It’s a bit bulky and unusual, but I always slam my stick blender in there too. Beyond a doubt it’s the most versatile and indispensable tool in my possession, nice to have around for sure. Also called an immersion blender or boat motor (my brother Chris called it a “whip-orator”), it is super handy to make everything from dressings to gravies, (pesto and chimichurri are a breeze) and will save your ass if you Demi-glacé has some lumps in it. I’ve heard if people making a quick, good mayonnaise with one but I’ve never tried it.

There are an awful lot of styles, from lightweight plastic ones with interchangeable wands to massive ones for pureeing on a galactic scale. The Waring one is the unit usually seen in most shops out here, I think it’s pretty near perfect and would recommend it to most pro-sumers over the rookie version. A lot of those have the wand end itself made of plastic, ripe for disaster if you are using it in scalding hot liquid. I like the heavyweight cord too; most consumer versions have a much lighter gauge wire. There might be some that look better, but for sheer usability the Waring one is best.

The re-engineered Waring stick blender

I’ve gone through an awful lot of gear over the years. I’m pretty tough on kitchen items and my chefing style is far from dainty, so I always appreciate a well-constructed piece if equipment. The Waring immersion blender wasn’t always this tough though. There was a design flaw that was rectified a few years back that shortened the life span. On the old model the metal “stick” portion was attached to the plastic body, now the entire lower part of the motor body is also metal and stamped/welded to the “stick” itself. I probably went through a half dozen (no joke) over the years til they fixed it. Nice work engineer peeps! It’s virtually indestructible now.

The Waring stick blender would definitely make it onto my short list of things that I couldn’t live without and I’m happy every time I see it sticking out the end of my kit.

However, restaurants and especially bars are susceptible to being victimized by less than dedicated staff. Pilferage and poor customer service are the two most glaring, but absenteeism and lack of cohesiveness are in the mix too. Some fellow restaurant peeps have asked me over the years what makes a loyal restaurant employee. Mind you, a lot of this stuff may or may not fit in the corporate world, but here’s my two cents-

Well, if you want loyal employees be a loyal owner/manager.

What does that mean? It means if you want to have the shop’s best interest in mind you should start by having your employees’ best interest in mind.

Two decades ago I worked at a not-to-be named theme restaurant that started to run a promotion that was less than popular with the crew. It was driving down tips and taking staff morale with it. In retrospect, it was possibly one of the worst situations I can remember as far as esprit de corps in the biz. What was management’s solution? Hold a massive staff meeting and basically tell them that whoever doesn’t like it can leave. While pointing at the door no less.

You want servers to be happy and motivated? Staff the floor properly and don’t do it based on pie in the sky expectations. Servers depend on a certain portion of sales to generate tip income. Give them the tools to do their job effectively. If a server is obviously having a bad day a heartfelt word of encouragement is way better than pointing out their shortcomings. Numbers are important but so is character. And most of all, let your servers be themselves. Waiting tables and pretending to be someone they are not equals twice as much energy expended which means less for the customers.

You want happy bartenders? Let them run a comp tab so they can reward regulars with a couple freebies, especially the ones that bring in new faces. That one beer your bar staff buys for the first-timer in your joint is going to be repaid twenty fold by him/her telling all their friends about how great your place is. One of my pet peeves is when managers/owners let people push their bar staff around or harass the cocktail waitresses. Throw those idiots out from the beginning and everyone will take the hint. Also, listen to your bar staff’s input, they’re the ones standing back there hour after hour making you money.

A lot of this can be tough to follow for some owners and managers. There are many restaurants that (try to) control their staff through fear and intimidation, usually coming up with paranoid reasons to randomly fire people. This keeps the staff rattled but not loyal. Once again, people with any self-respect and talent leave these situations and the only ones that put up with it are clueless drones that stay because they don’t have anywhere else to go. Running a shop like this is, for lack of a better phrase, bad karma. And who wants to generate or be around that kind of energy anyway?

