> **Me:** Let’s get some of those Black Pockys today.

> **Iris:** Yeah! Because Mama said they’re black sesame.

> **Me:** Right!

> **Iris:** So it’s not dirt.

Unfortunately, they were out of Black Pocky, so Iris picked Bittersweet Mousse Pocky, which are probably listed in the Guinness Book under *World’s Most Expensive Pocky*. Twelve sticks for $3. Although in the gift shop they may sell a solid gold Pocky on a velvet pillow. Who knows.

If [Ruhlman](http://blog.ruhlman.com/) can do it, I can too. I’m coming to you live from the [Worlds of Flavor](http://www.prochef.com/WOF2006/) conference in the Napa Valley at the Culinary Institute of America at Greystone, which I always call “Greystoke” and suggest that you do too.

The conference this year is about Spanish food. Right now a guy is on stage making pig’s trotters stuffed with veal. The previous presenter roasted a suckling pig and then, in an allegedly traditional flourish, carved it with the edge of a dinner plate to demonstrate its tenderness. If yesterday is any guide, we will eat these things later.

The CIA is housed in the former Christian Brothers winery, a 19th century stone pile that, everyone has noted, looks exactly like Hogwarts, complete with staircases that probably don’t actually move, but feel to me like they do because I’m afraid of heights.

Here’s how it feels to be at this conference, which consists of basically every food writer I’ve ever heard of and all of Spain’s top chefs (when I first got here, I sat down next to two familiar-looking guys having a conversation; they turned out to be Colman Andrews and Ferran Adrià), along with hundreds of industry goons looking to enjoy a few days in Napa on the company tab and see what they can turn into products. Not that I’m against this, it’s just that this horde has come between me and the food writers and editors I want to network with. I’m sorry I just said “network.” It’s like being at a rock star convention, but to get to the rock stars you have to plow through a tangle of lawyers and A&R people.

Wow, that trotter is starting to look really good.

Here’s what Iris is up to while I’m gone, according to Laurie:

> This morning she got up at 7:50 and appeared
> behind me as I was catching up on blogs. She saw the photo onscreen and
> said, “Those are chanterelles! Does Dada love chanterelles? You should
> leave it up for Dada.”

Later I will tell you about some of the things I ate. Right now it’s break time and I want to go peer at where they are roasting the leeks over an open fire.

With the help of James Oseland’s book Cradle of Flavor, I have answered a question that’s been bugging me for a long time.

_Cradle of Flavor_ is an awesome book about the food of Malaysia, Singapore, and mostly Indonesia. I started by making the cover recipe: chicken satay. I felt a little silly making this at home, since (a) I don’t have a grill, and (b) it’s available at probably ten restaurants within half a mile of my house. But the author made it sound so delicious, I had to give it a shot.

I warned Laurie and Iris, as I often do, that this was an experimental dinner, and they might have to fill up on rice and cucumber salad if the chicken didn’t come out. But Iris took one bite of the the chicken and said, “Oh, man, this is good. You *should* make this again.”

For the marinade, you blend together turmeric (Oseland called for dried but I had some fresh from Uwajimaya), lemongrass, shallots, coriander, fennel, peanut oil, and other good stuff. Even though Oseland warned me not to, I tried blending this all in my spice grinder, and it worked perfectly. (I only had the guts to try this because I remembered that [Adam Cadre](http://adamcadre.ac/) recommended it a while ago.) You marinate strips of chicken thigh in that for an hour or two, then thread it onto sticks. This was more fun and less trouble than I expected. Then I brushed the satays with lemongrass-infused peanut oil and broiled them for five minutes on each side. I was too lazy to make peanut sauce.

You know how when you go out for Thai food, you get an order of chicken satay, and it’s maybe four sticks, and you always end up wanting more? I’ve always wondered how many satays I could eat if allowed to graze freely on them.

Answer: 8.

We had roasted stuffed trout for dinner. Iris was very interested in this. Yesterday when I mentioned it, she said, “And will the trout get very, very big when you stuff it?” Today she demanded to help stuff. And help she did, shoveling orange-scented fennel and red onion into the belly of the fish. Then she was disappointed that I didn’t let her help put the bacon into the hot fish after it came out of the oven (a step suggested by Cook’s Illustrated on the grounds that the bacon becomes too chewy if you cook it inside the fish).

Stuffed trout is easier to make than it is to eat, because you want to just cut off a hunk with stuffing sandwiched between two pieces of boneless fish, but there are many bones in the way of this noble intention. For this reason and because Iris is frequently more enthusiastic about cooking than eating, I figured she would forget about the trout by the time it hit the table and concentrate on the hash browns I served with it.

Wrong. Iris ate the fish, the bacon, the vegetables, the potatoes, and even…well…

To say that she was undeterred by the fact that the fish’s head was there on the platter would be an understatement. “There’s the head!” she pointed out. I found a piece of cheek meat and ate it, and Iris said, “I want to eat some cheek.”

I said okay and rooted around for another piece.

> **Iris:** There’s some cheek.

> **Me:** No, that’s the eyeball.

> **Iris:** I want to eat the eyeball.

> **Me:** Seriously?

> **Iris:** Yes. [eats the eyeball] It’s gooey! Why is it gooey?

> **Laurie:** Eyeballs are just like that.

> **Iris:** [eats another bite of eyeball]

Great, now Iris is officially a more adventurous eater than I am. She’ll be taking over this blog tomorrow. Except she can’t type! In your face, eyeball-phage!