What is Cool?

Coconut Macaroons + The Coastal Cook of West Marin

READ

The Coastal Cook of West Marin by Laura Riley, pub. 1991
Buy: Thriftbooks.com or other used book sites

As an almost decade-long Angeleno dweller / someone who obsesses over culture / someone who once wrote about the newest, chicest, hippest happenings for a living, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about what qualifies as ‘cool.’ People in LA are especially prone to the cool trap. What’s the newest, shiniest restaurant? No matter if the food is good; if there’s a big-name chef and / or a marketing strategy that attracts A Scene, it’ll be mobbed. Not growing up in these parts, I’ve always found it odd that people flock to and spend time at places that aren’t actually very compelling (Chicago’s restaurant scene – at least a decade ago! – felt much more merit-based). Since moving here and learning the landscape, I’ve tended to lean towards establishments that feel more real than cool (is it the Midwest in me? Probably.). Real could mean a surprise belly dancer during dinner; banquet tables full of multiple generations of Armenians celebrating graduation; absolutely no music; a GM who’s been there 40 years and regales the table with absolutely fabricated tales of yore. AKA places that aren’t trying to create a cool vibe. The vibe comes from the people who frequent the place, it’s not created to attract said people. Or, more specifically, the vibe comes from the non-vibe (is this getting too meta?!). This theory goes beyond restaurants, of course. From artists to clothing brands to books – all are susceptible to being pulled into coolness. Eventually they’re so cool they circle back around to being uncool. Which leads me to this installment’s book rec.

On a recent road trip to Bolinas, I stayed at a musty, quirky-in-all-the-right ways rental house (highly recommend visiting!) where I delightedly discovered a gem of a book on the shelf. Maybe the most interesting cookbook I’ve ever read? AirBnB and VRBO shelves contain multitudes. Over the years, I’ve happened upon so many bizarre and enlightening reads that I never would’ve known about had it not been for staying at a stranger’s house. (See: California Beach Houses, Birds of Point Reyes, I Shock Myself.) The Coastal Cook of West Marin: 100 Kitchen Conversations and Recipes is no exception. After opening it and standing at the kitchen island reading it out loud for a full hour, I Googled, was amazed to find it’s actually available on used book sites, and ordered it so I could return to LA and look at it daily. It’s currently poised, in the words of Jack Nicholson in the ever-riveting Something’s Gotta Give, on my cookbook shelf, at the ‘top of the heap.’

Lest you assume I covet this cookbook for its recipes: not really. I appreciate the recipes’ distinct crunchiness (respect to whoever was using nutritional yeast 30+ years ago), their je ne sais quois (the quois is wheat germ), their homeyness and deeply personal bent. But the real reason I covet the book is that each page contains a bio of a resident of West Marin in the 90s and a recipe of their choosing: from Merel Evens, an aerobics instructor at the Point Reyes Dance Station (wilted cabbage salad); Kayoko Bird, a painter and Muir Woods resident (Indonesian-style Japanese tempura); Jeremiah Abrams, Inverness therapist and author of Reclaiming the Inner Child (almond biscotti); Lanny Pinola, native Miwok and tour guide (Kule Loklo acorn mush); Keith Hansen, Bolinas bird and wildlife illustrator (guacamole); octogenarian hiker Harold Bucklin (Hello Dollies); Jack Siedman, family law (how to catch and cook an eel). Laura Riley, author of the beloved Coastal Cook column in the Point Reyes Light, perfectly captures each resident’s eccentricities in a single page. The book feels instantly familial, a touchstone to a distinct moment in time. Not all cookbooks are designed to sit on the couch and read cover to cover; this one deserves curling up with. 

To me, this is the coolest kind of cookbook. It’s in black and white. You’ll find zero food photos (but there are *amazing* portraits of every resident and some 90s hairstyles I’m considering emulating). No attempts at slang or splash; no muss or fuss. Just a real book that isn’t trying to be anything more than what it is. To me? That’s fucking cool. 

Eat

I was planning on publishing a recipe from The Coastal Cook but inevitably decided that submitting you to a tofu smoothie was borderline cruel (I care about you!). Instead, here’s a not-groundbreaking but delicious macaroon recipe – it’s Hanukkah, after all! I used coconut sugar and tapioca starch in lieu of cane sugar and regular flour, but use what you have. Dunking in chocolate, however, is non-negotiable. I used a kitchen scale for this one, which I highly recommend you buy if you don’t have one already. They’re cheap and will change your baking game.

Coconut Sugar Macaroons
Makes approximately 15 

5 egg whites
150 grams coconut sugar
¼ teaspoon Kosher salt
2 tablespoons honey or maple syrup
220 grams unsweetened desiccated coconut (the fine sheds, not the chips!)
20 grams tapioca starch (or 40 grams AP flour)
¼ teaspoon ground cardamom
90 grams dark chocolate*, for dipping (the darker the better because the macaroons are super sweet — I used 100%)

Crack the egg whites into a saucepan and add the sugar, salt and honey or maple syrup. Stir with a wooden spoon over low heat until the mixture loosens, being careful not to cook your egg whites, about two minutes. Stir through the coconut, tapioca starch and cardamom and mix well. Turn the heat up a tiny notch and stir consistently until the mixture is thick and glossy, about five minutes. Tip into a bowl to cool, preheat your oven to 350F and line a baking sheet with parchment. Using a tablespoon, dollop the ‘batter’ into tightly packed 2-tablespoon-full drops. Bake for 22 minutes, until the tops are golden. Let cool fully, then melt your chocolate. Dip the bottom of each macaroon in the chocolate, return to the parchment-lined baking sheet and set aside to firm up for a few minutes (you can also stick in the fridge to speed up the process). L’chaim!

*You’ll have a tiny bit of leftover chocolate. I poured a splash of coconut into the bowl, mixed vigorously until I got a ganache, and ate it with a spoon like a queen. Do it!

P.S. I just realized that my next potential pub date falls on Christmas. The week after is New Year’s Day! I’m considering calling this my last newsletter of the year and starting up again on January 8. If whimsy hits, though, I might surprise you with one final installment of 2023.