Fast forward a few weeks and Gustavo Arellano, now editor of the OC Weekly, happened into Memphis at the Santora and asked me to “make him something”. Well, my Sam Houston concoction seemed like a perfect candidate for a little tester so away we went. I confided in him that I had been working on the drink for a while and was still drawing a blank on what to call it. Well, Mr. Arellano was kind enough to harness his big ‘ol brain and rapier wit to offer a suggestion. After the first sip he quipped, “Why not call it a San Jacinto?” Eureka!!

What is San Jacinto you may ask? Well, that was the battle at which Mr. Sam Houston himself was kind enough to hand General Santa Anna his ass on a silver platter, admittedly by being super sneaky and exploiting the cherished Siesta. Now, I will admit I have mixed feelings about this. I’m a big fan of Texas and consider Austin a second home. I also love all things Mexico and shout to the heavens “Mi cuerpo es blanco, pero mi corazón es Mexicano!” And I mean it. Let’s just say that I find solace in knowing that if it wasn’t for Texas AND Mexico there wouldn’t be Guero’s Tacos on South Congress Street and leave it at that.

So here’s the San Jacinto!

2 slices of lemon rind (I don’t mind the white, pithy part, but your call)

1 drop-not dash- of Angostura bitters

2oz Sam Houston American whiskey

A good ginger beer like Bundaberg

Muddle lemon rind with bitters; get all the good stuff out from the citrus. Fill bucket glass with ice, add whiskey and top with ginger beer. One quick shake and garnish with a twist.

This one’s great just about anytime, not that there is ever a bad time for a cocktail.  The citrus and ginger work well together and are equally refreshing poolside or fireside. But enough talk……ENJOY!!!!!!!

Now, let’s talk sambal and see where it fits in the mix. Sambal is becoming more common, a spicy Malaysian chile paste that is widely used for a lot of Asian cuisine. You can find it in the Asian food aisle of any well-stocked grocery store. A generally straightforward mix of chiles, salt and vinegar (some have garlic and/or sugar), sambal can best be described as an Asian harrissa. It’s different from Sriracha in that it is nice and chunky with lots of seeds and bits of chile. It makes for a great shortcut to Arrabbiata and here’s the simple way to do it.

1-1lb box of Penne pasta

2 tbsp Sambal Oelek

10oz of your favorite pasta sauce

Grated Parmesan, Pecorino Romano or Asiago cheese.

2tbsp extra virgin olive oil

Kosher salt

Boil Penne in water with salt and olive oil until al dente. Drain and return to pot, toss with Sambal then pasta sauce. Top with your favorite cheese and enjoy!

Now, don’t get me wrong. Hers is definitely a West Coast/Menlo Park/1948 version, not at all like the bare bones  1800’s original consisting of just sugar, bitters and whiskey. The current craft cocktail set looks down on the fruit salad version, thinking it gauche and not deserving of respect, all the while creating a Dungeons and Dragons version of cocktailery that may or may not have ever existed. My bartender buddy Josh said it best-“You can’t tell me that some hipster kid with tight pants and a bad haircut really enjoys drinking a Negroni”. Well put, and I’ll leave that for posterity to decide.

What made Lola’s so good? Her secret was simmering orange slices in simple syrup and storing them in a jar in the fridge to use as garnishes. She would use the citrus-infused syrup as the base for her cocktails, muddling bitters with a nice lemon twist.

A note on muddlers. I still have her teak muddler from the 1950’s and only bust it out for special occasions. It’s the perfect size and has a nice patina on the muddling end from thousands of beverages. I don’t know when muddlers started looking like bondage and discipline sex toys, but it’s silly. I think a muddler should be made of wood and seasoned, much like a cast iron skillet, from use.

Lola's muddler from the late 40's/early 50's

Pass on the disco version of the muddler and grab a traditional wooden one. It was good enough for Lola and damn well good enough for me.

And what whiskey to use? Ancient Age was her favorite, but that was in the days before readily available good booze. I like using Woodford Reserve or Maker’s Mark; they both stand up well to the bitters and citrus. A good rye or even Irish whiskey works too; mellow bourbon like Basil Hayden’s probably wouldn’t do so great here and would be blasphemy anyway. Lola did hers like a press as well, using half Seven Up and half soda water to cut the bourbon.  For bitters? Angostura is plenty fine, you really don’t need to get esoteric on this one.

