Friday, June 29, 2018

FEELING BLUE... APRON (and oh, so Plated)

(and oh, so Plated)

 OK - you know me.  I'm a foodie...  from Bonnie Lu's Cafe, a terrific diner here in Ojai, to the French Laundry in Napa - I love it all.  I'm still searching for the perfect cheeseburger and dream of dining at Per Se in Manhattan.

Because of Richard's gig as a food writer/producer for the Food Network, right after 9/11 we got to escape the horror for a few weeks and travel around Europe being wined and dined by some of the best chefs in the world... check out the towns, cities, wines and food in my blog series, "Five Guys & Me" as we journeyed from an idyllic small town in Germany to cities in France and Italy, ending in Florence.

"My" 5th Guy Took This Pic on Our lst Night In Europe and a Sleepover in Frankfurt

We were spoiled. Or so I thought.  

Recently, Richard and I were gifted with a package of three free Blue Apron dinners for two (meals for more than two are also available) and liked them so much, we gifted ourselves a few more times. 

Why, my friends ask?  You've been fed by some of  the greatest cooks in the world, why would you want packaged dinners?  You love to cook, they argued.  (Oops, no - not me guys -I don't actually "love" to cook, though Richard does).  I tried explaining... life gets busy, even the thought of planning a menu or going marketing can become overwhelming day after day after day after day (ask anyone who cooks at home most nights like we do), especially now that Richard has become the Artistic Director of the Ojai Art Center Theater and the last thing on his mind is cooking, so most marketing and meals are left up to me.  I tend to make the same things over and over again and these Blue Apron dinners were inventive and good.  No, they didn't compare to a Paul Bocuse or Thomas Keller meal (but they don't cost an arm and a leg, either).  And, no, they didn't even  compare to one of Richard's gourmet forays, but everything was fresh and we loved the recipes - the combinations of textures and tastes.

The first time the three dinner combination of seasonings, produce and either meat, chicken or fish (there are vegetarian option) package arrived at our front door, it felt like Christmas morning.  Excitedly, we unpacked the box to see what surprises awaited us.  Everything looked so fresh.  And, none of the dinners had a long prep time since everything was chopped and/or measure out beforehand.  For the first time in a while, Richard actually wanted to get back in the kitchen, so he made the dinners and, when we sat down to eat them, it felt like we had ventured out to a new restaurant.

Here are some of our favorite Blue Apron meals (Plated below).

Crispy buttermilk catfish - so delish and neither of us particularly like catfish:

recipe card

Cornmeal Crusted Shrimp Po' Boy (I never had a "po' boy" before) - this was one of my favorite Blue Apron suppers - full disclosure:  I love sandwiches:


Be still my heart
Beef Medallions with Mashed Potatoes & Balsamic Pan Sauce w/ Spinach:


recipe card
Tho we loved the recipe (and other beef/steak recipes) our only complaint w/ any of Blue Aprons meals is that the beef can be a little chewy.  

Shrimp & Spaghetti Marinara w/Spinach:

recipe card
ready to eat

Tex-Mex Chicken & Cheesy Rice:


recipe card
Soooo good - love the cheesy rice

Discovering my new found addiction to Blue Apron, Alexandra, my wonderful cousin, gifted us w/ Plated - another version of Blue Apron which was equally fresh and delicious.  Take a look...

Salmon & Creamy Dill Sauce:


recipe card

Plated plated (this was an exceptionally delicious dinner)
Chicken Marsala:


recipe card
Another oh, soooo delicious entree
We've stopped ordering the meals for now, and are back making some of our own tried and true dinners - but we miss those "Christmas mornings" when we got to open up a Blue Apron or Plated delivery and discovered new recipes to make without leaving the house.

Sooooooooooooo, if you're tired of the same ol', same 'ol -  give Blue Apron or Plated a try. We loved them and plan to order them again.

Thursday, May 24, 2018


with Spinach

So, there I was ready to plan the evening supper and there was nothing in the refrigerator.  Well, "nothing" is relative, there was some Swiss cheese, sliced ham for sandwiches, a little bit of spinach and other veggies, some nuts and jellies, mustard and ketchup, mayo, but nothing to inspire an evening meal.  I checked the pantry.  Cold cereal. Panko. Crackers. Some pasta (not in the mood for pasta).  Some canned goods.  Tuna.  Jarred marinara sauce.  Boring.  I could go to the supermarket, but I was working on my new book and didn't feel like it.  I'd think of something.

