One of my favorite things about the California food scene is the healthy sense of entitlement people have about their access to organic, local, seasonal food. As a New England food editor, I tried to beat the "eat locally" drum as much as possible, but that's a lot harder to do when the growing season is five months long. Here, you can take year-round farmer's markets for granted.
Last weekend, we went to see a screening of Cinema Paradiso in Washington Square Park (dinner: sandwiches from Mario's, weather: frigid). They opened with a short called Grocery Store Wars, a 5-minute Star Wars spoof in which a band of organic vegetables battles the evil forces of agribusiness and genetic modification. Cuke Skywalker, Chewbroccoli, Tofu D2, and Obi Wan Cannoli (never mind a cannoli carrying the organics torch) battle Darth Tater, emboldened by The Farm, a benevolent force for all things good and compostable.
When Cuke rescued Princess Lettuce and blew up the Death Melon, the crowd roared its approval. Those film series planners sure know their audience...
I spent most of last week on a wine tour of Colorado. Yes, Colorado. More to come on that as soon as I catch my breath.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Monday, June 06, 2005
Home cooking
I haven't written anything about cooking here, mostly because the recipes I develop at work are the rightful property of the Time-Warner empire. Not that this blog is of any significance in the grand scheme of media consolidation, but it's a matter of principle: I don't want to get fired. So any really good ideas go straight to the magazine.
But last night I made some classics: grilled pizzas, salad (spinach, jicama, avocado, chervil, mint, and oranges), roasted corn, and fruit for dessert. Our friends Jessica, Sarah, and Eloise came over...all former Bostonians themselves. When we're feeling cranky, we gripe about California drivers. Boston drivers may be nasty and rude, but we think they're more competent. Aha, but a story in today's news seems to prove me wrong. Still, the highways here are clogged with accidents every time it rains...why? But enough about that.
Jessica, a food writer and wonderful cook, brought wild mushroom crostini. I got to work on the pizzas. I had made the dough earlier in the day, adapting Mark Bittman's recipe:
1 package rapid-rise yeast
5 cups all-purpose flour
2 to 2 1/2 cups water
3 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon sea salt
I mixed the yeast with a little warm water, then poured it over the flour in the bowl of my standing mixer. I turned the machine on and poured in enough water so that the mixture was almost loose. I like a wet dough. Then I added the oil and let the dough hook do the work for about 4 minutes. I oiled the ball of dough in the bowl and let it sit, covered, on the counter for an hour. Then, back to the mixer: I added the salt, let the hook knead everything together for a minute more, then covered the dough and let it rise slowly in the refrigerator for about 5 hours while Scott and I went out for a walk. There's something so satisfying about knowing that the dough is rising, your ducks all in a row, while you're off having fun.
I divided the dough into 3 disks, froze one, and let the other two rest, covered, on the counter for 20 minutes. Then I rolled each one out into an oval, about 1/3-inch thick, and cooked them over medium heat on our grill. It feels like a game, catching the charcoals at the right moment, watching the dough bubble up, flipping the breads and then working quickly to get the toppings on before the bottom burns. But they came out pretty well, with a couple of charred spots that Jessica and Sarah liked (photos to come).
I rubbed both of the pizzas with garlic and olive oil, then topped one with figs, prosciutto, goat cheese, arugula, and a little syrupy balsamic vinegar (actually, Jessica did this while I was grilling the other pizza). For the second, I slow-roasted some plum tomatoes with olive oil and herbs and made a classic tomato-basil-mozzarella pie. The market had some custardy buffalo mozzarella and it melted beautifully. Scott said these were his favorite pizzas yet, and I think the slow rising time did the trick.
We ate dinner in front of the TV because Jessica went to high school with Harmony, one of the contestants on "The Next Food Network Star." I can assure you that all of our armchair commentary was above-board and respectful.
But last night I made some classics: grilled pizzas, salad (spinach, jicama, avocado, chervil, mint, and oranges), roasted corn, and fruit for dessert. Our friends Jessica, Sarah, and Eloise came over...all former Bostonians themselves. When we're feeling cranky, we gripe about California drivers. Boston drivers may be nasty and rude, but we think they're more competent. Aha, but a story in today's news seems to prove me wrong. Still, the highways here are clogged with accidents every time it rains...why? But enough about that.
Jessica, a food writer and wonderful cook, brought wild mushroom crostini. I got to work on the pizzas. I had made the dough earlier in the day, adapting Mark Bittman's recipe:
1 package rapid-rise yeast
5 cups all-purpose flour
2 to 2 1/2 cups water
3 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon sea salt
I mixed the yeast with a little warm water, then poured it over the flour in the bowl of my standing mixer. I turned the machine on and poured in enough water so that the mixture was almost loose. I like a wet dough. Then I added the oil and let the dough hook do the work for about 4 minutes. I oiled the ball of dough in the bowl and let it sit, covered, on the counter for an hour. Then, back to the mixer: I added the salt, let the hook knead everything together for a minute more, then covered the dough and let it rise slowly in the refrigerator for about 5 hours while Scott and I went out for a walk. There's something so satisfying about knowing that the dough is rising, your ducks all in a row, while you're off having fun.
