August: Hot, Buttered and Fun

So many good concerts happened in the Salt Lake area this August, most of them easy on the wallet. The free Saturday concerts at the Canyons continued, as did the Thursday night ones at the Gallivan Center. I dragged the kids to these and more, to the point that they started complaining, "not another festival!" How funny.


My favorite bluegrass band (well, newgrass, I should say) was in town this weekend for the first annual Intermountain Acoustic Music Association Folk and Bluegrass Fest at the Gallivan Center. HOT BUTTERED RUM. That's right, and the boys were in fine form. I liked it all, but standouts for me were a great jam on a song called Entangled and a fabulous Beatles cover: "I've Got a Feelin". SO good. They actually played two Beatles covers back-to-back, the first one being "I've Just Seen a Face," which I think is very much suited for bluegrass and reminded me a lot of the rendition on an album I picked up a few years back: The Charles River Valley Boys.

That album is more traditional bluegrass, and a little tough to listen to all the way through for my tastes, but definitely good for a lark. Anyway, Hot Buttered Rum was great even though they didn't play "Flask Alas," a song the kids and I listen to a bunch and one Gillian requested of the mandolin/fiddle player Eric just before their soundcheck got rolling. Sweet girl. Anyway, the kids had fun singing "Flask Alas, he was a butterless man!" in the car.

The weekend ended with a great day at Oktoberfest at Snowbird. It's not the cheapest thing around, but for $19 each, the kids had unlimited passes to do all the alpine sledding, sky trampolining, rock wall climbing and mechanical bull riding they could handle.

They had a blast with their friends, Daniel and Zosia. Plus, with heat around 96 degrees in the valley, and 20 short minutes up the canyon we were enjoying weather in the high 70s, it was a great way to enjoy a sunny day out of the heat.

Roast for One

My apologies in advance to the greatest of my vegetarian friends, Kevin and Misty, with whom I've experienced a genuine and totally unpretentious love of slow food.

Roasting a whole chicken has to be one of the easiest and economical ways to eat well and make yourself a week's worth of lunches in the process. I think that roasting a chicken and serving delicious sides like roasted garlic smashed red potatoes and haricots verts topped with caramelized plums is a great way to treat a dinner guest, but since there was no one around last weekend, I decided just to treat myself.

And this is a good thing (despite the crappy iPhone picture). My roast chicken is easy: 6 Tbs butter softened and mixed with a Tbs each of rosemary, thyme and sage, all of which are easy to grow in the back yard, along with some lemon thyme and the zest of one lemon. I rub this under the skin on both sides of the chicken and set it in my cast iron skillet in the oven for 90 minutes in a 400 degree oven. Voila. It's done. I throw in some garlic cloves for the last 45-60 minutes to get them roasted for the potatoes.

I pour off most of what's in the pan because it's largely chicken fat, but leave a few Tbs in as well as the dark stuff that sticks a bit--it's fond. I build the sauce on top of the fond by using 1 Tbs of the same butter mix I made (oh yeah--reserve a Tbs of that!) and a few Tbs of flour. This roux can cook on the stove under your watchful wooden spoon for a minute or two followed by a nice dose of white wine (a nice new liter bottle of a gruner vetliner, Austria's famous white, is available right now at the 300 West 1700 South wine store--it comes with a pop top like a beer bottle and is a pretty good, zippy little value). I add water to help achieve the right consistency and of course taste for salt and pepper. The lemon zest from the butter rub lends just the right amount of acidity to this pan sauce.


I would prefer to share with company (sharing food is a wonderful thing), but having at least four days' worth of leftovers that I can freeze in single servings is a nice consolation prize.

Pizza stands tall: "I'm not afraid of fruit"

Pizza. We love it, we eat it by the truckload. But have we stopped to wonder what it can handle? Do we push the envelope on pizza enough to determine it's own capacity for love? I sat down with pizza a while back and had a discussion.

M: So, pizza. You're pretty dependable--do you think that's your best trait?
P: Badda-boosh, you kiddin'? I'm so f-ing bored. I'm the food of the people, but the people have no imagination!
M: Um, we got a family-friendly show, here, pizza.
P: (grimacing in acceptance) Only in these fru-fru Wolfgang Puck, Mario Batali, gourmet establishments do chefs experiment. Meanwhile, I'm pepperoni and cheese 100,000-times a night across America.
M: Well, to be fair, you are pretty good with just pepperoni and cheese.
P: (blushing) True, true.
M: So what you're saying is that you don't mind if people experiment?
P: If I could slap-a-you upside the head, I'd do it-you kiddin'? Do you get up and put on the same thing everyday?
M: Good point.
P: Thank you, now take a bite of me before I slap-a-you.

