You can add celery, horseradish, white onion, celery seed or even black olives to it. But I just like it plain and simple. I think it’s good without any crunch. And it’s important to use a starchy baker potato like the ‘Russet’ that doesn’t hold it’s shape well when boiled or you won’t get that fluffy bite. [photoblocks id=5]

My Mom always swore by the “German” potato salad method which, I’ve used on several occasions including a Pig Roast dinner at Tunitas Creek Kitchen many years ago where I smoked the potatoes before hot dressing them. I used  Yukon Gold potaotes for this method because they hold their shape better (and that’s what was growing on the farm).

But I think this creamy style lends itself better to grilled sardines and all that umami goodness which, is what I whipped it up for.  It’s also good with hot dogs, grilled chicken – or just by itself in a big bowl with a big ol’ fork!

The magazine pairs the flank steak with grilled baby artichokes, roasted potatoes and for dessert a grilled balsamic glazed nectarine topped with marscapone. I’m sure there was a soup or salad to start but I don’t have the full issue. I used my Mom’s signature grilled artichoke recipe instead of the one suggested. And of course, I’ve altered the steak recipe and adjusted it to what’s growing in my Chef’s garden at present. [photoblocks id=1]

And about my garden – what is going on California?!?! – my heirloom tomatoes are going nuts! It’s October!!! I know this is a Summer recipe of sorts, but my tomatoes are just hitting their stride and I think we might be headed towards another Indian Summer here on the West Coast. I’ve got Green Zebras, Early Girls, Slicers, Marzano, Sungold cherry tomatoes, yellow pear cherry tomatoes and one other type of cherry that I have no name for. None of my plants are ‘determinate’ and they have hit about seven feet in height so far with no signs of slowing down.

Layla does not like tomatoes. However, she did pop a Sungold in her mouth after I told her it tasted like a strawberry. It came back out shortly after she felt the tomato jelly ooze. I think it was more of a texture freak-out than a flavor issue. She does like to hunt for the ripe ones though. My old family pup Annie (short for Anniversary), used to love to pop cherry tomatoes in her mouth. She would never swallow them but I think she thought it was fun!

Flank steak is a quick meal. It takes me about 3 minutes per side on the BBQ for medium rare meat. The real key to this recipe is making the cherry tomato relish about an hour before and letting it sit at room temperature. The sherry vinegar and salt draw out the tomato juice to make a delicious vinaigrette that melds perfectly with the steak’s juices. If you are not an olive fan, they can be subbed for capers – anything salty and meaty tasting works in this relish. Add a side of mashed potatoes, roasted potatoes, polenta or even wild rice to make a hearty meal.

Credit, where credit is due, here is the original recipe that I adapated from Bon Appetit: Herb Crusted Flank Steak with Cherry Tomatoes and Olives

Galette’s are my rustic go-to dessert for feeding a crowd. I can easily feed 10 with this galette and maybe 12 if I slice the wedges thin (and really, that’s all anybody needs after a big dinner). As far as most desserts go, this is low sugar. It’s the fruit that is the show stopper. Brown sugar and cardamom brown butter are sprinkled/drizzled over top before baking. The crust is a rich and flaky pâte brisée, similar to pie crust but with the addition of an egg yolk. [photoblocks id=2]

I think galette’s should be rustic in appearance. Had I not been working on automatic, I wouldn’t have even peeled the apples. I made a crazy quilt design with the slices slightly overlapping the edges. I’ve seen pictures of well manicured galettes where each apple slice is perfectly arranged over the next (as in my old Pink Pearl recipe: Tarte Fin Aux Pommes), but I don’t think you need to go there – unless of course you want to – galettes are meant to be beautifully imperfect.

And if you happen to have a two-year-old hangin’ around and looking for something to do, this is a fun recipe. I know Layla really loves to roll dough out and she enjoys sprinkling sugar over everything and anything. She also helped pick the apples. For the longest time Layla didn’t like apples but the day she helped me harvest was the day she changed her mind about the fruit.