And I did.  Seeing the marinara sauce spurred my taste buds, but not for spaghetti.  I opened the freezer. Yay!  Some frozen, boneless, skinless chicken breasts still there from Costco.  I'll make chicken parm and a veggie side.  Richard loves chicken parm and he's been so wrapped up in rehearsals (he's directing a play to open June 22nd at the Ojai Art Center Theater where he's the Artistic Director), he's been too busy to cook and y'all know I'm not a bad cook, but he's the chef in the family... but I digress.

When the breast had thawed, it was time to start supper.  I checked the refrigerator again and found some chilled chardonnay and poured a glass while I ferreted behind a bottle of teriyaki, sparkling water, diet coke, a dozen eggs, two bags of ground coffee, those jams, two frosted beer mugs (no beer) and a box of baking soda.  No parm.  Well, there was some store bought parmesan (& romano), but no mozzarella.  I have no idea why they call chicken parmesan, chicken parmesan, when it's made with mozzarella, but I digress again.  

BUT, there right in front of me was that store bought parm/romano and that Swiss and that ham!  I wanted a supper with melty cheese, so the Swiss would just have to do.... and there's that sliced ham... the spinach!  Egg!  Panko in the pantry!  A figurative light bulb went off over my head.

with Spinach

One large boneless, skinless chicken breast (2 if they're small)
2 Swiss cheese slices
2 Ham slices
Fresh uncooked spinach leaves
Extra Virgin olive oil (or regular olive oil)
A sprig of rosemary
Panko (or bread crumbs)


I preheated the oven at 350 degrees.
I placed the breast between two sheets of wax paper and pounded the life out of it, then swooshed it around in the beaten egg.  Both tasks are a great way to get rid of aggression... the wine helps.

I added some chopped fresh rosemary, parmesan & romano cheese, salt and pepper to the Panko,

The Panko mixture
  then dredged the breast in the mixture.

I browned the breast in extra virgin olive oil in a frying pan

then placed it in a Pyrex dish and covered the breast with the spinach leaves, ham slices and Swiss cheese.  Spinkled some EVOO on top and popped it in the oven for about 20 to 30 minutes, depending on your oven and how melty you want the cheese.


Oh, for my "side" - I steamed some broccoli - added butter and a bit of fresh lemon juice.

Voila, again - a simple supper for two.  Richard loved it!!! I'm making it again!!!

Bon appetit!!!

Thursday, February 8, 2018

WHITE GLOVES & ROB ROYS - A story of another time

A story of another time

As some of you already know, my new novel is out!  Yay for me!!!

Manhattan in the sixties wasn't always welcoming to single women.  In most "fine" restaurants we (women) couldn't sit at a bar alone (unless it was one of the city's new "singles" bars) without a male escort .  We'd be accused of being "ladies of the evening" a/k/a "call girls" and, if we didn't leave when asked, we'd be physically escorted out to the street.  Many restaurants wouldn't even seat a woman alone for dinner, never mind serve her a cocktail... even if she was with a girlfriend.  But there was one restaurant (actually a chain of them) that always provided a safe haven for women eating alone.  Schrafft's.  Home-style food at reasonable prices.  Upscale decor.  And, yes, we could have a drink or two or three.

It was the beginning of the swinging sixties when I started out as a rock'n'roll journalist in Manhattan, a la "Almost Famous." Rock'n'roll wasn't kind to female writers (nor were most newspapers), so I supplemented that income working various paying jobs (operative word here is "paying").  My first paying job after college was as a legal secretary/para-legal at a law firm on Fifth (Ave.) and 42nd.  My Mom was working in advertising on Madison Avenue (a real "Peggy" in "Madmen," though her desk was in the secretarial pool and she didn't get a raise when she was made a copy editor, but I digress).  Mom still lived in Bayside, Queens, Long Island, New York where I grew up and commuted into Manhattan.  I lived in the city.  So we'd meet once a month or so for dinner... at Schrafft's.  No singles bar/restaurant for us, though we were both single.  It was mom and daughter time, not a "let's pick up men" time.  While there, I noticed these older/old women (way older than my mom) sitting alone at various tables having dinner.  Often with a cocktail.  They wore hats, tweed suits or skirts with sweater sets and a strand of graduated pearls.  Plain bumps adorned their feet.  I could smell the Channel #5 or Arpege.  And, yes, they wore white gloves.  I wondered who they were and why they were always alone.  Were they "spinisters?" Widowed?  Divorced?  Did they have children?  Schrafft's restaurants are long gone now, but the memory of these women have haunted me ever since so I decided to give them a backstory... a voice.  This is a tale of murder and revenge of some of those lone, lonely women.  It's fiction, but I like to think that it could all be true.

