Gastrolust

We’ve come a long way since the boil-in-a-bag lunches of chicken à la king I enjoyed as a kid back in the Seventies.

But for this collector of kitchen gadgets, I feel like I’ve come full circle with a Sous Vide Supreme (and vacuum sealer for the bags) sitting on my kitchen counter.

Note the location. While my four waffle irons, three woks, and much more are stored away safely in the pantry, this monster of a machine must sit out, taking up valuable real estate in my favorite room in the house.

That said, I’ve been delighted to have an opportunity to demo a unit, and to learn more about the style of cooking (based on precise cooking temperatures) that’s the rage in restaurants–and now in some homes–of late.

I started with the simplest of recipes, a basic chicken breast preparation, and was pleased with the moistness of the meat, though I definitely appreciated the quick searing at the end of the cooking process. A few other meat preparations yielded similar results, including the pictured pork chops, though I can see how some people might initially question the texture of the finished product.

There are many pros to sous vide cooking, such as a fail-proof formula when following recipes (cooking times are forgiving, so it’s hard to dry out meats), fairly quick clean-up, the need to do advanced planning as called for by cooking times.

One of the cons: the need to do advanced planning as called for by cooking times. 72-hour ribs? How many of us can even think past the next 24 hours? (I haven’t gotten to a rib recipe, but I hear they’re amazing.)

For those with counter space or other storage options, The Sous Vide Supreme is a tool that might improve or enhance food preparation. (And while I’ve only discussed meat, you can sous vide fruits, vegetables, and more.) While I appreciate the machine’s capabilities, I don’t have the space, and I also enjoy the challenges of time, technique, and more that make cooking in the kitchen so intriguing and educational. There is one thing, though, for which sous vide technique reigns supreme. More on that next time….

First published on TheSunbreak.com on August 27, 2010.

Ah, the predicament of pizza: so many toppings. Whether you select them individually or go with the restaurant’s recommended combinations (or, perhaps, abstain completely), it’s all about choice.

My partner and I were faced with that choice when we went to Tutta Bella recently for a quickie.

For this sex educator, it’s tempting to turn to “The Couch” episode of Seinfeld for today’s sex lesson. Kramer wants to put cucumbers on his pizza, but Poppie objects, asserting “We cannot give the people the right to choose any topping they want…now on this issue, there can be no debate.” When Kramer fights for his personal pizza-making rights (”It’s not a pizza pie until it comes out of the oven”), Poppie claims “It’s a pizza the moment you put your fists in the dough.” The scene is a brilliant peek at the politics of choice.

But I want to talk about topping talk as sex play.

Sex is like a menu, full of possibilities. You don’t have to like all the choices, but it’s great to have many available, and it’s best to know and talk about them. If you’re on your own, you can choose whatever you like. But if you’re going to share the experience, you’ll need to come to consensus on a choice that works for your entire party. Communicate and negotiate what you want–and what you don’t want. The foreplay should be fun, with lots of “Oh, that would be exciting” and “Mmm…I’ve never done that before” and “Wow, sounds juicy…let’s do it.”

As for what we did? We played around with the possibilities, and narrowed it down to something “experimental” (the Giovanni, with extra virgin olive oil, fresh mozzarella, cherry tomato halves, prosciutto di Parma, fresh arugula, and shaved parmigiano reggiano) and a more standard pleasure (the Regina Margherita, with Pomodoro San Marzano, fresh mozzarella, fresh basil, and extra virgin olive oil). Then taking control of the situation, we asked Tutta Bella to do a split pie. After all, variety is the spice of life.

Don’t forget the “How was it for you?” afterplay. That’s how we learn and grow in a relationship. At Tutta Bella, as much as we liked experimenting with something different, we ultimately preferred the familiarity and joy of the more simple Margherita pizza. There’s no right or wrong on this. It just felt right to us, which is what matters most. And on this issue, there can be no debate.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on August 26, 2010.

Peaches. ‘Tis the season

Earlier this week, I was thrilled to see that Metropolitan Market had brix (basically, a way to sneak inside the fruit to measure its sugar content and predict its sweetness) ratings for its Frog Hollow Farms and Pence Orchards peaches

The Frog Hollow peaches, brought in from California, are beloved and generally fantastic, but the Pence peaches, from the Yakima Valley, were a little less expensive, and had higher brix ratings. (Staff at Metropolitan Market told me that the Frog Hollows had come in too early.) I went local!

