In which Erika is interviewed by Evan Kleiman of KCRW's Good Food

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Today I had one of my most exciting food blogging experiences in the year and a half I've been writing this blog. I spent my lunch hour in the studios of KCRW, the Los Angeles National Public Radio station, talking about  my Grandma Rose's rugelach with the legendary Evan Kleiman, host of Good Food. Which, by the way, is my favorite radio show of all time.

Yes, I'm going to be on the RADIO! Talking about FOOD! On the RADIO! [dancing around the kitchen and darn glad 8-year-old son is asleep and everyone else is out]

 Me with Evan Kleiman in the KCRW studios at Santa Monica College

So how did this happen? Well, a few weeks back Evan and her producer Harriet spoke on a panel at the Food Blog Forum seminar here in Los Angeles. Harriet, brave girl, looked out at the audience of food bloggers and invited us to pitch her stories. Lots of time to fill, she and Evan pointed out. The wheels turned...food stories, food stories, which one should I tell? How will I pitch it?

I left the seminar and promptly forgot about it.

Cut to this weekend, when my mom and I stopped into Luna Garcia, a pottery studio in Venice with the most gor-gee-us tableware. My friend Sandy, who works there, introduced me to another shopper named Gillian, who works at Huckleberry (a fantastic bakery and cafe in northern Santa Monica) and is also...a producer at Good Food. And right there among the plates and platters, somewhat brazenly, I pitched her the story of my Grandma Rose's rugelach and gave her my card.

I thought Gillian was being incredibly polite, listening to my manic off-the-cuff pitch, but apparently she liked the story, because she pitched it to Harriet. And late last night, as I was getting back into work-week mode, I saw Gillian's email, asking if I could come to the studio today to be interviewed. I screamed so loud when I saw the email that my entire family came running (sorry). And then I called her back and said yes. Thank. You. Gillian.

 Grandma Rose's rugelach, almost the way she made them

The studio is in the basement of one of the main buildings at Santa Monica College, which fortunately is halfway between my house and my office. I walked over there at lunchtime with my notes and the photocopy of my grandmother's recipe in her handwriting (which I didn't need, but each made me feel better). I went into the studio, sat across the table from Evan, and talked into a big microphone. The whole thing lasted about five minutes.

I loved the way Evan set up and framed the conversation. "Make those family recipes with your elders before it's too late" was the jist of it, an angle I touched on in my original post about my Grandma Rose's rugelach but not the angle I was expecting her to take. We talked about the frustration of recreating an unwritten method, how these rugelach compare with what you'd find at Fred's or Canter's, and how my ineptitude with a rolling pin led me to call in reinforcements (my wonderful friend Anne, who visits from St. Louis once a year and knows her way around a piecrust). And then...it was done. And I walked back to work. On a cloud.

I'll let you know as soon as the segment gets a date attached to it. I only wish I'd had time to make some rugelach before the interview - it's a bigger project than even I could manage at 9pm on a school night. But Evan, I promise: I'll deliver them as soon as you're back in town!

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For anyone who's interested, these are the notes I made for myself before the interview:

Rugelach

• One of the few family recipes I have - unlike other food bloggers I know, I'm working from a blank slate - grew up on baked chicken with paprika, frozen vegetables
• Great-great-grandparents were bakers in Smolensk, Russia
• Great-grandmother Bessie never cooked, hated housework, ignored her children, but was a good baker
• Grandma Rose didn't know how to cook when she got married - learned from her mother-in-law so her new husband wouldn't starve - but kept a few family sweets recipes going - angel food cake, sponge cake, honey cake, rugelach
• Would make rugelach a few times a year and send them to my aunt/uncle/cousins in California, give to my mom in Ziploc bags
• The perpetual family diet (Grandma taught weight control classes in her basement): Lightened up the recipe by subbing OJ for sour cream
• Mom put bags in freezer to keep from eating them so fast but we discovered they taste good frozen and defrost quickly when dunked in hot coffee
• I made them with Grandma once, on her tiny kitchen table in Queens, under the LaGuardia flight path - but clearly I didn't pay enough attention
• Took me years before I could look at the recipe in her handwriting
• Ingredients only, no method
• Dough very hard to work with - tried several times, no luck
• Fear of rolling pins - everyone has a fatal flaw, mine is rolling out dough
• Needed Anne, who grew up in Piecrust House (unlike me), to help get the dough under control
• Still haven't managed to roll the dough as thin as Grandma did
• But, on my best attempt, took a bite and started to cry
• Sent them to my brother, mother, aunt/uncle, cousins - more tears reported

