Nancy Silverton's Five Most Memorable Meals

A memorable meal doesn’t have to be extravagant. It might be a cheeseburger at dive bar that hits the right spots or even a bag of Fritos on a road trip. That said, the most memorable meals I’ve had in my life have been on the extravagant side.

The first was when I was 11; my dad told my sister and I that we were going out for our mom’s birthday. “We’re going to celebrate at some place prestigious,” he said. My sister and I looked at each other and mouthed that word – “prestigious” – in anticipation.

That place was La Serre, then the fanciest restaurant in the San Fernando Valley, Los Angeles, where we lived. I don’t remember what we ate – it was 53 years ago! – but it was a turning point in my dining life. Knowing the impression La Serre left on me, my parents later bought me a set of its serving plates. I still have them.

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In 1978, after training at Le Cordon Bleu in London, I was working at 464 Magnolia in Larkspur, California, and kept hearing about a restaurant in Berkeley called Chez Panisse. So I went. As clichéd as it sounds, Alice Waters’ food that night changed my life. I can vividly remember the quality of the ingredients: be it a snap pea or raspberry, it was clear they’d been selected with the utmost care. I prefer food where ingredients are the star, not the chef. Chez Panisse (chez panisse.com) continues to shine at that.

When a kitchen is involved in what I call “Manipulative cuisine”, the ingredients do not matter as much as the technique. I’m not a technician. I prefer the food to be the star, not the chef. At Chez Panisse, which came along well before manipulative cuisines, Alice has thankfully stayed true to its original path.

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Since 2013, during my summer vacation in Italy, I have been having a lunch – planned months in advance – at Massimo Bottura’s Osteria Francescana in Modena. Massimo takes traditional Italian dishes and refines them, increasing their intensity without losing the rustic roots. My favourite memory of “OF” was ordering the first time. We were a group of six and spent 30 minutes carefully selecting from the menu. Five minutes later, Massimo appeared. He looked at our order, shook his head and said, “Let me order for you.” We did. It was a wise decision.

At another lunch at OF, I kept saying to my dining companions, “Who the hell does Massimo think he is? He’s making the rest of us chefs look like slackers.”  I was having fun, but I wasn’t 100% joking. Check that story out here on Krikorian Writes http://www.krikorianwrites.com/blog/2015/7/23/nancy-silverton-to-massimo-bottura-who-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are

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About two hours south of Massimo, nestled amidst the postcard hills of Chianti vineyards, is the realm of the world’s most famous butcher, Dario Cecchini of Antica Macelleria Cecchini, who, by the way, calls me his sister. He does not call the rooms where one eats a “restaurant”, but rather “the home of a butcher.” If you go, make sure Dario is there. He is part of the experience and expect him to hold up two gigantic bisect Fiorentina and, in a booming voice, say “To beef or not to beef!”

If you are fortunate, Dario will tell a touching story about the first time he ever had a bisect Fiorentina.   His family was poor, and they taught him the value of every part of the cow, and how the tendons were as good as the loin. I can’t duplicate the story, can’t do the story justice, just go to the butcher shop in Panzano en Chianti and eat his story.

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Still, if I had to name a single most memorable meal I ever had in my life it would have to be at the Hotel de Ville, in Crissier, Switzerland, a small town outside of Lausanne. The chef and owner was someone I bet most young cooks and chefs around the world today don’t even know of. Yet, by any measure, in the 1980s and 1990s, he was the greatest chef in the world, a title even Joel Robuchon bestowed on Fred;y Girardet.

Flawless. That’s what the meal was. I’ve had versions of the dishes at other restaurants - seared goose foie gras, lamb loin, pasta with morels and truffles, and so on – but, everything Fredy sent out was the best version I have ever had. The precise Swiss technique combine with a Coltrane creativity, and the almost maniacal search for the best ingredients combined to make Fredy Girardet meal the best dining experience I have ever had.

