IMO Thursday - Why Risotto is my Zen

IMO Thursday this week sets out to explain a bit of my passion for risotto and blissful experimentation. A few days ago the phenomenal Italian wine writer and philologist Jeremy Parzen posted a wonderful article on the origins of La Carbonara. In the article Jeremy goes down a few theories of how the famous pasta with bacon and egg sauce got its name. As always I was intrigued by Jeremy's excellent research and interesting way he makes the communication of facts so easy to follow and entertaining.

In the case of this post however, I was most excited to see the variations of the dish detailed in lovely pictures and it reminded me that as much as tradition is necessary for the preservation of society, it is experimentation that gives birth to these traditions.

I decided that night was to be a Carbonara night for Juliet and me. The only problem was I had no spaghetti and no inclination to go to the store. I did however have a fresh box of vialone nano rice though and an idea.

What about Risotto alla Carbonara? I love risotto (as most of you know) and I love carbonara sauce. Why not give it a go?

Last week I posted my risotto recipe again. I was thrilled by the number of responses I got and I promised Just a Smidgen (one of the finest food bloggers in North America) that I would elaborate on my passion for the rice. I learned to cook watching my grandmothers and wanting to emulate them. I began cooking family dinners by age 11 and at 27 I was making wine dinners for friends and private clients.

In all of this my go to has always been risotto. I am naturally lazy, I was always pretty good at things like math and reading and as I am also weirdly competitive it was essential for me to rush through those things to get to the next. In essence, even with food I always look for shortcuts, prep time reductions, and little cheats. With risotto there are none of these. It cannot be rushed unless prepared in a pressure cooker. I have never purchased this kitchen item because I simply do not want to rush the risotto.

Much like a long flight forces me to sit, relax, and contemplate; making risotto has the same effect on me. I must chop the onions (a job my normally reliable prep cook Juliet refuses to do) prep the stock, cook the soffrito, and stir, shake, add liquid, stir, shake, taste, salt, add, stir, and finally plate the molten rice amalgam. This is what slows my mind, this is something beautiful I cannot rush. Hell, even sex can be rushed but never risotto. It is in its own time and in its own way the most patient thing I do in life. I wish I applied risotto technique to my writing and risotto constraint to my big mouth.

I have truly made the rice over 300 times. If I am ever out of raw rice in the house I am nervous till I get more. There is no place in my home for an empty cupboard of carnaroli, arborio, or vialone nano. On any given day and at the drop of a hat I can be ready to prepare the ultimate comfort in comforting food. If guests come by on short notice we have risotto, if they arrive on a month's notice, we likely have risotto. It is one of the few things I feel as though I have mastered and still have much room for growth. Rice is often the most challenging component of the art of sushi, and with good reason. The balance in flavor of rice to the added components makes or breaks sushi and it is much the same with risotto.

How was the Risotto alla Carbonara? In all honesty it was my favorite risotto of the year and I will be making it again next week. I know a few tweaks now and when I have them tight I will post a recipe. Tracie Parzen (her excellent blog here), Jeremy's wife, is an extraordinary cook who just does amazing things with Italian cuisine. If these very traditionally minded friends can experiment with the tenets of the world's greatest cuisine, then I shall blissfully march into the kitchen and do likewise.

Roasted 1/2 Chicken with Asparagus Risotto (Camera tools we love)

This is not going to be a recipe post friends, just some notes about good eating from the home Kitchen. I will describe what I did so if you are adept in the kitchen you may work with what I am describing. If you are not good in the kitchen you may enjoy the photos and you are welcome to dinner with us here anytime :-)

Last night Juliet and I dined on Roasted Chicken with a Meyer Lemon and Asparagus Risotto as well as quick marinated hot-house Cucumbers.

The olloclip is an amazing tool for your iPhone as it gives the phone a macro/wide-angle/and fish-eye lens. I am impressed how much texture and detail the phone captures with only some edge distortion that could be cropped from the shot. I kind of like it. The Camera+ App for iPhone allows tons of creativity as the exposure is manageable as well as white balance. In effect these few tools turn the iPhone 4s into a powerful and discreet camera.

I didn't take the time to create a well-lit space last night so I used the camera settings to make this shot. F2.8 and ISO 400 here. Notice the lovely bottle of Venica & Venica Sauvignon Ronco del Cero' 2010. This is one of my favorite producers from all of Italy and wines I sold for years. The talented wine writer Jeremy Parzen is a big fan of these wines and references a great meal with their Malvasia here. Their Sauvignon (Blanc) is classic red grapefruit and guava with a bright acidity that holds all the immense fruit in balance. The nose would suggest a more viscous wine, yet it is lithe and zippy across the palate. It paired very well with the butter and cheese in the risotto.

I dry-brined the 1/2 chicken (an air-chilled organic bird from SPROUTs) for 48 hours using my homemade mint and basil salt as well as Old World Seasoning from Penzey's and Vietnamese black pepper.

I tossed the chicken with grape seed oil and roasted the bird for 20 minutes at 475F in a cast iron skillet. I then shut off the oven and allowed the bird to finish cooking as the heat diminished another 20 minutes.

I removed the chicken from the oven and allowed it to rest partially tented for 12 minutes as I finished the risotto.

The risotto was a simple chicken stock base, dry vermouth and carnaroli rice. I cooked the lower parts of the asparagus in the rice for the final 12 minutes and added the tips for the final 5. I deglazed the chicken pan with water and added the chicken fond to the rice as well as 1/4 cup Meyer lemon juice for the final 2 minutes of cooking.

I removed the rice from the stove after 20-ish minutes (we are at 5400 feet in elevation here) and dumped 1 cup of parmigiano-reggiano cheese into the rice and allowed to melt 2 minutes before stirring and serving.

For the cucumbers, peel 1/2 of a hot-house "cuke" split lengthwise and de-seed with a spoon. Cut into bit size pieces, add some cider vinegar, killer EVOO (I mean really good or don't even attempt this), more of the basil/mint salt, and a kick of Vietnamese pepper. Allow this to marinate 1 hour at room temp. It is off the chain and breaks up the fatty chicken skin and buttery, cheesy rice :-)

When you eat like a King you can still look like a Blissful Barbarian

My Keys to Making Excellent Risotto - Recipe Included

Recently, and likely often, I have risotto on the brain. When I began my article on the subject last week I actually intended to share some favorite tips with you and I digressed into telling a passionate college story.