To that end, I've taken pizza's advice. One of my favorites was a thinly-sliced raw salmon (which cooked perfectly in 7 min in my 530-degree oven), lemon, green onion, oil & vinegar with sparse feta and a touch of red sauce. Mmmm. The other night I added this one, which was an interesting change for pizza (he said so himself):


Top slice: It's the local ham, cubed and browned with the local canteloupe, chipotle powder, honey and a bit of balsamic. Fresh melting sheep's milk cheese and basil chiffonade on top after it comes out of the oven sealed the deal. Yummers.

Bottom slice: more traditional, apple-sage vegan sausage (Whole Foods), pine nuts, banana peppers. All good.

Red Rock Hot Club in a backyard

Salt Lake can be such an amazingly small place sometimes. Take last night for instance, after having a nice dinner with my friend Julie (wow, Cherokee Purple tomatoes are so damn good. Or "Turkey Purples" as Julie likes to call them. lol.), we went to one of her friend's houses for a party. I had no idea what it was until we arrived and there was a giant, well, you can use your imagination, hanging in the front doorway, through which you had to enter. Then Julie tells me, "Oh, yeah, it's a colonoscopy party." Oy. It was a hoot--they went all out, had exam gowns for everyone who came, served drinks in test tubes (gatorade and vodka meant took look like a urine sample-ugh), people in nurses' outfits, IV drip by the bar, etc.

Anyway, someone clues us in to the fact that a great local gypsy jazz band is playing at a backyard party not too far away. So, after a few hours we made our way over to hear a bunch of the members of Red Rock Hot Club play in the backyard of the guy who owns the Guitar Czar, Eric Sopanen. It was definitely hot.


Great jam session--a number of folks rotated in and out. Note the near-empty bottle of Jameson on the stage (backyard deck, actually). They played a bunch of gypsy jazz and moved into some Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys. Very accomplished musicians--these are the guys who teach guitar to people around town.

The guy in the middle is one of the family who owns and runs Chanon Thai. He came up and played an amazing song that he wrote for the woman he loves. It was very technically challenging, melodic and just fun to listen to. I was really impressed. Afterwords, he told me that the song was an assignment from one of the other guys on stage who was his guitar teacher. Crazy.

Great night, great libations, great company. Thanks, Julie, for opening up that evening of fun.

Felt dolls at the market

Great morning at the Saturday Farmer's Market--lovely temp near 60 degrees! Can you believe it? What a nice break from the heat--feels just like fall, although we've got another month and a half of heat left in store. The 9-10:30 crowd at the market wasn't too packed, which was nice.


After getting a great Cherokee Purple tomato, a buck bag of basil, a Rosa Bianca eggplant from John Borski, a few yellow wax peppers for frying, a random 25-cent cucumber and a tavern ham from a hormone- and antibiotic-free pig farm in Cache Valley, I decided to stroll the crafts vendors.

There were some great porcelain pieces (birdhouses and some odd, lovely kitchen bowl-like vessels holding rock salt and peppercorns--way to sell to the farmers market crowd!) But what caught my imagination today was the work of a woman named Cathy Cartwright from Ogden (you can email her through that link).

She makes the most interesting felt dolls. She makes other things, too, like fused glass and jewelry, but I thought her dolls totally stole the show. Of course, I have a daughter who's 7 this year, and while I was talking to Cathy, a woman with a 7-year-old daughter came up and bought one of the dolls, so perhaps it's just that they're perfect for that demographic. In any case, Cathy explained to me how she hand-shapes the features on the dolls while working dry felting wool with a needle. The dolls are imbued with crazy personality, with evocative and exaggerated features. I can just imagine Cathy sitting down, needling in a little eye of newt and powdered unicorn horn, smiling as she brings a new character to life. It's straight out of a children's book.

So I think I found birthday gifts for the girls in my daughter's class this year. Nice to find something so unique and local. Thanks, Cathy.