One quick story form Girardet alumni Daniel Humm who runs Eleven Madison Park in New York City. “We would find these tomatoes, that were magnificent,” Daniel told me several years ago. “And then Fredy would look at them, sniff and say ‘Good tomatoes, but not good enough.”

One more thing at Fredy’s and I’ll finish. The eclairs. You may have seen eclairs with their fillings as bright as crayons. At Fredy’s they brought out these eclairs that had just a hint of hue, just enough tint that you had a inkling of what they were. It might seem curious to end a segment on the greatest restaurant talking about eclairs, but that was part of the thrill of this meal at Fredy Girardet.

Redemption For A One-Time Fugitive, Dominique Crenn Becomes The First Female Chef In America To Win Three Michelin Stars

She was once wanted by the law, but last night, in her adopted home of San Francisco Dominique Crenn had the last laugh as she became the first woman chef in the United States ever to be honored with the holy grail of gastronomy; three Michelin stars.

It was only four years ago that Crenn fled the United States with several law enforcement agencies hot on her French heels after the controversial chef assaulted and basically ruined an extremely rare and wild Japanese sea bass during a cooking exhibition in Los Angeles. Japanese government officials demanded their American counterparts make Crenn pay for her crimes and warrants were issued for her arrest. The hastily formed Dominique Crenn Fugitive Task Force - FBI, DEA, Homeland Security, Paris PD - gave chase from Melrose Avenue to Marseilles to Marrakesh. Wanted posters were printed in at least 12 languages.

But, as the investigation dragged and other issued came to the front burner - the destruction of Aleppo, ISIS, the American presidential election, global warming - news of the fugitive chef’s whereabouts was related to back pages. And, with so many truly pressing issues on the forefront, the sentiment grew that Crenn’s crimes - which included the theft of chef Michelle Francis’ sunglasses - were relatively minor.

Meanwhile. Crenn was hiding in plain sight, globe trotting and lending her celebrity “bad girl” name to an array of admirable causes such as world hunger, women’s rights and disaster relief. Soon, with the world in turmoil, the masses marched to her side,

Her restaurant Atelier Crenn had been awarded two Michelin stars in 2011, but the top prize eluded her. Many observers thought perhaps her rebel outlaw past was the reason for withholding the crowning glory. Every year she would wait for the news of triumph. It did not come. She would have to wait ‘til next year.

But, last night, Dominique Crenn’s wait came to an end.

Her fellows chefs, many of whom never abandoned Dominique in hard times- were thrilled to her she had been honored with the ultimate accolade.

“Everybody knows Dominique Crenn is a nut case, but the girl can sure the fuck cook,” said chef Elizabeth Falkner, who had once faced charges of harboring a fugitive during the height of the hunt for Crenn. Charges were eventually dropped against Falkner when it was learned the notorious “crasher” had no home to harbor anyone. “I’m beyond thrilled for her.”

Nancy Silverton was happy, too. “First three star female chef in the country. That IS a big deal.”

Late last night, after the celebrations had quieted, after the last diners had departed, Dominique Crenn sat alone on a cushy chair in Bar Crenn, her homage to the salons of Paris, adjacent to her now three star Atelier Crenn. After speaking with her mother, Louise Marie Crenn, in the town of Quimper in Brittany, a friend poured her a glass of the mythical 1947 Chateau Cheval Blanc, the treasure the staff had been saving for this occasion.

She sipped the nectar and, in her solitude thought of her father Allain Marie Crenn. She grew heavy hearted when she thought back to the day he died and she was not at his side. But, as the ‘47 Cheval worked its wonders, she felt her father sitting right next to her, his left hand hand on hers, his right arm around her shoulders.

“I was on the other side of the world when you left us,” Dominique said, her voice cracking. “Papa, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, my sweet Dominique. I know your heart was with me. And, tonight. on this wonderful glorious night I am right here with you.”

Chief Justice John Roberts Denounces Decision To Name Lance Ohnstad As Mozza Employee Of The Month

Moments after it was announced that Lance Ohnstad, aka “The Humble Host”, had been named the newest Mozza Employee of the Month, the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States issued a statement condemning the ruling.