Now I would like to share with you some things I do to make risotti my friends and family enjoy. I have two classes of risotto that I make: A weeknight version with commercially produced stock and a "Special Occasion Risotto" with homemade stocks and usually something like chanterelles or truffles in the mix.

Today I am explaining the basic Risotto Milanese (giallo) taught to me by my dear friend Benjamin and augmented by yours truly over the years.

Great Risotto begins and ends with the Rice:

My dear friend and Chef, Loren Root tuned me onto Aquerello a few years ago and I have never looked back when choosing my rice. Aquerello is a Carnaroli rice grown in the Piedmont region of Italy and just 45km outside of Milan. Carnaroli is considered by many in this part of Italy to be the king of all rice and many consider Aquerello the king of Carnaroli. In my experience it simply holds form and bite while still creating the magic starchy cream that makes Risotto so appealing. I have taken the liberty to borrow a bit from the Aquerello Website below. If you would prefer to not geek out just skip the quote below to go on to my cooking tips.

The Colombara farm was built in the 16th Century, in the Piedmont region of northern Italy near the town of Vercelli, the European capital of rice.

The cultivating process has always been extremely respectful towards the environment. Mostly natural products are used and high levels of water are kept in the fields under cultivation. Using this system, the Colombara farm has encouraged the return of the fauna of the rice fields: frogs, dragonflies, birds called cavalieri d’italia, and herons.

One of the key points to perfection is the aging process. To age properly, the freshly harvested crop must be stored, as long as possible, in unique steel silos at a constant controlled temperature, because during this period the starch, combined with the oxygen, optimizes its culinary characteristics.

The traditional stone husking is carried out using the Helix, invented in 1875 and nowadays exclusive to the Rondolinos . Unlike large-scale industrial whitening processes where grains are energetically whitened in about six seconds through a 6 mm space, in the Helix grains rub gently one against the other into a 20 cm space for 10 minutes. This ensures the lightest shelling to prevent fractures and broken grains (essential for uniformity in cooking).

The re-enrichment of the refined rice with its germ restores the most valuable nutrients of brown rice, inevitably lost in the refining process. In Acquerello using an exclusive patented process the recovered germ, very tender and soft, is slowly mixed with white rice so that it melts and a part penetrates inside the grain and the remainder adheres to its exterior.

After choosing the rice it is important to note that in my daily experience with risotto in Italy with my friends that bouillon cubes and powdered saffron (little saffron, lots of turmeric) were used in the production of tasty rice (even though there is MSG in the cubes). Now that I no longer live on a Ramen budget (although not far from it) I wanted to upgrade my ingredients in hopes of upgrading my risotto. I typically use a commercial stock reduction or Pacific Brand Organic Chicken Broth when I do not make stock at home (I make stock for dinner parties, special events, or anytime I roast a bird)

After giving up the cubes I decided to abandon the powder and invest in some serious Saffron. I have two sources I love for spices in the USA: Penzeys Spices pictured above, and The Chicago Spice House (apparently the companies are from 1 family that split from one another). Lately, I have taken to doing single origin saffron like the one from Kashmir above and blending in a little of the superior from Spain. I have found I enjoy the cut of the Spain and the roundness of the Kashmir; however, this is not necessary to make a great risotto giallo. Choose one high quality saffron, in threads, and packed recently from a great merchant and let's be on our way.

Risotto Milanese (In the Style of Bliss)

serves 4-6 as a first course

1 Cup Riso Carnaroli Aquerello (roughly 250g)

1.5 quarts simmering chicken stock (1.25 liters)

.5 qts simmering veal/beef stock (.4 liters)

YOU MAY COMBINE THE STOCKS IN ONE POT

1/2 Organic Yellow Onion (has to be fresh) diced into smaller than standard dice 1/16 inch preferably

1/2 stick High Milk Fat Butter (4 oz)

2 Tbsp. Extra Virgin Olive Oil (two glugs out of the bottle)

3/4 cup Dry White Wine (Frascati, Gruner Veltliner, or unoaked Sauv Blanc) or I like to use White Vermouth as I usually do not want to cheat myself a glass of good vino and I like the texture and flavor from Vermouth

1 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano (likely just a couple of ounces) Cheese (please grate yourself over wax paper with a Micro-Plane grater (you can use others, but why would you? :-)

12-15 strands of high quality saffron (a medium-sized pinch crushed in a mortar and pestle).

1/8 cup Dry Marsala Wine (actually about a shot)

24-30 very thin slices of high quality Milanese style salami (I like Salumeria Biellese -Cacciatorini )

Ground Black Pepper (to taste and at serving)

Sea Salt

1. Heat The Chicken and Veal Stocks together in a Saucepan (bring to boil and reduce to nice simmer)

2. Heat the risotto pan or chef's pan on the large burner at slightly past medium (heat for 3 -5 minutes)

3. Add the olive oil to the pan and 1/2 the butter - stir vigorously if the pan is a bit too hot to avoid any browning of the butter

4. Add the onions to the butter and oil and stir with a wood spoon till well coated. Add the salt to the onions and allow them to sweat for about 3 minutes.

5. Add 1/4 cup of the white wine or the vermouth to the onions and cook them down until all liquid is gone and only oil, butter, and onions remain (this is a key step in my risotto as I like the braised and tender onions with this additional cook time versus just cooking them with the rice)

6. Add the Rice (Carnaroli please) to the onions and stir constantly for about 2 minutes allowing the rice to be coated with the butter and oil mixture.

7. Reduce the heat to precisely medium under the toasting rice and allow the rice to season with the onions and butter for about 3 more minutes stirring as needed being careful not to caramelize any of the onion.

8. Add the remaining white wine or vermouth to the rice (it will vigorously boil and steam) while stirring constantly until the liquid is near evaporation.

9. Now begin to ladle the stock over the rice about 1/2 cup. With each addition of stock the rice will absorb the liquid and the starch will begin to break down in the rice (slowly) creating a creamy sauce along with the rice. After the first addition of stock I like to stir constantly for about 30 seconds making sure to coat the rice completely and incorporate any grains or onion that were left on the sides of the pan.