So here’s hers. I like starting out with a 10oz tumbler for this one. You’ll need:

2oz spirit of your choice

1 nice, thick lemon twist

3 dashes of bitters

1tsp Orange simple syrup

Splash Seven Up

Splash soda water

Muddle lemon twist, orange simple syrup and bitters. Add ice, whiskey and top with soda water/Seven Up. Quick stir or one shake and garnish with candied orange slice and a maraschino cherry. Best part of the cocktail (besides the booze) is the candied orange slice which is edible, rind and all.

Well Lola, here’s to ya, wherever you are. I hope you are looking down with a smile, and calling me a horse’s ass (her favorite term when I pulled stuff like this). You are gone but not forgotten and I’ll keep making Old Fashioneds your way and hoist them in your name.

Cheers!

Covered Bridge over south fork of the Merced river

I’ll emphasize off-season. Yosemite is the crown jewel of California but utterly miserable during the summer. During the high season it is a veritable parking lot, making Disneyland seem serene. Going during the summer might be better than not going at all, but not much. The best time to visit is beyond a doubt spring or fall. I love it in November and March.

So aside from Vermilion what’s my favorite secret Sierra getaway? Well, you’d be surprised to know it’s inside the great park itself. Wawona is a wonderful spot away from the hustle and bustle of the valley, even during the summer. There is a great place called The Redwoods at Yosemite that rents out some of the private cabins in the area, perfect for families and groups.  And although people usually associate the grand dame of hotels, The Ahwahnee, with Yosemite, the rustic charm and wide verandas of the Wawona Hotel are always calling my name.

There’s a lot of great things about the hotel, no cel coverage (at least on ATT), no in room phones and no TVs. Might sound like torture but it is a great way to unplug and get off the grid. The original hotel was built in 1879 and while walking the grounds with a cocktail in your hand and no cell phone blowing you up all the time, it’s easy to transport back to a simpler era.

Tom Bopp doing his thing in the parlour

But the best thing about staying at the Wawona hotel? Well, that just has to be the vocal stylings of the one and only Tom Bopp, Yosemite’s resident musical historian and piano maestro. In days of yore, before TV, radio and the Internet, people would entertain themselves in rustic lodges listening to a musician and visiting. The din of large screen TVs and piped-in music has replaced the hum of  idle chit-chat, tinkling of piano keys and the clinking of glassware, but not here. In the evenings Tom holds court, as it were, in the main parlor. It is a rare treat to enjoy an ice-cold Manhattan and snack on a cheese plate while you listen to someone as talented as him. His repertoire encompasses songs from the 1950’s back to the late 1800’s, many of them attached to interesting tales relating to the history of Yosemite. The parlor is wonderful, with warm fireplaces and cozy seating. I have had one lackluster experience in the dining room, but their appetizer and cocktail menu are well-done, pretty nice wine list too. Staff is attentive even when it’s busy, and that room can fill up for sure.

Want to be transported back in time with a five-hour drive? Well, skip staying in Yosemite Valley and park it in Wawona. The valley awaits for a day trip, relax away from the crowds here instead.

One such item is my New York strip. I break mine down just a little bit different than most. I don’t like fat and gristle on my steaks, not much of a rib eye guy (although I love it thin sliced and grilled Yakiniku style). Because of this I’ve always gravitated towards leaner cute like NY strips and baseball cut top sirloins, the best example of the latter was from the now-defunct Sid’s on old Newport Blvd (but Stubriks in Fullerton gets close). I’m pretty humble about my cuisine but I’ll stack my NY up against anybody’s any day of the week.

I’ve tried coming up with a term for my way of breaking down a whole strip. Cowboy or California cut doesn’t really do it justice although is a distinctly western piece of beef. In the end it ends up looking like a sirloin strip or club steak with more marbling and a distinct bit of fat on one end.

The one thing that drives me nuts when I order a NY is when there is a big chunk of gristle on the side towards the narrow end. This can range from the slight inconvenience of a bit of inedible meat to a literally horse-knuckle sized piece of grossness. I’ve had some dining experiences that were more akin to performing knee surgery than anything else. This piece of gristle is present on almost all NYs to some extent, the worst cases being “T” shaped and running perpendicular to the edge of the steak, sometimes protruding halfway into the loin. A poor trim will make or break a NY and here’s the way I do mine.