Chief Justice John Roberts said naming Ohnstad as the 45th Mozza EOM “sent the wrong message to not only other Mozza workers, but workers across America.” He refused to elaborate, but many believe his comments were bitter residue from the feud he is embroiled in with President Don Trump who vigorously campaigned for Ohnstad.

Here’s is the original statement from Trump regarding the EOM.

FROM THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Now that the midterms are finally over with, it’s time to move onto issues that matter most to Americans. I’m talking your border security reinforcements due to the imminent Honduran Special Forces invasion, your lower taxes for multi-billionaires and, of course, the your new Mozza Employee of the Month.

This month we have chosen an employee who is, refreshingly,  not politically correct. An employee who yells to the beat of his own drummer. Who didn’t show up for the Mozza party. An employee who has endured the worst that humanity has to offer, that, of course, being the 6-top who arrive 40 minutes later for their 8 o’clock on Saturday night and demand to be seated. That employee, the newest employee of the month is Lance Ohnstad.

After leaving the U.S. Marine Corps, Lance began his career at Pizzeria on April, 21, 2008.  During that 10 year stretch, he has encountered more assholes than a proctologist. At the Front Desk he has endured  9,547 douches, 1,012 obnoxious Armenians from Iran, Bette Milder on a bad day, Bette Milder on a good day, 4.89 billion friends of Nancy and a white guy from the Westside whose excuse for being an hour late was “Do you know there’s a fire out there?”  

So congratulations to Lance, Sincerely Don Trump.

BREAKING NEWS – As The Mozza Times went to press it was learned that Nancy Silverton had ordered a recount of the ballots for this month’s employee of the mouth. A source said Silverton was overheard saying “I can’t believe what Lance has done now. He sat an incomplete.”   If Lance is disqualified the 2nd place finisher in the balloting, Eduardo’s son Oliver, would get the award.

"Major Leaks". New Book By White House Laundry Manager Claims Trump Often Soils Himself

The housekeeping staff of the current White House has a daily - and rather bizarre - ritual. They gather around the laundry quarters and - with room’s manager acting like a modern day Nathan Detroit hosting a floating crap game - make their daily bets. The wager? it’s, well, it’s about crap, but not shooting craps. They bet if or if not President Donald Trump’s underwear is stained with leaked fecal matter.

“Hardly anyone bets that Don’s shorts are clean,” said a laundry assistant who spoke on the condition of anonymity. “We call him “The ‘Brown Stainer in Chief”, He’s a major feces leaker. No doubt.”

This Friday, so-called Black Friday, “Major Leaks”, the dredly anticipated new book from White House laundry manager Debbie White will be released and is certain to cause the White House much embarrassment. Already spokesman Sarah Huckabee Sanders has stated she will not “dignify this toilet trash with a response.”

Still, the book is already generating major buzz. It’s pre-order sales on Amazon have it as the 2nd most popular book, after Michele Obama’s “Becoming”.

And Major Leaks has its fans. Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman, aka BSM, said he bought six copies and thinks “Trump should be allowed to shit on himself with impunity because he’s such a good guy.“ BSM, the Arabic initials that translates roughly into “little bitch who sucks male anus and is afraid of writers”, was recently acquitted by Trump of the murder of the brave journalist Jamal Khashoggi.

The book’s author, White, a self describe “proud Republican”, said she felt complied to write the book because she felt Trump was doing to America what he is doing to his shorts. “I was a philosophy major at Washington University in St. Louis and it seems to me he is using his underwear to play the role of the American public. So he shits on himself. Trump often says “America first”. I hope this book will help everyone understand what he really means by that.”

MIchael Singer, a former FBI agent who headed the famed Behavioral Science division. said his unit has pinpointed the public brown staining moments. “If you notice during his press conference when he kinda squints? We are pretty sure that’s the very moment when he shits on himself. Another tell is the disgusted look on the face of his wife.”