10.*** Here is where I go off the grid from Italy*** I now add another 2 ladles (about 1 cup) of stock and stir it in. Then I simply give the pan infrequent shakes to collide the grains of rice and incorporate the stock. Gone are the days of stirring the rice consistently for 18-22 minutes.

Heresy! I am hearing it from all over the boot! I know you all think I am crazy, but I began playing with this method when I saw Alton Brown do it a few years ago. Prior to trying this new method I had made over 150 risotti with the stir constantly method and I can say with 100% surety that my risotto, my moods, and my life have all improved since I adopted the new method. 

11. Now, continue to add the stock, stir it in, give the pan a few shakes until most of the stock is gone and the rice is just slightly friable. (about 18 minutes)

12. At this point place a final 1/2 cup of stock, the Marsala wine and the saffron into small bowl and stir together until the saffron is dissolved.

13. Add the contents of the bowl (wine, stock, and saffron to the risotto and stir constantly for about 1 minute until the color of the dish is a vibrant yellow/orange and the rice is almost perfectly al dente (look that one up if you have to :-)

14. Remove the rice from the burner, add the remaining butter and the grated Parmigiano to the pan (do not stir) and place a lid on the pan for 90-120 seconds.

15. Heat 4 bowls for this same 90-120 seconds in the Microwave

16 Add 4-6 slices of Salami around the base of the bowls to form a small meat-bowl within the bowl

17. Stir the risotto, butter, and cheese together until all the cheese is melted and the sauce is creamy and viscous (but not muddy) Taste for salt and add a bit of crunchy Maldon Salt if it needs it (it should not)

18. Ladle the finished risotto into the bowls over the sliced salami and finish with a twist of ground black pepper.

Serve with something red of Northern Italia origin and higher acidity. I like Barbera d'Alba, Dolcetto di Dogliani, or something from Lombardia

Please feel free to leave comments and questions as I would be happy to walk you through this

The Greatest Rice on Earth

As many of you know I have an enormous passion for risotto. I was introduced to this king of Northern Italian dishes in 1991 by my dear friend Matteo and his very talented brother Benjamin. The brothers were Italian born and Benjamin was living in Milano at that time and had come to pay his brother a visit in Dallas where Matteo and I were studying (mostly drinking, smoking, and talking). Matteo and our other roommate Ralph had been touting the culinary prowess of Benjamin for sometime and I for one was skeptical that this guy was going to cook food in my shitty student apartment that was going to blow me away.

Bear in mind I had just recently discovered "gourmet" cuisine on a summer trip to Houston where my friend's mom had simply enlightened my mind and stomach for three compelling days of dining genius (this is a whole other blog, if not chapter), so I would not be easily convinced.

For months Ralph and Matteo had been lauding this mysterious store in Dallas called Al's Import Foods (now defunct and may it R.I.P). According to my friends Al's was the shit and the only place to get things likeBresaola, Arborio Rice, Mozzarella di Bufala, and much more. Now, I had no idea what any of those things were, but as soon as I went in and saw the sausages hanging above the meat counter, the smell of savory in the air, the staff wearing white butcher coats, and bottles and bottles of wine, I knew that place was cool; primarily because I had no idea what all this stuff was and how it could be used.

Benjamin walked up and down the aisles praising some things and choosing others as simply acceptable; even if sub-par for his standards. Keep in mind, I had not yet lived in Italy so I was a little miffed that this dude from the "3rd World" was coming into the nation of Texas and disparaging our grocery establishment. (pretty much any place not TEXAS at that time was 3rd world to me) I thought I should take this picky bastard over to Simon David, and show him what a real store is (ha!). Of course, my redneck pride was not nearly as big as my curiosity or hunger (thank God) so we packed up Arborio (weird-looking rice), onion, parmesan cheese (that's what I called it back then) and some cheap wine in a cheap green bottle.

When we returned home Benjamin produced a slab of Salami, a clear bottle of white wine, and some yellow packets he had brought from Milan. I remember thinking how did he get that meat through customs (no TSA back then). What was in the packets was ground saffron (don't give me any shit foodies, this is a good story, just keep reading) and when I smelled it I thought it smelled like iron ferrite. You are going to put that in the food? I remember saying.

Of course, it will be amazing said Ralph who had been over to Italy already with Benjamin and Matteo. I took their words for it but gave it no ceremony. I remember cranking some Garth Brooks and calling every attractive girl I knew to come join our amazing Italian feast and I got absolutely no takers; of course.

So there I was listening to Thunder Rolls when Ralph puts on a song called "Coca Cola" by the famous Italian pop star Vasco Rossi. At the time this had to be the funniest and worst song I had ever heard and especially since all the guys including our other roommate Neil were singing this shit at the tops of their voices. (Vasco Rossi is now one of my favorite artists in the world.)

At the time we were all around 21 and Benjamin was 23 or so but seemed much older. He had bright eyes, pale-skin, wore glasses that looked like Don Knotts from The Incredible Mr Limpet, and was 6'2" and about 220. When I thought of Italians, Benjamin was not the picture in my head. Benjamin also had a marked British accent when he spoke English which he spoke very well without hesitation.

As the Italians (including Ralph) were gathered around the 2 burner hot plate in our absolute shit kitchen using our horrible pans I would not have given a homeless man I became more and more curious about the goings on of this risotto. What else are we having? I said assuming there would be some meat dish to go with this rice. I remember everyone in the kitchen suggesting I please shut up and let the people who know what they are doing prepare dinner.

Of course, part of my dismissal and disdain was my ignorance and how much I hated not helping and not knowing how. In truth, I was burning to be in that kitchen and seeing what was happening. I mean, these guys were actually using real butter in MY house and since I was a kid I had only seen real butter at the store. I grew up in an era where the vegetables were fresh from the garden and the brownies were homemade, but you better believe that Oleo was slathered on everything.

As the dish was coming together Matteo and Ralph laid bowls out on the table (which had to be cleared of books, tobacco rollers, dip-spit beer cans, ashtrays and Taco Bell wrappers). Are we having soup or cereal before dinner? I laughed to the group. No! Risotto is served in a bowl Matteo answered giving me his customary, what the hell is wrong with you look. Benjamin was now stirring constantly and the rest of us went out for a cig while Benjamin stayed behind; stirring.

