the great SMOKE out — Arielle Giusto

The day I got promoted from Garde Manger (salad/dessert station) to Grill, I was over the moon. It was 2004 or 2005 at The Olema Inn - now transformed into Sir & Star - and my chef Ed Vigil had really taken me under his wing, teaching an untrained rookie how to cook. He liked having me there because I was a college educated quick learner who was happy listening to NPR with him all day, and I liked it because - I was a line cook! Whether it was out of scheduling necessity or because I'd earned it, moving up to the new station opened up another world. I loved working the grill, keeping all of the temperatures straight, learning the hot spots, and generally feeling important. And then, a few months later, I decided to become a vegetarian.

I'm not sure if it was my hippy boyfriend at the time, or the Fairfax lifestyle I was living (kombucha was then a "new" product and I drank one daily) that made me do it, but working the grill was never the same. I went home absolutely reeking of porkchops and steaks every night. In some sick way I liked the powerful feeling of self control that it gave me. Sort of like the time I was on day four of the Master Cleanse and stabbed myself with an oyster shucker at work on the line. Self control or idiocy? The debate is open. Anyhow, all of this is a long winded way of saying that my relationship with grills has been long and complicated.

While my vegetarian period barely lasted a year, to this day, Nick and I do not eat a lot of meat. I never cook it at home, and we rarely go out, so that about sums it up. It's just not our thing. So grilling has never figured high in our repertoire - give me a 500 degree oven and a pile of vegetables and I'm a happy woman. But then last month when I got a craving to roast a whole fish, Nick said, "let's smoke it!". Now, when this man gets fixated on an idea it is a beautiful thing - shit gets done and it gets done right. We did a mini practice session one week, just the two of us, and then we had a group of friends over for the real deal the next weekend. I think it was the best dinner we've ever cooked.

Hot Smoked Mt Lassen Trout
stuffed with meyer lemon, fennel fronds & spring onions

Smoked New Potatoes
tarragon chive aioli

Chopped Salad of Snap Peas & Radishes
sheep feta, yogurt dressing, mint & basil

Scaccia
it's lasagne bread! This was inspired by the recent Saveur article on Sicily

Nathan's Cake
sesame, umeboshi & rhubarb

I have now found my grill happy place. Nick tends the fire, I stuff fish, prep potatoes and hand them over. My hair still smells like a campfire at the end of the night. But damn that little Weber pumps out a fine meal. It seemed to make friends and small children happy too! With our kitchen remodel about to start, I have a feeling there will be a lot more of Lil' Smoky in our future. You and me, Grill, we're about to have a major reunion. I am ready.

May 11, 2020

Mating Dance

April 1st and it is the 23rd anniversary of my mother’s death. Usually I go walk the beach, to the place where we scattered her ashes and where she spent her last years, but it’s 2020 and the beaches are closed so instead I go for a walk around the block. In my seventh month of pregnancy now and my feet have started to ache from the extra weight, so the walk starts out slowly, gingerly. I conjure her here, in step beside me - Suzanne Segal, born on Friday the 13th and died on April Fool’s Day. Was that her ridiculous way of encouraging us to see some of the humor, the lightness of life? Those deep dimples and that shrieking laugh are with me as much today as they were decades ago.

February 20, 2020

santa fe, NM 1995

My mom and I got off the plane in Albuquerque and headed for the white Isuzu Trooper we kept parked at the airport. After our first few visits to New Mexico, when my mom had properly fallen in love with the landscape and started buying property – all sagebrush and pink dirt – she decided we needed our own car there. This one was properly beat up enough to fit in, as I learned after my eyes had adjusted from the bombastic wealth of the Bay Area to this perennially poor state. But the colors! Even on the license plates! The flamboyant yellow, red and turquoise delighted me, set as they were against the glow of the high desert. I suppose we both were in love with this new frontier.

December 15, 2019

Peeking through the Back Door

I have always felt most at home in restaurant kitchens. No matter how glossy the paint or how shiny the brass door handle on the imposing front door to the dining room, there is always a dinged up, unmarked back door that leads to the real heart of the beast. It took a few weeks into my first cooking job at The Olema Inn to get used to the complete lack of glamour of it all. Only now do I see how the paucity of it helped to form our psyches, ordained us cooks with the chips on our shoulders and the swagger in our steps. We’re here to do the real work. We don’t need no fancy door.