So long, WordPress.

After 3 1/2 years on, My Life as a Foodie has finally grown too large for the nest. The site has moved to its permanent, self-hosted home at So, if there any of you who bookmarked this site before we actually bought a domain, please visit us at our new location on the web.

I have nothing but gratitude for, for helping us launch our podcast and grow the fan base we have, all at no charge. I’ll be forever in their debt.

Cheers, and see you on the other side.

My Life as a Foodie


Home-cured Sicilian Olives

It had been years since I’d walked into a Claro’s Italian Market. Since discovering “Cortina’s”, a competing small Italian Deli in Anaheim years ago (conveniently located just a few blocks away from my mother-in-law’s apartment) we’d made it a central stop to pick up deli meats, cheeses, and other Italian grocery items you’d be hard-pressed to find anywhere else. Small family-owned Italian markets remind me of my childhood, because visiting one was always a special treat when I was growing up.

Italian markets smell . . . . well, Italian. There’s an aroma in these markets you won’t smell anywhere else. Like a fine perfume, it’s a combination of Italian classic aromas – anise, fresh bread, biscotti, garlic, and a musty bouquet that simply can’t be found in an ordinary store.

It was early November and, thanks to a tip from my good friend Don that this store was relatively close to my home, I decided to check the store out on my lunch hour. I’m sure few things had changed since I’d been there last. The store would still be incredibly small, with aisles definitely not suited for passing other patrons. There would be a line at the meat counter, with angry patrons anxious to get their sandwich orders filled before the pits in their stomachs grew deeper. There would also inevitably be store clerks equally as short with their patrons.

All of this, after all, is status quo in an Italian Deli. You can take the Italians out of New York, but you cannot take the New York out of Italians.

As I walked down the narrow aisles, my eyes quickly caught the open cooler section of the store, where cheese and hard salamis were made available. There were no people shopping in that section so I knew I’d have the cooler to myself. I figured a hunk of hard cheese and a whole, bacteria-crusted, dry-cured piece of imported salumi would do me just fine, and I’d be on my way.

That is, until I found a basket of fresh olives. It was then that everything changed.

Since discovering the wonderful world of curing last year, I’ve been curing everything I can think of. And fresh olives, not being something we see a lot of where I live, was high on my list. I honestly never thought I’d get the chance to cure them myself. I felt like I’d gotten very lucky. So I quickly filled my bag with as many olives as I figured I’d need to get started. At $3.99 a pound, I wasn’t going to be cheap about it.

Cured and marinated olives are the perfect compliment to a salumi platter. Like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, you couldn’t imagine one without the other. And by marinating the olives in olive oil, you can use some of this marinade to drizzle on some fresh crusty bread. Throw in a nice glass of wine, and that’s a pretty damned good lunch. Ask any Italian.

Once I brought the olives home, a quick scan of my Italian cookbooks gave me the necessary game plan to get these olives brined. You see, fresh olives are generally very hard and especially very bitter. They must be brined for weeks before they begin to soften, and the bitterness is extracted. There are three ways to do this, depending on how much time you have on your hands. You can use lye, salt, or a combination of salt and water. I prefer to brine with salt and water. It takes almost two months, but it provides excellent results.

The quickest (and most dangerous) way to brine olives is with the use of lye. In fact, as I was checking out of the store, the clerk asked me how I was planning on brining them. Salt and water, of course. She told me when she was a kid, her parents would be in the cellar for hours with a big bucket of lye, and they were not allowed to enter the cellar while this was happening because of the toxicity of the lye. That alone makes me wonder how Italians have lasted in this country without killing themselves.

The olives filled my curing jar. On top of the olives went a brining solution of 1 part sea salt to 4 parts water. Every 7 days, I would empty the solution, then add a fresh brine. I did this every week for 6 weeks.

At around the 4 1/2 week mark, I would periodically check how the olives were doing by biting into one. After 6 weeks, the olives were perfectly salted, much softer than they were when they were fresh, but still had that perfect al dente crunch. It was now time to put together a marinade.

In a jar with an airtight lid, add 1 pound of brined olives. Into that jar of olives, add the following:

3 garlic cloves, sliced paper thin (like Paulie did in that famous scene from GoodFellas)
1/4 cup of chopped fresh oregano
1/4 cup of chopped fresh parsley
1 tablespoon of fresh thyme leaves
1 teaspoon of grated orange zest
1 teaspoon of grated lemon zest
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon of lemon juice (from that lemon you just zested)

Now fill the jar with extra virgin olive oil. Cover and refrigerate.