What the hell is wrong with him, he don't smoke? I said breathing out a cloud of freshly delivered Euro Philip Morris Super Light. No, said Matteo, but even if he did you have to stir the risotto constantly for 20 minutes or it will not cook properly. I was now almost in shock and thought to myself, this better be some fucking amazing rice if it is the only thing we are eating and you have to stand there for 20 minutes stirring like a chump while we are all out here loving us some nicotine and whatever this tart white wine was supposed to be.

Moments later, Benjamin called us in and asked Matteo to slice the salami. Finally something to eat I thought, but much to my surprise Benjamin suggested (very politely, as he is very polite) that the salami was for the rice and not to eat it ahead of time.

Now I was firmly entrenched in the kitchen and over the cook's shoulder. As Benjamin added the saffron I was amazed at the color change and the way in which the oddly metallic and salty aroma of the seasoning filled the air. I found it to be pleasingly acrid and without realizing it the cheap little white wine (It was a Pigato from Liguria btw) began to really grow on me (I would not know why for several years)

I was now fixated on the pot in front of me and the way in which Benjamin expertly, stoically, stirred the rice. He kept a little small spoon by his side and would periodically taste the rice until finally deeming it close enough then he poured in a shot of this caramel smelling wine called Marsala and gave the rice a few more quick stirs. He removed the pan from the burner, added a quarter stick of butter, some grated parm, and put the lid on the rice.

What the hell was that all about, I asked. Benjamin said it was part of his family's recipe for risotto giallo (yellow risotto) and that after it all steeps together for a moment he would stir the rice and serve. (these steps are variations from standard Risotto alla Milanese) 

At this point I was actually starving and ripe with anticipation. When Benjamin began filling the bowls Matteo added a few slices of salami from Milan over the rice. As the thinly sliced discs of fatty, salty goodness began to wilt over the brightly colored rice each of us grabbed a bowl. Ralph had just opened a cheap bottle of red wine (Bardolino if I recall correctly) and we began to eat and drink in absolutely utter silence.

From the very first bite I knew I had never eaten anything like this before. The rice, which did not seem like rice at all; rather it tasted of toothsome, meaty, stock-filled kernels of joy. The pervasive aromas of iron and earthy flowers from the saffron jumped into my face while the buttery-cheesy cream from the starch pulled me back down to my comfort zone just when the woodsy Marsala and the fatty pork zinged me once again. Shit fire and shit again I was in fact, blown away!

I looked over at Benjamin and Matteo who appeared to be racing to get down their first bowls and I could sense this was was a joyous part of their upbringing. I saw Ralph, the Italian/American self-proclaimed baddest ass dude on earth was overwhelmed with a look of ecstasy I knew he could not replicate in the gym.

Then there was me, the skeptical redneck who had traveled almost nowhere and thought that good food meant large portions and low prices. I must have looked happier in that moment than at any time these guys had known me. I am very sure I would not have traded that singular dining experience for any of the women who had not accepted my dinner invitation.

Once every grain of rice was gone and every piece of salami devoured (about 11 minutes total) the conversation resumed over cigs and cheap beer that had replaced the quickly emptied bottle of wine we had enjoyed with the risotto. Benjamin dutifully and without hesitation began cleaning the kitchen as I sat there in a state of selfish euphoria because my dear friends had just opened my eyes to an entirely new world. A world that I would continue to inhabit for the next twenty years.

Stay tuned for my next post on my risotto philosophy and how I got there.

My Dinner with Malcolm Gladwell (Part 3)

"and now...the rest of the story"

Paul Harvey

[caption id="attachment_714" align="alignleft" width="225"] Scared to Death[/caption]

As soon as Gladwell was gone I took a big swig of my now very cold Rwanda and gazed up at the barista. He must have seen the stupid grin on my face because he gave me a "why the hell are you so happy?" look.

Me: Do you know who that was?

Barista: No, should I?

Me: That was Malcolm Gladwell, one of the most important American writers in the world (realizing that was totally gay before it left my mouth)

Barista: Cool, I have seen him in here a few times before

Me: Yeah, I think he is researching here (like I knew something)

Barista: I always thought he was pretty weird-looking.

Me: (Thinking Barista not exactly the picture of normalcy) Yeah, he is amazing..one of my idols.....I decided to announce that I am becoming a writer today and then he appears here man, and I am like, wow this is fate man, this the real fucking deal..seriously Malcolm Gladwell..wait man..wait

Barista: (confused) excuse me?

Me: Sorry dude, gotta get out of here, Gladwell's coming to dinner (as I am hustling out)

Barista: Later man..(typical Catalina indifference and on to chatting about coffee and some new band likely)

I was dialing my wife's number, her work number as I was starting the car. I do not call my wife on the work number unless there is an emergency or I can't find my car keys or wallet. I know she is likely saving someone's life or lifting some obese persons pannus to insert a catheter into their groin, and taking her away from such fun is never my intention. The phone began to dial as I transferred the call to the speaker so I could drive; rather, I could talk with my hands while I drove.

Voice: Cath Lab room 4 this is Melissa

Me: Hi, I am trying to reach Juliet Housewright

Voice: Hold on

Me: (Waiting while Pink Floyd's Shine on You Crazy Diamond Part 1 was playing on the iPod connection)

Mel: I am sorry Juliet is scrubbed in at the moment, can I get her a message?

Me: Yeah..tell her to call her husband it is important

Mel: Is everything OK, is this an emergency?

Me: Hmmmm..not really, just tell her that Malcolm Gladwell is coming to our house for dinner and ask her to call me.

Mel: Who is coming

Me: Malcolm Gladwell

Mel: How do you spell that

Me: Malcolm or Gladwell?

Mel: The name

Me: Just ask her to call me and that is it

Mel: Who is this?

Me: Her husband....Michael

Mel: Does she have your number?

Me: (about to pull the bitch through the phone and choke her) I think so..I am her husband

Mel: OK, thank you

Me: No really, thank you

I hustled home thinking of what I would serve and who the hell he might be bringing. His agent? His girlfriend? His publisher? Fuck, for all I know it is his Mom and at this point it does not matter. It was after 3 o'clock and dinner was at 8. Did I have time to swing by the Wine Merchant or do I have to roll with what I have? Shit, my stupid cellar is broken so all the red is room temp and I will have to chill it in the fridge. I have a bottle of Vinho Verde...oooh, hey Malcolm, care for some cheap spritzy schlock with your roasted peanuts?