My mission was sorbet-making, so I used a recipe from David Lebovitz’s The Perfect Scoop, which has been reliable for me in the past. The finished product was good, but lacked the punch I expected from the ripe peaches. Speaking later with sweets superstar Autumn Martin, we lamented that sometimes peaches and other stone fruits are best eaten out of hand, as the flavor impact gets lost in many, if not most, cooking preparations.

I went back to Metropolitan Market yesterday and was surprised to see the brix signs gone. I then walked across the street to the Queen Anne Farmers Market, found some perfectly good “seconds” under a vendor’s table, and took them home to eat over my sink. They dripped with sweet goodness, just the way fresh, juicy peaches are meant to be.

First published on TheSunbreak.com on August 20, 2010.

A food writer/restaurant reviewer can’t, and shouldn’t, eat out all the time. A simple salad or bowl of broth is a great break from far too much fat that’s inevitable with many meals out.

My go-to meal when the refrigerator and pantry are bare, and I’m otherwise uninspired: ma po dou fu.

I love it, and make it almost every week. After testing many versions, I make mine based largely on Fuchsia Dunlop’s recipe. (Main adaptations: I prefer pork over beef, substitute scallions for leeks, and drop out the white sugar and soy sauce.) As Dunlop describes it, this classic Sichuan tofu dish is named after the smallpox-scarred wife of a Qing Dynasty restaurateur, who prepared the dish for cooking oil-bearing laborers on their way to market.

Ma po dou fu is intended to be a fiery dish, so I laugh when I see the brown versions at area restaurants. Instead, I’m looking for a red color, which makes me salivate from thoughts of spiciness.

In addition to the Sichuanese chili bean paste in Dunlop’s recipe, I typically double the amount of ground, roasted Sichuan peppercorns (this gives the ma, or numbing sensation), add two tablespoons of chili garlic sauce, and then add her suggested ground Sichuan chiles. (The last two items increase the la, or spice/heat factor.) 

Ma po dou fu is a dish I want to taste the next day–and not just as leftovers for lunch.

First published on TheSunbreak.com on August 13, 2010.

Sometimes it’s fun to accessorize sex. You know: take a trip to Babeland or Lovers Package; fill a cart with lingerie and role-playing uniforms, feathers and vibrators, lubes and flavored massage oils; return home to rip open the packages and start playing.

Then again, sometimes you just want to get raw. No accessories. Just you and your objet du désir, naked, sweat and saliva, grabbing and devouring each other–going at it flesh to flesh. Let’s call it “kitfo sex.”

You’re at Meskel for some Ethiopian food, which is a getting-down-and-dirty type of cuisine. There are no cold, distance-creating utensils. You eat with your hands, a sensual pleasure, tearing a palm-sized piece of injera from the basket. Injera, made from teff flour, is the pancake-like flatbread that itself seems like sex–soft, spongy, and slightly damp, with a slight sour tang you can smell and taste.

With that injera, you go in for a scoop of kitfo (literally “diced into pieces” in Amharic, Ethiopia’s common language). It’s mounded on another piece of pillowy injera (here acting like a bed), a primordial mass of raw, freshly ground beef that has a velvety texture and packs a punch from the addition of mitmita (chili peppers, cardamom, cloves, and more) and other spices. You can sprinkle on some berbere, another spice mixture, for even more heat. The kitfo is rich, almost oily, from the addition of niter kebbeh, or seasoned clarified butter, which Meskel’s owner says is the secret of its seductive taste.

Want to accessorize your bite? You get the Ethiopian cheese lab with the kitfo, and you can add that to your scoop. (The photo shows lentils, lamb tibs, and salad along with the kitfo.) But you’re going for the meat. It’s a carnal thing, and there’s something so right about enjoying the bloody, minerally taste. As the meal wears on and your inhibitions vanish, you start to reach for the well-lubricated injera that’s been below the kitfo, sucking up all the flavors from above. Your fingers and the injera become one, both filled with juices.

You’ve been sharing the plate with your partner all along, because that’s how it’s done, but now you want to actually feed each other. Go ahead. Hand-feeding is an Ethiopian tradition known as gursha. While it can be a basic sign of kindness and respect between friends, gursha is also an act of affection between loved ones.

