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Sometimes, a dish’s success is better measured by the journey that created it, not the dish itself.
That’s especially true when that journey brings you in contact with some amazing people.
And even more true when the dish itself is a blazing rage of textural failure. And that’s what happened.
Half way through Saturday I realized I had slacked and not found a recipe yet, so I did what any good 2.0 girl does and turned to the Twitterverse. This is the Twitterverse that when I (jokingly) asked for a pig’s feet recipe, responded so prolifically that it pushed “pigs feet” firmly in my “most influential topics” on Klout for about a month. In short, I love you guys.
That thanks goes out perpetually to Gini Dietrich of the brilliant Spin Sucks blog and Jason Kintzler of Pitchengine, who are always down to answer my naïve public relations questions, but this week, it goes out to the DTLA-representing, sharp-cooking and super nice/bad-ass Craig Thornton, of Wolvesmouth/den. For all those following along at home, wolvesden is an underground supper club where the waiting list is miles long to even RSVP, but if you do get to go, it’s a bunch of strangers eating Craig’s delicious concoctions and generally having a good time. I don’t know this from experience, having never made the round two call-back, but if you want to drool over some wolvesden food porn, check it here.
I put out the shameless ask for a recipe, and Craig shot right back with what would be my first attempt at a Twecipe (Twitter recipe for you old folks):
And so started the adventure. Quark cheese doesn’t involve molecular physics, but instead is a European (including German, holla) cheese that is somewhere between Marscapone and sour cream. Around USC, you can find twenty meat markets, but I was pretty sure German-physics-cheese was off the radar.
The Cheese Store of Beverly Hills, on the other hand, was a Candy Land of cheese (Cheeseland?) and the sales staff was helpful and jovial, ruddied up by the wine being served in the back with cheese pairings. Seeing my disheveled appearance and hearing the story of the gift certificate (and my butchering of the pronunciation of quark), they saved my gift certificate and sent me on my way.