Few men turn down the opportunity to play with fire. Charlie is no exception. I think one of the main reasons he chose our Airbnb in Venice Beach (apart from stellar location and geodesic dome in the backyard) was that it had it’s own wood fired oven. Within hours of arriving in L.A we decided to host an Easter dinner with whomever we could gather and fire up a feast.
We hunted and gathered our ingredients from the Santa Monica Market. It wasn’t a huge market, but it boasted some of the best produce in La La Land. We bought buttery and peppery lettuces, kohlrabi, zucchini, dense-sweet tomatoes, Cali cold pressed evoo, rich cream, local pork shoulder, teeny weeny fingerling potatoes, nuts, dried fruits, Bulgarian feta, beets, fresh herbs, garlic galore and perhaps the juiciest strawberries in the universe.
A little herb...?
Choking on all the artichokes they're so good.
Not to forget the life-changing Meyer lemons from Mike's parent's tree. Better than good.
Throwing some fuel on the fire.
A variety of fruit wood roaring in the clay oven. The sweet, smokey smell permeated everything; including our hair, clothes and skin.
I love cooking with Charlie. Who knew? We rarely collaborate in the kitchen. I think I know why:) I have the tenancy to take over in the kitchen. He likes to take his time and know where to find things (our kitchen at home is a miniscule warren that I can quickly navigate). This was an unfamiliar set up for both of us. Time to join forces and create.
Wood-fired bruschetta.
Some of the feast. We got too distracted to keep taking pictures. Time to eat.