From there, you’ll soon want to further the experience by feeding each other more than just the kitfo. After all, you’re doing it raw.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on August 19, 2010.

Whistler. Coming off this year’s Winter Olympics, the name conjures up images of graceful and powerful athletes wearing skis and riding luges. Even in the height of summer, there’s snow on the slopes and people (mostly young, mostly with snowboards, and mostly texting while riding up the lifts–or so it seems) ascending high above the village, eventually coming down to earth along with fit hikers and ferocious mountain bikers.

Whistler must be one of the fittest places in North America; there’s a lot of beefcake and bodacious bods—healthy people showing off rippling muscles and summer tans.

And then there’s me.

My exercise: hustling from one eatery to another, and then thinking about ways to burn off some calories before inevitably just relaxing or even napping. Some are calorie burners; I, in contrast, am more of a calorie lover.

Not completely, though. In my one previous visit to Whistler, about fifteen years ago, I found myself in a canoe, struggling to row around a lake. And then, afterward, back to my real sport: struggling to find a decent place to eat. A struggle it was. But now, having heard rumblings that the food scene had improved, it was time for a return visit.

In Vancouver, I reluctantly put away my list of dim sum palaces and ramen joints, and skeptically boarded the Rocky Mountaineer to ride the rails to Whistler. While the trip proved that train food is much like plane food (it’s plain food, indeed), the service was stunning, and the scenery spectacular on the sea-to-sky climb.

Leaving urban for countryside, I found myself quickly relaxed, enjoying the views while sipping post-breakfast wine. My only exercise during those three hours: getting up for occasional walks to the open-air Heritage Observation Car when attendants cued us for photo opportunities of Pacific waters, snow-capped mountains, and cascading waterfalls. Little did I realize how making the 74-mile trip by rail, without worry about watching the road, would be such a wonderful experience.

Lunchtime arrival into Whistler meant a chance to drop my bags in my suite at the Westin Resort & Spa, where a fireplace looked like it would be a sweet place to warm up in the winter, and where the kitchen looked tempting–if I didn’t have such a schedule of restaurants to hit.

The feeding frenzy started at Bearfoot Bistro and a look at its extravagant, underground wine cellar. In addition to admiring the huge collection, I found myself learning how to saber champagne. (I opened a bottle using just a glass, and look forward to deploying my new party trick when the next opportunity arises.)

Back upstairs, the chef’s table by the open kitchen was inviting, but summer in Whistler meant sitting outside at a special table by the pool. After sampling some Sevruga caviar and then storming an incredible seafood platter (spot-on fresh, full of local spot prawns, oysters, and Dungeness crab, along with Atlantic lobster—not quite local, but perfectly cooked and oh-so-sweet), I would have been content if the Wagyu short rib with heirloom tomato salad was the finale.

But no. It was time to take a break in the Belvedere Vodka Ice Room, which at -20 degrees Celsius meant wearing a Canada Goose down jacket and hat that the restaurant provided. How cool it was to sidle up to the frozen bar and do a flight of vodkas produced both locally and afar. Best of all, vodka helps push the food down, or so I was told.

A good thing, as it turned out that the kitchen (under Chef Melissa Craig and Pastry Chef Dominic Fortin) was only halfway through the menu. I enjoyed wild Arctic char with tomato panzenella vinaigrette, watercress puree, and crushed fingerlings, followed by “sangria” made with frozen yogurt parfait, macerated berries, muscato d’asti pearls, and lavender.

Nearly four hours after arrival, I prepared to leave, but there was one final show-stopper: nitro ice cream churned tableside, offered with a variety of sundae toppings. I simply had to stay and watch–and, of course, spoon some of that delicious ice cream into my mouth. Eating at Bearfoot is not just a meal, but an experience; I can see why they boast about joie d’vivre at this bistro. And in preparing modern Canadian cuisine with great artistry, they can also boast being Vancouver Magazine’s 2009 winner as “Whistler’s Best Restaurant.”

Laughably late and stuffed silly are the wrong way to go to a massage, but I hustled over to Taman Sari Royal Heritage Spa–the only Javanese spa in North America. Taman sari literally means “beautiful park,” and this turned out to be the ideal place to park myself between big meals. The sounds, smells and sights of this spa were soothing, bringing an immediate sense of peace and relaxation.