You’ll need-

1-Whole NY Strip (2×1 is best, if you don’t know what that means don’t worry, just ask for it)

Large cutting board

A large chefs or carving knife. 12” blade is best

Your favorite marinade

Place the whole loin fat cap up. On one end there might be a shallow pyramid shaped piece of meat protruding, don’t know how this happens but I bet it’s from sitting in a cryo pack. Best bet is to knock a bit off both ends to get a square cut, reserve that meat for Carne Asada or stir-fry. I like a 16oz steak, so my cut is generous for sure. A good inch to inch and a quarter is about right in my book, start cutting from one end. Don’t hack at it, try and use a slow, even motion as you carve. As you carve each steak set it aside on your board or on a platter, we’ll be coming back to them shortly. In the end you should have a stack of 10-12 nice steaks. Grab one and let’s do a little surgery. On one side you will see a strip of fat, and next to that, in between the fat and meat, is that pesky gristle. Lop that off with most of the fat, leave a bit for flavor. I trim most of the fat from the other end as well, leaving a quarter-sized bit at the end. Do this to all your steaks and slam them in your favorite marinade (or not). The one thing I love about this cut is serving them with the end piece of fat on fire straight off the grill. I do it at my shops and the looks on people’s faces are priceless.

Enjoy!

All photos courtesy of Sean Joosten

First off, let me say that Michael’s is a spectacular shop; the downstairs dining room is just big enough to seat enough people while still feeling cozy. Back of house was great. I loved the location of the walk-in just off the line, super convenient. The kitchen was just open enough to the dining room for my taste, sort of halfway between and traditional kitchen and an open one. The neighborhood itself is a bit on the sleepy side, good part is it seems like there is lots of parking. Chef Coleman took us upstairs to the rooftop lounge; it looks like an amazing place to spend a summer evening having a bite to eat or perhaps enjoying some beverages. He also gave me a sneak peek at the pizzeria they are opening next door; the oven had just been delivered from Italy. It looked all shiny and new, the flatbed truck was still out front too.

One thing that fascinates me about any kitchen is how it is suited for its purpose. From the cook shack at High Sierra Pack Station to the vast underground kitchens at Disneyland, I love seeing how they are set up for the type of cuisine they accommodate and the amount of people they serve. I had actually never been back of house at an Italian restaurant and was most fascinated by the pasta cooker, sort of a large traditional fryer filled with water instead of oil. There were a few small baskets in it to prepare the individual servings of pasta.

Chef Coleman and myself started off by cracking a separating 75 eggs, which he then dumped the yolks into a large stand mixer. For big runs like this it’s easier to do that than make it by hand like you probably would at home. He then added the semolina flour (he says Caputo is the best) and some salt. Then the magic happened. The mixture began to come together, stiff and kind of crumbly at first but then began to congeal into a cohesive mass. Like most other recipes, the amount of flour needed depends on a lot of the usual factors, temperature, humidity, moisture content of the flour, etc. It came out a little dry at first, I was blown away by how much the consistency then changed with the addition of just one more yolk. Done!

He then showed me how to roll it out with their machine. Embarrassingly, I had actually only done it once many, many years ago (I don’t build much fresh pasta at Vermilion!). We cut some nice ribbons of pappardelle (pasta about as thick as fettuccine an an inch wide). We then stuffed some Ravioli and Angolotti (a small packet-shaped stuffed pasta) with Ricotta and fresh herbs. We also spun up some tortellini, which was quite simple and created a really neat-looking product.

Then it was off to the kitchen! We sautéed some oxtail with olive oil, tomatoes, pine nuts, fresh herbs and tossed the percatelli with it. Hearty and spectacular! For the tortellini we did a simple sage, garlic and butter sauté, topped with some grated cheese and herbed bread crumbs, equally fantastic. It was great to learn about it from someone as knowledgeable as Chef Coleman, it’s much easier to learn from doing it than from reading from a cookbook!