Oh, and another fun thing to do, if you have too many apples sliced up for this recipe and not enough surface space to use them all – throw them in a small sauce pot with a little water and a little of the brown butter and make apple sauce. It’s pretty on yogurt or just by itself and kids love it!

I’m not sure why pink pearls aren’t grown commercially because they are low maintenance and the flavor is superior. Maybe it’s because the growing season is short, about two weeks. Look for them at your farmer’s market… or plant one in your backyard!

How to talk like a Mom…

First of all, you must refer to yourself in the third person. I am “Mama”.  Not “Amy”, not “I”, not “me”. When I want something from my lovely two year old, Layla, I say something like: “Mama, would like you to drink your milk”. And when my two year old responds by blowing a raspberry and making a gross face, I repeat “Mama, would like you to drink your milk and not spit at the dinner table while eating”.

You see, by referring to myself as “Mama” it’s almost as if I’m talking objectively about some one other than myself that is requiring my child to follow instructions. It’s almost as if I personally could care less whether the milk gets finished or not, but this mythical creature ‘Mama’ on the other hand, is going to open the proverbial can of whoop-ass if her instructions aren’t acted upon.

Babas don’t do this. Only Mamas. You don’t hear Babas referring to themselves as “Babas”. And this switch to ‘Mama’ happens literally upon birth. I remember thinking to myself shortly after Layla’s arrival: “Why am I speaking to my daughter in this weird version of third person?” But it was too late, the mythical ‘Mama’ had already taken over my former self.

Two year olds do not mince words. Mostly because they have so few to mince from. My daughter is bossy. She has no problem telling her father “Baba, water!” and pointing to the sink or “Mama, uppy!” and lifting her little arms up for a snuggle or “Little Bean, go!” and ushering our little dog outside. She gets right down to business. So in turn, I find myself speaking in the most direct form when it’s crucial. Very chef-like, but perhaps even a bit more authoritarian. Like when she reaches up towards the stove when I’m cooking or decides she wants to bring her dolls under my feet while I’m sautéeing, it’s just a direct: “Layla – NO!” It’s like this higher power controls my brain and takes over completely when my daughter’s safety is in question. I don’t think about it for a second, it just happens. Phrases like: “Get down now”, “Two hands”, “No weeeee” (for when she tries to do backflips off my bent knees while I’m lying on the sofa), “Stay put”, etc, etc, etc…. no mincing around for Mama.

Layla has her own language which both Mama and Baba have adopted in order to communicate. For example the TV is called “No-no” and I’m sure you can guess as to why. And she prefaces shows with “no-no” when she wants to see something on TV like: “No-No-Chef” for Junior Top Chef or “No-No-Pup” which is a learning program starring a purple pup named Violet. “Dah-doo” is ‘thank you’, “dood” is ‘bread’ for some unknown reason – even the Farsi translation isn’t close, and “pwwwweeez” is obviously ‘please’.

Animals are simply referred to by the sounds they make. So, a cat is a “meow-meow” (pronounced mow-mow), a horse is a “nay-nay”, a rabbit is a “hop-hop” (because they don’t really make a sound), a rooster is a “doodle-doo” a chicken is a “bok-bok” and a monkey is an “ooo-ooo-eee-eee-ah-ah”. I’m not sure if it’s directly related to Layla-ese, but the repetition in the animal sounds has definitely driven Mama to repeat herself often when talking to Layla and unfortunately sometimes when talking to Baba too. Or maybe Layla repeats the animal sounds in part because Mama always repeats herself. Oh, I don’t know. Which came first, the chicken or the bok-bok?

Mama doesn’t sleep. Really. Ever. I mean, Mama hasn’t had more than three hours of consecutive sleep for two years and that is no joke. And lack of sleep greatly effects the way Mama talks. There are times that Mama can’t remember what exactly she is saying and on nights where Layla is sleepless there is a stutter that accompanies Mama’s normal conversation because the brain and the tongue just aren’t working in tandem anymore. As you can probably tell, Mama normally isn’t one that has any problem putting thoughts to tongue, but these days if she can think far enough to the end of a sentence, she’s ahead of the game.