I chuckled at the intake form that asked when I ate my last meal (is “still chewing” an acceptable answer?) and whether the therapist should avoid any particular area (my engorged stomach, please), but thoroughly enjoyed the session. The traditional Javanese massage featured continual touch and motion, including many upward strokes to the heart. Stress became history.

But it was the hair and scalp treatment that was most memorable; the spa literature describes it best: “The therapists run their coconut based cream-coated fingers through section after section of hair leaving your head feeling cool, clammy, heavy and ‘gooey’.” Are any of those four adjectives appealing? My head felt like it had been swept through a wok full of curry. But, ultimately, I felt relaxed and light-headed, such that I must have appeared like a drunkard as I stumbled out the door. Miraculously, the bloated feeling was gone.

And also luckily, as I had to head right to dinner at Araxi, the 2010 winner as “Whistler’s Best Restaurant” by Vancouver Magazine. (It’s the restaurant’s tenth time to win the award.) Chef James Walt serves up regional cuisine with a commitment to local, sustainable ingredients. Sometimes simple, yet always stunning.

Take, for example, the knockout course of the night: sweet corn and BC shellfish (Qualicum scallops, Egmont spot prawns and Tofino Dungeness crab) soup with basil tops and baby leek oil. The soup was shockingly simple–a stock made with water, corn (ears and cobs), onion and butter; that’s then cooked with cream, basil, salt and pepper. This is a recipe I’ll be repeating to impress guests.

Other courses included heirloom tomato salad (with buffalo mozzarella, basil sorbet, gazpacho vinaigrette, and nasturtium), crisp wild sockeye salmon (with English peas, summer squash, fava beans, and lavender), and white chocolate-pistachio nougat glace (with blueberries, apricot coulis, and flourless pistachio cake).

Oh…and how can I forget the main course: 72 hour cooked beef shortrib with citrus-pickled carrots, romanesco and radish, as well as carrot puree and ponzu reduction? Good thing the ribs were melt-in-the-mouth delicious, as by now I was tired of chewing, and feeling fortunate that the Westin was just a short walk away. But rest assured: there will be more Whistler adventures in eating and more in the second half of this report, including more vodka, more of Chef Walt, and more short ribs. And something even more outstanding.

Part 2

Waking up in Whistler, this calorie-lover knew there was a big day of eating ahead.

Just a short walk from my base at the Westin is Lift Coffee Company, with outdoor seating and a morning menu that tempted me with a coddled egg and smoked black cod. I enjoyed this little glass ramekin of comfort food, accompanied by assorted baby lettuces, grilled rye, and puttanesca vinaigrette.

What most made me want to order this dish? “Shaved Montana,” which sounds like a great name for a band, but turned out to be a cheese topping for the salad.

Lift’s comfortable outdoor sofas looked tempting for a post-breakfast nap, but those seats have view of the entry point for my next stop: the Whistler Village Gondola, which would take me up nearly 6,000 feet to connect to my PEAK 2 PEAK Alpine Experience.

Choose your Peak 2 Peak gondola correctly, and not only do you have a 360-degree, panoramic view from as high as 1,430 feet from the valley floor, but you might also have floor windows that allow you to look straight to the ground.

For someone who no longer skis, this 2-and-3/4 mile journey was a great way to get a feel for the majesty of the Olympic venue, and a sense of awe in the marvel of construction of the peak-to-peak cable connection. Completion of Peak 2 Peak broke records for longest unsupported span, highest lift of its kind, and longest continuous lift system on the planet.

There are great hiking, biking, and skiing opportunities at both Whistler and Blackcomb mountains, but for this indoor extremist, a little time taking in the view was enough before descending down the open-air lifts to the Blackcomb base in the Upper Village. (The open-air lifts are thrilling, but while it might be hot down at the base in the summer, you might want a jacket for the rides, and the higher elevation.)

After the exhilarating experience, I was now, appropriately enough, in the Whistler Kids area, watching future outdoor extremists in the making, and in close range of a stroll through the farmers market. The market is open Sundays from June to mid-October and features fresh produce from the nearby Pemberton Valley and beyond, as well as chance to appreciate the work of local artists and musicians. This meant lots of opportunities for sampling just-baked bread, summer fruits and vegetables, chocolates, and more.