Please meet the ladies of Schrafft's and the young reporter who discovers their story.  Click into the link below and check out the reviews... read the synopsis... even the prologue and more.  I hope you'll be intrigued... The book is also at Barnes & Noble online, Kindle and other ebook outlets.

Thursday, August 31, 2017



 I grew up in the pizza capital of America.  New York City.  OK - "arguably" the pizza capital of America, since Newark, Hoboken and Chicago make some fine pies.  But none of those cities had Rocky Lee Chu-Cho Bianca on Second Avenue near 52nd Street, the originator of thin crust pizzas with a special olive oil that made their slices a gift from God/dess.  Then we had Ray's Original Pizza parlor.  Well, parlors, plural, since there were a zillion Ray's around Manhattan - east side, west side, all sides.  My favorite was on First Avenue around 58th Street, just a few blocks from my apartment where I could walk over and get a pizza "fix" even in a blizzard.  But go to any pizza joint in NYC or NJ and you'll understand our devotion to these pies.  Maybe it's the water.

My first taste of this heavenly food was in Bayside, Queens, Long Island, New York, where I grew up.  Sal's was our local Italian restaurant and served hot, bubbly cheesey, traditional NY pizza.  I fell in love at first bite.  I think I was seven.  Is there a more perfect combination of flavors?  I don't think so.  But, full disclosure:  My name is ilona saari, and I'm a cheeseaholic.

I've had pizza in Boston when in college.  Not bad, but no NY slice.  Devoured deep dish in Chicago when I lived there for a year.  Very good, but not real "pizza" for a New Yorker.  Though, I did find the semi-deep dish pies from Goldberg's truly memorable.  Hey, Chicagoans, does Goldberg's still exist?  I've eaten pizza in Las Vegas, Miami, Hartford, and in San Francisco and Sacramento.  All good, but...  

Then there's Los Angeles where I lived for years and where the Wolfgang Puck gourmet pizza revolution that swept the nation began.  Sitting in Spago and biting into my first BBQ chicken pizza or the wild mushrooms olives, sun dried tomatoes w/ Pecorino Romano cheese pizza was a food revelation.  But was it "pizza?"  I love the Margherita pizza, the smoked salmon pizza... even the veggie varieties... the list of tasty gourmet pies is endless.  BUT, as delicious as these all are, they are not NY pies... the classic cheese, at times topped with mushrooms or pepperoni or sausage... sometimes all of the above.  They just aren't!!! 

But my days of eating pizza whenever I want are waning as the nation has become more conscious of making healthier food choices.  Lots of us are eating less carbs - ie: less bread!  Many people are going gluten free.  The burger, yes - the roll, no.  We're designing more and more salads with protein and veggies, and we're exercising more.  Baby boomers are fighting the bulge, cholesterol, and encroaching old age with a vengeance.  But, we lapse.  If I was back in Manhattan I would not be able to resist having a slice (often), so I'm thankful that my Ojai pizza joint, though good, doesn't make me fall to temptation.

Which brings me to cauliflower.

When I must have - absolutely MUST have some semblance of pizza, Richard will make me one (what would I do without him?).  No, not thin crust.  Not deep dish crust.  Not doughy crust.  BUT, healthy, often maligned cauliflower crust.  Yup, cauliflower crust!  Is it NY pizza?  Not even close.  Is it a Wolfgang Puck-style gourmet pizza?  Closer. Put your favorite toppings on it.  I like the
Margherita tomato, cheese and basil toppings. Though we've done others.  What it has going for it is the hot, bubbly cheese, olive oil, tomato, even tomato sauce if you desire.  And it pleasantly stifles the craving.

Here's how you, too, can sate that pizza craving with a healthful substitution.  It ain't real pizza, but then only NYC has real pizza.  

Cauliflower Pizza Crust


Florets from one cauliflower head
3/4 cup ground almonds
1 Tablespoon dried oregano
Salt and pepper
3 eggs beaten


Preheat the oven to 400 degrees
Line a baking sheet w/ parchment paper
Coarsely chop the cauliflower and blend in a food processor to a nice texture
Put in mixing bowl w/ almonds, oregano and seasoning - mix w/ your hands

Make a well in the center and add the eggs
Shape into a ball
Put on baking sheet and roll/spread out, edges high

Bake 25 minutes
Take out of the oven and cover with toppings

 and bake again for 5-10 minutes.


