I was in the mood for seafood but the hunky BF wanted pasta.

What’s an over-achieving boot-licker to do?

Well combine both ideas and make everyone happy of course! This is another one of those made up recipes. I can’t take all the credit though, because the BF suggested combining them (and he chose the shell-shaped pasta whose sychronicity with the shellfish made me smile). I emailed my brother for more help and he suggested chorizo. He also chose the wine for this pairing.

Though, I share the credit– and I am not one to “tweet” my own horn (well maybe I am), I still have to say this is one of the best recipes I ever made up.

The word cioppino and the dish itself have become San Francisco classics. Still, its roots (even its name) may be Italian in origin. Which may lay some credence to the tale I have heard told that it was first brought to the American palate in the North Beach section of that great city by the bay.

Let’s have a history lesson.

I was always a good student. I was one of those kids that did well in almost every subject (notice I said almost…numbers still elude me).

But numbers aside, history was/is particularly delicious to me.

Cooking has an interesting history of course. You don’t have to go all the way back to medieval times to find a fascinating tale.

In fact I have a fun story for you. In the 1960s & 70s, in this country at least, the foodie-world was abuzz with the suddenly “discovered” truth behind “classical French cuisine”. It was brought to our attention by the commendable talents of Julia Child. Her book Mastering the Art of French Cooking changed the way American home cooks like my mother began to look at gourmet food.

As I have said before. I was raised on this kind of fare. I was a nine year old who liked chicken liver pâté. I knew crêpe was not pronounced crape, and sauces always started with bones.

But things can never stay just as they are, now can they? In fact changes were afoot in the culinary world. Because just as Ms. Child was introducing Americans to classical French cooking; classical French cooking was being challenged or perhaps re-interpretted in of all places– France!

This is one of those recipes. It seems like there are a lot of steps. It's best if you can do them over a day or two. But I promise you these are the very things that make this recipe so EASY! Because all the steps take only a few minutes of actual activity, and they can be done all at once or over several days. The cooking itself is a snap and can be made snappier with a self-timed oven.

The method of preserving the tuna is really more of an oil-poaching method. It's a wonderful method to master and can be adapted in so many ways– from salads, to main courses. I particularly like serving this tuna on toasted baguette slices with shards of red onion! So you see, it's worth the effort, because the technique will pay you back– I promise. I think I may have originally learned this method from an Alice Waters recipe. But I am pretty sure serving it with a Panzanella Salad was my idea! But don't quote me on it...

This recipe has other virtues as well. It is a great opportunity to use up that day old bread, and those less than ideal off-season tomatoes you stupidly bought. What were you thinking? Plus, it's fun to introduce new tastes to the people in your life who may take a bit of prodding when it comes to unusual or strong flavors. I consider it our duty to educate them.

I call it a Three Bean Winter Panzanella Salad with Preserved Tuna.

I have a little story. Oh don’t look at me like that! You’ll like this story. It has a happy ending. I promise it’s about food too. Okay, I also promise it's brief. Now will you keep reading?

I have this friend (‘cuz this could never happen to me). He was in the middle of preparing a special dish. Let’s say it was Salmon Tartare inspired by his buddy Dash of Stash (who is coincidentally a buddy of mine as well). And for the sake of this story let’s say he’d gotten to a certain place in the preparation of this dish. He came across that moment. You know the moment I am talking about. We have all been there.

He had spent a considerable amount of time, energy, a pretty penny getting to this moment. As he leaned over his concoction of sweet salmon beautiness, the hills and crystal blue sky in view outside his kitchen window (okay, I am editorializing here somewhat). He took in the deeply savory aroma of his creation and he put a spoonful into his mouth. This is the moment of “taste”.

But something was wrong. You could see that by the look on his face. But he is an experienced cook. He knew this was no big deal. So he did not panic. This is why the phrase “season to taste” was invented. It’s that last shining moment when the cook gets to tweak his culinary baby into its peak performance.

He began to reach for the salt, because surely “season to taste” means salt and possibly pepper. Right?

I have so many little people to thank for this recipe!

I never could have done it were it not for the bold pioneers who went before me. Although the inspiration for this recipe may come from many, I have decided to take all the credit myself! And if I cry and sniffle a little whilst taking all the credit, people will cheer me on as an underdog. The little guy who beat "the man".

That's me– The Little Engine That Could!  I believe this is the way you get ahead in the world, n'est-ce pas?

Because truthfully I did have many an inspiration when I sat down and started putting this recipe together. One of the primary "little people" involved in this dish is a quaint cook named Daniel Boulud. Perhaps you've heard if him? He runs a charming little self-named cafe on an island somewhere. It's a bit off the beaten track on East 76th Street, I believe. If you ever find yourself in that part of the world you must pop in. Tell him Sup! sez Hi...

For this entry into my Panamanian Cooking Series I want to feature Wolfgang Puck and Spago. You can’t really talk about iconic Hollywood restaurants without including Spago. But Spago is not all that it used to be. The new Spago in Beverly Hills represents a certain kind of dining in Los Angeles. Solid, dependable and perfectly delicious. It’s not where you would go exclusively to see stars. The food is too good for that, and while the occasional star certainly dines there, the new Spago seems to have the attention of the serious Los Angeles foodie.

But you know what? I preferred the old Spago, even though I rarely went during it’s hey days of the 1980s and early 1990s. In my mind there is something so elusive about the old Spago in West Hollywood, I can’t quite describe the vibe of the place. Though in my photos here I did try to capture the extravagant starkness mixed with a neon glow that seemed to pulse through the restuarant's windows. It sat on a cliff above Sunset Blvd in old wood frame building with windows all around. In a city that puts a premiuim on views it had one of the best. Not that I ever got a window table there.

Do you read SpinachTiger? If not you should. Her blog is sophisticated, witty and honest.

These are great reasons to read her blog 364 days a year. But there is a 365^th day and on that day there is an even more compelling reason to make the time to go there.

Tuesday December 1 is World AIDS Day. Angela at SpinachTiger is asking us to Cook Red To Remember.

Now, I am going to say something that may seem controversial. I am a gay man, old enough to remember the shell-shocked days of the early epidemic. I don’t need a special day to remember the death, the sadness or the fear.

So when I hear about these special days set aside for remembrance there is a part of me that bristles up and thinks, “what about every other day in the year?” It sometimes almost offends me that one day a year needs to be set aside so we can “remember” that 40 million people are living with HIV/AIDS and there is still no cure.