I’ve been sitting on this recipe for a while now. Lilikoi is pretty darn hard to come by, even in the mecca of produce that is Southern California, so I’ve been scouring Los Angeles for a source for a few months now. I started working on this dish back in January when I spent time in Honolulu. I had a chance to visit a crazy lady with an organic farm that just spilled lilikoi off the vines that covered all the trees on her 3 acres in Waimanalo. We had a fascinating conversation about her PhD in agricultural economics and the farm school project she was pioneering in a poor area of country Oahu. And she also told me about how the land speaks to her, saying for instance, ‘the universe wants papaya trees,’ or ‘the ipu gourd shall be your guardian.’
The upside of this, um, communing with her garden is that she doesn’t feel the need to use any pesticides, or fertilizer, or grafts, or seeds, or rows, or much of anything. She has volunteers who clear dead brush, but otherwise relies on the wild neighborhood chickens to scatter her seeds for her. It was an enlightening afternoon. I took home 3 dozen fresh, beautiful lilikoi to experiment with: seared ahi with a lilikoi herb marinade, lilikoi sorbet, lilikoi cocktails, and of course, lilikoi lemon bars. But, when I ran out of testing time in Honolulu and came back to LA to perfect the recipes, I encountered a problem. No lilikoi.
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You may not know this, but I’m deep into a project I like to call, “Christine’s Continuing Education.” I’ve been picking up odd catering jobs, bugging people I respect to let me come shadow them, and doing freelance jobs from food publicity to, well, just about anything. I find myself looking for an elegant, made-from-scratch finger food to keep on hand, and over and over I’ve been reaching for these versatile lavash crackers, adapted out of Peter Reinhart’s Bread Baker’s Apprentice. They’re kind of a blank slate food; flavor them with Italian herbs and you’ve got a Mederranean party. 5-spice with sesame seeds give you an Asian feeling, or big salt crystals are beautiful and work well with just about anything. So many options!
Last weekend I had the great pleasure of helping out Denise Vivaldo & Cindie Flannigan of Food Fanatics (the very best in the business, no joke) and photographer Matt Armendariz of Matt Bites at their food styling and photography seminar. I learned an enormous amount, met some fabulous people, and have a whole new set of tricks up my sleeve for beautiful pictures. It was so great to spend two working days in Matt’s Long Beach studio (the props, my god, the props!). Seriously, I can’t recommend it enough–it was an invaluable addition to the “Continuing Education” quest, and a hell of a lot of fun with these hilarious, slightly crazy, and totally wonderful food professionals. For the second day of the seminar, we had the opportunity to bring in our own projects to style and shoot with the help of all three experts. Since I’m so in love with these lavash flatbread crackers right now, I was giddy like a little kid at the chance to bring them into Matt’s studio to style and shoot. And photograph we did. Look!
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Every Easter weekend growing up, Mom and I celebrated with her circle of artist friends with an amazing feast. These women, weavers, sculptors, paper makers, fiber artists, taught me the beauty and thrill of making by hand. These stunning Easter eggs are a perfect example–the dramatic amber color comes from a dye of onion skins, saved from New Year’s day to April, and a resist technique creates the delicate graphic designs on the surface. As a little girl, I was responsible for picking ferns and leaves from the garden outside, while all the women in attendance had to bring their old stockings & nylons (pre-washed, please!) to sacrifice to the scissors. We use the delicate stretchy mesh to secure the leaves and petals on the eggs while they sit in the dye. Fishnets make some great chain-link designs, by the way. Instead of hiding these garnet-colored beauties, we proudly display them at each place setting to whet the appetite for the five course dinner to come. Here in Downtown LA, I not only lack a garden — I can’t even keep anything alive in my windowsill. However, I think I did pretty well with simple parsley leaves and the tops from carrots I got in my weekly CSA box, fresh from the farm.
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What’s a malasada, you ask? Oh, let me tell you. A malasada is a kind of Portuguese donut–since it’s Portuguese, it’s amazingly rich with egg yolks and butter–that I’ve routinely overindulged in to the point of illness since I was 6 years old. Malasadas are a local favorite in Honolulu and, not to brag, but my high school’s recipe is legendary. Every February, the school puts on the Punahou Carnival and the fist-sized malasadas are sold by the thousands at the impressive price of 50₵ per donut. The Carnival supplies the scholarship fund for the school, so it isn’t much of an exaggeration to say that my education was sponsored by these rich, soft, sugary treats.
I mentioned a milestone a while back, and as promised, here comes the first of a string of event-based recipes. Here’s the deal–I’m getting married! We’re deep into the planning stage, and my mind is a flood of hors d’oeuvres, cocktail recipes, and other nice little yummy touches to make the guests feel welcome and make the day a memorable one for all.
As far as I’m concerned, a malasada means festivity and special occasion indulgence. So, I’m excited about this little beverage as a welcome-to-the-party/good-morning-sunshine for the bridal party. High quality Kona coffee is a hard thing to beat. Spiked with a bit of Kahlua or maybe some Bailey’s Irish Cream it’s a great way to begin a day of celebration. Garnished with miniature malasadas, could there be anything better?
So now I have a favor to ask you. We’re entered in a contest to win $100,000 for our dream wedding, of which these mini malasadas are a small (& essential) piece. We need you to vote!! The final round is decided by number of votes then after that it’s up to the judges, but we need your help to get there. Pretty please???
I’ll make you a dozen malasadas each if we make it to the finals–Promise!
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