What the hell was I doing? I should swing by the Merchant...but I could not. I knew if I went in I would have to tell them what I was doing and they would want to chat. I was going to have to open my last bottle of KRUG and my last bottle of 2004 Il Poggione Brunello di Montalcino. MG better love wine, because this was MY stash and I do not open MY stash for wine hacks or Pharisees. I pulled into my driveway and basically ran into our completely fucked up house. My Asia luggage was still splayed over the guest room and the guest bathroom had noticeable scrapes in the bowl. Damnit, why am I too poor for More Hands Maid service? I hate scrapes.

I started throwing shit around with little regard for organization and I was 20 minutes into my sweaty, dusty storm of labor when my phone rang.

[caption id="attachment_693" align="alignleft" width="300"] Juliet fresh from Work[/caption]

Me: Hello Schmee

Juliet: Hey baby, what is wrong, Melissa told me you sounded kind of frantic and rude on the phone

Me: That fucking ding dong you work with has real difficulty with language comprehension

Juliet: I know baby, I just finished a nasty case, what is wrong?

Me: Malcolm Gladwell is coming for dinner!

Juliet: What baby? It sounded like you said Malcolm Gladwell is coming for dinner

Me: I did

Juliet: Honey, I am really busy here, why didn't you just text me if you want to be funny

Me: I am serious, I ran into him at Catalina and we got to chatting and then this stupid whore almost ruined it, but then he came back to me and he thought I was interesting and he didn't want to come, but I convinced him so you have to come home NOW and clean this fuckhole we call a house because I AM NOT letting Gladwell in this place looking like this

Juliet: Baby, you have to calm down..........there is no way I am out of here before 7 honey

Me: Can't you tell them you have diarrhea and you need to go home and spray!?

Juliet: Baby, you are going crazy...what are we having?

Me: Risotto, what the fuck else would I serve him?

Juliet: That sounds great, it was lucky you went to Phoenicia yesterday

Me: That place rocks...I rock! Malcolm Gladwell woooooooo!!!!

Juliet: Baby, I have to go, I have to do another case that was added on

Me: I have to cook dinner for Malcolm TIPPING Gladwelll who cares about add-ons?

Juliet: Baby, I need you to breathe and I need you to take a 1/4 zanax

Me: I just a had a pour-over

Juliet: That is not a zanax..take the pill, turn on the Squeezebox and listen to some Mozart

Me: I am going to play Ennio Morricone, Morricone always inspires my cooking

Juliet: That's good sweetie..I seriously have to go now babe.

Me: You know I hate being called babe

Juliet: Take your pill

Me: chopping it now...Good, Bad, and Ugly on in background

Juliet: I should be home by 7:15

Me: You will not have time to take a shower so don't even think about it..I need you to be all over this dinner

Juliet: Baby, it will be OK

Me: Fuck....(sigh) OK.....(breathing in deeply) OK

Juliet: I know you will blow him away..you must have already

Me: Yeah, he fucking loves me....don't know why...SITTIN ON THE TOILET (watch the video on YOU-TUBE and see what I am imitating there)

Juliet: Baby, not that...calm down (her tone has never raised above total sweetness and calm throughout) and I will be there to get things ready...keep it simple and...

Me: So you don't have to clean up? (indignantly)

Juliet: No, so you can focus on chatting and being your story-telling, silly, funny best

Me: I love you Schmecken!

Juliet: I love you baby..I have to go now

Me: Call me when you are leaving

Juliet: I will..bye sweetie

Me: Bye sweet Pyka (Pee-kuh)

Risotto with bacon-braised swiss chard, potato cracklins, walnuts, and leek scented Labne (this would be easy and this would rock MGs house) I pulled out the London Broil I had been marinating for 2 days and I knew I did not have time to slow braise the thing, so I would just have to sear it off and roast it rare.  I knew that the risotto was the highlight and that the meat would be a textural and iron balance to the savory, salty, yummyness of the rice. I hoped his date/friend/colleague was not a vegetarian or vegan. If she was Vegan I was totally hosed, or if she did not eat bacon. I really did not think too much about it as I had to get the food ready.

Stock on pot, veggies were prepped. I did an easy salad and thank goodness the tomatoes from Phoenicia had some taste. I did not have dessert as I had recently given up refined sugar so it would have to be figs and peppered agave nectar with salted lemon juice for a finish. I knew I loved my food and I loved my writing, but who knows about Gladdy. The funny part of this story is: the more I cooked the more at ease I became (the Vinho Verde and the Zanax might have helped a bit). In fact, as my food was coming together, the house clean, and Juliet's candles cranking all over the house I realized this was going to be great whether MG loved it or not. I started realizing that my standards of cooking have little to do with anyone else's opinion and that my food and creations came from a place in myself where I am most centered. Wow, at this point I didn't give a shit What the Dog Saw, I was hungry and this meal was going to be sublime.

[caption id="attachment_694" align="alignright" width="300"] The Actual Dinner I Cooked[/caption]

Juliet arrived at 7:12 and not a moment too soon. She as always saw things I never could have seen and she made the space just hum with conviviality and warmth. I put on my dining shirt as I had finished the butter, leak, and bacon saute' and I knew I could afford the clothes of a host versus those of the cook without the risk of stankyness when I greeted the guests. At 8:05PM the phone rang:

Me: Hello,

MG: Hello Michael, this is Malcolm Gladwell, we have arrived and are in your leasing office parking lot, but there does not seem to be a parking space.

Me: Hey man, just wait right there and I will run down to meet you and let you in the garage.

MG: OK, shall I stay on the phone?

Me: I will lose you in the elevator..what kind of car are you driving?

MG: I am actually not sure, it is a maroon Chevrolet with a rental car sticker on the back

Me: I will find you...2 minutes..ciao!

I ran downstairs, ignoring the slow elevator and I found them in a Chevy Cobalt in the driveway (a fucking Cobalt..really?) I waved them down to the entrance and with a wave of the FOB they were in and quickly parked.