Sunday, May 21, 2017


Bell Boulevard - Bayside's Main Street

An Homage to Sal’s & McElroy’s

I love food, especially food eaten in restaurants… from funky diner cheeseburgers to five course meals at The French Laundry.  I also love writing about food, so much so that besides this food blog, I am the food and drink writer for the glossy magazine, the Ojai Quarterly… but Bayside (Queens, Long Island, New York) and much of the world were indifferent to fine dining when I was growing up in the late 50’s and 60’s. Fine dining was for people in Manhattan.  The foodie and fast food culture was decades away. Fast food “restaurants” weren’t on every corner and family restaurant chains were few and far between. People in Bayside mostly ate at home. 

Oh, we had a couple of Chinese restaurants in neighboring towns such as Flushing… you know the ones where sweet & sour everything reigned alongside gooey pork lo mein.  And for “special” occasions like Mother’s Day, graduations, or Easter Sunday there was always Patricia Murphy’s family friendly Candlelight Inn in Manhasset, a bit of a car ride schlep on Northern Blvd, but that just made it more “special.” 

And, I loved it when my dad would pack up my mom, brother and me into the car and drive us to Howard Johnson’s in Little Neck (or was it Douglaston? Great Neck?) for a family dinner of burgers with that “secret sauce” and fried clams… or when he took us to the car hop diner across from Kiddy City on Northern.

But these were “family” restaurants and weren’t in Bayside. There were no Thai, Korean or Greek restaurants in town, nor French or nouvelle cuisine restaurants for that matter.  But Bayside did have Sal’s Italian fare, and McElroy’s, an Anglo-American is it a pub, a bar, a restaurant? restaurant.

Even though we would walk “downstreet" to Sal’s on Bell Boulevard (as my New England bred mother would say), going there as a family seemed a very grown-up outing.  

The old movie house marquee that is no longer a movie house

This wasn’t a kids’ place… it was an “adult” neighborhood red sauce restaurant. I usually put on a dress for dinner at Sal’s. The dining room had a couple of Italian scenic paintings, white table cloths and red candle “globes” in plastic webbing, after all. Atmosphere. It was at Sal’s that I had my first pizza (pizza chains weren’t even in their embryo stage). 

Of course, we always started with a “first course” salad made of iceberg lettuce, cut up tomatoes, shaved carrots and maybe an olive or two. You had a choice of dressings including “Russian” (ketchup and mayo), Italian or blue cheese.  Blue cheese dressing!  How exotic was that?  When we didn’t have pizza (another exotic food to me), spaghetti with meatballs was our family’s popular second choice. There was no fettuccine alfredo or picatta or marsala anything on the menu, though I think steak pizziaola, eggplant parm and lasagna made nightly appearances.

It didn’t matter if the food was good or bad, to be at Sal’s, sitting at a white table-clothed table, white cloth napkin on my lap, having foreign food made me feel worldly and oh so sophisticated (well, I was in a dress). Yes, mom made spaghetti, even eggplant parm, but that was at home, and I could only have pizza at Sal’s (I never counted the pizza my mom made using American cheese and a slice of tomato on an English muffin).

After my dinners at Sal’s, I yearned to go to McElroy’s. But for me, McElroy’s was for grown-ups only. It was the place in town where my parents could go “on a date,” sometimes after seeing a movie at the old Bayside movie theater.  A sitter would show up at our house and dad would put on a sports jacket and mom a dress and they’d take the car “downstreet.”  I wanted to go, or at least be a fly on the wall so that I could discover the mystery of McElroy’s. What was behind its doors? What kind of food did they serve? Was it really forbidden to children?

I think I was about ten when I got my first glimpse inside. I was strolling down Bell Blvd. when I came to the restaurant. Its doors were open and I couldn’t resist. I peeked inside.  It was dark with a bit of amber glow from a few lighted lamps that was diluted by the daylight glare streaming in from the street through the open door.  I squinted to focus my eyes and saw a dark wooden (probably mahogany) bar and a few tables. Liquor bottles were lined up behind the bar like bowling pins and I wondered where the coca cola soda fountain dispenser was. I guessed that grown-ups didn’t drink cokes when they went out to dinner by themselves.

I liked what I saw. The room reminded me of bars I’d seen in old movies on TV where Nick and Nora Charles might get a nightcap, though I had no idea what a nightcap was. But it wasn’t until my dad died and I was in my early teens that I got to finally experience McElroy’s… the food and the total restaurant ambiance. 

My mom was working for a local contractor and asked my brother and me to meet her there for dinner. I was stunned. We were still kids! But I trusted she knew what she was doing even though I was at the age where I thought she was the dumbest adult on the planet.

My brother put on a good shirt and I wore my nicest skirt and blouse. It was summer, so the sun was still shining when we walked “downstreet” to the restaurant where she was waiting outside to take us in.

It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dimly lit bar, but once they did, I felt I had entered another world. As we went into the adjacent dining room and were seated at a table I was overcome with déjà vu. Why did I feel comfortable in this cozy dark wood paneled room? I thought. Why did it feel so familiar? As I looked at the menu with entrees of Salisbury steak, pork chops, chicken and London broil, it came to me. I felt as if I was in Manhattan’s famous Sardi’s that I had read so much about in movie magazines, sans all the drawings of famous theater people. I had arrived!

My mom ordered a perfect Rob Roy and I was given permission to have a coke with dinner (brought to me in a bottle). I ordered the London broil with mashed potatoes and peas and when I finished every last morsel, I thought it was the best meal I’d ever eaten. In fact, the mashed potatoes were instant and the peas canned, but I didn’t know that. Even if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered, my palate was not that educated and I was in love with the room.  Atmosphere.

I went to McElroy’s many times for dinner after that and each time I ordered the London broil with those potatoes and peas. I was never disappointed. I loved it there, and years later when I was a young writer in New York, I loved going to Sardi’s. Each represented my parents’ era, a pre and post WWII time I found so very sophisticated and glamorous. I wanted to be Kate Hepburn in “Stage Door” or Bette Davis in just about anything.

The last time I was in McElroy’s was the weekend I left my Manhattan apartment to go home to Bayside for my mother’s wedding shower. Eight years after my dad died, my mom had found a man whom she wanted to marry and family and friends from near and far came for the shower.

Afterward, some of us ladies met up with our husbands and boyfriends at McElroy’s for nightcaps (I had had a few nightcaps by then – often in Sardi’s). We sat at the bar and toasted my mom as memories of my London broil dinners and of mom going there on dates with my dad came flooding back.

A memorable restaurant for me is not always about the food… it’s about the feeling the room gives you and the memories it may trigger or the memories you create there. In that context McElroy’s and Sal’s were memorable, so when I walked Bell Blvd. the last time I was in Bayside after a thirty year absence, I was sad to see that both these restaurants were gone. There are so many more choices in Bayside now and I hope some of these new restaurants will feed fond memories to those who go there.

Bourbon Street - one of the hippest bars in Queens - and written up in the NYTimes

I wish I had had time to dine in all of them, creating new Bayside memories and food fodder for my blog.

For now, I’m content with the glorious memory of instant mashed potatoes and canned peas… and dinner with my mom.

Friday, April 21, 2017


Be Still My Heart

This is a simple tale:

Some time ago dear friends gave us and another couple Christopher Idone's "LEMONS - A Country Garden Cookbook" and organized a dinner for the six of us where we'd each made a course from a recipe inside the book.

Our assignment, if we chose to accept it (we did) was appetizers and one of the dishes we made (let me clarify that -- Richard made) was the lemon pizza with creme fraiche and red caviar... it melted in our mouths.

The "dessert couple" chose the cookbook's lemon meringue pie with a crust to truly "flake" over.

But it was the host couple's pappardelle dish that won my heart and has become my new favorite pasta.  Fresh. Creamy.  Cheesy.  As I wrote above... be still my heart!

End of tale.

Pappardelle w/ Lemon & Asparagus


1 pound pencil-thin asparagus, approximately 32 stalks
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup heavy cream
1 pound fresh or dried pappardelle
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Juice of one lemon
Freshly ground pepper to taste
Zest of one lemon, cut into julienne
Grated Parmesan cheese for serving


Cutting on the diagonal, trim the tough ends of the asparagus.  Cu the asparagus into 3 or 4 even pieces on the diagonal.  In a nonreactive kettle of lightly salted boiling water, cook the asparagus for 2 minutes or until just crisp.  Blanch in cold running water and drain.
In sauce pan over medium heat, melt the butter and cream.  Allow to cook at a low simmer.

Cook the pappardelle in the kettle of salted boiling water until al dente and drain well.  

While the pasta is boiling, heat the oil in a large skillet and add the blanched asparagus.  Add the hot cream/butter mixture and fold in the lemon juice.  Season with pepper.

Add the drained pasta to the sauce and toss well.

Divide among 4 or 5 warm soup plates and sprinkle with julienned zest.

Serve with grated Parmesan cheese.

Serves 4 to 5