Apron Baroness Ellen Bennett Enters Rehab For Drinking Problem 24 Hours After Extravagant Wedding

It was a fairytale wedding. A handsome, adoring groom and a gorgeous bride in haute couture that garnered “ooh’ and “ahs” form the international guests that included chefs from a dozen Michelin-starred restaurants. A seven piece mariachi band and a five piece classical ensemble echoed off the walls of a 16th century building.

But, in real life, fairy tales don’t last forever. Less than 24 hours after Casey Whatchamacallit and Ellen Bennett tied the knot, the apron baroness was stumbling down a Mexico City sidewalk, spewing expletives, splashing her to-go margarita on unsuspecting al pastor taco vendors and pleading with her stunned husband for “just one more.”

The next morning, Bennett, whose Hedley and Bennett company is the largest gourmet apron manufacturer in the world, checked into “New Beginnings”, a celebrity rehabilitation complex in Malibu. made famous by the cable show “Californication.”

“She is not, I repeat, not an alcoholic. Ellen’s just a drunk.”, said Betty Ford, the director of several rehabs that bear her name. “Ellen should be functioning within a week or two.”

A Bennett insider, chef Jonathan Waxman, said Bennett rarely drinks and for her to go to rehab was “a bit dramatic”, but he understood the underlying reason why. “Ellen has a gigantic contractor with Saudi Arabia and those fuckin’ Saudis don’t like drunks. Or journalists. Is that redundant?”

Nancy Silverton, a Hedley and Bennett customer, said “Now that i think about it, I wonder if Hedley is a drunk, too. I’ve never ever seen her. Or him.”

Furious Trump Vows “We Will Get Nancy's Wallet Back", Sends Delta Force To Mexico City

Seizing an opportunity to regain momentum a day before the midterms, an irate President Donald Trump announced Monday morning he was sending three dozen Delta Force commandos to Mexico City to rescue the stolen wallet of revered Los Angeles chef Nancy Silverton.

“See? See? What have I been telling you people about these people?” Trump told a rambunctious group of supporters at a rally in Fort Wayne, Indiana. “These people have now gotten personal. Stealing the wallet of one of America’s most believed icons, Nancy Silverstein.”

Silverton, in town for the elaborate wedding of apron baroness Ellen Bennett to Casey Something, was at a crowded bakery/cafe in the Roma Norte neighborhood with boyfriend/journalist Michael Krikorian and cookbook writer Carolina Carreno when she realized her wallet was missing from her purse. In the chaotic ensuing moments, Krikorian, after briefly accusing Carreno of the theft, scoured the neighborhood in search of suspicious characters. After detaining and questioning more than 500 such individuals, he gave up his quest. A emergency court order to obtain security camera footage of the area near the bakery was granted early this morning by the Mexican Supreme Court

The Delta troops, officially knowns as the United States Army’s 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-D, have likely already landed in and around the Mexico City.

Many Democrats were skeptical, including congressman Adam Schiff (D-California), an outspoken Trump critic who accused the president of using one of “our heroes” as an excuse to send in Special Forces to Mexico.

“He could; give a hoot about Nancy’s wallet,” Schilff said Sunday night. “He’s using it as an excuse to send Delta to attack the caravan.”

Trump has ordered up to 15,000 regular army troops to the US-Mexican border as a caravan of a few thousand impoverished migrants - many from crime-ridden Honduras - slowly marches toward the boundary. They are currently marching toward Isla, in Mexico's state of Veracruz, with some reportedly headed toward Mexico City.

However, sources say, several thousand of the regular army troops are now being diverted to Mexico City, not to deal with the caravan, but to purse all leads on the Silverton pursenapping.

As for Silverton, she was forced to rely on financial support from Krikorian, not generally known as “high value source” of money.

She expressed frustration at the theft, which included not only her wallet -with all her cash, credit cards and driver’s license - but a Mont Blanc ink pen in its leather case and her beloved Church’s yellow leather shoe horn. On top of it all, the wallet contained a cherished memento; Nancy’s mother Doris’ unactivated Neiman Marcus credit card from the 1970s.

