If I plan it just right, I can walk from my office to Sushi Kimagure, indulge in a swoon-worthy chirashi, catch up with a girlfriend, and walk back to work in just about an hour. It’s not something I can swing every week, but believe me, I would if I could.
While the brisk walk and good conversation offer an unbeatable break from the grind, it’s Sushi Kimagure’s fresh-like-you-wouldn’t-believe chirashi that keeps me coming back for more.
A recommendation from my friend Anne brought me to Pasadena’s Sushi Ichi. Located on the Arroyo Parkway directly across the street from the first-ever Trader Joe’s, this unassuming sushi spot makes it possible to enjoy really fine fishes without having to travel to Little Tokyo or the Westside. Pasadenians, rejoice!
For my first meal at Sushi Ichi, my friend Lien and I opted to experience the omakase. We reserved two seats at the bar for the occasion.
Chef Ichi is a one-man show, which can either lead to a wonderfully intimate experience or be a big ‘ol burden depending on when you visit. On weeknights when the restaurant isn’t too busy, fishes are quick to arrive at the table and conversation with the chef is encouraged. However, on busy nights like Fridays and Saturdays, service can be markedly slower. Plan your visit wisely, and reservations are encouraged.
My dinner at Sushi Ichi marked a turning point in my sushi eating career. It was solidified during the meal that I am a fan of neither shiso nor wasabi on my fishes, and that I really should steer clear of endangered fruits of the sea like bluefin tuna and eel, too. These sentiments have been building over the years, but something about tonight made it all crystal clear. Future omakases will be better for this moment of clarity.
Now, onto the goods…
The Astronomer and I traveled to Birmingham, Alabama this past weekend to celebrate Grandpa Herschel Bryant’s 100th birthday! On Saturday afternoon, The Astronomer’s mom and dad hosted a luncheon at their home where guests were treated to Honeybaked ham sandwiches served on silver dollar-sized rolls, fresh fruit salad, and spinach Pauline.
An Instagram-able moment between The Astronomer and The Centenarian
To nibble on before the main courses was a tall stack of saltines accompanied by a heaping bowl of pimiento cheese. A chunky marriage of sharp cheddar, cream cheese, mayonnaise, and roasted red peppers, pimiento cheese is a Southern classic that’s traditionally eaten smothered between two slices of white bread, dipped with vegetable crudites, or dolloped generously atop crackers. Our salty, crisp vehicles proved to be an excellent match for the hefty spread this afternoon.
This recipe, which The Astronomer’s mother entrusted me to prepare in advance for the party, comes from Frank Stitt’s Southern Table: Recipes and Gracious Traditions from Highlands Bar and Grill. Chef Stitt attributes the recipe to Miss Verba, an associate of his at Highlands Bar and Grill, who as far as he is concerned makes the best pimiento cheese ever. The Astronomer’s mother wholeheartedly agrees.
Aside from the chore of roasting the bell peppers and grating the cheese, this pimiento cheese comes together quite effortlessly. Whether served as a dip or a spread, the pimiento cheese hits all the right notes that a good appetizer ought to—creamy, sweet, spicy, and salty. With outdoor entertaining season around the corner, I’m looking forward to sharing this seriously tasty starter at potlucks, picnics, and beach parties. A Southern staple in Southern California—why the heck not.
Begin by roasting the bell peppers. Simply place them on a grill over a hot fire or under a hot broiler and turn them occasionally until the skin is black and charred all over. Note: I used my grandma’s tried and true stove-top roasting method. It’s more effective than barbecuing or broiling in my experience.