Casa de Perrin Event at Malibu Rocky Oaks

Hello gorgeous venue. This is Malibu Rocky Oaks where we have cooked at for several weddings and yes, Hangover 3 was filmed here I have been told. Up high in the rolling hills of Malibu, with unadulterated views, it's truly breathtaking.

This is a heliopad on site where our friends and the hosts of this event, Casa de Perrin set up a bar for this event with Revelry Event Designers to mimic the sunset with hues of pink, gold, and amber glassware, and it is here where appetizers were served.

Among the six appetizers, this was a Trout Terrine with a bright pink Beet Pickled Quail Egg.

Flowers were by Celio Design, pictured here beside our Clam Fritters with Saffron Bur Blanc and Cook Pigs Bacon.

Dominique Pruitt performed during cocktail hour where these Potato Croquettes with Local Crab Salad and Harissa Aioli were passed around.

As one would expect with Casa de Perrin, the table design was a gorgeous echo of the landscape.

For the Amuse-Bouche we served a Wild Venison Tenderloin with Crispy Kale, Homegrown Blueberries, and Celery Root Puree.

Pretty place cards were designed by Anne Robin Calligraphy who also designed labels for our own House Wine served at this dinner. We made a Passionfruit Vinaigrette from the bounty of passion fruits overflowing in our garden for the salad course featured here.

All sixty guests were gifted with a leather bound catalogue of Casa de Perrin's offerings which was designed by Pitbulls and Posies. The next course served was Gnocchi with Crispy Cook Pigs Pork Belly, English Pea Salsa Verde, Favas, and Lima Beans.

And for the last course we served Jidori Chicken Roulade with Pole Beans, Pepper Romesco, and Roasted Carrots.

Photos: Paige Jones

And to complete the evening, a dessert table where we featured single serving Spice Cabinet Cakes (here and here it is full size as a birthday cake), Apple Hand Pies, Dark Chocolate Shortbread Sandwiches and Pumpkin Mousse Fools with Graham Crackle.

Read more on this majestic evening as featured on Green Wedding Shoes and 100 Layer Cake.

Wednesdays at Handsome Coffee

Residents downtown have had the inside scoop for what's going on at Handsome Coffee every Wednesday from 5-8 p.m when The Produce Project sets up the most beautiful gathering of produce in a glorious edit of all the best of the best from the Santa Monica Farmer's Market. Remember this post when we talked about going to SMFM? The ladies of Produce Project also source directly from additional farmers and ranchers to add to their carefully curated selection for you to shop from. Raw dairy items are available here, clean meats, and fertilized eggs also.

My favorite offering from The Produce Project is their "Market Baskets" which contain balanced samplings of everything for you to enjoy through the week. How convenient! Oh and they make the most special gifts. Everyone we have given one to is just giddy by how pretty it's presentation is and then by how absolutely divine the produce tastes. It's so fun to be surprised by what you'd probably never pick out on your own (like mouse melons or finger limes) and then wonder how you lived this long without any of it. These baskets even include a few simple recipe ideas and tell you which farm every item comes from. Pretty perfect, right?

Photos: Tara Maxey

Handsome Coffee turns these Wednesdays into a gourmet event by including Guerrilla Tacos (they have a food truck now!) and Sweet Clementine's Popsicles (ask about featuring them at your next party with spiked pops). Oh, yes, and the most refined and sophisticated coffee of all time. They don't even offer sugar, they want to control that cup that you drink in all of it's perfection. Don't go ruining it with sugar. 

Let me tell you something, this sugar loving coffee drinker appreciates a Handsome cup of sugarless coffee. The milk is skillfully heated to a particular level which creates a rich sweet creamy foam and I just don't miss the sugar. Oh.... and their ice coffee..... it's brewed for 24 hours and is so smooth and layered. I honestly wouldn't spoil that brew in any way. Heresy. I can't believe I'm saying that, I love sugar. Anyway, give it a try for yourself and let us know what you think. Ring up some friends this Wednesday and have yourselves a casual, affordable, and deliciously enjoyable fine night out.


