Salty?!

The galley isn't a thing of beauty, but the hardcover book is a knockout.

Some facts about Suzanne Goin, author of The A.O.C. Cookbook: She was born in Los Angeles, graduated from Brown, worked at Al Forno and Chez Panisse, and opened the restaurant Lucques in West Hollywood in 1998. The Lucques bar was so lively and popular that in 2002 she opened A.O.C. to “recreate that energy." This second restaurant serves wines by the glass and a menu of Mediterranean small plates. Her business partner, Caroline Styne, writes that  A.O.C. is all about “noncommittal” eating.

In a 2013 review of A.O.C., here's how Jonathan Gold describes Goin's cooking style: 

strong flavors, puddles of broth and extremely seasonal produce; slivers of lemon peel where other chefs tend to use zest; lots of olives, fennel, thyme, chiles and other hints of the Provencal palette even when the dish in question comes from elsewhere. 

Goin, who is in her forties, is married to a man whom she describes as “salty” and they have three children. I think she's a dead ringer for the actress Genevieve Bujold.

That's Goin. Now to the cookbook.

Of The A.O.C. Cookbook Goin writes, “This is not the easiest cookbook you will ever use.” Spend a few minutes flipping through its pages, and you'll agree. Almost every recipe is for a compound dish, as in: black bass with fennel puree, winter citrus, and green olives in green harissa. 

Or consider her recipe for s’mores: 

1 recipe graham crackers (recipe follows) 

1 recipe bittersweet chocolate ganache (recipe follows)

1 recipe marshmallows (recipe follows)

1 recipe caramel popcorn (recipe follows)

1 recipe  chocolate sorbet (recipe follows)

But you can’t fault her for any of this when she’s been so clear from the outset. A.O.C. is a sophisticated restaurant and she’s giving us recipes for sophisticated restaurant dishes that take time and effort to recreate and if that’s not what you’re up for, well, you’ve been warned. 

I’m up for it, but as usual, I went straight for the lowest hanging fruit: balsamic glazed brussels sprouts. You cook whole sprouts in oil and butter, add chopped pancetta, cook some more, add garlic and shallots, cook some more, add balsamic and veal stock, cook some more. Serve. 

Veal stock. I don’t do it. I substituted vegetable stock and it worked fine.

Not so fine was the balsamic vinegar. Goin doesn’t specify what type to use and I only had a fancy, superthick California balsamic, the kind you’re supposed to apply by the droplet to strawberries and aged ribeye steak. Heavy, rich, and sweet, it threatened to overwhelm the poor little sprouts. Did I choose the wrong vinegar? Possibly. Did I fail to reduce the glaze sufficiently? Possibly. Was the dish tasty nonetheless? Yes. Mark ate one sprout and Owen ate none, so it appears that Isabel and I ate almost the entire pound.