bureaucrats at the TSA will go on special assignment to start trying to block these gaping security holes. No matter what their efforts, there will be new gaping holes which they will not block. But, every passenger who goes through airport security will now be subject to an even more irritating and unnecessary process. And it's all your fault.

Mr. Goldberg, I will rue your name every time I have to pass through the new "improved" airport security system. As far as I'm concerned, you are just as bad as the shoe bomber.

On marriage...

2008-10-11T14:20:00.001-07:00

"This financial crisis is worse than divorce. I've lost half of my money and I still have my wife."

Accounting for Zero

2008-10-11T14:17:00.000-07:00

"The left side of the balance sheet has nothing right and the right side of the balance sheet has nothing left. But they are equal to each other. So accounting-wise we are fine."

-- AIG Vice Chairman Jacob Frenkel

Inflation

2008-10-05T02:27:00.001-07:00

On Sept. 8, 99 Cents Only said it will raise prices for the first time ever, citing inflation. Prices will go to 99.99 cents, from 99 cents.

I love kids...

2008-09-23T19:54:00.000-07:00

...but it's hard to finish a whole one.

My teeth are so clean....

2008-09-21T01:20:00.001-07:00

...you could eat off of them.

The milk of human kindness

2008-09-19T13:08:00.000-07:00

A Swiss restaurant plans on serving a menu where the stews and sauces will be made from at least 75 percent human milk. The owner found his milk donors by putting up ads offering about $5.40 for 14 oz. of milk. Swiss authorities are in a bind because the restaurant seems to have a found a legal loophole, and that's because no legislators ever imagined this situation. "One can cook really delicious things with it. However, it always needs to be mixed with a bit of whipped cream, in order to keep the consistency," says Hans Locher, owner of Storchen in the resort town of Winterthur.

Rapper Nas on Fried Chicken

2008-09-06T23:51:00.000-07:00

"After you shower, you and your Gold Medal flour
Then you rub your hot oil for 'bout a half an hour
You in your hot tub, I'm looking at you, salivating
Dry you off, I got your paper towel waiting

...

Don't know what part of you I love best / Your legs or your breasts..."

The phenomenology of M&M's

2008-08-16T14:55:00.000-07:00

Edmund Husserl, the great Czech philosopher, once wrote a book called Ideen zu einer reinen Phänomenologie und phänomenologischen Philosophie. Erstes Buch: Allgemeine Einführung in die reine Phänomenologie (Loosely translated: "General Introduction to Phenomenology"). Published in 1913, the book predated the introduction of M&M's by 38 years. It is safe to say that Edmund Husserl never ate an M&M, although he was likely familiar with the broader generis of candy coated beans (Jordan Almonds apparently date back to the 17th century, according to Wikipedia).

When I tried M&M's Premiums, a new product from Mars, Incorporated, I was immediately reminded of Husserl's work.

I don't think anyone really understands Husserl's book, but it has something to do with the independence of the world of ideas and the physical world, and the independence of this world of ideas with, say, the logical world of mathematics. Central to Husserl's thought is the idea of an eidos, or essence. An eidos exists independently of an object or even a class of objects; for example the color red would be an eidos. This leads to questions such as whether these essences can exist independently of consciousness, or whether we have to think of them as essential objects of consciousness, because "red" exists to us as human beings but perhaps not to other creatures. But these questions are for another blog entry.

In the main, as I munched on this new M&M -- or more accurately this new object deemed to be an M&M by Mars, Incorporated -- I wondered, what exactly is the eidos of an M&M? According to the wikipedia, M&M's are "candy-coated pieces of chocolate with the letter "m" inscribed on them, produced by Mars, Incorporated."

Now, this new M&M in fact had no candy coated shell; it was actually strangely soft. It turns out that the chocolate coating is the "coating" on this bean. And the layer of chocolate around the almond was disturbingly thin--to the point where it was nearly undetectable.

I really don't know what the eidos of an M&M is--whether, for example, a candy coated shell is a necessary condition for M&M-ness--but it is safe to say that this new object is not an M&M.

And then just today, I ran into an oblong Oreo with fudge filling. "Perfect for dipping," the package says, as if a round cookie has been a lifelong annoyance to Oreo dippers around the world. At Oreo.com, the brand extensions span 10 pages. What is the eidos of an Oreo?

Haiku

2008-08-06T23:53:00.000-07:00

Long words have ruined
The best lines of my haiku.
Sesquipedalian.