Handsome Coffee:  582 Mateo St. in the Downtown LA Arts District

"Market Baskets" from The Produce Project can be picked up on Wednesdays at Handsome or you can order them by contacting hungry@theproduceproject.com. They offer two sizes, one at $45 and the other at $65

Fremont Diner

When the owner of Hudson Ranch recommended that the three of us, Matt, Autumn and myself, spend our one lunch in Napa Valley at a diner, we were flummoxed. This was the land of upscale wineries and 5-Star restaurants and we wanted to live up our 24 hours there.... a diner, really? Yes, Lee Hudson affirmed in his commanding voice and well-worn cowboy boots. We had just watched him slaughter one of his piglets for us with a single knife jab and then completely gut it so we were not about to argue with the guy.  

Off we went to somewhere in between Napa and Sonoma just off a lonely highway where we found ourselves at Fremont Diner, and at first sight we fully anticipated James Dean to exit and barrel into the old pick-up parked out front leaving us to kick up dust and watch him go. This did not happen, but we were beginning to feel a little dreamy at this point and it felt like it could have. Once inside, vintage decor and smells of homey food all made from scratch surrounded us as a couple locals called out for the waitress by name, sweetly asking for a coffee refill. The graphic menu even listed "Local Purveyors and Friends" where the kitchen sourced their dairy and produce and meats from. 

We proceeded to order everything.

Oh there were light and flakey buttermilk biscuits with sausage and gravy, and there were crispy oysters and pickles and cornbread with honey butter, yes and a fried green tomato sandwich with bacon on sourdough and a too die for tortilla soup and brisket sandwich.... oh my! Oh! My! The deep-fried apple hand pie with house churned ice cream ransacked each of our polite demeanors as we all scampered for the last bite. This was the kind of place that made their own bread seven days a week, nothing fancy, nothing precious, just comforting and tremendously good. It made us feel like we were visiting our southern Grandmother who knew how to cook and loved every minute of it.  

Photos: Autumn de Wilde

With all due respect, don't cry (like we initially did), if you can't get a reservation at The French Laundry on the fly when taking a trip to Wine Country. Freemont Diner, with it's perfectly humble cooking, merits being on your destination dining radar. Our only regret is that we didn't get to go back for their brunch which we heard was even more memorable than the lunch we experienced. We're just going to have to make a trip back.

Birthday at The Paramour Mansion

We had never been to the mysterious (and haunted?) Paramour Mansion that presides above all of Silverlake but our friend Autumn has giddily described it to us for ages so we were really excited when she invited us to a little birthday party at this iconic estate.... and of course we insisted on cooking! Here's a peak from the night.

The Urasawa Experience

I drank juice for dinner every night for a week to allow room for the 30 courses we were about to consume at Urasawa, the famed two Michelin star, cost prohibitive private dining room just off Rodeo Drive, because I knew this was a once in a lifetime experience where I did not want to regret turning dishes away. If I lost a few pounds, I could surely afford to gain a few back  whilst eating with lust and sweet abandon which was my absolute intention. We also prepared ourselves by reading some house rules we found online like eat everything within 10 seconds, don't take photos of the foie gras, and if raw fish isn't your thing, just go somewhere else. Check, check, and check.

As is customary on our part, Matt waltzed in bearing lasagna cupcakes for the chef who seemed absolutely bewildered by the gesture. His assistant swiftly ushered them away before they could further abrupt the order that we were about to experience. Matt's confident mid western charm can throw off the most disciplined of masters but he eventually wins them all over even when he initially obstructs the perfume of lily flowers wafting through the dining area with a package of toasted cheese, garlic and bolognese.

