Little evokes the simple pleasures of summertime quite like a frothy glass of ice-cold root beer.  The ambrosial medley of sassafras, licorice, nutmeg, and vanilla make this elixir one of the most refreshing.  On a recent balmy Sunday evening with my family, I satisfied our craving for sarsaparilla by making root beer ice cream.  A little more outré than the classic root beer float, but almost as easy to make. Root beer ice cream recipes are fairly straightforward: milk, cream, sugar, egg yolk, vanilla, and root beer extract.  What is less straightforward is finding root beer extract…  Armed with a list of the aforementioned ingredients, I headed to the nearest grocery store.  When Safeway didn’t have the extract, I drove to Mollie Stone’s.  And when Mollie Stone’s didn’t have it, I popped over to Draeger’s.  And when Draeger’s, the epicenter of the epicureal, failed to produce the exotic extract I gave up.  I grabbed a six-pack of Henry Weinhard’s and vanilla ice cream for floats and headed home. Fortuitously, on my drive it dawned on me that I could make my own extract by reducing a few bottles of the root beer that I just bought over low heat until I had about half a cup of sassafras-flavored molasses.  The homemade extract added the perfect amount of full-body flavor to the ice cream base.  To capture the fizzy effervescence of traditional root beer, I added one unreduced bottle to the mixture.  The result was pure dulcet deliciousness.  My family enjoyed it so much that we will be replacing our traditional mugs of suds with bowlfuls of root beer ice cream for the remainder of the summer!  xx tt

Two of my closest friends, Josh and Katherine, have birthdays falling on the same week in May.  So when Katherine, a Los Angeles-dweller, informed me that she would be in San Francisco for the occasion, I knew that there was no better time to fete my favorites with a dinner in their honor. Typically, when I plan a dinner party I send out my proposed menu and immediately receive enthusiastic accolades from guests, inquiring only what they can bring - never offering input or criticism.  This could not be farther from what happened when I sent the menu to Katherine.  But I would expect no less.  Katherine is a champagne bubble of a girl about town, who knows exactly what she wants and exactly how to procure it.  And for this particular dinner, she wanted a multi-course Mediterranean spread fit for Antony and Cleopatra.  A smattering of Katherine’s beguiling suggestions included handmade lemon granita and espresso gelato representative of the fated lovers (Cleo/lemon, Antony/coffee); an azure palate cleanser (indicative of the Nile); and shreds of antiquated volumes of Socrates and Aristotle serving as table décor…                  Reining it in a bit – no one wants to leave a dinner party with blue lips courtesy of food-colored sorbet – I turned Katherine’s esoteric vision into the following menu:  Shaved Endive, Feta, and Watermelon Salad with a Balsamic Reduction; Spruce’s White Corn Soup with Laffa Popovers; Lamb Sliders with Harissa Aioli and Mint Yogurt served with Tabbouleh; and Flourless Chocolate Cake with Espresso Gelato and Aegean Sea Salt. I could not be happier that my personal oracle pushed me outside of my archetypal French-American fare, because the dinner turned out to be one of my best.  The highlight of the evening was the lamb burger, which is notable given that I’d never tasted lamb, let alone in burger form.  The marriage of cumin and cinnamon in the meat combined with spicy aioli and refreshing mint make this burger intoxicatingly delicious.   So delicious, in fact, that I made them again two weeks later for a dinner party in Lake Tahoe.  I have a feeling that these burgers and Katherine’s beloved Mediterranean cuisine will become regulars in my dinner party rotation.  xx tt  

