Chez Panisse

Chez Panisse (and Alice Waters) is a household word all over America.  But some people still think it’s a French restaurant.  And some people call it “Chez Panee.”  Me, I call it home.

I slid into the banquette at the top of the stairs in the Café on Valentine’s Day, looked over at dining companion Susan Griffin and sighed that deep sigh of total contentment.  (It had been an intense weekend.)  I turned to Susan and exhaled, “Ahhh, I feel like I’m home.”  Susan lives up the hill from “Chez,” so had no trouble agreeing, while also adding, “I’d eat here every day if I could.”  (So would I.)  My boys settled into the end of the table as we waited for the others to join us.  (Note:  if you want to get a table at Chez Panisse Café on Valentine’s Day, book for a crowd.)

We got back to Japan after a three-week stay in California with a collection of 20 or so odd menus from Chez Panisse.  We may not have eaten there every day, but almost.

 

So what, are we independently wealthy?  No.  In fact, my little school is limping along these days as I pursue impractical (but oh so much fun) writing projects.   In Japan, we don't eat out often since we grow a lot of our food.  Also we can’t bring our farm with us when we travel, so we all start to miss food from home.  But Chez Panisse serves food from the farm and the Chez Panisse cooks take those vegetables to another stratosphere.  I’m no slouch in the kitchen, but there is no comparison here.

I love the Café for its bustle and heat and friendliness.  But I’ve got to say the downstairs is where I can really sink into the moment.  I don’t want to choose.  I have to do that every day in my life.  I love that someone else has planned the meal, I love that you can ask for a little more if you don’t have enough (did you know that?), I love that there are preselected wines by the glass should one desire (I do).  And I love the pace and gentle rhythm of the meal. 

 

The kitchen welcomes guests to wander through and the cooks generously explain method.  They’re genuinely engaged in the process and acutely attuned to creating pleasure.  The cooks respect the super fresh, bright tasting vegetables, local fish or small producer meats that they use.  It’s obvious they love what they do.  But that is true of everyone who works at Chez Panisse.  I always feel so welcomed and warm when I step foot in either dining room.  It’s never enough that the food is “good” in a restaurant.  I need the foodstuffs to be stellar, and the feeling to be friendly.  For me, it has always been about the whole experience.  Back in “the day” when friend Cecily and I were swimming in cocktail waitressing tips, we sampled some of the best restaurants in San Francisco.  The one that stood out for food and democratic service?  La Bourgogne.  A classic, and a class act.  But now, life is too short to waste on trying each new trendy spot that hits the scene.  I’m also not much interested in architectural or manipulated foods.  I want to eat something that looks (and tastes) like food, and isn’t built up or foamed.

We take a school trip to California every February.  Guess where we eat the first two nights?  Chez Panisse.  “Why do you take little kids to Chez Panisse?” I’m often asked.  “Why not?  They love it,” I shoot back.  And that’s true.  Not only do they love it, they talk about it when they go back home to Japan.  Evoke the name California and one of the kids will invariably shout out, “I wanna go to Chez Panisse!”  They appreciate the food because it reminds them of the food I cook for my school from our farm.  And they taste that same crucial ingredient: love. 

 

This last trip, I was feeling my 53 years and wondering if it would be the last.  I decided to eat lunch at Chez Panisse on the day we arrived.  Because I wanted to.  Also we had some organic tofu and soy sauce to drop off for the cooks.  After a short nap we were back in force for dinner.  Matthew stayed home in Japan, so it was Christopher, Andrew and me, plus four SSU! kids.  Dear friend, Sharon Jones, bravely joined us for dinner.  The trick to traveling with kids is to keep them occupied (with crayons), fed (a quick pizza to start), spill free (keep the glasses out of reach), cry free (stay on top of the refereeing) and don’t brook any nonsense (no fussing, no arguing, no walking around).  My own kids are a joy to eat out with, but it took several years of “no fun dining.”  Especially since I travelled alone with them (farmer husband stayed home).  Once kids reach seven or so, they’re delightful dining companions and ready for Chez Panisse downstairs (if you’ll let them).

And you’ve got to love a restaurant that not only loves kids, but celebrates them.  At lunch one day, I enthused to Martin Johnson, the floor manager, about the special treatment we got from the kitchen our first night.  Our waiter Adan had requested Café cook Amelia to split the kids’ plates so I wouldn’t have to deal with that, on top of everything else.  This was a first.  Eyeball is huge, so how the food is arranged on the plate is a big deal at Chez Panisse.  And splitting plates is not really done.  When I told Martin that was the best meal I had ever had at Chez with the little kids, he laughed and said that he had instructed the staff to help me out by keeping an eye on the kids.  What kind of restaurant does that?  Chez Panisse.  