From the department of one liners

2008-03-29T13:06:00.000-07:00

"Honey, you have more problems than a math book."

"It was so quiet, you could hear a name drop."

How to avoid a stale Reese's Peanut Butter Cup

2008-03-29T12:51:00.000-07:00

If you're like me (and who isn't) there's nothing more satisfying than a fresh Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. On the other hand, there's nothing more disgusting than a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that's past its prime: the shiny patina on the chocolate becomes dull, the normally wonderfully moist and chewy peanut butter filling becomes dry and crumbly.

Unfortunately, the Hershey's distribution system is not particularly well run, and I suspect that some distributors intentionally traffic in stale Peanut Butter Cups. How do you know what the expiration date of a Peanut Butter Cup is? It turns out that every package is stamped with a code, a number and then a letter - for example "8D". The number refers to the year (2008) while the letter refers to the month (D = April, the fourth month and the fourth letter of the alphabet). Why precisely Hershey's keeps this coding a semi-secret is a bit mysterious.

Peanut Butter Cup afficionados point out that one way to avoid a stale Peanut Butter Cup is to buy a Reese's seasonal product, such as the Reese's Peanut Butter Egg, or the more imposing Reester Bunny (one Reester Bunny supplies about half a day's calories). The Peanut Butter Egg, which might be more aptly called a Peanut Butter Log, has its own virtues as well: the higher ratio of peanut butter filling to chocolate is much more satisfying.

Either way, never buy a Peanut Butter Cup that's past its prime! I recommend inspecting your local retailers and reporting those that sell old product to Hershey's (as I have been doing).

We will solve this problem together!

In search of 'Wichcraft's cupcake

2008-02-18T08:56:00.000-08:00

Perhaps number two on the List of Things That Irritate me is the "secret recipe." (Number one on the list is the non-recipe recipe; that is, telling someone how you made something but intentionally leaving out key ingredients or parts of the process. Number one is worse than number two because it's both disingenuous and selfish, whereas number two is just selfish.) Certainly everyone has a right to a secret; I'm not disputing that. But, one of my moral axioms is that one should always share knowledge with others that furthers the development of humanity, recipes included. If you have a great brownie recipe, spread it far and wide, for by doing so, you may spare many generations bad brownies. Yes, I suppose if one is in the business of baking those brownies, perhaps then one wouldn't share the recipe, although even then I would make an argument in favor of it.

Those who don't cook a lot are often surprised to find out that published recipe books are often wrong or misleading. One could make a hundred chocolate cakes from a hundred baking books and still not wind up with a perfect chocolate cake; in fact, many of those recipes might wind up being wrong in the same way, because there are actually very few writers that really attempt to perfect their recipes. A corollary: commercial chefs know a lot of things that aren't published in any book. There is a pantheon of knowledge that is simply never or rarely shared. I have inifinite respect to those rare individuals who are both at the top of their craft and are also willing to share with others. If you are both excellent and generous, you are a free spirit in the Nietzschean sense.

Which brings me to cupcakes. For a number of years, I have had a mild obsession with the cream filled chocolate cupcake at 'Wichcraft. In 2005, I wrote on Chowhound:

"Cream filled chocolate cupcake at 'Wichcraft
Visiting from LA - I had an interesting food day today in New York - most of it serendipitous. My initial plan was to have a falafel and lentil soup at Rainbow Falafel on 17th street (I ultimately did, and it was good). On the way, I passed through the farmer's market at Union Square and then 'Wichcraft around the corner.I found the sandwiches at 'Wichcraft fine, but not memorable. However, their cream filled chocolate cupcake was simply incredible. It's not a sweet cupcake, but rather an extremely intense, moist dark chocolate cake (not of the flourless ilk, thankfully) abstemiously filled with lightly sweetened cream, topped with a thin coating of dark chocolate ganche. Memorable. I'd love the recipe if it's been published."

There were no responses to my question. I searched around for recipes by Karen De Masco, 'Wichcraft's pastry chef, and found a few things, including a very wonderful peanut butter sandwich cookie. But no cupcakes.