Oscar Wilde captures my personality perfectly with his cheeky line, “I can resist anything except temptation.”  Like Mr. Wilde, the more you tell me I can’t have something, the more I want it.  And of all my vices, anything containing both chocolate and peanut butter is particularly irresistible.  My favorite childhood treat involved a visit to Baskin Robbins for their salty-sweet Chocolate Peanut Butter ice cream.  Luckily, as an adult, I don’t have to avoid this particular temptation many thanks to whomever invented its non-fat frozen yogurt counterpart.  As I’m sure you’ve gathered by now, however, attention to caloric intake is a bit lost on me when planning a dinner party.  So when one of my oldest friends planned a visit to San Francisco and requested that I make him a chocolate dessert, I instantly knew to pair it with homemade peanut butter ice cream.   I’ve often heard praises for Barefoot Contessa’s “Beatty’s Chocolate Cake,” so I used the recipe as a starting point for the dessert.  Steering away from its mocha disposition, I omitted half of the coffee and replaced it with dark rum to intensify the chocolate flavor.  To lend a bit more complexity to the traditional cake, I filled it with Nutella.  The trifecta of coffee, rum, and hazelnut took the already infamous recipe to an entirely new level, sure to satisfy even the most discerning chocoholics. The peanut butter ice cream was surprisingly effortless to make.  I created a simplified version of a custard base, which uses egg yolks for velvety texture, and added brown sugar instead of white to add extra depth to the otherwise straightforward recipe.  The combination of decadent multi-faceted chocolate and creamy peanut butter made this the best dessert I’ve ever created.  So good in fact, I may have to surrender to the temptation to make it again right now…  xx tt

If I haven’t already bored you to death with my odes to all things spice, this post is sure to put the nail in the coffin caliente.  But I just can’t resist.  My favorite place to indulge this addiction is San Francisco’s Mecca of Mexican food, Tacolicious.  On any given visit, I order the same thing: Ahi Tuna Tostadas “contramar-style” and Pasion Margaritas.  Before Tacolicious introduced me, I’d never imagined that a cocktail could be both spicy and sweet.  Needless to say, el Pasion has quickly become my favorite cocktail second to bourbon. When a friend of mine offered to host a rooftop party on a particularly warm May evening, I decided that it was the perfect time to recreate my Tacolicious order.  The tostada was easy: tuna, chipotle aioli, crispy leeks, and avocado.  The only element that wasn’t straight-forward was the crispy leek.  After a little research, I came up with a recipe that tasted remarkably similar, and only took fifteen minutes to make.  The margarita was a bit more challenging.  After looking up the ingredients on the Tacolicious website, I was hopeful that the cocktail would be as simple as the tostadas.  The only ingredients posted were passion fruit, lime, silver tequila, and habanero peppers.  Unfortunately, it is nearly impossible to find passion fruit in San Francisco.  Tempted to substitute mango, which are widely available this time of year, I consulted a chef-friend who said that the result would be much sweeter than the Tacolicious version, and may not pair quite as well with the habanero.  After checking the frozen fruit selections, and nixing the pulp-free passion fruit juice options, I settled on canned fruit.  Yes, I realize that this doesn’t whet the palate quite like fresh passion fruit – but with the notion of accessibility ever at the forefront of my mind, it provided the most authentic taste with optimal convenience. The results were well-worth any difficulty that I had figuring out the recipes.  The fresh fish tostada paired with spicy-sweet margaritas were a hit at the party.  This duo will be my go-to for the rest of the summer!  xx tt