Me

• Working mom, two boys
• Write about food and the people behind it - relationships, connections, love
• Food is a way to connect, for me - e.g. Virgin America
• My house growing up was always just the four of us at the table - love the fact that when I ask my boys to set the table, their first question is "How many?"
• I'm a New Yorker who can't believe food grows on trees in her backyard
• I feed my office (experiments and leftovers), send brownies to key business contacts
• Feeding people makes me happy.

Tuscan rosemary salt from Laura

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Last month, a woman with whom I worked moved on to a new job in another state. A great opportunity for her, but I was sad - it's ironic that you often find someone you really like just before you're bound for separation. Laura fell into that category. In the three weeks between when she announced her departure and when she actually left, we bonded over smoked salmon and avocado breakfasts, missing our fathers, and the surprising turns of the unplanned career path.

At one point, Laura mentioned that she'd discovered an outrageously good seasoned salt mixture when she lived in Seattle. Rosemary, she said dreamily, plus other spices and maybe a little lemon peel. She'd only ever found it at the Whole Foods at 65th and Roosevelt, and she promised to bring some for me the next time her travels made it possible. We waved goodbye on her last day, and that was that.

And then, last week, a plastic tub appeared on my desk, spirited to Santa Monica by another coworker who'd seen Laura as she passed through on her way to her new life. I was touched she'd gone out of her way to make that happen. And hopeful, taking it as a sign that out of sight might not necessarily mean out of mind, despite the youth of our friendship.

Details: The label says "Salt Tuscan, Coastal Goods." Ingredients: Mediterranean sea salt and herbs, spices, garlic, tomato, lemon peel, soy oil and rosemary oil. Laura thinks the rosemary oil is the key to the intensity of the flavor and aroma of the mixture. She wanted to make her own version, but she found rosemary oil hard to come by, and without it the salt mixture never carried the same punch. Laura assures me it's good on popcorn, mashed potatoes, grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, lamb, pork, chicken noodle soup and couscous. Me, I can't even think about cooking with it yet. I just keep smelling it.

Garbanzo green garlic hummus recipe with preserved lemon and sesame seeds

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Every time I go to the farmers' market I like to buy something new. In southern California, that's actually not difficult - there's so much variety that I can always find something I haven't yet tried. This week I lingered at the table with the fresh legumes. The seller has big plastic bags filled with red lentils, garbanzos, black beans, black-eyed peas and more. They're shelled, but they're raw, not dried like the grocery store variety.

I brought home a scoop of the fresh garbanzos and decided on a simple hummus. No tahini, though I did have a big container of sesame seeds. I rummaged through the refrigerator while the garbanzos were simmering. Green garlic. Parsley. Those sesame seeds. How about some preserved lemon, still in its salty syrup from last season's Meyer lemon crop? All those went into the food processor with the cooked beans and a healthy dose of olive oil. The result: a thick hummus with a strong garlic kick and a tang from the preserved lemon. Paired with broken pieces of matzoh (I overbought for Passover last week), it made the perfect appetizer for our Sunday supper with friends.

Sure, you could make this with canned garbanzos, regular garlic, lemon juice and tahini...but then it would be just plain hummus, wouldn't it?

Garbanzo green garlic hummus with preserved lemon and sesame seeds

• 1/2 lb fresh raw garbanzo beans, shelled
• 1/2 cup raw sesame seeds
• 1 stalk green garlic, roughly chopped (the whole thing from immature bulb to greens)
• 1/4 cup preserved lemon, rind and flesh (about 1/2 large lemon)
• Large handful fresh parsley
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 1/4 cup garbanzo cooking water
• salt and pepper to taste (the preserved lemon is salty, so you might not need it)

Cover the garbanzos with water in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Cook about 20 minutes or until the beans are tender (not mushy).

Combine the garbanzos, sesame seeds, green garlic, preserved lemon and parsley in the bowl of a food processor and turn it on. With the processor running, pour the olive oil and water through the feed tube in a slow stream until the hummus has a consistency you like. It will get thicker as it stands, so add a little more liquid than you think you need. Season and serve with crackers or pita triangles.