I divided the dough into 3 disks, froze one, and let the other two rest, covered, on the counter for 20 minutes. Then I rolled each one out into an oval, about 1/3-inch thick, and cooked them over medium heat on our grill. It feels like a game, catching the charcoals at the right moment, watching the dough bubble up, flipping the breads and then working quickly to get the toppings on before the bottom burns. But they came out pretty well, with a couple of charred spots that Jessica and Sarah liked (photos to come).
I rubbed both of the pizzas with garlic and olive oil, then topped one with figs, prosciutto, goat cheese, arugula, and a little syrupy balsamic vinegar (actually, Jessica did this while I was grilling the other pizza). For the second, I slow-roasted some plum tomatoes with olive oil and herbs and made a classic tomato-basil-mozzarella pie. The market had some custardy buffalo mozzarella and it melted beautifully. Scott said these were his favorite pizzas yet, and I think the slow rising time did the trick.
We ate dinner in front of the TV because Jessica went to high school with Harmony, one of the contestants on "The Next Food Network Star." I can assure you that all of our armchair commentary was above-board and respectful.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
And now, a restaurant round-up
When I haven't been rambling about/babbling about Sonoma, I have been eating in the city. And I know that you, my readers (i.e. Mom), are anxious to hear some reports from the troughs trenches.
And so, a quick tour of some favorite meals to-date:
Frisson: A swank restaurant/lounge concept in Jackson Square. Cool Jetsons-inspired interior and luscious cocktails, plus playful desserts ("cereal"-flavored ice cream: Yum!). The food was good, but drinks and sweets were better, so I'd call this an after-theater spot (are there any theaters nearby?), especially with a large group of young, unnaturally attractive friends.
Tallula: Sensual Indian-fusion food that combines Indian spices, French technique, and California ingredients. I usually blanch at food labled "something-fusion," but their lobster and pea dhosa persuades me to keep an open mind. Plus, the interior has its own form of fusion: Bombay-meets New Orleans bordello-meets Design Within Reach. It's fun and engaging. Especially eating on the 2nd-floor porch, looking down at the carnival of the Castro at night.
Zuni Cafe: My favorite meal(s) to date. Judy Rodgers is a master of pure Mediterranean sensibility, keeping things close to the ground and expressing each ingredient to its fullest. No other restaurant gives me such a feeling of well-being. On the snarky foodie chatboards, I see a lot of talk about Zuni being overrated, but I love this place.
Incanto: They call their food Californian-Italian, but I feel a true Italian spirit at work. Most of the pastas are home-made, they use Ligurian basil in the pesto, and they're not afraid of offal (that Chocolate Blood Pudding ain't made with blood oranges). They even have tripe, Dad! My only gripe is the decor, which could have been ordered from an Expo showroom. But that's a grumpy quibble. The food was wonderful and we were treated well.
I've talked enough about The Slanted Door, so I'll leave it at that.
And so, a quick tour of some favorite meals to-date:
Frisson: A swank restaurant/lounge concept in Jackson Square. Cool Jetsons-inspired interior and luscious cocktails, plus playful desserts ("cereal"-flavored ice cream: Yum!). The food was good, but drinks and sweets were better, so I'd call this an after-theater spot (are there any theaters nearby?), especially with a large group of young, unnaturally attractive friends.
Tallula: Sensual Indian-fusion food that combines Indian spices, French technique, and California ingredients. I usually blanch at food labled "something-fusion," but their lobster and pea dhosa persuades me to keep an open mind. Plus, the interior has its own form of fusion: Bombay-meets New Orleans bordello-meets Design Within Reach. It's fun and engaging. Especially eating on the 2nd-floor porch, looking down at the carnival of the Castro at night.
Zuni Cafe: My favorite meal(s) to date. Judy Rodgers is a master of pure Mediterranean sensibility, keeping things close to the ground and expressing each ingredient to its fullest. No other restaurant gives me such a feeling of well-being. On the snarky foodie chatboards, I see a lot of talk about Zuni being overrated, but I love this place.
Incanto: They call their food Californian-Italian, but I feel a true Italian spirit at work. Most of the pastas are home-made, they use Ligurian basil in the pesto, and they're not afraid of offal (that Chocolate Blood Pudding ain't made with blood oranges). They even have tripe, Dad! My only gripe is the decor, which could have been ordered from an Expo showroom. But that's a grumpy quibble. The food was wonderful and we were treated well.