A ladies luncheon is always in perfect taste.  And no one does it better than my effervescent friend Lindsay Clark Jurow.  Lindsay and I are recent bosom buddies, so I was thrilled at the chance to be at to her latest gathering.  The menu was perfection, and while everyone devoured her first course we took turns explaining how we knew our hostess.  By the time we were finished story-telling, I learned the following about Lindsay: she is a doctor, recently married a handsome entrepreneur, lives in a stunning home with a roofdeck that boasts views of the Golden Gate Bridge, whips up four-course meals and dabbles in interior design for fun, and has a five-month-old baby…  It took everything in my power not to stab her with my butter knife.  Nothing if not competitive, I’d invited everyone to a dinner party chez-moi before poor Lindsay had a chance to clear the salad plates. Given the time of year, I planned a Cinco de Mayo-themed menu – savory popovers with habanero honey butter, romaine salad with grapefruit, shaved fennel, toasted hazelnuts, and parmesan, ahi tuna tostadas with chipotle aioli and crispy leeks, basil lime sorbet palate cleanser, chili blanco, and dulce de leche filled cinnamon cupcakes.  The morning of the dinner party, I called my mother to tell her about my menu.  Ever the pragmatist, mom said that as wonderful as it sounded - what I had already made considering it was almost noon?  I assured her that it was all under control.  The base for the sorbet was churning in the Kitchen-Aid ice cream maker and everything else was relatively straight-forward.            Panic set in once I hung up and found that the sorbet was still completely liquid after twenty minutes in the mixer.  Luckily, it dawned on me that I could turn the sorbet into a granita by freezing the mixture in shallow pans and scrapping it with a fork every hour.  Phew! Reinvigorated by my quick-save, I started in on the dessert.  After mastering blueberry cupcakes, I opted to try a stuffed version: brown sugar cinnamon cake with cinnamon cream cheese frosting and dulce de leche filling.  To lend a little extra Cinco de Mayo flare, I topped the cakes with miniature churros made from deep fried tortilla strips covered in cinnamon sugar. The cupcakes were delectable, and much easier to make than you would imagine.  In fact, despite my moment of total panic over the sorbet, the entire meal turned out perfectly.  I’d venture to say that it was my best dinner party yet!  As everyone licked the last of the frosting from their finger tips, Lindsay offered to host the next dinner party and began rattling off an elaborate menu.  Unfazed, I leaned back on the hind-legs of my chair and calmly replied, “game on, sweetheart.”  xx tt 

I am humbled and thrilled to be featured by the illustrious Sarah Taylor of lifestyle blog Taylor Made Adventures.  Last night I hosted a Cinco de Mayo-inspired dinner party for ten of my most amazing friends, which you can read about here.  xx tt To learn more about me, click here!

There is little else in the world that is quite as aromatically appealing as the truffle.  White truffle, black truffle, summer truffle, winter truffle, truffle butter, truffle honey, truffle salt, truffle oil, the possibilities are endless.  I frequently depend on this rare accoutrement to take savory dishes to new heights.  So when a friend suggested a casual Sunday dinner, I called on the exotic fungi to transform an otherwise typical burger into an unexpected treat. I modeled my rendition on Umami Burger’s truffle burger, pairing truffle cheese and truffle aioli with high-quality meat and arugula tossed in truffle oil.  I was tempted to mix truffle oil into the hamburger, but after consulting a chef friend I learned that most of the truffle experience is olfactory and cooking truffle weakens its fragrance.                                       Armed with a list of truffle ingredients, I embarked on a trip to the San Francisco Ferry Building.  My first stop was Cowgirl Creamery, where I found a pecorino tartufato – a soft cheese with slight pieces of truffle laced throughout.  Next, I purchased Pain de Mie hamburger buns from Acme Bread, which are slightly sweet.  After picking up ground sirloin from Golden Gate Meat Company, I couldn’t help myself from stopping by Far West Fungi to take a peek at their truffle selection.  Recalling what my chef friend told me, I didn’t want to invest in a large Italian truffle but I also didn’t want to rely exclusively on truffle oil to flavor my burger.  I settled on a small black summer truffle from Oregon, which has a paler flesh and less pronounced aroma than pricier truffles.  I added the coarsely chopped truffle to the ground sirloin, and let the combination rest for a few hours to let the flavors marry. The end-result of my truffle-fueled adventure was exceptionally delicious.  The delicate truffle combined with peppery arugula and hearty meat was a hit with my guests.  To compliment the flavors, I served the burger with sweet potato fries and a sriracha aioli (mayonaisse, sriracha, lemon extract).  Though this meal isn’t exactly “casual” it is incredibly easy to make, making it perfect for weeknight dinner parties with good wine and even better company.  xx tt  