Ode to Sriracha

My stomach isn't as bulletproof as it was in my younger days, so I'm not quite the connoisseur of hot sauces. But I can attest to the fabulous ability of sriracha, aka Rooster Sauce, to produce a wonderfully spiced stir fry. Probably because it's the real deal--made by Huy Fong Foods in Cali, the owner is Vietnamese and this sauce can be found everywhere even though he started the company just in 1980.

Wait, is 1980 a long time ago? I hope not.

Anyway, I started that sweet potato, asparagus, red pepper, onion and carrot stir fry (pictured above) by stir frying the veggies with some dried herbs: coriander, cumin, ginger and a wee bit of curry powder. After loading in some fresh garlic, the sauce came next, consisting of soy sauce, brown sugar, apple cider vinegar, oyster sauce, some water, and sriracha and fresh basil leaves stirred in at the very end. Pretty tasty. My co-workers thought so, too, the next day.

Boo on the Moo

So even though my kids loved it, nothing that color should go in your mouth. Really, that's nasty.

Frankly, I think sucking off a cow is nasty, anyway, but kids like ice cream. Boo on you, Maggie Moo, for creating such a disgusting flavor as Blue Cotton Candy and then stuffing it full of glucose bombs like candy bars, marshmallow goo and mini M&Ms. Why did I take them there? Well, they asked. And I love 'em to bits. And I remember what it was like to be a kid. But, boo on you anyway, Maggie Moo--you're overpriced and downright bad for a body.

Blue Plate Special

I gave the kids choice of dinner last night: Chanon Thai, Red Iguana or Blue Plate Diner, and was thrilled that they chose the Blue Plate. Not that I prefer it over the other two for sheer quality of food, quite the opposite, probably. But we were very hungry, it's close to our house, and I just genuinely enjoy going there.


We sat outside, just off of 21st and 21st. The brightly painted metal chairs and lampposts, the diner bar just inside the door and so many little details give this place real character. The rusted bikes chained to the posts lining the patio seating serving as a fence are emblematic of the character of the place: relaxed, authentic, retro but not trying too hard.

Our waitress wore the Blue Plate uniform: black short-sleeved shirt, black pants that hug the calves and ankles, and a favorite pair of shoes (I don't know that I've ever seen them wear socks). Exposed tattoos are generally another part of the uniform, but I didn't see any on our waitress last night. As always, she was friendly, no-nonsense and gently supportive of our choices ("good choice," she says with a smile when I order chili as a topping for my burger).

The food is, well, diner food. What else would it be? But it's probably the only SLC diner I really want to go to. Back east, they have Perkins, Utah has the Training Table, everywhere has Denny's, but none of these lifeless chains has the quality of the Blue Plate. What's different? The unique ambiance, the daily specials, the presentation, but perhaps most important for my family, the vegetarian and vegan options. Having been vegetarian for 10 years, I grew to really appreciate diners like Walnut Cafe in Boulder, CO that offered soul food with a little nod to those making other choices. It's a definite choice for a diner to offer vegetarian AND vegan sausage on their menu, and it says something about the place.


So the kids ordered the Gordon, Jr., which is part of the breakfast-all-day menu: one egg, one big pancake, home fries and choice of meat. They ordered the meat sausage (ha!) I actually prefer their vegan sausage, but hey, it's their meal. As for Mr. Vegetarian, well, I'm no longer vegetarian, so I ordered the burger. With chili on top and steak fries on the side. Oh, yeah, gut bustin' goodness.


Only it didn't bust my gut--it was perfect. Thank you, Blue Plate Diner. The ambiance is really fun and funky--you should experience it if you haven't already. There's a free jukebox inside to play your fav tunes on, and I just have to say it's great to hear Bob Dylan follow Michael Jackson on the speakers out front. That's eclectic for you. I'll leave you with one good example of their humor: the sticker on the closet bathroom mirror.

Full Moon over Chicago

People who know me know that I hate to miss a good full moon. So, last night Chester and I made our way to Red Butte Garden,

moseyed on up the hill behind the venue,

and enjoyed the night. OK, so I had some higher hopes for Chicago, but knew I'd hear the stuff I like from their first album mixed in with a lot of sappy, light rock hits that I could barely stand. That's pretty much how it worked out, although on the times I hoped they'd break into a great brass section and flute jam session, it was a rather canned, short jam that barely displayed what talent they once had. The sappy songs were downright awful.