I've talked enough about The Slanted Door, so I'll leave it at that.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Sonomapalooza
Went back up to Sonoma this weekend. I can't help it. I never knew love like this before. My mother-in-law sat obediently in the back seat while we carted her to Iron Horse and Roshambo wineries. Sometimes it's hard to remember that other people don't live for this kind of stuff. But she was a good sport, and we all got a kick out of the contrast between Iron Horses's backyard shed tastings and Roshambo's fabulous, fabulous, la-la high-concept wine salon. Can you tell I didn't fall in love? In an effort to wrest wine from the stodgy elite, they've gone the way of self-conscious hipsterism, with their Rock-Paper-Scissors contests and their t-shirts. But I really did like the 2002 Chardonnay (need to double-check the vintage), and I'm not a big Chardonnay person. I also picked up a few bottles of the 2004 Iron Horse Rosato di Sangiovese, which struck me as a perfect summer wine. I'm impaired, though, by my reluctance to pay more than $30 a bottle. Do I need to overcome this? Everyone else seemed to be doing it.
We had lunch at Willi's Seafood in Healdsburg. Very tasty small plates, but so ladled in butter that I felt like an overdressed piece of lettuce. Perhaps a better metaphor would be "like a live trout thrown in a tank of melted butter." Either way, too oily. Just down the street in the town center, we walked off lunch by browsing the best flea market/antique fair ever in the world. Would that magazines paid better! But you're not here to read about shopping...
We had lunch at Willi's Seafood in Healdsburg. Very tasty small plates, but so ladled in butter that I felt like an overdressed piece of lettuce. Perhaps a better metaphor would be "like a live trout thrown in a tank of melted butter." Either way, too oily. Just down the street in the town center, we walked off lunch by browsing the best flea market/antique fair ever in the world. Would that magazines paid better! But you're not here to read about shopping...
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Everyone's a Critic
We took my mother-in-law to dinner at The Slanted Door tonight. She's here from Miami, so we did the whole showing-off-the-Ferry Building thing, like we've been living here for more than 5 weeks. But I have to say, it's so nice to be able to take someone to a place with a view and great food.
We took the long way home and drove by the Cliff House to see if we could oogle some seals, but I guess they don't hang out there much anymore. There was a man sitting out in front, panhandling for change, and when I gave him some money he said, "Enjoy your dinner! The lamb is very good."
"Really?" I asked.
"Yeah, and so's the strip steak. They give me food sometimes at the end of the night. The mahi-mahi's good, but I don't recommend the fish and chips. The breading is too oily, and you can tell they use frozen fish."
We took the long way home and drove by the Cliff House to see if we could oogle some seals, but I guess they don't hang out there much anymore. There was a man sitting out in front, panhandling for change, and when I gave him some money he said, "Enjoy your dinner! The lamb is very good."
"Really?" I asked.
"Yeah, and so's the strip steak. They give me food sometimes at the end of the night. The mahi-mahi's good, but I don't recommend the fish and chips. The breading is too oily, and you can tell they use frozen fish."
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Handy, man
This was a busy couple of days because Sunset held it's annual Celebration Weekend bonanza, with 25,000 people descending on the campus to tour the gardens, buy stuff, see cooking demos, walk through the Breeze House (which really is stunning, even standing as it is in a parking lot behind the administrative building), eat, dance, and marinate in the Sunset lifestyle.
I served as MC at the food stage on Sunday afternoon, which means that I introduced the speakers and then asked probing questions like, "So, if folks can't find shiso at their local market, can they substitute mint?"
Jamie Purviance's "Steak 101" class was the hit of the weekend, drawing big crowds and lots of spontaneous applause (a reminder of how much Americans still love their steak). The highlight came when he taught the old poke test trick from cooking school. For those unfamiliar, it's a way of telling how far cooked your meat is by poking it with your index finger. Once you know how a medium-rare steak feels, you'll no longer have to cut into it to check for doneness. And as a handy reference for knowing that medium-rare feel, Jamie held up his right hand. "Feel that fat pad under your thumb?" he says. "That's how rare meat feels. Now touch your index finger to your thumb and feel the fat pad. See how it tightens? That's how medium-rare feels. Touch your middle finger to your thumb; that's medium. Ring finger to thumb is medium-well, and pinkie to thumb is well-done." Choruses of "Ahhh!" and "Howsabout that!" Thunderous applause! Celebration weekend draws to a triumphant close.
I served as MC at the food stage on Sunday afternoon, which means that I introduced the speakers and then asked probing questions like, "So, if folks can't find shiso at their local market, can they substitute mint?"
