tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88870513620200455762010-03-09T14:24:58.289-08:00Giovanna's Trifles, Giovannas Trifles, Giovanna Zivny, Giovanna Trifles, Food Blog, Portland, Oregon, Pacific Northwest, Prunes,Giovanna Shere, Giovanna Remolif ZivnyGiovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.comBlogger128125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-8535782615054484212010-03-02T16:10:00.000-08:002010-03-02T16:16:37.201-08:002010-03-02T16:16:37.201-08:00

The BirthdayWell that was a crazy weekend. Pavel, Emma (our niece), and I got into the car Friday morning for a ten-hour drive to Laytonville, a small California town about halfway between Eureka and Santa Rosa.  A whirlwind trip—we were going to surprise my brother on his 50th birthday, but would return on Saturday. Yep. The next day. Crazy.  But we managed.  We got down, surprised my

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-21745846122217413562010-02-25T06:20:00.000-08:002010-02-25T06:20:00.137-08:002010-02-25T06:20:00.137-08:00

Ice Cream at Bi-RiteI had ice cream at Bi-Rite Creamery twice when I was in San Francisco last month (not bad since I didn’t even go the only full day I was in town!).  If I had been on my own—with no one to see me, no need to defend my actions—I would have visited Bi-Rite twice a day. Sorry about the blurry picture. I was excited. Because it’s that good.  Bi-Rite’s ice cream is made with

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-47250219501398297752010-02-22T14:09:00.000-08:002010-02-22T14:38:37.604-08:002010-02-22T14:38:37.604-08:00

Polenta’s been in the food news recently.  Mark Bittman’s 'Taking the Fear out of Polenta” showed up on February 12.  A few days later, Russ Parsons’ ‘Easy, Fast Polenta that doesn’t Skimp on Flavor'’ was on the L.A. Times site.  I’m happy that so many readers will be keeping warm with polenta dinners. Parson’s column grabbed me for two reasons.  The first was nostalgia.  He mentions

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-46797763202627761362010-02-22T14:07:00.000-08:002010-02-22T14:30:04.760-08:002010-02-22T14:30:04.760-08:00

Adapted from Paula Wolfert’s Mediterranean Grains and Greens 2 Tablespoons olive oil 2 cups polenta 7-10 cups water* 2 teaspoons salt Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Grease a shallow pan (lots of of leeway here—I use a 9x13 Le Creuset casserole, but you could use a deeper pan, or a cast-iron frying pan…).  Combine the oil, polenta, water, and salt in the pan; stir with a fork.  Don’

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-5099018551060979652010-02-16T12:09:00.000-08:002010-02-16T12:31:27.801-08:002010-02-16T12:31:27.801-08:00

Our first stop when we arrived in New Orleans on a Saturday morning was the Roosevelt Hotel.  This wasn’t because we were staying there.  We made this important stop because the Sazerac Bar at the Roosevelt Hotel is home to the Ramos Gin Fizz, which is one of my very favorite cocktails (despite its lack of bourbon!). A fizz is a cocktail with soda water and acidic juice (generally from a

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-2961278487760245602010-02-16T12:07:00.000-08:002010-02-16T12:17:08.878-08:002010-02-16T12:17:08.878-08:00

The whole week I was in New Orleans my mind never strayed far from Ramos Gin Fizzes.  While it was still winter back home in Portland (where people were enjoying drifts of perfume from winter-flowering Daphnes), spring had arrived in New Orleans.  And it saw no reason to let me forget.   As I wandered through the streets, mainly without any destination in mind, there was always plenty to look at

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-41372858426166544682010-02-15T09:17:00.001-08:002010-02-15T09:18:36.470-08:002010-02-15T09:18:36.470-08:00

In Portland, eating locally is a joy—we have access to locally grown produce, and locally raised and butchered meats.  Coffee roasters, bakeries and chocolatiers  fill our cups and satisfy our sweet tooths.  Sadly, many Oregonians are hungry; they aren’t sharing in this abundance.  The Oregon Food Bank works to eliminate hunger, serving all of Oregon as well as Washington’s Clark County.  They

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-32541382471370478392010-02-14T19:09:00.000-08:002010-02-15T09:24:56.186-08:002010-02-15T09:24:56.186-08:00