Last week I was in New York and had a 'Wichcraft cupcake for lunch. I was inspried to ask again on Chowound:

"Chocolate cake recipe like the one in 'Wichcraft's chocolate cupcake
'Wichcraft (locations in SF and New York and possibly elsewhere) has about the best chocolate cupcake I've ever had. It's sort of a very upscale creme filled hostess cupcake. The cake itself has the following characteristics: very moist, fine grained and soft (so I am guessing the butter and flour are mixed directly, a characteristic of fine grained soft cakes), extremely dark and chocolatey. It's quite a dense cake, but it's clearly a cake- the flour is very evident. It almost melts in your mouth. It tastes like it is made with quite high quality chocolate, like a Valrhona.
Anyone have a cake recipe that sounds like this?"

To my surprise, a reply came back a few days later from a poster named MatthewG:

"
Dylan,
Here is a little treat from your friends at ‘wichcraft. The recipe comes compliments of Karen DeMasco, Pastry Chef at craft and craftbar, who originally developed this delicious dessert for us. Enjoy!
‘wichcraft cupcakes (aka devil’s food cake cupcakes)
Yield: 36 cupcakes
1 ½ cups cocoa powder1 ¼ cups warm water
1 ½ cups cake flour1 ½ cups All-Purpose flour1 ¼ teaspoon baking powder1 ½ teaspoon baking soda½ teaspoon salt
1 stick + 2 tablespoons butter3 ½ cups dark brown sugar1 ½ teaspoon vanilla extract
3 eggs
1 ¼ cup buttermilk
Whisk together cocoa and water to make a paste. Sift dry ingredients together. In the bowl of a mixer, cream the butter, sugar, and vanilla. Add in the eggs one at a time followed by cocoa paste. Once combined, alternate adding dry ingredients and buttermilk. Place 24 paper cupcake liners into muffin tins. Fill the liners up to ½-inch from the top and bake at 325ºF for about 25 minutes, turning after the first 12 minutes. Cake should be firm to the touch and when the center is inserted with a knife, it should come out clean.
Cream filling
1 ½ cups heavy cream¼ cup confectioner’s sugar½ teaspoon vanilla extract
In a large mixing bowl, with an electric mixer, whip all of the ingredients to soft peak.
Ganache frosting
8 ounces bittersweet chocolate½ cup corn syrup¾ cup heavy cream
In a saucepot, bring the heavy cream and corn syrup to a boil. In the meantime, with a serrated knife, chop the chocolate into uniform small pieces and place in a mixing bowl. Once the heavy cream and syrup have come to a boil, pour over the chocolate and mix until combined and all chocolate has melted.
Assembly
Fill a piping bag with a small round tip with the Cream Filling. Insert a paring knife through the cupcake liner into the bottoms of each cupcake making an opening big enough to insert the pastry bag tip. Slowly squeeze a bit of whipped cream into cupcake until you feel some resistance.* To frost, dip each cupcake into the warm Ganache Frosting. Swirl them so that top is covered. Set aside to let cool and harden.
*Overfilling causes the cupcake to split or the top to pop off."

I was extremely impressed that MatthewG took the time to respond to my question, and in great detail. I'm looking forward to making these cupcakes for my birthday next week. And Karen De Masco - you are a true free spirit. I hope you write a book one day.

It's a small world...

2007-03-02T15:21:00.001-08:00

...unless you are trying to clean it up

Nostalgia ain't what it used to be

2007-01-30T00:34:00.000-08:00

Years ago, I frequented a squalid cafe on the Stanford Campus called the Coffee House. At the time, I considered the place rank; the dark wood tables had a waxy patina from generations of graduate student sweat. I went there every night though, not because I loved it, but because I didn't have a car to go anywhere else. It was dark, too dark to study, but that didn't seem to stop anyone. It did have its virtues, and I recognized some of them at the time. The live music was both free and good; the Indigo Girls played there before anyone knew who they were. I remember having my first coffee there, and the caffeine high drove me to fall in love, at least temporarily, with the woman I was with (I still remember her fondly). One night I spent hours drinking beers with one of my philosophy teachers discussing a paper and thinking: this is what college is all about.

When I returned to Stanford for graduate school about five years later, the CoHo (how I hated that abbreviation) was pretty much unchanged. But my perceptions of the place had changed: it was no longer a rank cesspool, but rather an eidetic realization of the perfect college cafe. As an adult, I realized that the CoHo was a fucking cool place to be. Its dark wood benches now signified permanence and history.