Me: Hey folks, (looking at the 5'9" inch very pretty African-American girl in front of me)

Leora: Hi, I am Leora

Me: Hi Leora, I am Michael

MG: I am sorry we are late

Me: You are not late at all, come on up (as I click the FOB to call the elevator)

MG: This place is quite difficult to enter

Me: Yeah, I told you it was silly

We arrived in the house and after pleasantries were exchanged we opened the Krug and I served it along wit some walnuts flash fried in Olive Oil and dusted with my own homemade herb salt.

MG: I really enjoy your nuts

Me: (almost spitting out my first sip of Krug) Thanks man, I just throw them together right before the bubbles

Leora: I really think warm nuts are superior to others

Me: (this time I actually choked a little)..cough..cough

Juliet: Are you OK baby?

Me: This Krug is stiff....(general courtesy laughter)

The banter was quite banal through the bottle of Krug. No one mentioned anything about the choice of bubbles and I was kind of pissed. I felt a bit like Christian Bale did in American Psycho when people did not compliment his business cards. Neither Juliet nor I could bring ourselves to "soberly" ask what Leora's relationship was to MG so we kept the chat to talk of travel, Houston food (Gladwell apparently loves Benjy's...go figure), and news in Japan and Libya (we are really into levity).

As we seated our guests for the salad course, Leora explained to us that she attended Oxford for a program when she was younger and that upon completing the program they served Krug at the gala dinner, and that she loved it. (Finally some fucking cred) I asked her if it was the MV like I served here or a vintage Krug. She said that part of the experience was a bit foggy, but that the word Clos was in the name for sure. It was probably a fucking 85' Clos du Mesnil, I thought to myself and as always I thought how the great stuff was wasted on the uninitiated.

Me: So the salad is arugula tossed with some preserved lemon and salt and a ton of Olive Oil from Ca' del Fico

Leora: Is that a special place?

Me: To me it is one of the most special in the world and in one of the best places on earth

MG: Where?

Juliet: (cutting into the story as usual) It is in Puglia and Michael had a business there along with his good friend and the villa belongs to him, Antonello.

Me: This villa practically slapped me over the head when I went there the first time and I knew I had to write. Although the only thing I have written there were 3 essays that I entered for an Anthony Bourdain writing contest.

MG: Bourdain judges writing contests?

Me: Well, I think judging would be a stretch. He basically picked a winner who didn't even follow the criteria for the essay.

MG: Well, given Bourdain's own natural irreverence and disregard for protocol perhaps that was his plan all along.

Me: Ha, well I am sure his publishers had other plans when they set up the contest, but AB is going to do what he likes.

Leora: I really love his show, did you see the one on Haiti

Me: I found it a little preachy, but I liked him hanging out with Sean Penn

MG: I autographed a copy of Outliers for Sean Penn last year

Me: No way, he is into that?

MG: I ran into him in New York at a charity event for Habitat for Humanity. Well really, my agent ran into him and brought him over to our table. I was amazed how old he looked.

Me: (realizing the champagne may have let down MG's guard a bit) Did he do any accents or voices for you?

MG: (nervously laughing) I did not ask him to, but his character from Dead Man Walking really stayed with me.

Me: He was so robbed for an Oscar that year

Juliet: Who got the Oscar?

Me: Nicolas Cage! Can you believe that?

Leora: For what film?

Me: Leaving Las Vegas

MG: That was just an abysmal film. Elizabeth Shue?

Me: She blew..I did love the creepy cracker that Joaquin Phoenix played though.

Leora: Wasn't River still alive then?

MG: No, he was gone at that point because Sarah at the New Yorker had done a piece on his tragic death..blah blah blah.

Me: Not a fan of River?

Leora: Not a fan of Sarah

Me: Ahhhh...professional reasons?

(Silence)

Me: Hey, I have to finish the risotto

Leora: It smells so great, Juliet your home is fabulous.

Juliet: We have outgrown it, and we have stuff stacked to the ceiling.

Leora: You should see Malcolm's place, like a mad scientist meets that guy from A Beautiful Mind

(All laughing)

MG: I am not sure I am following you

Leora: Come on, it is like playing Twister to walk around your floor.

MG: Only when I am researching.

Leora: Which is always; Juliet, the place looks like a giant storyboard

MG: It is

Juliet: You should have seen the kitchen when I got home at 7:15 and Michael had been cooking for 3 hours

Me: Hey, we had to eat

Juliet: It is amazing how many pans, spoons, and prep dishes he can use and how he manages to stuff them all over the kitchen

Me: Not true people

Juliet: Where did I find your lost pair of tongs?

Me: What?

Juliet: The tongs? Where did I find them?

Me: (sheepishly) In the freezer

Juliet: And with french toast crust still attached

Me: I was getting out the coffee we put in their while we were in Asia and I had the tongs in 1 hand and the beans fell, so I dropped the tongs and grabbed the beans while closing the door with my foot. I call that resourceful.

Juliet: I call it lazy.

Me (giving Juliet the bird)

(Big laughter)

Me: I promised a wine from Piedmont with the risotto, but i realized I did not have the bottle I wanted and had no time to hit the store, so I hope this little wine from Tuscany will be OK.

MG: I would not know the difference....but I would like to

Leora: Of course you would.

(general laughter)

Juliet: Since I met Michael I am certain I have spent 10,000 hours learning about wine.

Me: You may have spent that much time drinking it, but you have not committed much to memory.

(more laughs)

Me: Malcolm, do you think it took you 10,000 hours to become as good as you are as a writer?

MG: I am not sure I would qualify myself as a good writer. I would like to think of myself certainly as an expert interviewer and that is where I feel I am most accomplished.

Me: I would agree on the interviewing, but your writing is amazing to me.

MG: Thank you. I believe it is certainly an evolution.

Me: I could use any input or advice. (pause) I know you likely do not want to veer down this path so we can just stick to what is comfortable as I am happy to just talk food and wine all night as well.

Leora: I would love to eat food all night.

Juliet: Honey how close are you on the risotto?

I served the risotto shortly after and the silence was palpable as the forks even seemed to pick the food cleanly without clicking and the Brunello was killer and went very quickly. I was preparing to assault the situation of my writing when Gladwell suddenly looked at his watch....

MG: Leora and I have had a really nice time. Your food is quite good and it is obvious you are passionate. As it is we have a very early start tomorrow and should be getting on our way

Juliet: Awww, we still have a dessert to come

Leora: Malcolm nor I really eat desserts

Me: Hey, it'ssuper cool. I am just hopeful that we were able to provide a bit of a respite to your day-to-day (trying hard to fight my visible disappointment).