From left to right: Barhi, Derrie, Khadrawi, Zahidi, Ciré I know it’s corny, but doesn’t everyone want a date on St. Valentine’s Day?  Or maybe even a whole bunch of dates?    When Pavel and I were in California a couple of weeks ago, we had an incredible dinner at Pizzaiolo, in Oakland.  Highlights of the meal included the pork appetizer: cotechino sausage with lentils, ciccioli, pork loin

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-75402271791918036602010-02-09T10:44:00.000-08:002010-02-09T10:44:12.116-08:002010-02-09T10:44:12.116-08:00

Over on Serious Eats, the conversation about 'Learning to Cook' has popped up again.  The question comes from Monica Bhide's post on her blog, A Life of Spice.  In December, Bhide was on Talk of the Nation with Adam Gopnik, discussing his New Yorker piece (November 23, 2009), What's the Recipe?.  The premise of his piece is that you can't learn to cook from a book; following recipes leads to the.

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-51832709745972294902010-02-08T06:29:00.000-08:002010-02-09T10:23:33.466-08:002010-02-09T10:23:33.466-08:00

You start out with a Sazerac.  We had ours at the Carousel Bar in the Hotel Monteleone.  The bar is, you guessed it, under a carousel canopy.  The bartender performs his magic in the center, and the floor under the stools slowly circumnavigates him.  It takes about three rotations to drink one Sazerac.  In case you were wondering.  Who knows? You could find yourself on Jeopardy one day, with Alex

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-57716778202812911502010-02-01T12:49:00.000-08:002010-02-01T12:49:31.220-08:002010-02-01T12:49:31.220-08:00

Between Sunday restaurant closures and the Saints-Vikings big game, we knew it would be hard to come by dinner last Sunday. Brunch was an obvious choice. My father wrote recently about brunch not being his favorite meal; I mainly agree. I like to eat when I wake up, and I wake up early. Of course, in New Orleans you wake up a bit later than usual. Sometimes you don't feel like jumping out

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-7125266545657806412010-01-27T07:58:00.000-08:002010-01-27T14:01:22.204-08:002010-01-27T14:01:22.204-08:00

Waitress at The Coffee Pot I never thought I'd have anything to say about football, but here I am, in New Orleans, surrounded by football.  With my usual dumb luck, I fell into an historic moment here.  Sunday was a special day in New Orleans--the day of the big game.  Now I know nothing--I mean nothing--about football.  Don't know how it's played, don't understand when people score, or why they

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-41624231271515548062010-01-25T17:11:00.000-08:002010-01-26T06:43:31.543-08:002010-01-26T06:43:31.543-08:00

New Orleans could easily be Portland's sister-in-pork-products city.  The proof is in the pralines: We've had lunch twice now at Cochon Butcher; it's close to the hotel, easy for Pavel to get to from his conference, and, most important, it's good. Today we had a quick lunch: smoked chicken and andouille gumbo, and duck crepinettes with housemade bread-and-butter pickles. On Saturday we

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-10417800162105162262010-01-25T06:35:00.000-08:002010-01-25T06:35:45.600-08:002010-01-25T06:35:45.600-08:00

Ten years ago, Pavel and I finally accrued enough mileage for a trip (it only took us about 7 years). We didn't have enough time--or mileage--to go to Europe, so we decided to go to New Orleans. For some reason, I don't have a journal from that trip, or even any photos, so New Orleans is fuzzy in my mind. Though the Ramos Gin Fizzes and Sazeracs could also have caused the blur. What I do

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-7717379329378746062010-01-19T18:50:00.000-08:002010-01-19T18:52:26.424-08:002010-01-19T18:52:26.424-08:00

Ken's Ham and Asiago on Buttered Ficelle   The thing about that perfect sandwich is that it's only as good as its ingredients.  In fact, the simpler the food, the more possibility for a memorable meal.  Or a total disaster. These days, at least in Portland, there's no excuse for not enjoying the perfect sandwich.  It seems as if every time I turn around a new bakery is opening, or another shop

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-64194900712169010162010-01-13T09:56:00.000-08:002010-01-13T09:56:41.469-08:002010-01-13T09:56:41.469-08:00

Last week I received my belated birthday present from Pavel: He's arranged for me to come along with him to New Orleans for a week. We'll have a weekend together, then he'll be at a conference for the week, giving me lots of time to explore. We were there nearly ten years ago, and I'm excited to be going back. But there's not a lot of time to get ready--we leave next Friday. I'm starting

