Gastronomy Blog by Cathy Chaplin

Recipe

12 Mar 2010

Pizzeria Mozza’s Chicken Liver Pâté

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Growing up, I always called dibs on the gizzards whenever my mom roasted or fried up chicken for dinner. Unlike the chalky livers and slippery hearts, the gizzards were deliciously chewy and mostly neutral in taste. A quick sear with a sprinkling of salt and pepper made for a side dish that oftentimes surpassed the main course. Although I favored gizzards above all in the giblet sack, sometimes a hunk of liver would mistakenly pass my lips—once offals have been chopped up and sauteed, they start to look a lot a like! While I endured liver on those occasions, I never found it remotely pleasant.

Things started to look up for liver and me on a visit to Pizzeria Mozza last fall. I went on a whim that evening and ordered the much-buzzed-about chicken liver bruschette. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but one bite and I was completely taken. The pate tasted like the liver I loathed as a kid, but the bright and savory notes alongside it provided depth and interest. This pate had soul.

Thanks to Noelle Carter of the Los Angeles Times, I can now whip up Mozza’s unparalleled chicken liver bruschette whenever the mood strikes. “We love the rustic texture of this chicken liver pate, which is coarsely chopped by hand,” wrote Carter. “We also love the way the richness of the liver is complemented by notes of garlic, capers, and pancetta.”

My beloved gizzards had better watch out because chicken livers are definitely gaining ground.

1 pound chicken livers
Coarse salt and finely ground pepper
3/4 cup best-quality olive oil, divided, more as needed
2 ounces pancetta, chopped
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 tablespoons brandy or Cognac
2 tablespoons finely chopped Italian parsley
2 tablespoons finely chopped shallots
2 tablespoons capers (preferably salt-packed), rinsed and drained
1 lemon, zest finely grated, and 1 tablespoon juice
16 slices toasted bread

Clean the livers: Use a small knife to remove the connective veins from the chicken livers and discard the veins. Line a large plate with paper towels. Place the chicken livers on the paper towels and pat them with a wad of paper towels to get out the excess moisture. Season the livers very generously with salt and pepper, gently massaging in the seasoning with your hands.

In a large saute pan heated over high heat until it is almost smoking, add one-fourth cup olive oil. One by one, add the chicken livers. Adding one at a time prevents the pan from cooling too much, and it ensures you will have room for all of the livers because they shrink immediately when they hit the pan, allowing more to fit. Cook the livers until they’re a deep brown, about 2 minutes on each side.

Add the pancetta to the pan with the livers, reduce the heat to low, and continue to cook until the pancetta fat is rendered, 1 to 2 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook until aromatic, about 1 minute.

Stir in the brandy, shaking the pan to deglaze, and cook the brandy for about 30 seconds. Remove the pan from heat.

Dump the contents of the pan onto a large cutting board, making sure to get all the flavorful bits from the bottom of the pan. Pile the parsley, shallots, capers and lemon zest on top of the chicken livers and drizzle over it the lemon juice and one-fourth cup oil.

Chop everything together coarsely with a large knife. Drizzle over another one-fourth cup olive oil and continue to chop, regathering the ingredients into a mound from time to time. Continue to chop until the livers are the consistency of coarse paste, almost pureed but with more texture. Add additional olive oil as needed; the livers should be moist and glistening but not so loose the pate won’t stand up.

Serve immediately, or cover and refrigerate before using. At Mozza, the pate is served as bruschetta over crostini (toasted bread brushed with a little olive oil and rubbed with garlic cloves) and topped with guanciale; they also recommend serving it topped with pancetta or a sprig of parsley.

The pate can be made up to a couple of days in advance; bring to room temperature before serving.

Makes 16 crostini. [For Printable Recipe Click Here]

Restaurant Review

10 Mar 2010

Jitlada – Los Angeles (Hollywood)

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My first dinner at Jitlada was a bit of a blur. Our party was thirty something large, and each of the fifteen dishes that we ate were chosen beforehand by the host. All I remember from that evening was socializing with a lot of interesting people and being treated to an avalanche of bold, sweat-inducing flavors. I’m quite certain that Jitlada’s jungle curry forever changed the landscape of my taste buds that night.

I returned to the temple of Southern Thai cuisine last week with a smaller but equally interesting group of eaters. Joining The Astronomer and me were Danny of Kung Food Panda, Mike of Pepsi Monster, Hong of Ravenous Couple, and Bill of Street Gourmet LA. This time around, we ordered our personal favorites and made room for the headliners making waves in numerous magazines, newspapers, and television programs. Tall cups of Thai iced tea and super-sized bottles of Singha were in order to quell the inevitable burning.

Jazz Singsanong, the restaurant’s infectiously hospitable owner, was on hand to help us navigate the daunting menu. The warmth that she exudes is as much a part of the Jitlada dining experience as the food that comes out of the kitchen. Ms. Singsanong is the heart of the restaurant, while her brother Tui’s cooking is the soul.

The first dish to arrive was the New Zealand green mussels. The meaty little devils were bathed in a boiling broth of aromatics including Thai basil, lemongrass, garlic, and dried red chilies. After we polished off the mussels, the broth was ladled into bowls and slurped heartily.

Based on Jo of My Last Bite’s recommendation, we ordered the coconut, lotus, and red snapper soup. The broth was fragrant, rich, and mildly spicy due to an abundance of coconut milk and a dabble of warm chilies. The hunks of snapper were tender and just cooked through.