Juliet: I think the dessert is super light and only a bit of the agave nectar has been added. It seems like we are all having fun and I hate to see you guys rush off.

MG: I honestly would enjoy continuing to chat, but I promised Leora I would attend Krav Maga class with her in the morning.

Me: No way...Malcolm Gladwell does Krav Maga? Forgive me if I sound like a chav here, but that is seriously funny.

Leora: His discipline and stamina is renowned in Krav Maga circles.....you guys DO know that Malcolm was a world-class track athlete in his youth

MG: Leora, this is not necessary, let's have dessert and talk about Michael's writing for a moment.

Me: (not believing my ears, but incapable of escaping my own fucking curiosity even to talk about myself) You were an athlete?

Leora: He IS an athlete.

Me: Have you met Usain Bolt?

Juliet: Michael how did you go there?

Michael: Well, I do know that Malcolm was a miler in his day actually (I Googled it...sorry to be cagey) and since he is of Jamaican heritage I figured he would have access to other Jamaican icons.

MG: Michael you are not afraid to ask what you would like to know. Have you done much interviewing?

Me: I just started earlier today at the coffee shop. (smiling)

(laughter)

Me: I really am curious about you because I have a nappy wig as well and I am wondering if perhaps your heritage might shed some light on my own unmanageable locks.....

(silence)

Me: I know your Jamaican family has Irish roots and since I have Irish roots as well I thought we might share some common ground...take a look at this (I went to my computer and pulled up the fro picture I have posted here)

Leora: Oh my!...(seeming to be flustered and maybe even a little hot and bothered)...that wine got me when I stood up just then.

MG: Yes, I was a miler in fact...and a good one. I was on the Canadian national team

Juliet: I thought you were Jamaican

Leora: He is, but only 1/2

MG: Are we going to start the "who is more Caribbean argument again?"

Leora: It is not really an argument, I am from St. John and you are 1/2 Jamaican and more than 1/2 Canadian

MG: Now that makes no sense at all.

Me: Leora. do you know Tim Duncan?

Leora: Just because he is the only celebrity anyone knows from the Virgin Islands, why do you ask if I know him?

MG: Because you do know him Leora, let's not deceive these people.

Leora: Just wait till tomorrow morning in session.

MG: Oh, you tried that again?

Leora: what do you mean?

MG: You tried that again?(becoming a little agitated)

Me: (laughing out loud)

MG and Leora: Why is this funny?

Me: You tried that again is a hilarious line from a video on YouTube

MG: How could that line be funny?

Me: Watch it (I go to my computer and pull up THIS video)

Leora: That was weird, why do you find it funny?

Juliet: He and his brother quote that thing all of the time. It is not funny at all nor was the stupid balloon hoax

MG: I actually want to interview the Heenes along with other famous Hoax-sters

Me: Is that what you are doing in Houston, interviewing BP and other great Hoax-sters of the last 20 years?

Leora: He is in Houston because of me.

MG: Now that is enough Leora...seriously..Michael and Juliet have better things to consider than us and our personal lives.

Leora: You brought up TD.

MG: Well, it was completely inappropriate

Juliet: (clearing throat) Wow honey, I have never had figs that just "popped" like this

Me: I think it is the lemon

MG: The pepper is amazing

Juliet: It is from Phu Quoc island in Vietnam.

Leora: Ahhh Vietnam, now I know why we are here.

MG: That is not it.

Leora: Then what is it? You and the SE Asian corridor...can you just sleep one night without needing to uncover yet another morsel of information?

Me: I am the same way Leora, curiosity never sleeps, it manifests itself in other capacities.

Juliet: Oh shit, here comes philosophy by Brunello

(huge laughter)

Me: Laugh it up honey, if I was not on this quest you would not have been to Italy 7 times in the past 4 years

Juliet: Then I might have still have some savings and a 780 credit rating, and...

Me: A boring life filled with DBs you meet at Sam's Boat

MG: I've been there

Me: I am sure that it was easy for you to remain anonymous there.

Leora: What do you mean?

Me: I am certain no one at Sam's Boat has ever read a page of one of his books.

Juliet: ahahahah, I am not sure anyone at Sam's Boat has read a book.

MG: You two sound like us. It is so easy to judge and yet I want very much to remain impartial to those thoughts.

Me: No you don't...really? Your work is so telling, yet you make judgements everyday.

MG: Now who sounds preachy?

Juliet: Yeah Michael, did you take a shot of asshole why you were cutting up Figs?

(laughter)

Leora: Seriously, I am loving these figs

Me: Tell me in a sentence or two what advice you would give me. I just got my first "don't quit your day job" and although it inspired me to persevere, it pissed me off too, and then of course came the what ifs of total failure.

MG: Do you enjoy writing Michael?

Me: Yes, very much

MG: Are you happy under your own direction.

Juliet: He is happy only that way.

MG: autonomy, complexity, and a connection between effort and reward - are, most people will agree, the three qualities that work has to have if it is to be satisfying.

Me: what about success, what about external reassurance?

MG: We have, as human beings, a storytelling problem. We're a bit too quick to come up with explanations for things we don't really have an explanation for. Good writing does not succeed or fail on the strength of its ability to persuade. It succeeds or fails on the strength of its ability to engage you, to make you think, to give you a glimpse into someone elses head.

Me: Now that, is what I am talking about

Juliet: Baby, this is what you do everyday..part2, but also part 1 of his statement.

Me: Oh, so now I explain myself too often?

Juliet: You sometimes try to make sense of things that just don't need sense, they just need shared.

Me: What the hell are you getting at?

Juliet: When I come home from work and tell you the tragedy of my day you always try to wrap it in a neat little package and all I really want is for you to hear it and let it wash over you. What I need most is compassion and not a solution to a problem.

Leora: Oh my God honey, if you think a man could understand that we would never fight and ...

MG: Leora has an excellent point. Arousal leaves us mind-blind

Me: I don't really follow

MG: We cling to the idea that success is a simple function of individual merit and that the world in which we all grow up and the rules we choose to write as a society don't matter at all.

Me: Now I am even more lost

Leora: It is obviously past his bedtime.

