The Salt household was invited to Mehregan last weekend as guests of Network of Iranian-American Professionals of Orange County. I interviewed Dr. Hosseini, the President of NIPOC, for a Persian foodstuffs story filed with the OC Weekly. His organization puts on a large cultural festival that draws over 20,000 Iranian-Americans from across the country to the Orange County Fairgrounds. Sadly, the OC Weekly story didn’t run before this weekend, so we weren’t able to plug the festival as I’d hoped.

Grilled tomatoes

Beef koobideh

Chicken koobideh

About 20 food vendors lined sides selling mostly Persian foods, although roasted corn on the cob and Pizza Hut were there. Local restaurants and catering outfits grilled kebabs of ground meats called koobideh, or pieces of marinated chicken breast called barg. For the same reason that a Fourth of July cookout wouldn’t be complete without burgers and dogs, kebabs are the quintessential cookout food found from Turkey to Mongolia. Even with other food options, a cookout’s not the same without smoky, sensual, satisfying sticks of charry meat.

Ash-e reshteh, garnished with mint oil

I was hoping for more variety among the vendors’ menus, but everyone had similar offerings: a plate of kebabs, plain rice, a grilled tomato, and the noodle soup called ash-e reshteh. A few different kinds of polos would have been nice: the rice pilafs flavored with nuts, fruit, and herbs. Or my favorite stewed meat dish called fessenjan flavored with ground walnuts and pomegranate. But as someone who’s cooked professionallly, I understand that long cooked stews don’t work well for impatient festival crowds that want to eat right now. Kebabs cook up in minutes and keep hungry crowds happy.

One vendor sold Persian donuts, some sweet, some savory. Picture a round oily donut filled with a pleasing, sweet, eggy custard. Another was shaped long, like a fat cruller, but stuffed with potato chunks flavored with dill and mint. Two other varities were made, but we were pretty full at that point. It kills me that I didn’t take photos or notes on what they’re called. Please leave a comment if you know.

What better way to end the meal than at Akbar Mashti’s booth, aka Mashti Malone’s Ice Cream One of Los Angeles’ best ice cream makers brought select flavors including faludeh and my favorite, orange blossom with pistachio nuts. We’re looking forward to next year’s event!

Pupusas are not the infantbearing slings worn by native American women. No, pupusas are to El Salvador what quesadillas are to the United States. None of the very divergent things called quesadillas found across the regions of Mexico are anything like the bland grilled-cheese-on-a-flavorless-flour-tortilla as we know it in the US. But that’s another story for another time.

We’re talking about pupusas: fresh masa dough and savory fillings like cheese, chorizo, meat and vegetables handpatted into a flat round disc about 8 inches in diameter, then griddled until crisp. Make the masa too thin, and the fillings can leak. Make the masa too thick, and it’s as clodgy and heavy as day old oatmeal.

That baby bear, just right balance point tips precipitously close on the too-thin side of the equation, and you’ll find it at Pupusería San Sivar, a wee, modest restaurant in an unassuming Costa Mesa strip mall. Proudly displayed on the door and wall sits their justly deserved Best Eats of OC 2005 award from the paper I occasionally write for, the OC Weekly

Seven classic flavors are offered. Can’t go wrong with revueltas con queso, frijol y chicharron: a mixed cheese, bean and pork filling. I heavily favor the ones here with chicharron. Pollo is a mildly seasoned shredded chicken meat, without cheese, which is only ok in my book. I’m partial to the squash with cheese, called calabazitas. Loroco is a pod-like vegetable whose shreds are sauteed and mixed with cheese. The cheese lets off an agreeable slick of oil, in the way a good New York pizza slice might ooze a little orange grease. Don’t let it harsh your mellow.

Pupusas de arroz, made of rice flour, cost 20 cents more than corn and are an unusual variation on the theme. The rice dough tastes plainer than the corn version, but its texture is phenomenally better in my opinion. Something about the gels and starches in rice give it the ability to crisp into a toasty, crunchy, browned crust.

Rice eating people the world over fight for the crisp brownies at the bottom of the rice cooker. Persians invert this browned crust in the dish called tadig. Japanese grill rice balls into yaki onigiri, and Italians fry rice balls into arancini. Koreans use a superheated stone pot to serve the rice dish calleddolsot bibimbap, which continually toasts your rice while you eat it. Rice’s ability to take on a browned crust makes its way to El Salvador in their most popular dish.
Salvadoran food doesn’t mandate chili heat like so many Mexican dishes, so the spicy variation of curtido, the requisite side dish of cabbage slaw is surprising, and good. Sweet is balanced with vinegar which has been infused with red chili flakes.

San Sivar makes their own horchata salvadorena in house. They flavor this version of the rice drink with ground sesame, cacao bean, pepitas, morro seed and cinnamon. Very unlike Mexican horchata, and definitely not from the concentrate that most restaurants use.

One last bit of advice. Eat pupusas as soon as they hit the table. The half life on these things is about 8 minutes, after which the crisp goes soggy, the starches in the dough stiffen, and the whole thing skids downhill fast and faceplants like your first time on a snowboard. Take out is a last resort, m’kay?