Allow to marinade for at least 2 days before enjoying. And do enjoy them. Just watch out for those pits. Quite a number of dentists have sent their kids to college thanks to olives. Don’t be a statistic.

episode 67 :: top chef all-stars

Bravo’s long-running show Top Chef may very well be the most successful food show on television. It has seen great ratings success, Emmy awards, spin-offs, and has launched the careers of several truly top tier chefs. There is no questioning its popularity and position as one of the most successful shows on television.

In my opinion, it is also in its twilight.  After the amazing talent pool assembled for its sixth (and undoubtedly best) season, I had my doubts that the show would ever pique my interest the way it did then ever again. Season 7 was dreadful, and I really wasn’t looking forward to seeing the show try to get its mojo back. It was like sitting and watching your old injured dog walking around the living room dragging his back leg every Wednesday night for an hour.

That is, until they announced Top Chef All-Stars.  Throw every season’s runner-up and a few also-rans into one big kitchen and you’ve got perhaps the best season of Top Chef fans of the show can ever expect.  If the first show was any indication, we’re in for the best season the show has ever seen.  In this week’s episode, we’ll be reviewing the highlights of the first episode of the show, which can be seen every Wednesday night on Bravo.

Listen to episode 67 now

In this episode:
• Vote for My Life as a Foodie in the Food & Drink category at the 2010 Podcast Awards. If I win, you’ll be treated to something special.
• Dogfish Head’s Red & White
Eat My Blog raises $12,000 for the LA Regional Food Bank
• How to make my Coconut Cranberry Chew
• “Sam the Clam” the new children’s book from Chef Nathan Lyon (purchase on or directly from the publisher)
• Saison Rue from The Bruery among Esquire’s top Saisons
• Recapping Top Chef All-Stars
• Burger of the Year – The Umami Burger

Music in this episode from Linkin Park.  Buy their music from their web site or directly from the iTunes Store

episode 66 :: that’s italian!

If you ask any Italian, there are two kinds of people – Italians, and those who wish they were Italian. I’m here to debunk that theory. I grew up Sicilian-American, and I’ll be the first to tell you it was no bloody picnic. Sure, it feels warm and the food is fantastic. But you have get the knife out of your back before you can eat.

It’s not all bad, though. There are the constant questions about whether or not members of your family were in the mafia, and whether your Grandparents were actually from Italy, or the other part of the boot – Sicily. Should it be the latter, then may God be with you . . . and me, for that matter.

Listen to Episode 66 now

In this episode:
• Growing up in a third-generation Sicilian-American household
• Francis Ford Coppola’s public apology for The Godfather
• GAME TIME: “Name that Goomba Movie!”
• Birra Moretti La Rossa Dopplebock – surprisingly good
• Making Saltimboca
• It’s Oyster season, and time for a new Thanksgiving tradition
• Mafia Crime Drama novel or Penthouse Forum? (NSFW, home, or the car)
• Tips for pairing food & whiskey
• Brewmasters with Sam Calagione, Sundays on Discovery
• Eataly – Mario Batali’s new Italian mini-mall
Eat My Blog, December 4th – Be there!

Music in this episode by Saliva. Buy their music from their web site or from the iTunes Store.

dude food :: episode 5 :: sausage party

This time on Dude Food, I’ll show you how to make your own Italian sausage at home. The basics for making this sausage are the same for almost all sausages – you season chunks of meat and fat, grind it, then stuff it into hog casings. It’s that simple, and the variation between different types of sausages relies on the types of meat used and the seasonings.

To purchase sausage making equipment and supplies, visit or

And I can’t recommend the purchase of “Charcuterie” by Michael Ruhlman enough. When it comes to Dude Food, it’s the bible.

• Make sure you cook some of the finished sausage before stuffing. This recipe goes light on salt, so you might want to add more. Just be careful not to over-salt. You can always add it, but over-salting is hard to recover from.

• Soak the hog casings for at least 2 hours. The longer they’re in water, the more pliable they become, and it makes it easier to get the casing over the stuffing tube.

• Keep your workspace clean. Clean everything that comes in contact with the meat and the casings. This includes your workspace (counters, cutting boards, etc.). And wash your hands a lot.

• It’s important to keep the meat between 35-40 degrees when grinding and mixing. Otherwise, the texture of the sausage will become mealy. Heat is not your friend, so keep the meat cold at all times.

• If you don’t want to invest in a grinder, you can ask your butcher to grind the pork shoulder and pork fat for you, as long as the meat being ground is near freezing. You made friends with your butcher, right? If not, go buy that man a beer.