Francois de La Rochefoucauld penned my favorite aphorism: “However rare true love may be, it is less so than true friendship.”  I have had my share of great loves, but none compare to the profound effect that my friends have had on my life.  The past year has been a difficult one.  I ended a four-and-a-half-year relationship, became unemployed, and moved home with my parents.  Heartbroken and aimless for the first time in my life, I fell into a tailspin of despair.  Through it all, my friends were my beacon in the storm.  They made me laugh, let me cry, took my 3 a.m. panicked phone calls, boosted my ego before interviews, let me sleep on their sofas, and celebrated endlessly when I finally landed a great job and a beautiful apartment.  I will never forget their unwavering support, or the fact that I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without them. While many rallied around me this year, three in particular have long been by my side.  Katherine, Maria, and Leah.  Though we met independently, we soon realized that we all knew one another and became inseparable.  Katherine, Leah, and I went to law school together and bequeathed Maria with an honorary juris doctorate based on all the time she spent with us cramming for exams and attending law school proms.  All good things must come to an end, and after graduation Katherine moved to Hollywood to become a lawyer to the stars, and Leah transplanted to New York to pursue a Master’s Degree in Art. Scattered across the country and consumed by our budding careers, we make a point to reunite biannually.  The most recent reunion took place at Leah’s home in Ross.  Excited for the day ahead, Maria and I picked up our counterparts from SFO and drove out to Marin County to laze in the sun.  We lounged poolside catching up on the details of one another’s lives while devouring Comfort’s Chinese Chicken salads and reading snippets of British Vogue aloud.  It felt as though we’d never been apart. Once night fell, we moved the revelry indoors.  Clad in the silk Shanghai Tang pajamas that Leah brought us from her latest travels, we settled in to watch our joint-favorite film, Vertigo.  While Leah and Katherine poured the Perrier-Jouet, Maria made parmesan-dusted popcorn for our something salty, and I made Mexican Hot Chocolate for our something sweet. Our foursome’s predilection for spice reveals itself both in our personalities and our tastes.  The hotter the better, making the ancient Mayan libation a perfect choice for the evening.  Semi-sweet Taza chocolate melted into cream and sweetened condensed milk rises to the occasion with a heavy sprinkling of cinnamon and cayenne.  A splash of cachaca completes the chocolate caliente.  Sunkissed and tipsy, we fell asleep under guanaco blankets while Jimmy Stewart chased Kim Novak around our favorite city.  I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect reunion with the loves of my life.  My friends.  xx tt

As a child I spent most of my summers tooling around Capitola, a small seaside town east of the Santa Cruz mountains.  Touted as the oldest beach resort in the West Coast, Capitola is known for its charming wharf, intimate beaches, and the family-operated boutiques that line the village.  Perhaps the most unique attribute of the lazy town is the river that runs through the residential area, where my family’s vacation home is located, right into the beach downtown.  My little brother and I spent endless days catching tadpoles, playing with baby ducks, and peddle boating racing down the river.  My favorite part of every trip was when we packed up the car to drive home, because this meant a stop at Marianne’s Ice Cream.  Marianne’s is a small shop in Santa Cruz seemingly stuck in the 1950’s, when it started serving frozen confections.  At any given time Marianne’s offers seventy flavors made on-site, ranging from Old Fashioned Vanilla to signature “10-20” (caramel ice cream, homemade fudge, and Oreo cookie crumbles).  Despite the plethora of options, I have only ever ordered one ice cream at Marianne’s – Licorice.  It’s that good.  While admittedly some of you may cringe at the thought of the unusual flavor with its similarly unusual color, the subtle sweetness paired with a slight saltiness stands unparalleled. My father suffers from the same penchant for all things anise (I blame the fact that he grew up in England, where licorice is more ubiquitous than in the States).  When my father’s birthday rolled around, I decided to recreate my childhood favorite for dessert.  After researching recipes, I settled on a custard base to complement the opulent flavor.  To achieve the perfect licorice taste, I melted imported Walker’s Toffees into the custard and added a splash of anise extract.  The result was almost as good as Marianne’s, and won my proud papa’s seal of approval.  Until our next getaway to Capitola, we have found a delicious fix to satisfy our licorice cravings.  xx tt