Today I happened to be at Stanford and suggested to a friend that we meet at the CoHo for a drink. Together we drove to Tresidder Union to recapture a bit of youth. Through the window of the place I saw the glow of screens, many screens; there were a few laptops on nearly every table. And the place was bright; students who wanted to use the place to study had clearly complained about the lack of light. The old wood tables had been replaced by a light brown DuPont plastic. The chalkboard menu was gone. And, the ultimate insult: they no longer serve alchohol.

I mentioned to a girl in line who couldn't have been more than 19 that in the old days, the CoHo was a popular place to grab a beer. "That's what my dad tells me," she replied without a hint of irony.

From the department of stolen jokes

2007-01-24T13:22:00.000-08:00

Comedians hate it when people steal their material. Fortunately, the people I stole these jokes from are unlikely ever to read my blog. (All of the jokes were from last nights Comedy Death Ray at the Upright Citizen's Brigade in LA -- one of my favorite things to go to on a Tuesday night.)

The best gifts are homemade. Like crystal meth.

* * *

I hate dirty jokes. Dirty jokes just aren't my cup of jism.

* * *

People say if animals could talk, they'd tell us not to eat animals. I
don't think so. I think they'd be telling us which animals taste the best.

* * *

My acting career is going really well. I have the role of "Ticket Taker
#3" in a new movie. That may not sound very impressive to you, but the
movie is called "Ticket Taker #3".

* * *

My friend is maximally pessimistic. He looks at a full glass of water and
sees it as completely empty.

Last Supper at Norman's

2006-11-12T15:33:00.000-08:00

I ate at Norman's for the last time last night. I don't think I've ever eaten at a restaurant on its last night in business, though I suppose a few could have closed the next day without my knowing it. There’s something very uncomfortable about eating in a place that’s about to close. A good restaurant exists outside the normal boundaries of time, because restaurant experiences are inherently repeatable – on a future day, I have the option of enjoying this same dish in this same room with these same people. I remember Ernest Becker’s great book, “The Denial of Death” which makes the point that a human being’s greatest fear is his own death, and to “deny” one’s death, one looks for sources of permanence in one’s life that offer a glimpse of “eternity.” The restaurant experience is one such source of permanence.

All restaurants do ultimately die, however, and the good ones presumably take a little piece of their customers with them. Norman’s certainly left with a piece of me. I loved Norman’s, and I often said it was my favorite restaurant in Los Angeles, but I had to admit the place was commercially inept. The idea of a quiet, refined room on the Sunset Strip was a bit of an oxymoron. No one ever quite understood the “new world fusion cuisine” they served there. The execution was so labor intensive it seemed unlikely it could be profitable: the early menus there had a density reminiscent of Frank Zappa’s aptly named musical piece “The Black Page,” and I remember that they would painstakingly flambee the bananas table side for the New World Banana Split. Every time I went there it seemed that one little element of detail would be removed, an indication that the place was probably on a death spiral that could not be stopped.

Still, this was a place that exuded a lot of care, and I wondered what the last night there would be like. I felt it could go in one of two ways. Either the staff would pay respects to the final devoted customers coming through its doors and deliver the best night the restaurant had ever seen, or the place would die with a whimper. From a narrative perspective, I certainly prayed for the former. But the sad fact is, Norman’s felt like it did on just about any other night. The service was quite good but about 10% less impeccable than it normally was. The food was about 10% less perfect (my grits cake, a highlight of the roast pork Havana, was surprisingly dense and lacked the fresh corn whollop it has delivered in the past). There was no drama, there were no speeches, no mention that we were there during the final hours, no thanks for the support as we left. It was just like eating at any other place, with the slight difference that the next day it would all be dark.

One of my dining companions is friends with Nancy Silverton and she suggested we try to get a preview pizza from Mozza before that restaurant’s official opening on Monday. And so, after our dinner at Norman’s , we drove to Mozza to see day negative one of a restaurant's life. We got there at about 10:30. Sadly, they were just cleaning up so we didn’t get a chance to try the pizza. But Nancy was there, sitting at the bar, clearly pleased with her new creation. And I realized that with the death of a piece of permanence in one’s life comes the birth of the new. And so I watched with some emotion as the staff of Mozza cleaned up the restaurant for nearly the first time, just as those at Norman’s locked the doors for good.