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-20934308794728645432010-01-12T09:44:00.001-08:002010-02-16T14:13:03.514-08:002010-02-16T14:13:03.514-08:00

Shortly after we returned from that trip to Europe, I started working at Pig-by-the-Tail, an American charcuterie in Berkeley. They made and sold various pâtés, sausages (I still miss their Champagne sausages, spiced lightly and flavored simply with Champagne), some cured hams, and a beef tongue vinaigrette I loved. Salamis draped along the back wall (I have fond memories of one co-worker hanging

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-72623050638721341712010-01-12T09:44:00.000-08:002010-02-16T14:14:01.407-08:002010-02-16T14:14:01.407-08:00

When I was 13, and went to Europe with my family, I learned about sandwiches. There, sitting at a sidewalk cafe somewhere in France, my father suggested I have a ham sandwich. The long piece of baguette arrived, split down the center, generously buttered, with one layer of boiled ham. There may have been some gruyère involved as well, and I remember a couple of cornichons on the side. It was a

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-41040939045281536122010-01-05T12:24:00.000-08:002010-01-05T12:32:02.727-08:002010-01-05T12:32:02.727-08:00

I'm not big on resolutions, if by resolutions you mean a list of things to stop doing in the coming year.  But I am convinced that if I just figure out the perfect schedule, I'll be able to attain all my goals.  We have Bronson Alcott's daily schedule for his family (you know, Louisa May Alcott's dad) posted on a door in our hallway.  It looks so simple.  Though they do get up at 5 AM, and he

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-37658412394990406352009-12-31T10:43:00.000-08:002009-12-31T10:43:43.356-08:002009-12-31T10:43:43.356-08:00

I started my last day of 2009 with toasted country brown bread from Ken's, and a big bowl of caffelatte from my husband (Stumptown beans today--we rotate, based, largely, on what's open when we realize we're out of beans).  I can't imagine anything more wonderful. Today I even spread Paysan Breton butter with sea salt crystals on my toast.  I am so lucky.   Before I head into 2010 and

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-85315198786094745422009-12-30T14:13:00.000-08:002009-12-30T14:38:21.410-08:002009-12-30T14:38:21.410-08:00

When Pavel turned 40 (a couple of years before me), I threw him a big party, filling our small living room with three long tables.  With help from family, I made choucroute for 40.  Our kids, then 9, 12, and 14, mixed martinis for the guests (hopefully they'll always be able to find work).  It was a wonderful party, done largely to celebrate Pavel. But, as most people who are married know (

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-69227371300902101002009-12-22T06:45:00.000-08:002009-12-22T06:45:00.583-08:002009-12-22T06:45:00.583-08:00

 Alfajores  Once I'd made the kids' favorite Christmas cookies, I still only had four types. And I was still missing the kids. It occurred to me that they're off celebrating Christmas in new places, getting their own stories they'll someday share with their own kids. I was starting to feel a little sorry for myself, missing out on their adventures. Ůly So I'm making a second cookie for each

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-59026710813940800622009-12-21T13:39:00.000-08:002009-12-21T23:41:28.982-08:002009-12-21T23:41:28.982-08:00

I'm not going to make you wait a long time to figure out what this is.  Congratulations to those of you who looked at this picture... ...and thought to yourselves, "why, isn't that Giovanna's husband Pavel's grandmother Růža's Ůly mold?". Well done. Perhaps some of you are still a little unclear as to what, exactly, an Ůly mold is. Ůly means 'beehives' in Czech, and the mold is used to

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-87078982136223527712009-12-20T11:43:00.000-08:002009-12-20T11:44:24.699-08:002009-12-20T11:44:24.699-08:00

Anyone know what this is?  I'll fill you in next week...    

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887051362020045576.post-46702854673022922192009-12-18T16:45:00.000-08:002009-12-18T17:07:31.029-08:002009-12-18T17:07:31.029-08:00

 Mexican Wedding Cakes for Francesca I was under a strict gag order until last Wednesday. You see, my 20 year-old-son was leaving Portland to see his girlfriend in Punta Arenas, Chile.  All the way at the other end of the world. Since she didn't know he was coming (tricky in this computer age--he told her he was taking a job washing dishes on Mt. Hood), I couldn't blog, tweet, or facebook

Giovannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16421483187094188495noreply@blogger.com3