TO LIVE & DIE IN LA: LIZ & JOHN. A CUT ABOVE THE REST

I may well have mentioned in passing, during the last few posts, my being less than whelmed by LA’s mid and fine level dining scene. There is however one place where I can always be guaranteed to have a memorable night filled with amazing food, great wines and, best of all, exceptional company.

Unfortunately, it is not a place I can recommend to you all as a must visit, because my favourite place to eat in L.A. is not in a restaurant but in the dining room of my dear friends, Liz and John Haskell. Over the last year and a half as I have been visiting the city on a more regular basis, Liz and John have taken Sybil and I under their wing and treated us to any number of great evenings. But, no invitation is more welcome that when Liz tells us she fancies cooking and John tells us he is going to open up a few bottles of “interesting” wine.

Last night’s supper came about after we had suggested to them that they might care to join us at CUT, Wolfgang Puck’s high end steakhouse. Instead, John offered to light up the grill at their house and Liz offered to cook a few things to go alongside a decent steak.

We knew from previous experience that when Liz offered to cook a few things that usually involved days in the kitchen preparing a multi course menu. Liz is a dining maven (for the record, she has eaten at The French Laundry over 100 times) and brings to bear all her many years of eating experience to what is prepared in her kitchen.

The meal began with starters served at the coffee table. The first course comprised two pates served with hot buttery brioche and glasses of two different styles of West Coast sparkling wine from Domaine Chandon in the Napa Valley. A perfect match and just as enjoyable with the next two courses, one of blini cups filled with crème fraiche and topped with caviar, the other using the same high end ingredient but this time served with eggs, slowly scrambled with butter for twenty five minutes and then returned to their shells for presentation.

After John had fired up the grill for the preparation of the main event, we moved to the dining table be presented with a bowl each of rich, velvety chestnut soup, laced with a shot of brandy just before serving. John poured us all a glass of Malmsey, which proved to be a terrific in combination with the gloriously luxurious soup. Luxurious would be the perfect word to describe a lot of Liz’s cooking. That does not mean that she always uses high-end ingredients. In fact, caviar apart, the ingredients used in the night’s meal were quite simple, but it is the attention Liz gives to their preparation transforms them into memorable dishes.

The main course of steak, potatoes and spinach was a perfect example, although admittedly the steak they prepared for us was no ordinary slab of meat from the supermarket. John had ordered a 40oz porterhouse from a company called Bryan’s Fine Foods. I had not heard of the company, but when John proudly showed off the raw porterhouse with its fine network of marbling, I immediately scribbled down the name to find out more about them.

Alongside the porterhouse was an equally impressive New York Strip from the same supplier. Both cuts of meat had been dry aged for forty days and gave off waves of meaty steam the moment John slapped them on to the grill. After they had been cooked and as soon as they had been rested, John carved them into big meaty slices making sure that each plate had plenty of each cut, while Liz added her own contribution, potato gratin and creamed spinach. So often in steakhouses, side dishes are no more than a diversion. Liz Haskell’s versions are, however, amongst the very best I have tasted, both again taking hours of preparation to get the desired result.

We staggered to the coffee table for the last two courses, cheeses from Andrew’s Cheese Shop in Santa Monica and a slab of persimmon pudding, which we doused in booze laden whipped cream and washed down with the last drops of a very fine 2001 Ridge Montebello Cabernet .

By the time we all looked at our watches and realised that nearly five hours had passed while we enjoyed our meal, wine and conversation, Liz had already begun to pack a goodie bag for us containing more of the persimmon pudding and some homemade chocolate chip cookies, in the unlikely event we got hungry on the way home.

It was the perfect end to another great meal at my favourite place to eat in Los Angeles. If any of you are fortunate enough to get to know Liz and John Haskell, you might just be lucky enough to experience it too.

HERMANO PRIMERO: IT'S MY BIRTHDAY TOO YEAH

Apropos of very little in particular it was my birthday the other day. I’m usually not one for celebrating but when relatives are so insistent on being nice to me it’s very hard to resist.

Baba gave me a watch, HT gave me a copy of The Times published on my date of birth (interestingly the front page contained just adverts which gives you a rough idea of how ancient I am) and HS and his delightful friend, Sybil (favourite word: Whatever !!???), paid for a slap-up meal at Rules.