There’s also the really smushy gushy fruity high pitched talk that happens and Babas are guilty of this too. It’s really hard not to pick Layla up constantly and kiss her and snuggle her and tell her she’s Mama’s: sugar pea, sweet peach, nut (when she’s silly), sweetie pie, jujeh (little chicken in Farsi) or petit chou (‘little cream puff’ literally translated). I mean these are things Mama would have rolled her eyes at before motherhood. She would have been like: “Seriously, you’re likening your child to a vegetable?” had she heard this on this street. But something happens with you have kids and the brain just flips a switch. Unfortunately, I’m afraid, there is no ‘off’ for that switch…

Aside from Mama stuttering, repeating herself often, shouting short orders, and talking about fruit in a weird little kid’s voice, I’d say Mama is mostly an eloquent speaker who is adept at handling both sides of the conversation. When talking to Layla, she doesn’t always talk back. So if Mama asks her: “What color is the sky today?” and Layla doesn’t respond, then Mama finishes her own question with a: “The color of the sky is blue today”. To the untrained eye, it might appear that Mama is suffering from a mild form of Schizophrenia since she pretty much makes conversation with herself all day and sometimes even rehearses and sings conversation back and forth to herself.

But no, it’s just part of how to talk like a Mom…

Oh how life has changed since How to Talk Like a French Chef!

Life changed drastically when I found out I was pregnant with Layla. I literally put the brakes on everything. No cooking professionally, no writing, no nothing. Why? Well, because three years ago everyone I loved passed away: my Mom, Stepdad, Grandpa, and our two daughters late second term. I was at the top of my game professionally which, thankfully, was all-absorbing but, I was walking through emotional quicksand. So I left my work as an Executive Chef for six restaurants and hopped on a plane to India after loosing my Mom and second daughter within a 3 week period.  And I spent some time far, far, far away from stress, grief, depression, pain, anger and all those yucky feelings that go along with loosing your family.

When my husband came to meet me in Delhi, we both had this incredible sense of relief. It was so liberating to leave our emotional baggage at home and reconnect. We lived it up completely treating ourselves like Moguls and rode elephants through castles, made wonderful friends, ate the most delicious food I’ve ever had and came home happy, well rested, and much to our surprise – pregnant!

When I found out the good news, I knew that cooking professionally was not going to be an option for the duration. My doctors also said: no more cooking. No more standing for 12 hours a day, no more stress, no more adrenaline rushes –  basically no fun and I spent nine whole entire months on modified bed rest. Yes. Nine months. I know, sounds like a holiday and it was for the first two weeks but, from there on out it was pure torture. For a person who was used to running 5-10 miles after a full day of cooking, being imprisoned to a sofa was brutal. I watched so many episodes of Law and Order that my husband was convinced our daughter was either going to be a lawyer or a serial killer! I did not write my blog. I did not cook. I did not read books or better myself in any way. I just zoned out on murder mysteries. It’s really all I could do to get through it.

But now, here we are two years and nine months later, almost to the date, with a gorgeous little girl who is the best little Sous Chef a Mama could have. Layla brings so much joy and love into our lives. Our cup runneth over…

And she loves to bake! She likes to mix, sift, roll out dough and pop whatever we’re making into the oven. And of course she loves to eat up her creations with extra whip (whipped cream apparently goes with everything). I am so happy to be her Mama. She is pure sunshine. And this is, by far, the most demanding job I’ve ever had.

So yes, my priorities have shifted. My ambition has mellowed (sightly). I’m a Mom! But that’s not to say that I still don’t have my finger in the pie, I consult for restaurants and enjoy the challenge of designing menus and fine tuning operations. It’s fun. I love it. I’m good at it. And I still get to snuggle my Little One and be there for her and all of her firsts.

And this Fourth of July definitely had a lot of firsts – our first lemonade stand! Our first bake sale! Our first blueberry pie! And I guess my first post in almost three years. Whew, well, if fireworks were an emotion, I certainly would be one heck of a colorful show this 4th. Thanks friends, family and long time readers for all the support over these last 15 years. This is certainly one new adventure and I’m hoping to bring family and fun back to the kitchen.