Recipe: Chicken salad with tarragon, in two parts

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Part One

"I think I'll make chicken salad tonight," I said, thinking about the roasted chicken with smoked paprika left over from a dinner party a few days earlier. We were driving up toward Lancaster to see the California golden poppies in bloom, a spectacular display of orange hillsides in the otherwise barren high desert.

"Mmm, chicken salad," said Michael, eyes on the road, hands on the wheel.

"With tarragon?" said 11-year-old Emery from the back seat.

"Yes."

"Lots of tarragon?" he pressed. "Because I really like your chicken salad when it has lots and lots of tarragon."

Sigh. "Yes." In my head: Sorry, future wife. Feeding this one will be a challenge. Good thing he likes to cook.

"Tarragon chicken salad! Tarragon chicken salad!" sang the happy, bouncing tweenage boy in the back. And on we went to the poppy fields.

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Part Two

Roast chicken is a big part of my family's life. There's almost always some hanging around. After it's cooked and we've eaten our fill for that night, I pick the meat off the bones and put it in a plastic container in the refrigerator. Nothing goes to waste. The roasted bones and skin go into a pot with water for a rich, flavorful chicken stock. The meat goes into quesadillas, casseroles (like Mexican chilaquile casserole or chicken rice casserole), and this simple chicken salad.

I keep mine extremely plain because that's the way my family likes it, but feel free to dress yours up to suit your tastes. I would add celery if I were making it for myself, but it's one of my husband's great hates. If you use dried tarragon, know that the chicken salad will taste much better the second day.

Chicken salad with tarragon

• 2 cups leftover roasted chicken, shredded or chopped (store-bought rotisserie chicken works well)
• 2 hard-boiled eggs, minced (optional)
• 4 green onions, finely chopped
• 1/2 cup mayonnaise
• 2 tsp dried tarragon (or 2 Tbsp chopped fresh tarragon)
• juice and zest of 1 lemon
• salt and pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients well in a large mixing bowl. Refrigerate to let the flavors combine, at least 1/2 hour and up to two days.

Recipe: Chicken liver pate with Armagnac and walnuts

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Somehow, I have managed to eat liver twice in the past 24 hours. Perhaps indicative of a trend, both livers were served in small mason jars. The first was a foie gras "parfait" at a chic Santa Monica restaurant. The second was a chicken liver mousse at another chic Santa Monica restaurant. Both were good. But mason jars notwithstanding, neither was as good as the chicken liver pate I make at home.

My favorite chicken liver pate is on the sweet side. It has caramelized onions, some apple in the mix, and finishes with a splash of Armagnac. I add walnuts for texture and body, and bacon for a hint of smoke, and I like it rough. I always make too much, forgetting how rich liver can be and how adamantly my children will refuse to touch it. Luckily, we have neighbors who like liver - you know who you are - and are always open for deliveries.

Chicken liver pate with walnuts, bacon and Armagnac

•     1 cup walnuts
•     1/3 lb bacon, diced
•     2 medium or 1 large onion, diced
•     2 apples, peeled and diced
•     salt and pepper
•     1 1/2 lbs chicken livers
•     1/4 cup Armagnac
•     3 Tbsp butter, softened

In a large dry pan, toast the walnuts over medium-high heat about 3 minutes, until they are fragrant. Do not walk away, or the nuts are sure to burn and you'll have to start again. Pour the toasted nuts into the bowl of your food processor and set aside - don't grind them now or you'll end up with walnut butter.

In the same pan, cook the diced bacon until the fat begins to render, three or four minutes. Add the onions and apples, sprinkle with salt, and cook a few minutes more. Add the chicken livers and cook, stirring occasionally, until the livers are cooked through. Turn off the heat and pour the Armagnac into the pan, using it to scrape up some of the brown bits from the bottom. Don't let the Armagnac boil off - you'll want some of that liquid when you puree the pate.

Pour the contents of the frying pan into the food processor with the walnuts, add a pinch more salt and a good deal of pepper, and process until smooth. Let sit until mostly cool, then add the butter in small pieces and process again until smooth. Pour into a serving bowl or crock, cover tightly, and refrigerate several hours or overnight before serving.