But, a show at Red Butte is always enjoyable. Plus, I got to hang out under the full moon. What more can you ask for?

Bonneville Shoreline Trail - a great ride any time

It's 5:30 p.m. on August 4th in Salt Lake City. 10 times out of 10, it's hot. Well, OK, in 1980 it was only a high of 84. Today was 96. In any case, most people wouldn't consider a blazing ride on the west-facing Bonneville Shoreline Trail as their first choice for escaping the heat.

But, I work in research park at the U, and after a LONG day dealing with issues, let me tell you that jumping out my work door and blowing off some steam on the Bonneville Shoreline Trail is a good thing, hot or not. It's actually been a while since I've ridden the Red Butte-Dry Creek-Bobsled-aves-Red Butte loop, and let me tell you, it's still as fun as can be. Not only that, when you dip down into Dry Creek, it's downright gorgeous--green and cool. I even got to ride through some water! It was easily 15 degrees cooler and made the steady but easy climb enjoyable.

The foothills right above the U have great beauty. Today, I noticed the black beetles, quick little lizards, squirrels, magpies, one garter snake and lots of dried grasses whipping by my legs. Even the 4-foot tall dried thistle has its beauty. The seatpost-to-shoulder height hillside of green scrub oak coming out of Dry Creek was particularly appealing. Perhaps most amazing was the scent in the air right around 6:45 p.m. I don't know what was blooming up there, but it smelled of jasmine and was just perfect. Nice way to end the day.

That's me after the 1 hr. & 20 minute ride. Time to get back to Chester!

Pasta romanara with grilled corn

What to do with what's left in the fridge...sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Here's one from a few nights ago that worked pretty well. Next time I have nada in the cooler, I'll consider making this one again.

What is "romanara"? Well, some sort of cross between romesco and carbonara. It has the tomatoes, hazelnuts and acidity from a romesco sauce and it's finished with egg and cheese like a carbonara.

You'll need: a few ears of corn, tin of tomatoes, garlic, basil, 1 lemon, some hard cheese, some nuts. Oh, and some pasta.

1. Cook some pasta in salted water of course. I used bowtie pasta.
2. Throw two ears of corn on the grill (husk and all), turn a few times during the course of making the sauce.
3. In a skillet, heat up some olive oil and cook two minced cloves of garlic for 30 seconds or so.
4. Add about a 1/4 to a 1/2 cup of white wine and a tin of chopped or crushed tomatoes. Don't skimp on the tomatoes. I love San Marzanos. This can simmer for a few minutes while you get the other stuff together.
5. Shred about 2/3 cup of your favorite hard cheese. I used a nice sheep's milk pecorino from Liberty Heist. Lightly scramble 2 eggs in a bowl and add the cheese.
6. Corn will be hot off the grill--cut it off the ears and dump into skillet. Turn off the heat.
7. Time for acidity--squeeze one lemon's worth of juice into the skillet.
8. Chop as much basil as you can handle in a dish (about a half cup for me!) and toss in with egg and cheese mixture. You might want to temper the egg and cheese mixture to bring it up to temperature more slowly and avoid scrambling your eggs. Don't forget to season with as much salt and pepper as tastes good to you before serving.
9. Let it soak up the heat for a few minutes while you bash up some hazelnuts.
10. Layer: pasta, sauce, hazelnuts, then drizzle with your favorite nice extra virgin olive oil.

Saturday is for produce

Three cheers for the Salt Lake City Saturday Farmers Market! This thing has grown so incredibly big over the past decade that Pioneer Park is a tent village for the day (or at least until the afternoon). Now the Downtown Alliance is starting a Sunday craft fair, which I'm going to have to check out one of these days. Anyway, for fresh produce, craft shopping, salsa tasting, corner musician listening and people watching, it can't be beat.

Today, Brandon, Erin and I took my dog Chester down to the market to buy whatever looked, smelled or tasted good. Here's their haul (green beans for Brandon, salsa for Erin):

And here's my haul (minus the beer glass and mint in the background). That would be a killer little melon ($1.75!) from Hurricane, Utah picked two days ago, the remains of an almond bear claw from Pierre bakery, and a huge bag of basil for two bucks. Two bucks. Who says farmer's markets are overpriced? OK, well I did, but that's when I was living in Boulder, CO.