On my actual birthday I had to work (booo), so after a long, hard day at the office and with an early flight to Madrid the next day I didn’t really want to go out. I was very pleasantly surprised then, to find a package from my Sister and her family waiting for me which contained a tin of Beluga Caviar. It was also rather prescient of her as on the way home I’d picked up half a bottle of Krug Grande Année…as you do. HS was on the wagon for the week and admitted caviar didn’t do anything for him so it was all for moi.

Now I hadn’t eaten this quantity of Beluga for many years so the first couple of mouthfuls were eaten too quickly and in too large a quantity. Like most things in life the pleasure of an activity is prolonged if you take it nice and slowwwwwly. I began to wield my Mother of Pearl caviar spoon more delicately, delivering just a few eggs into my mouth before gently popping them on my tongue and taking a sip of the champagne.

A strange kind of alchemy then became apparent as the slightly salty, very creamy fish roe starting working with the richness of the Krug. I could come up with all sorts of flowery language to describe the tastes but only two words were in my head. Clue: they both started with F and the second one was Fantastic. When I’d finished all I could think was: I want more. Now.

My night wasn’t quite over though as for the next act HS and I shared a Kilo of the famed Bistecca Chianina from Tuscany. I’d imported this Beef from Italy at some cost and was hoping it didn’t disappoint. It didn’t. Cooked on a ridged grill and rested properly until evenly bloody it’s flavour was quite different to good quality British and Irish Beef being more akin to the Carne Roja from Galicia. It was a bit more chewy as well, but in a good way. As we might say in Britain: not a bad way to finish off my special day. Cumpleaños Feli - to me of course.

HERMANO SEGUNDO BACK IN LA: GOOSE, CAVIAR & THE HASKELLS

Dining with friends can be hard work.

But, there is no one I know with whom it is such hard work as my good friends, John and Liz Haskell in L.A.

It is not that they are not good company. On the contrary, they are the very best, charming, witty and generous and sitting in their stunning home while they bicker amiably about just about everything is one of the great pleasures of my visits to the West coast.

No, the hard work comes when you sit down to eat. I have mentioned it before, but The Haskell’s are truly amongst the most serious eaters I have encountered. Their journeys around the world’s greatest restaurants are the stuff of legend and the sight of their name in the reservation book can bring brand name chefs out of retirement and back in to the kitchen for the first time in years, in such respect are they held.

Add to that, John’s superlative wine collection and the fact that Liz takes the notion of a casual meal to new levels and supper with the Haskell’s is very hard work indeed. Mind you, seldom has hard work ever been so much fun.

Our arrival for this visit saw Liz emerge from the kitchen in full whites and a timing sheet pinned to the wall that would have put the Normandy landings to shame. John was already plopping the cork from the first bottle before either of our backsides had touched the sofa.

First course was homemade buttermilk blini topped with salmon roe and caviar, a suitable companion to the dry as a bone champagne that John made sure we were topped up with. As good an opening gambit as you are likely to find anywhere.

Moving on to the next of Liz’s starters, she appeared from the kitchen with a plate of gravlax, home cured for five days, naturally, served with her own buttery brioche and strips of wonderfully oily salmon skin. On their own, those two dishes would have sent us out in to the surprisingly chilly L.A night air happy, but to Liz and John, such things are merely a distraction for the main event, which in this case happened to be a whole goose.

Goose is one of the great treats of my life. But, I seldom get chance to try it. Few restaurants offer it anymore because of the time involved in cooking it and, more importantly because of the poor meat to cost ratio. Fewer people still think of it for a meal at home mainly because they are scared and don’t know what to do with the buggers. So, to see a twelve pound bird emerge glistening and bronzed from their oven with the juices bubbling under the skin made my heart give a delighted little skip.

Liz is not one to waste God’s good goose fat either and had used it to make a rich accompaniment of red cabbage with melting chestnuts and a superb stuffing, which despite Liz’s foolish protestations that it was “not livery enough” was spot on.

I had by now reached “bye-bye belt” territory, but the Haskell assault continued with a Banana and Jamaican rum cheesecake which proved to be light and delicious enough for me to finish a large slice.

Along the way, John opened some excellent bottles from his cellar including a rather fine 1999 Cote Rotie and despite their proffering of a last treat of well kept cheeses, we stuck to our guns, flopped on the sofa and accepted a final glass of port to round off another memorable meal with two of my favourite people.

The idea of eating today seems a little, well, silly. Until of course, that is, Sybil suggested we head to Roscoe’s Chicken & Waffles tonight for some of their deep-fried giblets. I may well be full enough to explode all over Culver City, but I am not stupid enough to pass that up.