But not too much, as my next stop was Sidecut–the newly renamed restaurant at the Four Seasons Resort Whistler. I almost got sidetracked by the wonderful smells of an outdoor barbeque which would have special appeal to families, but instead I had a seat in another outdoor dining area and prepared for a carnival of carnivorous delights. (Diners opting for indoor seating can still enjoy the outdoors, as floor-to-ceiling windows reveal gorgeous views of the surrounding mountains.)

Sidecut is named for the distinctive curved shape of skis, as well as the location of a cut of beef, so it’s no surprise that steak is a specialty of the restaurant. Especially impressive were the choice of custom rubs for the steaks (top-level Canadian beef aged 40 days), which are perfectly cooked using an 1,800 degree infrared grill, along with a presentation of six sauces for each entrée.

For those branching out beyond steak, Sidecut offers double-cut Sterling pork chops, BC Fallow venison loin, bone-in braised bison short ribs, and more. And for those who prefer surf over turf, the choices of locally sourced seafood are also superb. The wine selection is extensive, the desserts are extravagant, and best of all, the Four Seasons’ service and style are stunning. I wanted to linger here, but stomach stuffed, it was on to the next stop (but not before making arrangements to return).

Recall that, according to my friends in British Columbia, vodka helps push the food down, clearing the way for more. With a promising grand finale dinner ahead, it seemed appropriate to first visit Pemberton Distillery. Using locally grown organic potatoes (Pemberton is rife with potatoes) and pure mountain water, master distiller Tyler Schramm slowly produces authentic sipping vodka that showcases the uniqueness of the raw ingredients, resulting in a velvet smooth finish.

His first vodka hit the market one year ago, and in producing just 1,200 bottles per month (compared to Smirnoff’s 10,000 liters per hour), the care is reflected in the rich character of the final product. (Mark your calendars for 2015, as single malt whisky production has started this year, with the whisky set to age in oak casks for at least five years.)

Just a short drive away is North Arm Farm, site of the Outstanding in the Field dinner, my most anticipated meal of the getaway. Outstanding in the Field dinners epitomize the farm-to-table experience by putting the table on the farm.

These feasts unite farmers, culinary artisans and producers, chefs, winemakers, and diners at coast-to-coast events throughout the year, typically starting with a tour of the farm and ending with a spectacular meal prepared by a local, celebrity chef.

For the second straight year, James Walt did the honors, and based on my meal the previous evening at Araxi, I knew it would be a good one. But this good?

I never imagined that service for 160 people with unique cooking challenges could be of such high quality. (I loved sneaking over to the food prep area to watch Walt gently coax the best out of his cooks. Calmly and gracefully, he’d tell his team to “make it perfect,” and perfect it was.)

The menu:

First Course

Dungeness Crab
crab wrapped in a thin egg crepe with gazpacho
North Arm flowers and herbs with garlic scapes
Leggiero Chardonnay 2009

Second Course

North Arm Farm Squash Blossom
stuffed with Salt Spring Island Moonstruck cheese
cherry tomato vinaigrette and grape must
Vivace Pinot Grigio 2009

Third Course

Ballotine of Wild Sockeye Salmon
Sturdy’s sweet peas, salmon caviar and peppermint
Root Down organic greens and basil
Lastellina Merlot Rosato 2009

Main Course

Pemberton Meadows Beef Fillet
with crisp beef cheeks and shortrib and North Arm horseradish
salsa verde with North Arm beets and globe carrots
Maestoso Merlot 2007

Dessert

Duo of North Arm Berries + Oliver Cherries
Valrhona chocolate mousse cakes, brandied cherries
almond crusted choux buns with marinated berries
Moscato d’Osoyoos 2009

I didn’t think it possible to improve upon the short rib dish of the previous evening, but this was simply stellar. Crispy, fat-enhanced meat…amazing. And made better by the most colorful vegetables, fresh from the farm. Might I mention that the host farmers at North Arm are Jordan and Trish Sturdy, and that Jordan also happens to be the mayor of Pemberton?

I sat across from Jordan and enjoyed the conversation at the table, but I couldn’t stop surveying the scene around me: the bounty of the farm, the beautiful flowers in the fields, and the backdrop of the Garibaldi Range, with snow-capped Mount Currie, over 8,500 feet high, just in front of me.

This was perhaps the most majestic setting I’ve ever had for a meal. Time your trip right, and you can enjoy it, too, as early word is that Outstanding in the Field will return to Pemberton next year. You might be dinner for some mosquitoes, but it’s worth it for the magnificent dinner you’ll experience.