Pupusería San Sivar
1940 Harbor Blvd
Costa Mesa, CA
949-650-2952

The distant helicopter camera shots of the devastation in New Orleans color them with a distant, surreal quality that makes the city look like a parallel universe filled with alien beings.

I then recall the really nice people I met during a handful of visits, and the devastation becomes more real for me. I wonder if they heeded the warnings to get out before the storm, and how their stores, homes and families fared.

Earlier this year, Anthony and Gail Uglesich retired after 50 years of running their legendary family restaurant and closed up shop, with much ado from its fans around the globe. The Uglesich family had operated their humble restaurant in that location since 1849. Located in the shadow of the Superdome in one of the poorer parts of the city, their menu was priced too high for most of their neighbors to eat there on a regular basis. This is where I learned how good fried green tomatoes with remoulade can be, and where my standard for an oyster po’ boy was set.

As soon as you entered the front door, you’d notice a man of impressive stature standing behind a counter, shucking oysters like the champion he was. Michael Rogers loomed over his station and effortlessly opened a dozen oysters using nothing else except an oyster knife, a U shaped anvil of soft metal to steady the oyster and his powerful, well practiced hands. I’d stand in front of him and watch his technique. He’d chatter while he worked, his mouth running as fast and steady as his hands while he’d charm the customers waiting for their food. A plaque on the wall behind him hailed his oyster shucking feats, and he’d gladly relate the finer points of how he’d won these contests.

He’d place an oyster in a dull grey metal block that looked alarmingly like lead, and put the point of the knife in the hinge of the oyster. With a precise push and twist, the oyster would open. He’d slice the meat away from the flat top shell in a flash and serve the critter in its bowl shaped lower shell.

“I never cut into the oyster - knife marks lose you points in competition,” teaching me something I never thought to look for on a plate of raw oysters. Most restaurants hire shuckers to work the raw bar and buy buckets of preshucked “cookers” for use in the kitchen. Uggie’s relied on Michael to open every oyster they’d use because freshness and quality mattered. That counter was his stage where thousands appreciated his easy manner and performer’s charm.

I see the devastated Superdome on TV and know that a half mile away, the flood probably reclaimed the formerly cheery Uglesich building into an otherwise undistinguished and ignominious neighborhood: hip deep in filthy water, and possibly housing catfish that once would have been served there. I think of Michael’s magnetic charm, and hope that he can somehow manage that charming smile in the midst of the devastation. Know sir, that you are loved and remembered by a world far bigger than you can possibly imagine, and our thoughts are with you and your family.

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On a more local note, my friend Brian fowarded a press release from a Thai-Chinese restaurant in Anaheim Hills called Spice Delight that’s raising money for the flood victims. Brian and his wife took us there for a mind blowing dinner, and I’d say it’s easily the best restaurant in the otherwise glum restaurant scene of Anaheim Hills. It compares favorably to Thai Nakorn, a widely praised Thai restaurant in Orange County, minus their focus on the Northern regional dishes of Isaan.

I’ve been holding off on a writeup of Spice Delight until I’ve had a couple more visits, and this fundraising effort seems a good time to do it. John Sangsiri is a 20 year veteran of running Thai restaurants in Florida and Southern California, and has friends and family that lived through the Asian tsunami of 2004.

He’s giving 10% of the daily receipts to charity from September 18 to September 24. They’re open 7 days a week from 11am to 10pm and also offer free delivery within 5 miles on orders over $20.

Spice Delight
124 South Fairmont Blvd.
Anaheim Hills, CA 92808
714-921-8710

Hope everyone had a great 4th of July weekend. For the past few years, I’ve been hired as the grill cook for a ginormous block party in Huntington Beach. Last year’s party got out of hand: over 1000 people showed up and the line at the catering grill never got shorter than 10 people deep for 10 hours, nonstop. Made great money, though. This year, the party committee held a stealth party on July 3 and kept it low key, so only those actually invited showed up. Much less stress for me, and much more fun time hanging out and partying.

A great block to live on

Every single family on this block is out front, grilling and hanging out. The neighbor across the way works for a Temecula winery, and gave free tastings of their champagnes and chocolate port. A volleyball net strung across the cul de sac helps keeps cars out, as does a quarter pipe that the skater grommets hit throughout the afternoon. Neighbors know each other’s names and what the kids are up to. Dogs wander from yard to yard, and are greeted by name wherever they go. It’s that kind of neighborhood that makes me proud to take part in the festivities each year.

Grampas Grass has some chops

My friend Christopher hires the bands, so when I cook at his house, I have front row seats. Grampas Grass lit the fuse on their Bob Weir meets Allman Brothers jams for a solid 90 minute set. Singer Lisa Blue’s voice ranges from a soothing coo to boozy rage: going from “there, now baby, it’ll be ok” to “ok baby, pack up and and get out” in the course of one song. Her cover of Me and Bobby McGee suggests Lisa Blue had her own share of hard living that connects her very personally to that song and the lady who first made it famous. Check them out if they’re playing near you.