With our three friends from Smog Design, we were a party of five and so dominated half of the ten seats which (accompanied with the lasagna cupcake offering?) gained us the complete attention of Chef Urasawa who personally prepared each one of our courses in what impressed us as precisely choreographed movements- swaying, slicing, tenderizing- the likes which none of us had ever seen before. With awe, we recognized that this revered restaurant operated outside the general confines of the rest of us in the city. Uniforms were regal silk kimonos and wooden heeled sandals rather than ubiquitous chef whites and unsightly yet practical clogs, and the foie gras, which I paused before eating but ate anyway, was presented boldly, defiantly on each of our individual plates, with the disclaimer that it was a gift, before a qualified assistant reached from behind us with porcelain chop sticks to carefully cook each portion in a tiny bowl of warm broth. Divinity.

I spent a month in Japan when I was 18 and what I recall most is how much Japanese men love alcohol. This observance is not something I remember sharing with Matt so I believe it was his experience of working long thankless hours in fine dining kitchens that prompted him to buy the whole staff a few rounds of drinks. To this offer, they were very pleased. Together we emptied many bottles of sake, more than this person can handle fashionably so at this point photos are blurred and tastebuds became dulled. I apologize for these lapses as it was my desire to recount each exquisite course thoroughly but in retrospect I don't think that is the point of going to Urasawa. It's the experience that matters, the intimate seating that positions you so close to the remarkably deft action that you can hear the sharp whistles of each of the sizable swords, I mean knives, as they are removed from their casings and expertly maneuvered to slice fish as thin as paper and some of it while still living. It doesn't get more fresh than that. Truly, this evening will remain incomparable to any other.

With sake pulsating through our veins and lots of conversation behind us, our party eagerly awaited for Chef Urasawa to answer Matt's parting question to him if he would like to come cook at The Salon for a dinner pairing or at least just attend one as a guest. 

He did not say yes, but he did not say no. Upon our departure, I looked back for the final time to soak in any last delicious details I might have missed, and I daresay I spied Chef glancing at our postcard we left behind. Maybe we'll hear from him yet.

Chocolate Isn't Just For Dessert

Last week, on our trip to Hudson Ranch, our friend Autumn took these photos with her polaroid camera using a rarefied film she calls "chocolate polaroid" which otherwise would simply give an old-timey impression but primed with the name, I just think of beautiful images dipped in melted truffles. Aren't they so pretty?  

photos: Autumn de Wilde

We Will Not Steal From Thomas Keller

On our whirlwind trip to Napa, where we stayed for one night at Hudson Ranch and then skeedaddled back on home, Matt and I had to get a good look at the mecca of all restaurants and the symbol of the dream and orthodox that any serious chef aspires to possess.... Thomas Keller's French Laundry. No, we did not eat there, they were closed for lunch for the record, but we did drag Autumn with us to be a weird food groupie and scope out the place. She's easy going and was game, and if she was bewildered by the mad excitement Matt and I displayed over this location, she certainly didn't show it.

Keller has a garden which stands directly across the street from his restaurant on a valuable patch of land that could otherwise host a four star hotel. There were no fences to keep us out, so we wandered around it's inspiring grounds, each aisle purposefully labeled, and when it's gardeners paid no mind, we felt that maybe this was Keller's intention. If you can't acquire dinner reservations, at least you could snap up an heirloom tomato. Even a chicken coop was out in the open with kale growing inside for a mid afternoon snack. What I'd do to taste those eggs, but it's funny because I did nothing and let them be in their unlocked coop. There was just something so reverent about this public/private garden that quietly asked you not to sully any of it up. 

We came, we went, and we left the tomatoes, as well as everything else, for dinner service.

An Overview of Our Whirlwind Trip to Napa

Last week Matt and I were invited to visit Hudson Ranch to forage for our Sunday Tasting at Silverlake Wine. We invited our friend, an enthusiastic foodie and music/fashion/celebrity photographer Autumn de Wilde to come along. The three of us didn't really know what to expect, but Lee Hudson made it perfectly clear once we got there and he showed us his pigs. "Let's get on the phone and see if (Silverlake Wine) wants to buy one."