“I don’t care that much about the wallet, even though it’s a major headache.” Silverton said as she spoke to local media upon leaving Mexico City’s justly-famous National Museum of Anthropology. “But, they stole my best shoe horn. And my mom’s credit card. Those fuckers. And to have this happen in a bakery? A place sacred to me? That blows.”

In an unguarded moment, Silverton, a devoted liberal democrat, switched alliances and endorsed Trump and his proposed wall. “build that fuckin’ Wall. Not to keep Mexicans from coming to American, but to keep Americans from coming to Mexico.

But, an hour later, an incident occurred as heartwarming as the walletnapping was blood-boiling.

With both of their cell phones dead, Silverton and Krikorian, walking to a restaurant two miles from the museum, began asking strangers for directions. Well, Krikorian did. Most pedestrians either couldn’t understand Krikorian or thought he was begging. But, then he asked at a coffee shop.

The workers didn’t know what he was talking about, but a 40-something Mexican couple at a booth overheard his request.

“Where do you want to go?", the lady asked.

“Durango Calle, 200”

She turned to her husband and asked him if he knew where that was. He did.

The man, Alejandro Medina, begin telling the Americans where to head, but then he said “Come on, follow us. We will take you there.”

Nancy and Michael looked at each other like they had discovered the winning Mega Millions ticket.

Alejandro - Spanish for Alexander - and his wife walked them all the way to their destination. Any bad thoughts about Mexico City vanished like the banana puree at Maximo Bistro, the charred avocado tartare at Quintonil, the al pastor at Tacos El Huequito, and the mole at Pujol, four of Nancy’s favorite restaurants in this lovely city.

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L.A. Gang Members Suspected Of Killing Boston's Whitey Bulger In Prison Were Hard Core Dodger Fans

Three Los Angeles gang members suspected in the brutal prison beating death of infamous Boston crime boss James “Whitey” Bulger were all hardcore Dodger fans and two correctional officers said the killing was “World Series payback”.

Arthur “Joker” Garabedian, 42, of Florencia 13, Luis “Silent” Ramirez of Geraghty Loma, and Salmon “Grill Boy” Johnson of 89 Family Swans - once regulars in the right field bleachers - are alleged to have been lied in wait for Bulger as he arrived at the Federal Penitentiary in West Virginia and then beat him to a bloody pulp with a Kirk Gibson autographed baseball bat smuggled in during a recent visit.

“Bulger was pounded worse than the Dodger relievers,” said a guard, speaking on the condition of anonymity. “In my 23 years as a correctional officers I have never seen such a vicious shellacking. He looks like he was beat for 18 innings.”

Bulger, 89, convicted in 2013 for, among other things, his role in 11 murders, was serving a life sentence. He served the sentence in full.

L.A. Drivers, Where Are Your Manners?

Published in Los Angeles Times Monday, Oct. 29, 2018

Not too long ago, I was rumbling along on the 405 in Orange County, doing about 80, 85. Off to my left, in the fast lane, were five bikers in single file, Hells Angels, based on their jackets, from the Chatsworth chapter. They all sped up to cut over to the right to get on the fast approaching Garden Grove Freeway. Four of them sliced in front of me, but the fifth guy didn’t have enough space, so he stayed in the fast lane.

I have a special place in my outlaw soul for the Angels ever since interviewing Sonny Barger 21 years ago in Hollister for the 50th anniversary of the ruckus that inspired “The Wild One” with Brando. So, I eased off the accelerator and nodded over to the guy in the fast lane to go ahead.

He gassed it to catch his comrades and, as he zoomed across my lane, his right hand on the throttle, he crossed his left arm across his body, and gave me a thumbs up, nodding his head.

Courtesy. Politeness on the open road. From a Hells Angel. When almost no one these days on L.A.’s streets or freeways bothers to lift a hand in a gesture of thanks to another driver.

Driving is about the one place in L.A. where everyone is created equal; we’re all on the same maddening journey.

