Blueberry surprise

Fourth of July cobbler and more recent recs

Last week, after a long dining sprint through New York, I landed in Los Angeles later than anticipated on a Friday afternoon, on the hook for a Fourth of July barbecue dessert. Two things were certain: I’d be making cobbler, and I’d be consulting Clare de Boer.

My savory cooking is mostly instinctual. This fish at McCall’s looks interesting, the jumbo asparagus at Homefarm is undeniable, I can knock out a good fried rice based on what’s in the fridge. Cookbooks, recipes and Instagram might jumble a few new ideas loose, but the path is usually pretty clear.

That’s not the case with pastry, a thing I reserve for entertaining or transporting to a party. I scroll and flip and sit undecided. I don’t especially care about showing off with presentation or technique. Desserts are supposed to make people happy. But what shall it be? This past Thanksgiving, I committed to three desserts from Clare, the founder of Stissing House. In her writing, she knows how to guide inelegant pastry interlopers through accessible, high-flavor recipes.

The Fourth is one of my three favorite holidays, along with Thanksgiving and New Year’s Eve, an excuse to cook extravagantly and Southernly. Clare’s strawberry cobbler was an easy choice. I grabbed fruit and heavy cream on my ride home from LAX, letting the berries macerate overnight.

While the cobbler baked the next day, I stared at a bowl of extra shortbread dough. One thing I’ve been pushing myself to do is riff on desserts in real time. Trying anything sans guidance, with real potential for failure, is the best way to learn. What could I use this for? And what would people like? Probably more cobbler.

I dumped the remains of a bag of frozen blueberries into a pot with sugar, honey and vanilla, not bothering with measurements. Once the fruit broke down and went juicy, I scraped it into a little baking dish and topped it with the leftover dough, plus some sugar, salt and heavy cream. It came out ugly and great. I called it a blueberry surprise.

Later, I strolled through a Los Feliz backyard and began preheating my friend’s oven. Once the cobbler and blueberry surprise were warm enough to be irresistible, I spooned them into plastic cups, added scoops of Straus vanilla ice cream and started ordering folks milling around the kitchen to pass them out. The red, white and blue was unintentional but appreciated.

Bangers

• Bridges: Incredible how well chef Sam Lawrence’s spot has matured from a white-hot 2024 opening into one of New York’s most reliably great dining rooms. I’ve spent the past year enjoying Bridges at the bar, a couple dishes and drinks at a time. It doesn’t quite compare to the brilliance of three hours in one of their banquettes. The current version of the savory custard, featuring cuttlefish, is a masterpiece. The seafood cooking is consistently excellent. In a bangers-only meal with no skips, the comté tart, while still great, fell back into being a bit player. Whatever the fuck they’re doing to this Zerbinati melon sorbet with crème fraîche and caviar is … not fair. If you haven’t been back in a while for a full meal, do it soon.

• It’s fig leaf latte season again at Canyon Coffee. Basically all seasonal lattes are muddled, sugary nonsense. This is my one exception.

• RIP to Olamaie, my favorite of Austin’s mid-2010s wave of fine dining spots and the first American Southern restaurant to earn a Michelin Star. I guess the town’s flood of Oracle sales reps never developed a taste for Hoppin’ John. Chef-owner Michael Fojtasek told the Austin American-Statesman his plans include developing the food and bev concept for a championship golf course. After a decade of margin-crushing grind, I don’t know why chefs in similar positions wouldn’t make the same move, even if it’s a bummer for those of us who love restaurants like Olamaie. Damn.

• Penny remains my favorite restaurant in New York. Every time they change over the menu I get a little bummed — I long for the stuffed squid and the iceberg + mimolette salad — but I respect chef Forrest Florsheim’s commitment to the new. You simply need to visit while this melon and raw snapper dish is available.

• I’m on an absolute dessert binge, one that probably warrants its own ranking. A couple recent favs: the crème brûlée tart at Bistrot Ha, and the strawberry-filled mochi pancake at Morihiro.

• It’s a Slayyyter summer:

Jams

• People should be louder about the wonders of the Lawry’s in Beverly Hills, a place where the median age hovers around 68. Los Angeles is a tough town to find a luxurious, birthday-worthy restaurant. But a booth here loaded with shrimp & corn fritters, a thick-cut prime rib dinner, good cocktails and a See’s Candies Sundae for four … that’s heaven.

• Maybe they’ve always offered this, but the fine folks at Courage Bagels topped my hottie — a fresh bagel straight out of the oven doused in Jersey butter — with drizzles of honey for the first time. Try it.

• My expectations could not have been lower for a late Saturday night reservation at Marcel, the newish restaurant in the old Flora Bar space that now lives underneath the uptown Sotheby’s building. Critics have side-eyed everything about the food and the price. But I don’t know. It was all pretty good! I’ll be back for the $54, PB&J-inspired, obnoxiously large Paris-Brest.

• A delightful New York surprise: Starting a night at Colbo Next Door and finding Chloe Walsh hosting a pop-up. Her roast beef, followed by a slice of chocolate cake, delivered some of my favorite bites in June.

• Next door to Bar Cecil, the same team’s new spot Beaton’s is everything I want when I’m going out in the desert. What a room.

• The deconstructed lemon cheesecake and the off-menu ribs at Bad Roman Beverly Hills are worth the visit alone.

• Some more music I’ve been enjoying: