Birthdays are funny things. It’s that one-day a year, where self- absorption is excused, the one day where the words “thank you,” seep out of my mouth over and over again. In retrospect, every day is ours, but birthday’s are that one day a year when an inexplicable, great feeling takes over us.  As the years have passed, no longer are trips to Disneyland, Cabbage Patch Dolls or Salt and Peppa tapes a priority. Neither are bars or clubs, nope, these days its all about food.

On my 30th birthday, I woke up at 5 a.m. to be in class by 7 a.m. I was in culinary school and it was the first day of my last class “Production,” with the very sweet and patient, Chef Mike Weller. The cold San Francisco wind slapped my face into adulthood as I left my apartment that morning. I spent the rest of that day in class and the rest of the evening in a glutinous, food and wine haze. That year signified more than a number for me, it was when I inherited a lifestyle that makes me grin from ear to ear. It was when I realized that for the rest of my adult life, my hands were going to be very, very busy. Ever since then, my birthday has turned into a night dedicated to multiple foodgasms.

This year, in continuing this new tradition, I went to dinner with my two lovely ladies Ani and Talin. Ani and Talin are what I refer to as my “Ying and Yang,” Talin is my mind and Ani is my soul. Our destination of choice was The Bazaar, chef José Andrés’ venture into Lala a.k.a. Los Angeles. Chef Andrés is a culinary gift from Spain by way of Washington D.C. He comes from the school of the great culinary god, Ferran Adria of El Bulli. El Bulli and Mr. Adria will be discussed on another occasion, although finding the right words to talk about him might prove difficult. No, today dear reader, we will take a subtle walk through the colorful pathways of The Bazaar.

I say subtle because this was my first trip to The Bazaar, therefore I think its only fair that I reserve passing full judgment on the experience until I’ve gone back at least one more time. So lets think of this as Part 1 of exploring L.A.’s new trip down Molecular Gastronomy lane. We arrived that Sunday evening at the SLS in Beverly Hills, the sleek, butter smooth, Philippe Starck designed hotel that houses The Bazaar. Starck’s design begins from the driveway of the hotel and runs all the down to the depths of the stunning  women’s bathroom. It’s detailed, clean, and has a cold warmth to it.

We were seated in the middle of the Rojo room where waiters and waitresses with electronic devices strapped to their arms ran around like robots. The open kitchen was to the right as a bar laden with charcuterie stared at us from the left. Divided into sections, the menu showcases both old (Blanca) and new (Roja) world Tapas. The choices were abundant, sounded heavenly, and although a bit overwhelmed, this is what we chose…

Our wine of choice was the very delectable Roja Sangria made with a fabulous Tempranillo. We all hummed with wide eyes as we toasted our glasses, the wine was truly wonderful. Plus, Talin is pregnant and there is nothing more beautiful than the site of a pregnant woman with a great glass of wine in her hands. It was a proud moment, our little niece currently tucked safely in her mommy’s tummy, got her first taste of Molecular Gastronomy. The parallel being that both she and this movement in food signify the future.

The Seared Piquillo Peppers stuffed with Goat Cheese were first to arrive and a good start. The warm and silky pepper was a perfect backdrop for my favorite cheese.

The second to arrive were the Ottoman Carrot Fritters with Pistachio sauce. Seemingly a dabbling in Turkish food, these deep fried fritters were crispy yet textural and tasted like a carrot donut. The pistachio sauce gave a creamy and almost bitter contrast that worked well.

The creamy Egg & Cauliflower Custard with its minimal presentation, had a soothing taste & texture.

The parpadelle resembling Apple and Fennel salad with Manchego cheese, walnuts, and Cave vinegar was a good palate cleanser.

Next, the Cotton Candy Foie Gras floated onto our table. One of the restaurants most popular dishes, the lollipops consisted of foie gras, coated with chili, and wrapped in corn chip cotton candy. The taste of the liver reminded me of a creamy terrine as the taste of the corn from the cotton candy slowly faded to the back of my mouth. It was just as good as I imagined it to be.

Yummy Sweet Potato chips with a dip made from Greek yogurt foam, tamarind reduction, and star anise. Chips and Dip in a Four Star restaurant couldn’t have been better.

Tuna Toro Nigiri with watermelon, wasabi, jalapeño, and a Soy foam, I loved the idea of it but the fish could have been fresher that day.

The achingly tender Braised Veal Cheeks were cooked sous vide and served with California orange segments. The Philly, which melted in our mouths was a reinterpretation of the classic sandwich. The “Air bread” was filled with molten white cheddar and topped with seared Wagyu beef and a shower of scallions and sea salt.

For dessert we were taken to the open spaced Patisserie, which is adjacent to the lobby. After reading all the decadent dessert choices, we chose the Nitro Coconut Floating Island. The coconut cream takes on the texture of a meringue sans the egg whites with the help of Liquid Nitrogen. The banana’s on bottom were coated with caramel and chocolate, the meringue was nice, I like the way it dissolved at first bite, leaving a strong taste of coconut behind.

Talin, Ani and I had a beautiful and much needed night of reminiscing, bonding and laughing. We’re of the age now where marriage and children have given way to the crazy nights of debauchery we experienced throughout our 17 years together.

The restaurant has been open for over a year, and for some odd reason I held back from going there for a long time. My foodie friends were always baffled as to why of all people I had not yet allowed my palate to absorb Chef Andrés’ creations. I have no answer except maybe subconsciously I was scared that it would disappoint me.  Since having moved back to L.A. it’s been somewhat of a challenge readjusting to this city’s food trends, San Francisco spoiled me greatly. I look foreword to coming back and walking down the paths of The Bazaar. I’m happy to say that I was not disappointed and that my palate did experience a beautiful waltz that night. Yet another beautiful culinary memory has danced its way to the corners of my mind.

It must have been our third of fourth time hanging out together. I had been dating this guy for a few weeks, and that evening he had invited me over for dinner to impress me with his favorite “stew”. The stew was good, what wasn’t good was the conversation that ensued from it. While we ate, I told him that I’m generally not a fan of stews except for this Persian stew called Abgoosht that my mom makes. I explained that what made her stew so good was the bone marrow in it. As I continued to vividly describe how succulent and irresistible bone marrow is, I could see a countenance of disgust take over his face. He was a Pathologist and so if anyone, I expected him, of all people, to appreciate the value of bone marrow.

Yeah… not so much.  The first words out of his mouth were, “You know what you’re doing is very pathological right?”

“How so?” I asked, “Have you ever heard the expression, you are what you eat?” he replied.

I frowned at him and asked, “So you’re telling me that by eating bone marrow, I’m eating myself?”

He said, “Yes,” to which I condescendingly replied, “Well, at least I taste good.”

Oh, the irony of my attempts for ten minutes to try to explain to this “Pathologist” that bone marrow was highly nutritious and good for the brain. I kept repeating the sentence “It’s a wonderful source of protein and high in monounsaturated fats – the good fats- and it tastes so good.” He shook his head continuously.  To him, even as a scientist, eating bone marrow was an act of food extremism, one that he found hard to swallow.  I told him he lacked an imagination and had no idea what he was missing out on. My Persian-Armenian girlfriends and I laughed about it later.  We concluded that homeboy was clueless and accusing someone of being “pathological” for eating Abgoosht was merely a reflection of his own pathology.

Bone marrow is the perk that comes with eating Abgoosht, a Persian stew whose recipe my mother has conquered. The shanks and the bone marrow marinate slowly for hours enriching the broth while the addition of dried limes, chickpeas, tomatoes, potatoes and savory leaves, brings together a great stew. It’s a flavorful and aromatic stew that’s a perfect way to warm you on a cold winter night.

My mamma’s broth is so damn good it should be patented. She mostly makes it in the winter.  She always makes enough to last a couple of days, and in that time it is devoured with delight. There are a few dishes for which my mom’s hands have a magical touch. Her Dolma, her Vindaloo, Coffee cake and Macaron are my favorites, but her Abgoosht is out of control. She was 22 when this photo was taken.  She had just gotten engaged to my father. She has that soft, content look on her face and she probably hadn’t learned to make Abgoosht just yet.

There is no doubt that bone marrow has a very distinct taste and texture, you either love it or hate it. I love it so much that I almost fainted from bliss when I saw this photo of my imaginary husband Anthony Bourdain with only a bone in his hand. The photo is from the book My Last Supper and is his homage to bone marrow, for which I graciously thank him for it every time I bite down on a piece of one. Bone marrow is usually cooked by braising it, such as with Osso Bucco (Italian), roasting it like Os a Moelle (French), or slow cooking it like Abgoosht (Persian). Ab in Farsi means water, in this case stew, and Ghoosht is in reference to the type of stew, in this case beef.

My favorite place to get bone marrow in Los Angeles outside of my mom’s kitchen is at Mario Batalli and Nancy Silverton’s, Pizzeria Mozza. Every few months my friend James and I have “Bone Marrow Dates.” We get together on a Sunday afternoon, get toasted on Perseco and eat bone after bone, topped with sea salt, roasted garlic and parsley leaves. James is fabulous.  He’s an accomplished celebrity photographer I met a couple years ago while eating bone marrow at Mozza. We bonded over the marrow, and when we get together he tells me his juicy celeb stories, as we both drool over the juicy bone marrows on our table. I just made Abgousht for the first time a few days ago.  My mom, Arax instructed me step by step and I followed. The smell of the broth slowly crept into the kitchen and I couldn’t help but peek in over and over again and get an Abgousht facial as the steam rose to my face. In the process of learning to make this stew, I also decided to properly learn to make roasted bone marrow. For inspiration I drew from Mr. Batalli, with his jolly belly and orange Crocs. I bought a couple of shanks, roasted them in the oven, and then I carefully slid them onto a toasted baguette and topped it with parsley, Fleur de Sel and lemon juice. It provided the perfect excuse to bust out the white truffle oil.  Yes, I topped my fatty bone marrow with the truffle oil, and it was superb and worth every drop.

Being referred to as pathological that evening tickled my own bones a bit.  It got me thinking that there is a very primal aspect to sucking marrow out of a bone. It is something many of us have done since childhood without giving it a second thought.  In the chapter “What I Lived For,” in “Walden”, Thoreau explains his decision to move to Walden Woods. In the book he says, “I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life . . . to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”  I can’t think of a more perfect way to describe not just the importance of living life to the fullest, but living life in a truly conscious fashion. For me this includes eating all the bone marrow that life has to offer and maybe even looking within when I do eat it. Looking back, in retrospect maybe the scientist was right; eating bone marrow is like taking in parts of our own selves.  But I prefer Thoreau’s take on it.  In case you’re wondering what happened with Mr. Pathologist and I, we eventually went our separate ways. Besides, I couldn’t see myself dating a man who dated a woman that he thought was a pathological eater.

Dried limes can be found in most Middle Eastern stores or here. Dried savory leaves can be found in the spice section of most supermarkets or here.

Arax’s Abgoosht

Yield 4-6 servings

2 – 3 beef shanks with bone marrow attached

6 – 8 cups of water

1 cup garbanzo & white beans (mixed)

3 – 4 Limoo Amani (Dried Limes)

3 tomatoes skin removed, chopped small dice

1 onion, chopped medium dice

3 garlic cloves, chopped small dice

2 ½ tsp savory leaves (Dried)

5 cardamom pods

5 bay leaves

2 tsp turmeric

2 tsp curry powder

2 tsp hot pepper paste

2 tsp kosher salt

2 potatoes chopped medium dice

1 lemon

1 Lavash or Pita bread

1. Place shanks in a large pot with 6 cups of with water and bring to boil. Skim the froth as it forms.
2. Add the next 12 items, cover and cook on medium heat for 2-2 ½ hours until meat is tender. Add more water if you would like to have more broth.
3. Add the potatoes and lemon juice, cook on medium heat for 20 minutes.

Serve with lavash, break lavash or pita into small pieces, add to the stew and enjoy.

Roasted Bone Marrow

Yield 4 servings

4 Beef shanks with Bone Marrow

3 tsp parsley, whole leaves

Fleur De Sel or course Sea salt

1 lemon, juiced

1 baguette French, sliced, toasted

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees, cover a large sheet pan with foil and cook marrow for 12-15 minutes, until marrow bubbles but not spilled over.
2. With a thin knife, slowly carve out marrow from the bone and slide onto toasted bread, top with salt, parsley leaves and lemon juice.