"I'll buy one," Matt proclaimed, cutting to the chase, and taking Lee a bit off guard like he does anyone who has never tasted his food and experienced his talent. How could this sloppily dressed kid with the backwards hat and clipboard take anything seriously, especially business and fine dining?

We've all asked this question (yes, even me nearly five years ago when I first met him in the restaurant where we both worked), and we all have been surprised and a bit awestruck at just how gifted Matt is at both of these skills. As much as I try to get him to leave his hat at home and put his clipboard down, it is his vision and actions that matter most in defining him and today, for those who made reservations, it will be plated for tasting as Lee himself, down from Napa, pours from his own divine vintages that will then be available for sale at Silverlake Wine. 

A special day today, indeed.

SOME HIGHLIGHTS FROM OUR TRIP TO NAPA:

One.  The most candied tomato I have ever tasted. I owe Lee some  money because I picked a number I can not recall from the vine and  shoved them in my mouth, one after the other, after the other, fearing that I may never taste anything so sweet and so accessible again.

Two.  Autumn with her bad ass medium format film camera. She shoots film. Only. She is an artist who isn't known for shooting food but will start to be after the processing is done from this trip.

Three.  Matt, with his hat and his clipboard.

Four.  Grapes growing at Hudson Ranch where 30 wineries source from. This massive private ranch employs incredibly talented and dedicated farmers who patiently answered our questions and supplied the most useful advice, "Anyone can have a garden, all you need is a plastic bucket, some dirt, and water."

Thank you Lee and Christine for graciously putting us up in "The Dog House" and allowing us to explore your treasured Napa farm whose sustainable and ethical operations should be industry standard. 

A Corvette, Eating in Alleyways, President Obama + Blue Nail Polish

Once a month Matt and I take a real day off. It’s too difficult to take two, but we have managed it. We take this time to regroup and inspire ourselves outside our work environment, way outside. We love to skedaddle over to Palm Springs with cookbooks and swimwear but we don’t always make it that far.  Lucky for us that we live and work on the east side of Los Angeles so the west side with it’s cool beach winds and bohemian lifestyle feels far enough removed to count as a getaway.

Last Wednesday was one of those days and because I knew we would have the day off ahead of time, I prepared the night before with a manicure, for it is our hands not our backs that get beat up the most in kitchen work. For men, hands that speak of their daily work is honorable but this same evidence on women is just ugly. My mother always told me to cover my toes if I couldn’t paint them, and I have applied that rule to my hands if I am given a day of leisure.

With my nails as blue as the nearby ocean, we visited my favorite boutique of all time Planet Blue and then parked my Dad’s beefy Corvette on Abbot Kinney (top down, radio blasting Springsteen- yes, we are both originally from the 'burbs Matt and I). We were headed to GTA which is marked by no signage whatsoever outside of it’s massive windows that directly open up to a kitchen as cozy and rustic and expensive as many of the area’s private homes must be. Sides are displayed on a marble counter in mismatched ceramic and pewter family style serving bowls and their menu emphasizes a steadfast reliance on produce from local farmer’s markets. They're curing their own meats and baking their own bread but they’re doing it all in the back because this place is meant to feel casual and fast- exactly like my most treasured eateries in New York that offer no seating outside of stoops (NYC) or milk crates in alleyways (GTA).

I’m certain with such a thrilling menu prepared with undeniable enthusiasm for seasonal fare that it will be changing often so do try to make it there pronto style because I’m still dreaming of the roast beef sandwich we ate. Yes, roast beef sandwich. It’s served with soft, fresh bread and the most tender and rare roast beef to ever dance around in your mouth with horseradish hollandaise so this ain’t no Arby’s pick-up. GTA gets props for their pizza, and it’s really special, but that sandwich and the memory of it will linger in my senses until I get my hands on another.