Miracle Fruit Through The Looking Glass

2006-06-13T21:21:00.000-07:00

My friend Nat has always been interested in fruit. Shortly after college, he devoted nearly a year to mapping out every publicly accessible fruit tree in the San Francisco Bay Area. Nat ultimately decided to get a PhD in ethnobotany. I’m still not precisely sure what ethnobotany is, but at a friend’s wedding, Nat noted that one of the flowers in the main arrangement was not only very rare, but was also hallucinogenic in sufficient quantities.

Nat is a member of the Rare Fruit Society, a national organization unsurprisingly dedicated to the preservation and cultivation of rare fruits. Through the Society, Nat located an exotic fruit farmer named Alex who runs a nursery out of his house called the Papaya Tree, about 20 miles north of Los Angeles. “I don’t really like papayas,” Alex confided in us.

Alex’s nursery turned out to be the fruit equivalent of Willie Wonka’s Chocolate Factory: strange flowers that were sweeter than honey, mutated blueberries that aren’t supposed to grow in our climate, intense bananas the size of my little finger. From Alex’s kitchen we tasted dried jujube chips and sipped homemade carob liqueur, a dark brown elixir with notes of mocha and vanilla oak.

While I was sipping on the carob liqueur I noticed that Nat and Alex were in an intense debate. They were talking about optimal soil acidity and water mineral content required to grow Miracle Fruit. Nat said to Alex in a somewhat hushed tone, “I heard you are one of the few people in the country who has succeeded in growing Miracle Fruit.” Alex just gave a wise nod.

I got up the nerve to ask: “What is Miracle Fruit?”

Alex’s dad disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a small red berry and a slice of lemon. Alex’s dad told me take a test of the lemon. It tasted like a lemon. Not so impressive so far.

“Now slowly suck the fruit off of this little red berry, make sure you mash it up against your tongue really well.” The berry had a slightly sweet and pleasant flavor. “Now take a test of the lemon.” The lemon now tasted like the sweetest orange! I eagerly devoured the entire lemon – it was like candy. This fruit really was a miracle! It made sour things gloriously sweet with no additional calories.

“How long does this miracle fruit effect one’s sense of taste,” I asked, assuming that it might work for 30 seconds on a good day.

“Somewhere between four and eight hours,” Alex said.

Nat explained to me that Miracle Fruit would turn red wine into the finest port. It would transform unsweetened lemon meringue pie. In fact it would make almost anything you eat taste a lot better.

Nat explained that many companies have attempted to commercialize Miracle Fruit but evil forces in the sugar industry have stopped it. There was even a popsicle with a coating of miracle fruit juice (to coat the tongue with the active ingredient, “miraculin”) and a soft drink can with a separate miracle fruit juice chamber. The fruit is apparently native to Cameroon, where the local soup is sour unless you coat your tongue with miracle fruit juice first.

The catch is that Miracle Fruit is extremely difficult to grow (unless you are Alex) and also very difficult to buy in this country. (There is apparently an African man in New Jersey who sells the stuff for research purposes, though.) But if you get the chance to try it, I highly recommend it. It will transform your views on the nature of taste and make you perhaps more conscious that you are a computer whose program can be rewritten by pressing the appropriate buttons. If a true miracle makes us question what is real and what is not real, Miracle Fruit is appropriately named.

The Hero Burger of Blogs

2006-06-11T11:53:00.000-07:00

It is with great reluctance that I am writing a blog.

I was inspired by a hamburger--a very bad hamburger. There is a place in Toronto called Hero Burgers that I made the mistake of eating at yesterday. You can look at their web site at www.heroburgers.com. Their ad promises that "using nothing but 100% Angus Beef for our hamburgers and adding no additives or preservatives we make the freshest and juiciest hamburgers possible." Furthermore, "we strive to make every visit special so that every time you have one of our fresh sandwiches you will understand why we say that every Hero makes a difference."

A difference indeed. The Hero Burger's meat tastes like a they put a cow foot in a blender and added salt. The luke-warm "fresh cut french fries" cooked in "100% canloa oil" had a distinctly rancid flavor that, apparently, American (and presumably Canadian) consumers have grown to expect. There is not just one Hero Burger; Hero Burger has expanded to ten locations in places as far away as Aurora. The company has grand growth plans; can a public offering be far away?

I had to ask myself: Why does the Hero Burger need to exist? Does the world need yet another disgusting fast food chain when there is already a McDonald's on every other block? The world needs another fast food chain about as much as it needs another blog.

A blog, a blog. A good idea. Welcome to Milequetoast. The Hero Burger of Blogs.