Los Angeles, where are your manners? Does anyone here even remember that line?

My parents taught me to be polite, but I got a master class in manners a long time ago in New York City. .

I was about 20 and walking down Broadway on a crowded sidewalk, around 45th Street, when I bumped into a guy, about 6-feet-3, 240, walking the other way. We both stopped. I didn’t say anything, but I thought to myself, “I’m about to get my ass kicked.”

He wan’t looking for a fight, just common courtesy. He said, “Can’t you just say excuse me?”

I’ve never forgotten my quick slide from fear to human connection. From that moment on, I’ve been quick with “excuse me.”

The best among us will do the right thing just because it is right. I say, do it for the reward too: When you extend the slightest kindness to a stranger, or vice versa, doesn’t it make you, if only for a few seconds, feel good?

The manners thing ought to be on the driver’s test. A prearranged “nice” driver lets you cut in and if you don’t wave, the DMV examiner deducts a point or two.

I don’t really know if the country is more divided politically than it usually is, but it sure appears to be. Some things though, cross party lines. We are all stuck in traffic in Los Angeles. Even when it’s moving, the joke goes, it’s a traffic jam at 70 mph. The least we can do is take four seconds, roll down the window and give a nod or a little wave when someone lets us merge.

A couple of Saturdays ago now, during that brief but exhilarating — and much appreciated — lightning show that lit up L.A.’s normally blah night sky, I was driving on Third Street in heavy stop-and-go traffic. Instead of blocking an intersection, I stopped to let an oncoming car make a left turn in front of me. The guy to my right, in a new, glistening white Mercedes AMG C 63 S — normally a car whose driver thinks he or she owns the road — actually backed up about 10 feet to let this other car make the turn. The driver who sailed by in front of us didn’t even bother to look our way.

I rolled down the passenger side window and nodded at the Mercedes driver, who rolled down too.

“Man, she didn’t even thank you,” I said. He hunched his shoulder, smiled and said “Manners. Where did they go?”

My girlfriend, after reading a draft of this piece and learning the Times was running it, said “That’s what we’ve come to. You giving advice on manners.”

Driving is about the one place in L.A. where everyone is created equal; we’re

all on the same maddening journey. Let’s make the ride just a little more pleasant.

The great Lewis Hamilton who just won his 5th Formula One World Championship, tying Juan Manuel Fangio. (Michael Schumacher won a record 7 times.)

L.A. Mayor Garcetti Backs City Council Plan To Officially Rename Homeless People As "Urban Campers"

You’ve seen the tents, from the Figueroa Street financial district to Sunset & Vine, from the bluffs of Santa Monica to the alleys of Koreatown. The tents, tens of thousands of them donated, have replaced cardboard boxes as the “homes” of the homeless. Once banished to the forsaken land known as Skid Row, they are now on view all over town for residents and tourist to glance and ignore.

Well now, hoping to stem the negative connotation that come with the word “homeless”. the mayor of Los Angeles, Gil Garcetti, who has all but announced he is running for president, has backed a City Council proposal to rename those unfortunate folks as“Urban Campers”.

“Who doesn’t like to camp?” said Garcetti, who has clearly never met Nancy Silverton or my sister Jeanine Krikorian Ash. “I think the city will benefit greatly as image is everything in this town. .Besides. if we do rename them, i can boast I got rid of the homeless.”

Several City Council members were vocal in their support of the mayor.

“Some people camp at Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite,” said councilman Duke Feldmeier, whose 1st District includes Skid Row. “Others like a spot off ‘Going To The Sun Road ‘ in Glacier National Park in Montana. Then there are those “Urban Campers” who go for 5th and Wall. To each his own.”

Some thought the new term was a natural progression for these downtrodden.

“They used to be called bums,” said Los Angeles deputy archbishop Rev. Lon M Burns “Then we upgraded them to homeless. Now they are going to be urban campers. Who knows? They way they set up camp near courthouses, in another few years we might start calling them judges.”