For dinner we stopped at Tavern for two reasons. Suzanne Goin and President Obama who recently ate there. The menu was similar to my long time favorite restaurant Lucques, with simple yet perfectly prepared dishes that arrive to your table with such sophistication that you feel unworthy to dive into them and mess up the plating. Honestly though, it was the bar menu that left the biggest impression because we are American enough (read: Springsteen, Corvette) to still be seduced by a flawless burger. It’s side of triple fried french fries should be renamed to tempura mashed potatoes because that’s exactly the texture they possessed. I quiver to recall them. We washed our gluttony down with various fruit muddled cocktails which curbed the blow of our swelling waistlines.  

Back on our side of town, we still had some room left to try out  Mother Dough where they’re making traditional pizzas with more depth than any other pie I have eaten outside of Naples. The dough was light and bulbous with little ornamentation- the patience and care that went into it's construction was palatable. This place is so close to us, we look forward to revisiting especially since it's walking distance to Bar Covell.

All and all we ate, we shopped, and I felt we looked pretty good doing it with (my) manicured nails and (Matt’s) Corvette, well it’s actually my dad’s Corvette but for this glorious day of R &; R it was ours and with the wind blowing through our hair we suppressed all concerns of calorie counting so that we could indulge and learn and enjoy from one side of the city to the other. A highly recommended, good ole' stars and stripes, livin-it-up kind of day 'cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run. 

Dana + Quinn

When Matt and I started Heirloom (two years ago this month!), we would conduct wedding tastings at our house because we were sharing a tiny (very tiny) catering kitchen at the time and our shift was graveyard. It was pretty miserable that life of a vampire but it did make our weddings very personal. Over our own dining table with our cat sauntering about, we never discussed money or contracts, we  just cooked for new friends. One of those couples from way back when was Dana + Quinn. We traveled with Dana back to Virginia for a site visit where we stayed with her soon to be in-laws who we fell mad for. (Why do they live so far? We love the Emmetts'!) And we continued to plan with the lovebirds back home over barbecues at our house and theirs until The Big Day last October in Jamestown. 

Tastings are now held at our kitchen in Eagle Rock with Tal presenting the food and the details. Most couples these days, I personally never get to meet but I know they are in good hands and am happy that the life of a vampire is no longer mine to live because we have our very own kitchen that we can call home (with a super fabulous new glass walk-in!)

Here are more pictures from Dana + Quinn's wedding on Martha Stewart Weddings.

Dana's stationary kills me, I die for it!!!!! There is just something about the texture of letterpress that feels like pride, the old-fashioned kind. It takes skill and care and rarified machinery to create it. Every piece of thick, voluptuous cardstock that comes out of Mr Boddington's Studio in New York is a little work of art that hurts to throw out, so I won't.  Thank you, Dearest Dana, for giving me several lovely keepsakes.

Photos by Our Labor Of Love

Virginia is for Lovers

Last week we did a site visit for an upcoming October Wedding in Virginia. The wedding is going to be off the charts, 300 people where Matt is going to go nutty with the menu, but for right now..... this is how Jamestown looks: sort of, well, swampy.

None To Worry !!!

The ladies from Allison Events are going to have a floor built under elaborate tents with fire pits and hammocks and chandeliers! Guests will feast on traditional colonial fare like Virginia Ham and Hand-Churned Butter with squaw and pumpkin breads to just touch the surface.

Stay tuned, I'll fill you in come fall.

Filling up in Seattle, WA

Another Christmas present from my dear love... a trip to Seattle, Washington! 

He says it will be a culinary adventure. 

I nimbly reply, "Do you think we'll see Spoon Man?" 

We arrived on Sunday and before even checking into our hotel, Matt raced us over to Columbia City Bakery which closes at 3pm on Sundays. We made it and rewarded ourselves with a couple warm cups of joe, a croissant, a doughnut cupcake, and a sticky bun, all of which were terrific. It's fun to watch all the action going on in the kitchen as the staff is jovial and adroit. Crusty baguettes were featured by themselves and in an ice box made into delicious looking sandwiches for $6.

