Hedonia

Mini Hot Browns

Happy Derby Day, y'all!

Like most non-veg*ans, I like bacon. A lot. Certainly at least as much as the next guy. But like some others, I am a bit over the baconization of the foodie Internets. Bacon is strong mojo. Like a psychedelic drug, it should be used with great care and respect. You can't just use bacon for bacon's sake. Mark my words, the day the Bacon Explosion exploded all over the web was the day bacon jumped the shark.

But bacon still has and will forever have its time and place. It is, after all, one of the high holy trinity that is B, L and T. It is also a seminal ingredient in the most quintessential Kentuckian sandwich, the Hot Brown.

This open-faced sandwich, created by chef Fred Schmidt at Louisville's Brown Hotel in 1928, is not diet food. By modern standards, the Hot Brown's combination of bread, turkey, cheese sauce and bacon is a total hot mess. But hey, all things in moderation, right? If you miniaturize them down to passed hors d'oeuvre size, each wee morsel is just a palpitation compared to the full-on heart stopper of a whole one.

And yes, they do taste just a little better when you're wearing your big ol' floppy Holly Golightly hat and a sundress, washed down with a mint julep. But doesn't everything?

Porcini gelée, brussels sprouts, chestnut purée

Last year for our anniversary, we flew to Chicago and had a life-changing meal at Alinea. Chef Grant Achatz's whimsical, otherworldly creations really amazed us both. We even went so far as to invest in the cookbook. It's rilly rilly purty (and heavy), with stunning photos of dishes that I can only imagine creating.

While not everything in the cookbook is unapproachable to the average home chef (in fact, most dishes are merely layerings of common techniques to new effects), until I invest in the anti-griddle or bone up on my frothing skills, I will not cook my way through the book. But I'm glad at least one person has the cojones to try it. Still, it's nice to draw inspiration from.

Generally, the names of Alinea's dishes are outlines of components, such as the famous, "Hot potato, cold potato, black truffle." The recipe in the cookbook that we used as our springboard was called, "Chestnut, too many garnishes to list." We decided to simplify.

To our minds, an amuse bouche has a specific function. It should always be one bite, and it should set the tone for the meal ahead. It should appetize through the eyes as well as the palate. It should be the one thing in the meal you want more of, but cannot have; it should leave you hungry, for there is so much more ahead.

Coppa-wrapped persimmon

Prosciutto and melon is one of the greatest hits in Italian appetizers, and with good reason. In two simple ingredients you get a masterful array of sensual contrasts: Earthy and fruity, salty and sweet, tough and tender. We've gone on to wrap plenty of other fruits in prosciutto; figs are a winning choice, for example. But when we wrapped crisp fuyu persimmons in prosciutto, the combination was less than stellar. The meat overpowered the delicately cinnamony sweetness of the fruit. I just love the sweet coppa at Lucca, so I thought I'd give that a whirl. What an improvement! The coppa has a fine crust of spices around the edges that played very nicely with the persimmons.

In his zeal preparing the salad for the party, DPaul diced up all the persimmons I had set out, intending a few of them to be cut into wedges for the appie. He recovered it by intertwining the coppa with dice of persimmons on a skewer. It's not just a clever save; it worked out to be an improvement on presentation and eatability. Then again, I'll eat almost anything at the end of a pick.

"Snowballs"

No matter how highfalutin you want to make your party, you have to have a cheese ball, don't you? It's the sine qua non of holiday entertaining.

But while cheese balls are beloved by all, they are not especially fancy (though some may disagree). That is, if you're envisioning the store-bought, fist-sized ball of dubiously bright orange cheese rolled in chunky bits of rancid pecan. So DPaul was inspired to raise the humble cheese ball to new heights. By using only white cheeses, chopping the pecans very finely and rolling them into individual bites, the humble cheese ball became a dainty and elegant hors d'oeuvre.

Where to buy Spanish stuff: The Spanish Table

A major part of planning is shopping, and a major part of shopping is knowing where to shop.

While the grocery list for our Iberian dinner contained plenty of items that were easily gathered in one morning's visit to the Ferry Building -- produce at the farmer's market, pork from Golden Gate Meats, clams from San Francisco Fish Company -- there were some particular items special to Spain that we needed to source separately. I could probably have found it all by scouring the city and buying a little here, a little there, but I saw no reason to when we have a place like The Spanish Table just across the bridge in Berkeley.

The Spanish Table is an astonishingly comprehensive emporium of all things Iberian: Manchego, cabrales, jamon serrano, lomo, marcona almonds (blanched or roasted and salted), angulas, bacalao, piquillos, padrones, and of course sardines are just a few of the items at your fingertips. The array of olive oils, sherry vinegars and of course wines, sherries, madeiras and ports is dizzying. Luckily, the friendly and courteous staff is eager to help you navigate those waters.

We stocked up on meats and cheeses, bought almonds and sherry vinegar for the gazpacho, and picked a couple sherries to pair with various courses. Our mighty haul wasn't exactly cheap, but still less expensive than airfare to Madrid, so all good.

Not in the Bay Area? Why, check out their flagship location in Seattle or satellite store in Santa Fe. Or, just shop online.

The Spanish Table
1814 San Pablo Ave, Berkeley, CA

Eat me: Starr Ridge hors d'oeuvre crackers

Whilst extolling the joys of McQuade's Celtic Chutneys, I referred to enjoying them with crackers and an unremarkable cheddar. Ah, but I was playing a card close to the vest. You see, the crackers were not so pedestrian.

I've been a big fan of Starr Ridge hors d'oeuvre crackers for several years ago, since they began carrying them at Bi-Rite Market when I lived around the corner. They have a wonderful, substantial heftiness, and a rustic wheaty flavor that remains neutral enough not to interfere with whatever you're serving them with. They come in a variety of flavors, mostly herbal, some more successful than others. Personally, I think the Rosemary Parmesan and Olive Oil are no-fail complements to all manner of cheeses, charcuterie, pickles, fresh fruit and, well, chutneys. Keeping a smattering of these things on hand makes for easy, instant entertaining when friends drop by ... and once in a while subs in for a full meal after a long day.