The world needs more farmers markets, more local produce being grown and purchased, and more people smiling in the sunshine at each other.

Chester agrees.

THE best Salt Lake coffee spot

Today started well. Met up with my friends Brandon and Erin and we headed down to my hands-down favorite coffee shop in Salt Lake City, caffe d'bolla. Having a cup of anything there is an experience worth paying for.

The modern, professional-looking menus and tea displays, coupled with well-cared for equipment, may make you think the owners focus more on appearance than quality. Nothing could be further from the truth. I myself have succumbed to the notion that homespun, colored-chalk-on-blackboard, funky old couch coffee spots hold an intrinsic value over corporate Starbucks chain stores. But owners John and Yiching Piquet have convinced me otherwise. I daydream about their espresso when in line anywhere else, and no comfy couch, folk singer and lineup of cute, hip coffee drinkers can really substitute for the real deal.

They refer to themselves as "Salt Lake City's first artisan micro-roaster and siphon bar," and that sounds about right. What's a siphon bar you ask? Here's a pic. John and Yiching are in the background. The siphon is a cool piece of equipment that makes the best $4.95 cup you've ever tasted. Believe me, it's worth the premium price. And if you don't believe me, then believe John. I believe pretty much anything that comes out of his mouth because he conveys the qualities of each micro-roast they offer in such detail that it shows just how passionate and authentic he is as a barista.

Brandon had the Brazil Carmo de Minas - Fazenda do Serrado from the siphon. John, with his savant-like speech fluctuating between shyness and exuberance, describes it's chocolate notes, dryness, and hint of orange. He fires up the siphon--an intense halogen light quickly heats water in the bulbous bottom portion. As it boils, it travels up the glass tube, through the filter and into the ground coffee that has been poured into the top part. John meticulously stirs the grounds and the water with a wooden combination of a spoon and a knife (like a really nice, thick wooden shim). Anyway, John works his magic, noting smell, timing, texture and then shuts off the light and lets the cooling coffee travel back down the glass tube, resulting in a flask of gently brewed coffee free of any grit. The whole process takes less than three minutes. It hasn't seen any mechanical parts, plastic dispensing nozzles or extended storage in stainless vessels. Combined with the freshness and quality of the roast, this is as fabulous of a cup as you can get anywhere in the nation.

John tells Brandon to wait three or four minutes to let it cool so he can best appreciate the aromas and tastes that emerge. Yiching chimes in from the other end of the shop, explaining that many say the optimal temperature for enjoying beverages is just above body temperature. I sit back and enjoy listening to people who know their shit.

Actually, I sit and listen because I had just enjoyed another scrumptuous espresso with perfect crema and enough body to line my mouth for five minutes after I'd finished. They give you a shot glass of sparkling water to effervesce your mouth in between sips, but personally I think that viscosity is as much of the espresso experience as the strong aroma and the powerful taste. Plus, I avoid bubbles unless they're accompanied by some alcohol, but that's another story altogether.

A few days before this, I sat down in the same seat at the bar one morning and John explained that the espresso of the day had dense plum, dried fig, and chocolate overtones and a nice dry cherry finish. He's really not kidding. The espresso in caffe d'bolla literally explodes with flavor. I like espresso in general, but after caffe d'bolla's, so many others seem like they're coming from a tin can.

Today we sat next to a guy from Sitka, Alaska who was in SLC for one day and he told John, "Of course I wouldn't miss coming here." They talked about the US Barista Championships, how John helped Billy Wilson set up his new Barista cafe in Portland, OR with siphon coffee, and how the perfect cup has little to do with the speed of the barista and much more to do with the attention to the cup. After all, if a grain of coffee slightly clogs the machine and a 22-second pour turns into a 40-second one, then who's to say that's less good of a pour if the barista paid lots of attention to it? I just sat and enjoyed the conversation.

But it does bring me to a point (who knew?) Caffe d'bolla has been around for five years now, and I'm amazed that it's not a mob scene for how good it is. Here's a guy from Sitka who knows about coffee and is seeking out caffe d'bolla while the rest of us wander around slightly oblivious to the gem we have. Well, I for one am thankful we have such a treasure in Salt Lake City--let's all go make sure John and Yiching feel well-loved. True artisans here.