After checking in, freshening up, yadda, yadda, yadda, we headed to Poppy, and Reader.... I was NOT looking forward to this one. Thai food? This is not what gets me up in the morning, but Matt insisted and so I obliged. Firstly, our server, Luis, had us at hello. He immediately 

embarked on suggestions and explained the menu. It was no problem he said for us to split a tasting, but do start out with an appetizer which we did. Eggplant Fries. Wow! These were outrageous. The eggplant was hand cut and dredged in chick pea flour, then fried and drizzled with clover honey and fleur de sel. We inhaled them.

Okay, I'm jumping ahead of myself because Luis also sold us on the cocktail menu where the bitters and infused liquors are all house made. We tried three and they were all unusual and difficult not to gulp down.

The tasting menu is called a Thali which changes monthly and consists of about 10 different little dishes all served at once, each capitalizing on an herb or spice like fresh juniper which led us to ask Luis who the chef was. Turns out it's Jerry Traunfeld, author of Herbfarm!! I love this book!! Not only does it school you on how to grow herbs in the garden and in containers for us apartment dwellers, but it also hosts a wide array of innovative recipes incorporating all sorts of herbs and edible flowers. Love it!

In the Thali was an albacore dish cooked just a bit past rare served with soft cashews and apple. Another standout was the lavender-crusted muscovy duck leg, crispy and juicy, seemingly confit. 

Luis implored that dessert was a must sighting the pastry chef was amazing. Well here again, another surprise. She is none other than Dana Cree who has done time at The Fat Duck in London. We ordered the dessert tasting menu immediately, and oh crackers, I am sorry to confess, so excited was I to dig into this marvelous array of little plates, again all served at once, that I ruefully neglected to record a picture for all to see, however I doubt I could have captured how deliciously exceptional this finish was which included a hot date cake with a subtle banana ice cream and butterscotch sauce. Also a glass of meyer lemon frozen yogurt with a fresh huckleberry sauce (brought in by their mushroom forager Luis told us), and a couple soft and chewy ginger cookies, decadent chocolate caramel truffles covered in cocoa, a little bowl of cracker jacks, and the most addictive item... a chocolate layered nutter butter square. Simple, seasonal, and fun.

Please note: It takes a lot to get me excited about dessert because I am surrounded by it all the time. Furthermore I am discouraged with so many restaurants that cut back by letting their pastry chef go leaving the dishwasher to make a cake or two from an Internet recipe the chef provided and thinking that's okay because they have an ice cream maker. A customer should never notice financial strain which can always be detected in a shoddy dessert menu.

Final Word: Have a cocktail, order the eggplant fries and Thali, do NOT skip dessert and ask for Luis!

Next stop, the highly regarded Spring Hill. Touted as one of Seattle's best, we were very anxious to dig in for ourselves. We were seated promptly but our server took over twenty minutes to take a drink order and we never received any bread like the table next to us. It being Sunday with the restaurant only half full, this seemed rather sloppy, especially since no apologies were given, but because we had just eaten at Poppy, we weren't famished so our mood was far from sour. We ordered three entrees, each taking an excessive amount of time to land at our table where they were dumped with no explanation. One entree was completely wrong so we had to flag down another server because ours wasn't in the habit of checking in. Our correct order was shouted out to the kitchen "on the fly" and the misfired dish was swept away and placed before the chef/co-owner, Mark Fuller, who was leisurely sitting at the bar facing us. As the manager of the staff, I found it curious that he would pick up his fork rather than walk to our table. Clearly, on this particular evening Chef Fuller was content to lazily sit on the laurels of his good reviews at the expense of customer loyalty.

The dessert menu consisted of two types of cake and a medley of ice cream. Pass.

Final Word: The three entrees we tasted were all perfectly prepared by the sous chef with varying textures and heat. The service was appalling, if not offensive, as was the dessert menu.