Still full from the previous day’s food, I woke early the next morning for a final stroll through Whistler. I walked with some early-birds hitting the slopes for skiing and snowboarding, but soon parted ways and found myself back at the Four Seasons.

What better way to wrap up my stay in Whistler than with a Sea-to-Sky Signature Massage at the Spa at Four Seasons Resort Whistler?

In contrast to the previous day’s treament, which was deeper and tension-relieving, this was more relaxing—also using long (in this case, Lomi Lomi) strokes, along with warm oils. As much as I wanted to stay and enjoy the tranquility of the relaxation room afterward, I felt invigorated and inspired to move on to my next meals. It was time to take the calorie count to Vancouver.

(Spa photo courtesy of Four Seasons Resort Whistler)

Note: This was originally posted at The Sunbreak in two parts on August 4 and August 16.

You’re together at last, just you and the Beef Bing you’ve ordered at Henry’s Taiwan (either the Bellevue or Seattle location). You’ve played the field, but perhaps you’ve never been with a Bing. It’s time to get acquainted. Laying (and, indeed, lying) before you, a Bing is like a Chinese flatbread, this one the size of a hockey puck; and while you sense that juicy, meaty goodness awaits you, you can’t help but wonder what the Bing will be like once you make that first physical contact.

You might want to jump right in, but it’s better to wait, anticipate, and savor the moment–this Bing’s so hot that it’s best to chill a bit. Eventually, the time feels right, but you’re understandably unsure. Just grab Bing with your hands? Or more tenderly tease with an extension of yourself, using chopsticks to gently grasp it? One thing’s for sure: You don’t want to go the violent route, cutting it open and causing it to “bleed.”

Now you’re holding Bing at last. At this point, I’d usually recommend a gentle approach, incorporating little nibbles. But you’ve been good, so you go for a well-deserved, full-on bite. Then, suddenly…Bing bursts with a liquid explosion, warm juice spraying everywhere. That’s okay: It happens. You bring Bing back to the plate before bending downward to enjoy another bite, perhaps licking or slurping the pool of juice to not waste it. And to truly taste it. (Ah, that’s onion and cilantro mixed with the ground beef!)

In the Sexy Feast, we’ll encounter many dishes that may be new to us–things we wish came with an owner’s manual. Just as I believe our bodies should come with owner’s manuals, especially when we operate them sexually. With another’s body, as with the Bing, do what’s comfortable and feels right–but always do it with respect. The interaction might be intimidating at first, but don’t be embarrassed. Laugh about it if you don’t get it right the first time. That’s part of the process.

Most of all, and I’ll say this often, communicate. Sexually, that should be with your partner. Bing-wise, ask Henry (or one of his helpers) how to handle the Bing. He’ll tell you what moves to make (such as “lubricating” it with black vinegar), and he’ll gladly introduce you to other potential objects of affection. (Bing is but one of many fabulous food items on a menu I appreciate for its low-cost, good quality Chinese food.) Best of all, Bing comes two to a plate, so you can share the experience with someone else, or go a second round if you have the stamina and desire.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on August 12, 2010.

There’s an old joke that asks why women fake orgasms.

Answer: Because men fake foreplay.

Okay, I know what you’re thinking: Not another sex-filled food column. But wait, there’s a point: In Sexy Feast, I’ll go out each week to an area restaurant, find something sexy to eat, and report back with a lesson in love. The dish itself might be sexy, or, even better, teach us something about sex and relationships. After all, sex and food are both about pleasure, right?

Now you’re probably wondering: So who is he to take on this task? And what makes this different than all the other food porn I’m seeing here?

Voracious has a talented roster of writers making sexual jokes involving sausage fest-filled orgies with great racks and balls, but now there’s a real sex (and food) fiend on staff. In addition to years of freelance food writing (with a big case of Gastrolust), I’m a professional sex educator, certified by the American Association of Sexuality Educators, Counselors, and Therapists (a fancy way of saying I’m legit). After seven years with Planned Parenthood, I’ve been touring the college lecture circuit full time since 1992, delivering my insights and outbursts on love, sex and dating to students around the country and beyond. And now I’m here to share some tender morsels with you.

Which brings us back to the foreplay joke.