Thanks to Chef Coleman, Sean Joosten and Michael’s for their time. It was really, really great.

So, this time we’re gonna focus on the WORST quality a restaurant manager can have, next time we’ll touch on what I think is the BEST quality. So what is the worst quality a restaurant manager can have? Lack of approachability.

15+ years ago I was bar managing in a shop that had the GM do the liquor ordering. I would just do inventory, he would decide what to order and call it in. The GM was a notorious pain in the ass, didn’t do well with the staff and was even worse with the clients. I was off for a few days when I got a call from one of the bartenders-

“Hey Dave, I just wanted to let you know we’re almost out of triple sec”.

“Thanks bud, ________(jackass GM) does the order, why don’t you let him know?

“I’m not saying anything! He’s gonna yell at me”.

The Romans had a phrase, “Legatus non violatur’, essentially meaning the messenger does not deserve to be killed. I like the Old West version posted above the entrance to a bar in Leadville, Colorado in the 1800’s-“Don’t shoot the piano player, he’s doing the best he can”. That’s what employees are doing when they bring things to your attention that may be negative. They’re doing the best they can. Believe me, it’s better than the alternatives! Finding out about a problem too late or not finding out at all.

Oh, I’ve seen it before! Managers in the midst of a horrible crisis. Fire! Flood! Famine! Pestilence! And what do they do? Stand there sticking their finger in a server’s face screaming, “This is your fault!” instead of handling the problem and moving on. What a crappy, childish way to deal with people. And it’s a lose/lose for an employee, they get yelled at for letting the manager know about something or they get yelled at for not. Most likely, next time something is going wrong that employee is more likely to be outside smoking a cig or getting high the next time the shit hits the fan.

I get it, staff can be needy at times and when you’re juggling ten things at once a server’s seemingly stupid question may catch you the wrong way, especially if it’s one you’ve answered one hundred times before. But guess what? That’s the our  job, and getting all poopy with people just because they are blowing up your paradigm doesn’t do anyone any good at all.

“I played in the orange groves, ’til they bulldozed all the trees”

“I played in the orange groves, ’til they bulldozed all the trees”

“Still, I’d stand up on the dead stumps and smell blossoms on the leaves”

“Someday it’s gonna rain, someday it’s gonna pour”

“Someday all those dead trees, well, they won’t be dead anymore”

These lyrics ring true two decades later with the possible loss of the Sexlinger Orange Grove, the last large orange grove in Santa Ana. Located on Santa Clara Ave, I drive past this grove daily as my shortcut to Grand Ave. Until last Saturday I regarded the boarded up craftsman bungalow and aging grove simply as a quaint aberration in my otherwise milk toast neighborhood. Passing by that day I saw signs and people out in front and decided to stop and sign their petition to save this grove and its structures. One of their placards struck me most, it simply said “this place matters”. Indeed it does.

Martha D. Sexlinger, who passed away five years ago, was the last of the line and upon her death the property passed into receivership. County records show that the first developer, Empire Homes, went bankrupt and lost the property to foreclosure. Concordia and Orange Lutheran then purchased it at auction. When Martha died the property went to Farmers and Merchants Bank, who sold it to Empire Homes in 2007. Tava Development of Irvine is in the process of purchasing and permitting the land to build 24 two-story homes in the mid-600k range. Despite requests, the fruit has been left to rot each year instead of being harvested and donated to local food banks. A liability issue, I’m sure, but a travesty nonetheless.

So the question remains: Does Orange Country really need more Mc Mansions? Or is the land better suited to preserve our agricultural heritage? Well, money usually wins but I hope it’s not the case here. There are alternate plans to use the space as a historical center, park and community garden. I saw their proposals and they look much more friendly than the potential suburban sprawl of another Irvine developer.

Without places like this grove, someday our children and grandchildren will have no vision of our proud history here or even how our wonderful county (and city) got its name.

Despite Dave Alvin’s hopeful lyrics, the groves of his (and my) youth are long-gone, never to return. But there are some battles still worth fighting and this is one of them. Click on the links below to help save this wonderful slice of our colorful past.

http://www.saveourorchard.org/

http://www.facebook.com/SaveOurOrchard