Monday morning... coffee. Let me just sum up that for the most part, we were let down. In the city that launched Starbucks, we found a bunch of copycats. Throughout our trip we hit Caffe Umbria,  Caffe Ladro, Cafe Vincenzo, and Cafe Vita, all of which were good but their eagerness to structure a franchise rendered them void 

of any charm. The one exception was Stumptown Coffee Roasters where vinyl is played and kitchen spoons are used in place of wooden or plastic stirrers which of course contribute to mindless corporate landfill. Stumptown  serves pastries from the laudable Macrina Bakery and rotates it's drip coffee throughout the day which is brewed in french presses. 

Final Word: For a respectable caffeine buzz from a place with some independent zeal, head to Stumptown Coffee Roasters on Pine or Columbia City Bakery.

Not to deny the spirit of a tourist, we ventured to Pike's Place Market. As I meandered around snapping photos, Matt sparked up a conversation with one of the fish mongers and asked where he got his stash from. Much to my surprise, Matt relayed to me that it was Honolulu Fish Company, the same Hawaiian purveyor he uses at the restaurant. So much for the romance in the catch of the day!

For lunch we climbed some stairs to get to the Seattle staple Matt's in the Market. In 

contrast to Pike's Place, it was packed with locals in

business suits and light cotton (at 45F, I wore two layers under a wool sweater, So Cal native 

that I am), many of them enjoying a local beer from a wide selection. With two dinners planned, we paced ourselves and ordered the pan fried Louisiana Cat Fish sandwich dressed only with a spicy mayo and some greens, served with a roasted garlic "simple" salad that was special enough to order

on it's own. What made this sandwich so exceptional was the potato bread from Columbia City Bakery,

untoasted so as to savour it's freshness. Although we did not order from the dessert menu, it did in fact look appealing, and the lamb sandwich on brioche with bacon is reportedly off the charts.

Final Word: Let the locals speak...  this place is worth coming back to.

Next up, Quinn's, a popular new rustic pub with late hours for Seattle which impressed us as a sleepy town despite the whole grunge affiliation and easy access to caffeine (The Pink Door caberet was closed by 11pm). Although the menu boasts house-made sausage and wild boar, we settled for good ole' fish and chips and ordered a beer on tap, Pink Killer, which was indeed pink due to a grapefruit infusion that rendered it light for a Belgium inspired brew and slightly sweet. Sitting at the bar, we

noticed 14 other beers on tap, many of them local, and 53 top shelf whiskeys.

The beer battered fish and chips were fresh rather than frozen, but they were accompanied only by the traditional vinegar and ketchup. I'm a tartar sauce fan myself, so our server brought out some horseradish mayonnaise which worked out fine.

The dessert menu wasn't noteworthy but I'm sure pleasing as it is prepared at Quinn's fine dining  sister, Restaurant Zoe.

Final Word:  Great food, great beer, great atmosphere, late hours.... I'm sure this place has a ton of regulars. Wish we could be a couple of 'em!

Although Chef/Owner Maria Hines was not in on this particular Monday, we hear she is a 4'10" culinary force, and let it be known, so is the staff in her absence. Tilth received a well deserved notice in the New York Times as one of the top 10 restaurants outside Manhattan. The restaurant is a converted craftsman house

actually, with a porch, front yard, and upstairs tenant. There is no post for a hostess and your server makes the cocktails from a clever menu incorporating fresh juices and infused syrups. 

Tilth has a relatively small dinner menu where you can choose tasting or entree portions for each dish.... all the better to try more because there appears to be no weak link here. Immediately we were greeted with a little gift from the kitchen, crostini with peppadew puree and olive walnut tapenade. Nice. 