It’s easy to be goal-oriented with sex, and it’s the same with food. I recently visited the newly opened Copperleaf Restaurant at Cedarbrook Lodge, reading a menu that told the tale of a great night ahead: a chef’s tasting of asparagus salad, halibut with heirloom tomatoes and sweet corn, pork belly with garden turnips, grilled strip loin with spring vegetables, and fromage blanc ice cream. Oh…and a happy ending of Theo’s hot chocolate. So imagine my surprise–and delight–when a picturesque plate hit the table.

An amuse-bouche.

From the French amuser (”to amuse” or “to please”) and bouche (”mouth”), an amuse-bouche is something unexpected, something you don’t order, a greeting from the chef in the form of a small bite to tickle the taste buds–to amuse the mouth. I’d been so focused on the courses ahead, mouth already watering, that I admittedly didn’t hear the server’s description of the dish when he put it before me. All the more reason I took it in breathlessly, appreciating the sight of the delicate edible flower, the taste of the chicken confit, and the smell and texture of the truffled potato puree–all sitting in a stunningly green pool of parsley coulis.

Consider Copperleaf’s dish your sexual amuse-bouche. When partaking in the pleasures of the flesh, enjoy the unexpected. Take small bites. Don’t rush. And don’t be goal-oriented. Appreciate the stimulation of the senses for what it is. Orgasms are great, but don’t assume a before in foreplay. Sex isn’t the entrée or the dessert, but the whole meal. So welcome to your Sexy Feast. We’ve got a lot of menus to explore.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on August 5, 2010.

More of the meal:

Yakima Valley Asparagus with cherries, spring onions, summer truffles

Kodiak Island Halibut with heirloom tomatoes, sweet corn, house-cured bacon

Snake River Farm Pork Belly with garden turnips, dijon, wild arugula

Grilled Painted Hills Strip Loin with baby carrots, morels, English peas

Fromage Blanc Ice Cream with garden strawberries, spearmint biscotti

Theo’s Hot Chocolate service

Close-Up: Theo’s Hot Chocolate with mignardises

I’ve been reconfiguring my writing responsibilities.

I’m sad to leave Seattlest after four years of food writing there, but am happy to join The SunBreak as food editor, where I’ll be posting about some recent escapes from Seattle and, of course, reporting a bit about the Seattle food scene.

In addition, I continue to bring my professional worlds of sex and food together. This week I joined the fine folks at Seattle Weekly’s Voracious blog, debuting a weekly feature called “Sexy Feast.” Unlike my regular “Hot Plate” column in Edible Seattle that interviews a chef, restaurateur, food purveyor, etc., each Thursday’s “Sexy Feast” features one restaurant dish – and I describe what’s sexy about it, or even better, what the dish can teach us about sex and relationships. I’ll cross-post the first entry here shortly, but if you’re anxious, you can see it now at Voracious.

Akiko and I fell in love with Portland after last year’s feeding frenzy, so it was time to return to hit old favorites and to discover new ones. 

A first stay at Hotel Fifty and a return to Hotel Lucia gave us four nights of downtown convenience, in walking range of places in the Pearl District, and just a hop over the river to the many great restaurants on the east side of the city. We also love the food carts and the farmers markets in Portland. The food scene remains vibrant, challenging us to again squeeze in as many meals as possible. (Sadly, Le Pigeon, Castagna, Apizza Scholls, and Toro Bravo remain on the to-do list.) We joined forces with our friends Henry and Lorna, visiting at the same time, as four can order more – enabling us increased ability to sample from the menus. Pictured is my favorite dish from the trip, but you’ll have to link to one of the following places to find the source of that treasure:

Day 1

• Lunch #1: Nong’s Khao Man Gai
• Lunch #2: H5O Bistro
• Dinner:  Duck Pond Cellars winemaker dinner at H5O Bistro

Day 2

• Breakfast: H5O Bistro
• Lunch: Fenouil
• Dinner: Olympic Provisions
• Dessert: Whiffies Fried Pies

Day 3

• Breakfast: Autentica
• Daytrip: Sake One (Forest Grove)
• Lunch: La Estrella #2 (Forest Grove)
• Dinner: Tanuki

Day 4

• Brunch: Simpatica
• Dessert Sampling: Fenouil
• Dinner: Whiskey Lounge and Pok Pok

Day 5

• Brunch: Tasty n Sons