They’re family now.

Pissaladière

Recently, we’ve discovered a source for organic slab bacon and I had a few pieces in the freezer, so made an often requested, but seldom executed, dish:  quiche lorraine.  I don’t know why the boys can’t understand we never have bacon.  Some farmer friends from Britain were coming over for lunch that weekend, so I thought Pissaladière would be a nice way to use up the leftover piecrust dough.  The dough I used was a pâte de ménagère I learned from Danie Dubois in the Dordogne.  I’d guess it is similar to the galette dough in the Chez Panisse Vegetable book (see below).  For 4 large tarts:  put 500 grams bread flour in a large bowl.  Grasp a 250-gram piece of butter lightly, and cut thin slices off the smallest end with a sharp vegetable peeler to create 2.5 x 5 cm (1” x 2”) sheets.  Dust butter piece with flour if handling becomes difficult (i.e. slippery).  Distribute a little flour in between the butter slices as you go.  Toss in 2 tsp. salt and 2 tbsp. canola oil with a rubber scrapper.  Add 200 cc. cold water.  Mix lightly, then press together into a large, thick cylinder shape.  You will be cutting the dough into 4 rounds so the shape is important.  Wrap in foil and refrigerate 30 minutes.  Cut into 4 pieces, wrap each piece in foil, put in Ziploc and freeze any pieces you don’t use.  Roll out a very thin round, lay on tart pan, fold down a rough border from the extra pie crust dough, prick with fork and cook at 180˚C (350˚F) for 20 minutes or until nicely crisp and golden.

Pissaladière (Chez Panisse Vegetables):  This is a very simple tart that needs excellent olive oil, fresh herbs, farm onions & garlic, top quality niçoise olives and preferably home-salted anchovies (cheap & very easy to cure).  Peel 3 large yellow onions and 3 cloves garlic, then slice thin.  Film olive oil (3-4 tbsp.) in bottom of heavy pan (Le Creuset works well).  Heat over medium flame and add sliced onions & garlic, a few bay leaves, a small handful of thyme sprigs and a bit of salt. Cover and stew for about 1 hour, stirring frequently, until the onions are soft and about 1/3 of their original volume.  They should be a rich golden color, but not brown.  Rinse and filet 5 or 6 salt-packed anchovies.  Strain cooked onions when done, reserve liquid.  Pick out and discard bay leaves and any thyme twigs.  Preheat oven to 180˚C (350˚F).  Spread onions on baked tart shell, lay the anchovy filets around the tart, as if spokes in a wheel.  Sprinkle with niçoise olives and bake for 10 minutes.  Drizzle tart with a little of the onion liquid and serve.

Comments

[TokyoVince]

Yum. Bravi!

[Sarah O'Toole]

Love the pics of the kids!

[Mora Chartrand-Grant]

Bravo, Nancy. You are a hero not only to great ingredients and cuisine, but to taking small children on a long trip. Your posts always take me back to my meals at home. Mom made her version of a quiche cum flammenkuche: homeade pie crust rolled out to fit a large rectangular baking pan; a few eggs beaten with some milk, S&P, all poured over carmelized onions; squares of hand-sliced slab bacon; and sometmes, but not always, a final dusting of grated hard cheese (whatever was on hand). While it baked in the oven we enjoyed homemade chicken soup and caught up on the day's events. The "pie" was served right out of the oven with a big green salad along side. It was heaven. P.S. Gruner, a new Alpine restaurant here in Portland, is said to serve a top-notch flammenkuche. Linda and I hope to try it soon; report forthcoming.

[Nancy Singleton Hachisu]

Vince: Hey thanks for the accolades and tweets, soon to be posting the real deal.

Sarah: They've grown up, eh? What are you and Phil doing around 3PM or so Japanese time on our Monday, 22? Up for a little Skype graduation call?

Mora: I'm really struggling with what to do next year as I pay for my own trip and just do the whole thing because I believe in it. Without my boys, it will be an altogether different trip, and am trying to find a way to spin it in my mind and keep on going. It's so unbelievable the impact on the kids and the positive feedback we get from cooks and staff at Chez Panisse and also Pizzaiolo (ex-Chez guy).

Your mom's flammenkuche reminds me of the quiche I learned from Danie Dubois in the Dordogne. Nothing like the floppy, insipid quiches floating around in the 70's. Funny, I don't remember my Belgian home-stay mother making that. But the frites, the homemade mayonnaise, green salad and filet americain (heaven!!!); the rolled cabbages and mashed potatoes (even heated over hot water, incredible);....oh and remember beef fondue with all the little mayonnaise sauces...and waterzooi...I could go on and on. That was great food. Looking forward to your report on Gruner.

Nancy