We started with a soup, elegantly served table side, of velvety sweet potato with house smoked hangar steak and creme fraiche. It was sumptuous. The steak rolled on the tongue as a pad of butter would. Marvelous. Next was a dish so unusual and decadent, I am wobbly kneed just in my recollection. It was a smooth porcini custard served in a ramekin like a brulee, with a turbinado sugar crust, topped with frisse dressed in vanilla bean along side a striking garnish of porcini powder.  One had to place each component on the spoon so as to experience it's complete decadence. **For me, the Porcini Creme Brulee was the best dish of the trip. **

**The Mini Duck Burgers were the standout of Seattle for Matt** Served on brioche with fried fingerling potatoe chips and house made ketchup that can be purchased in cute little jars to take home, these burgers were divinely tender and lacking any trace of gaminess. 

Next we savoured a sous vide Alaskan Sablefish served with chickpea cake, cauliflower and charmoula, all prepared to perfection. Although we ourselves did not try the smoked heirloom bean cassoulet with wild mushroom and truffle, our neighbor exclaimed it was heaven come to earth.

For dessert we had a meyer lemon semolina pudding cake with fig streusel and caramel and our neighbor, who we had befriended by this time, insisted we try his blood orange creme brulee with hazlenuts and candied citrus. At Tilth there is no pastry chef, but Chef Hines, is clearly caring enough to construct basics like semolina cake and creme brulee into something original.

Final Word: This restaurant beat out Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc among other notables for the NY Times 10 Best New Restaurants in the Nation. Do yourself a favor and go there.

To end the night we went to Cascina Spinasse,  a homey little Italian place that is reminescent of the nonna you never had. There are six communal tables with mismatched chairs and an open kitchen where no plastic deli cups could be seen. Nonna keeps it all in glass jars with the pasta rollers and raviolli cutters that have been passed down for generations and decorate her walls.

Actually the chef is Justin Neidermeyer who isn't Italian at all, but studied there to learn how to make pasta that looks as delicate as the lace that drapes his restaurant's front windows. After Tilth, our bellies were at their tipping point so we left our dining to fate, if two seats opened up at the bar within 5 minutes, we'd order a meat platter. This is what happened.

I'm afraid that without a stomach transplant, we were wholly unable to give this place it's fair due. Rather than order more from the straightforward Northern Italian menu, we sipped on a traditional whiskey drink and used our seats to observe the athletics of the kitchen where all the boys were dressed in button down shirts and jeans as if they planned to tie one on after their shift. By the time we left, I felt as if friends had been cooking for us at an impromptu party that we had been invited to at their farmhouse and was vaguely wistful when nonna didn't emerge to help us with our coats and kiss our cheeks, asking when she'd see us next before turning back and shouting at the boys to clean it up a little.

Final Word:  Although it was impossible to indulge due to prior gastromic excess, from the perfection of the meat platter and it's pairings of tonnato, fried capers, and gremolata, Spinasse deserves recognition as a foodie destination.

Tuesday morning brings us to our farewell of Seattle and it's rich adventure of culinary ecstasy. We could squeeze in one stop more and narrowed it down to Salumi, a casual sandwich shop that cures all their own meats. We sampled their decadent mole sausage made with chocolate and ancho chile and ordered a roasted and grilled Colorado Lamb sandwich with smokey red bell pepper on a cibatta roll. I didn't think I had it in me to eat the whole half of it (portions are large), but somehow I managed alongside the hearty eaters around us in construction boots and suits alike. Mario Batali's father founded Salumi and his sister has expanded the business online so their salumi's can be enjoyed all over.

Final Word:  Design your own house-cured salumi sandwich for under $10  and have a glass of vino while you're at it. Slam dunk.

Parking in Seattle was surprisingly terrible, but the people were un- pretentious and friendly, and the weather accommo- dated long, relaxing walks where we encountered a delightful amount of used bookstores, the best being Elliot Bay Book Company. On our drive to the airport, we made a detour through the Washington Park Arboretum where bright green moss clung to all the naked winter trees, and the two of us fell silent to savour the natural beauty of a hospitable city.

Restaurants We Regrettably Missed:

Harvest Vine, Madison Valley

Txori, Belltown

Lark, Capitol Hill

The Corson Building, Georgetown

La Carta de Oaxaca

Tacos Gringos, Capitol Hill