The crispy morning glory salad was as satisfying as I remembered. Morning glory is a staple in the Vietnamese kitchen as well; however, my people never thought to deep fry the stalky greens! The dressing was reminiscent of another Vietnamese staple—nuoc cham. I love it when neighboring countries influence each other’s cuisine.

There’s something about Jitlada’s fish balls stuffed with salted duck eggs that I can’t get enough of. Maybe it’s the appealingly chewy texture of the fish ball? Or the perfectly spiced green curry that it’s swimming in? Anyway, eating a fish-cake-encased yolk is really quite dreamy.

The frog curry that Bill suggested was challengingly spicy but not overly so. Frog isn’t the most satisfying protein due to its bony structure and lack of meat, but the curry was so lovely and creamy that I didn’t even care.

The crispy fried fish were accompanied by shards of equally crunchy basil. While this dish was texturally interesting, it didn’t have as much depth of flavor as the rest of our spread.

At the recommendation of Jazz, we ordered a plate of “crying tiger.” The pieces of pork were aggressively seasoned and had a dry, jerky-like quality to them. The spicy sauce served on the side livened up everything it was drizzled on. By the way, Chef Curtis Stone will be waxing poetic about this dish on the Food Network’s “The Best Thing I Ever Ate” later this month.

The final savory course of the night was the fish kidney curry, one of Jonathan Gold’s 99 Things to Eat in L.A. Before You Die. While most Thai curries are consumed with rice, this one was served with a fluffy omelet. A bowl of crisp vegetables dunked in shaved ice was also on hand to balance out the curry’s spiciness.

The pool of funk contained minced shrimp, chunks of pumpkin, and grilled sardines, but not a single trace of kidneys. According to Jazz, Eric M., the man who translated Jitlada’s menu years ago, misinterpreted the Thai words for “kidney fish” as “fish kidneys.” Hence, there were no actual kidneys floating about. Darn! The kidney fish curry was so spicy that I teared up some.

For dessert, Jazz treated our group to two special sweets. The first was a delicate pumpkin custard that reminded me of flan.

And second, her rendition of Singaporean kaya toast. The coconut jam was made fresh, served warm, and superbly sweet. She encouraged us to smother our little squares of white bread with more than a reasonable amount of jam. I love that woman.

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Jitlada
5233 W. Sunset Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90027
Phone: 323-663-3104

Restaurant Review

08 Mar 2010

Church & State – Los Angeles (Downtown)

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There’s really no need for me to recount the wonderful dinner I had at Church & State last week. By now, every blogger, critic, and casual eater knows that the downtown bistro is a gem. And more importantly, the man who made the restaurant what it is today has one foot out the door. Like I said, there’s really no reason for me to write about this place again, except that I totally can’t help myself—Church & State is so incredibly good!

I sat down to a most satisfactory feast with The Astronomer, my mom, and D takes a B on the evening following Chef Walter Manzke’s announcement that he would be leaving the restaurant. We arrived right as the doors opened for dinner service. I usually don’t sup until the sun has fully set, but we had tickets to The Lake Show this evening, so it was imperative not to miss the opening tip-off (and the celebrity sightings).

To start, complimentary gougères for the entire table. The cheesy poofs were warm, light, and delectable.

Next, crusty baguettes, soft butter, and coarse sea salt arrived at the table. The simple spread was so satisfying that we inhaled it in mere minutes.

Our first starter was the Oreilles de Cochon—crispy pig’s ears with a Bearnaise sauce ($8). Unlike the chewy specimens I’ve sampled in the past, Chef Manzke’s ears were vein-less, gelatinous, and had a velvety finish. The thin batter coating the ears provided a crisp and salty complement to the unmistakable essence of ear.

The Escargots de Bourgogne, snails baked in garlic and parsley butter ($13), was as good as ever. After a lot of trial and error, I’ve come to the conclusion that the best way to consume these little vessels is to gingerly peel the puff pastry from the ramekin, dunk it with abandon into the hot and garlicky butter, then scoop the snail and butter-soaked pastry onto the spoon and into one’s mouth. It’s a lot of mass, but the flavors cannot be beat. Be sure to swipe the house baguette through the ramekin afterwards so as not to waste a drop of butter.

My favorite course of the evening was the Assiette de Charcuterie—a selection of artisan and housemade pâtés, terrines, and saucisson sec ($18). The nearly three-foot long plank was beautiful to behold and crazy-delicious to consume. The pork rillettes with prune confiture were rustic and delightful, as were the various duck, pork, and rabbit pates. The most memorable was the goose liver pate with chives and coarse salt. I drifted off to a very special place with each bite. Balancing out the richness were briny olives, cornichons, pickled vegetables, dijon mustard, and little radishes swiped with butter. Heaven on a plank.

After indulging in three appetizers and countless loaves of bread, we shared two entrees. The Astronomer picked the short ribs ($26), which were served with roasted carrots, mushrooms, pearl onions, and a heap of pureed potatoes. The meat was so tender that a plunge of the fork was all that was needed to tear off a hunk. This is comfort food at its best.

The seared duck breast with Brussels sprouts and candied kumquats ($24) was also expertly prepared. I loved how well the tart little fruits mingled with the duck’s natural juices.

With Church & State’s kitchen in flux, I was pleased to take in one final meal with Chef Manzke running the show. It’s uncertain what the future will hold for both the Chef and the restaurant. However, one thing is for sure—with Chef Manzke manning the stoves, Church & State is nothing short of spectacular.

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Church & State
1850 Industrial Street
Los Angeles, CA 90021
Phone: 213-405-1434