MG: Do not patronize me Leora...I am trying to share some insight with Michael and Juliet. Insight is not a lightbulb that goes off inside our heads. It is a flickering candle that can easily be snuffed out so don't interrupt my flow.(glaring at Leora) Now, where was I? Yes.. Research suggests that what we think of as free will is largely an illusion: much of the time, we are simply operating on automatic pilot, and the way we think and act – and how well we think and act on the spur of the moment – are a lot more susceptible to outside influences than we realize.

Me: So, you are saying that my need to correct Juliet's problems is a conditioned response?

MG: People are in one of two states in a relationship, The first is what I call positive sentiment override, where positive emotion overrides irritability. It’s like a buffer. Their spouse will do
something bad, and they’ll say, ‘Oh, he’s just in a crummy mood.’ Or they can be in negative sentiment
override, so that even a relatively neutral thing that a partner says gets perceived as negative.

(looks of confusion on mine and Juliet's face)

Leora: So he is quoting himself here folks, to explain how our perceptions of each other are cross-referenced by our perceptions of our spouses.

MG: At least I have well thought out arguments to quote and I am not shooting from the hip

Leora: Why don't you go back to your rehearsed statements as your improv leaves a lot to be desired

MG: I think we are out of here...

Me: I think THIS is already way out of here

(jovial, intoxicated, and bewildered laughter)

MG: Leora more than anyone, really craves empirical data on why I say or do the things I do.

Leora: That is you Malcolm (in her sweetest tone of the night) that needs data for every decision I make.

MG: It would be interesting to find out what goes on in that moment when someone looks at you and draws all sorts of conclusions

Me: Isn't that what we do Malcolm? All of us here? We are like those guys on the Muppet Show that sit up in the balcony and critique everyone, when we really just want to tell stories.

MG: That is it indeed Michael. I loved the Muppet Show

Me: John Denver's finest work as an actor

Juliet: Seriously, Have you seen Michael's blog?

Me: Honey!

Leora: Please, let her share

Me: They did not come here for this.

MG: Why did we come here then?

The room went silent and Gladwell looked at me  just as he had done at Catalina, he seemed to look right through me to my workspace. I looked behind me and walked over to my desk and grabbed a pen and paper.

Me: Here is a link and if you find a moment  to let me know your very honest thoughts I would be so honored.

MG: The key to good decision-making is not knowledge. It is the understanding. We are swimming in the former. We are desperately lacking in the latter.

Me: I think I made the best decision of the day when I invited you here (smiling).

Leora: Your best decision today was asking your wife to help.

Juliet: You are so sweet Leora

MG: Our first impressions are generated by our experiences and our environment, which means that we can change our first impressions . . . by changing the experiences that comprise those impressions. This is why I am here Michael, because you challenged me to change what I see by changing what I do. I do not accept dinner invitations from strangers, but I could no longer accept the hypocrisy of my ideals if I did not make this choice.

Me: One of my favorite quotes, "if you change the way you look at things, the things you look at will change."

MG: Wayne Dyer

Me: You know it

Leora: He has way too many holes in his Swiss Cheese.

MG: Leora hates Wayne

Leora: I just think he is schmarmy.

Juliet: He is so sweet but I never trust anyone with a cul-de-sac.

MG: What?

Me; The haircut that is receding and leaves an area for parking but a dead-end for sure.

Leora: Oh wow, that is a cul-de-sac

MG: I will read your blog, I cannot promise I will keep up with it, but I look forward to the experience...by the way, has anyone ever told you that you should consider opening a restaurant?

Me: The same assholes that told me I should have been a lawyer.

MG: OK, retract that one...

(laughter)

Me: Seriously, if I did it for money I would not love it anymore.

MG: If you work hard enough and assert yourself, and use your mind and imagination, you can shape the world to your desires.

Me: What the Bleep do we Know?

Leora: Nope, Malcolm Gladwell

Juliet: Look, I am at my Tipping Point, I am either tipping another bottle or I am tipping my eye-lids and crashing.

(Huge Laughter)

Leora: Let's go Malcolm

MG: This was fun...good....time

Me: Have fun at Krav Maga

(laughter)

Juliet: You guys know the way down?

Me: I will walk them

MG: No, we have it...no need

Me: I will send you an email when I have a first draft

MG: I would like that, but I cannot promise I will read it. I hope you will understand.

Juliet: He does, and thank you for coming.

MG Are you kidding, this was great...that risotto is something else. I am not going back to Otto for a while when I get home.

Me: That is high praise

MG: Batali is never there. (whispering) This was much better.

Me and Juliet: G'night guys...ciao! drive safely

MG and Leora: Thank you (they quickly went to elevator and were gone)

I looked at Juliet and she looked at me. What the fuck just happened was the first thought I had.

Juliet: Wow, she was tall

Me: I loved her shoes

Juliet: Jimmy Choo, I saw the label as she was stretching her feet under the table.

Me: Schmee, you are one nosy little biscuit...he never answered anything about his hair

Juliet: That was way out there Michael...way out there

Me: No it wasn't, he fucking loved me

Juliet: He was scared to death of you

Me: He should have been...

Juliet: Honey....

Me: What's goin on?! (in Bristolspeak accent)

Juliet: I am surprised you have not put this all over Facebook

Me: I am right now..he didn't say we couldn't

Juliet: He asked for discretion

Me: I didn't invite Bobby and Marisa or Einar and Suzanne..no one bothered him while he was here, and he only checked his phone like twice. Plus, he said he may not read my stuff, so he likely doesn't give a rats if he ever sees us again.

Juliet: My god you are so dramatic

Me: Why don't you go clean something or make me a coffee?

Juliet: Uhhh..I worked all day remember

Me: So did I, who cooked this fucker? Who found Gladwell?

Juliet: Well he was your friend.

Me: My friend...ahahahahah..that is just ridiculous...he didn't give a shit about us...I am going to write my book and not even Malcolm New Yorker Gladwell will stop me...I am posting this shit right now

Juliet: You are off the chain tonight Michael

Me: That's right..damn the torpedoes...

Dear FB friends, stay tuned for my blog post about my amazing encounter with Malcolm Gladwell...{UPDATE}

Juliet: Did you post it?

Me: You bet your ass

Juliet: This might get weird

Me: I hope so