Jamie Purviance's "Steak 101" class was the hit of the weekend, drawing big crowds and lots of spontaneous applause (a reminder of how much Americans still love their steak). The highlight came when he taught the old poke test trick from cooking school. For those unfamiliar, it's a way of telling how far cooked your meat is by poking it with your index finger. Once you know how a medium-rare steak feels, you'll no longer have to cut into it to check for doneness. And as a handy reference for knowing that medium-rare feel, Jamie held up his right hand. "Feel that fat pad under your thumb?" he says. "That's how rare meat feels. Now touch your index finger to your thumb and feel the fat pad. See how it tightens? That's how medium-rare feels. Touch your middle finger to your thumb; that's medium. Ring finger to thumb is medium-well, and pinkie to thumb is well-done." Choruses of "Ahhh!" and "Howsabout that!" Thunderous applause! Celebration weekend draws to a triumphant close.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Vines, vines everywhere and lots of wine to drink
Just got back from a trip through Western Sonoma. That place is Eden, Eden, Eden. Especially this time of year when the hills are still green and everything is in bloom. We focused on the western part of the region, hitting towns like Healdsburg and Sebastopol, following the Russian River, and taking in the landscape, which ranges from ocean to primeval forest to big sky rolling hills within just a few miles. Everywhere you turn, there's an apple orchard or a vineyard or a sheep farm, and the markets are bursting with local cheeses, breads, wines, organic strawberries and cherries. Foodie heaven. Plus, Sebastapol is a funky little leftie place with a "Nuclear Free Zone" sign at the town line and a mayor who won on the Green Party ticket.
We had some memorable meals. In Sebastopol, Bistro Bella Vita (8050 Bodega) just opened a few months ago, and though they don't yet have a Web site, they're worth seeking out. Great Cal-Ital food cooked by Manuel Mena, a chef who grew up in the Yucutan. He works some of these flavors into the menu, so if you see any dishes with salsas or moles, try them. Madrona Manor in Healdsburg is housed in a gorgeous Victorian mansion (Bless those 1880s lumber barons). This is a place where I'd love to take my mom for lunch, which, for us, was served on a patio that looks out over the gardens (like many California restaurants, the folks at Madrona grow their own flowers, herbs, and vegetables). Californians are really into composed salads right now and we had a deconstructed Nicoise in which every element was allowed to shine: wild salmon, sweet green beans, creamy fingerlings. Oh, and candied walnuts thanks to our kind and generous sponsors. Finally, we had a terrific dinner at Underwood Bar and Bistro in Graton, which is a one-horse town, Sonoma-style. No traffic lights, but a gourmet shop and a bistro. And Underwood is all about the bistro experience, with a Spanish accent, which means you'll have the perfectly roasted chicken, but with olives and preserved lemon rubbed under the skin, not herbs and butter.
Our tour guide for this chowfest was a wonderful guy named Clark Wolf, who has a home near the Russian River Valley. Clark is a restaurant consultant, pretty much the restaurant consultant in the country right now, and he divides his time between New York and Las Vegas, so he was doing double shots of espresso at every stop. But he's all heart, very generous, and he loves Sonoma. Back in the 70s, he stumbled across a job at one of the first-ever gourmet cheese shops in San Francisco, which means he landed right at the birth of the American food renaissance. And he met all the players, from James Beard to M.F.K. Fisher to Ruth Reichl. More recently, he helped found the Russian River Food and Wine Fest. The first festival took place last September, and this year's fest takes place on September 25. The New York Times has called the Russian River Valley "the new Normandy," and if the festival captures even a slice of the spirit that I saw on this trip, it'll be well worth the traffic on 101 to get there.
We had some memorable meals. In Sebastopol, Bistro Bella Vita (8050 Bodega) just opened a few months ago, and though they don't yet have a Web site, they're worth seeking out. Great Cal-Ital food cooked by Manuel Mena, a chef who grew up in the Yucutan. He works some of these flavors into the menu, so if you see any dishes with salsas or moles, try them. Madrona Manor in Healdsburg is housed in a gorgeous Victorian mansion (Bless those 1880s lumber barons). This is a place where I'd love to take my mom for lunch, which, for us, was served on a patio that looks out over the gardens (like many California restaurants, the folks at Madrona grow their own flowers, herbs, and vegetables). Californians are really into composed salads right now and we had a deconstructed Nicoise in which every element was allowed to shine: wild salmon, sweet green beans, creamy fingerlings. Oh, and candied walnuts thanks to our kind and generous sponsors. Finally, we had a terrific dinner at Underwood Bar and Bistro in Graton, which is a one-horse town, Sonoma-style. No traffic lights, but a gourmet shop and a bistro. And Underwood is all about the bistro experience, with a Spanish accent, which means you'll have the perfectly roasted chicken, but with olives and preserved lemon rubbed under the skin, not herbs and butter.
Our tour guide for this chowfest was a wonderful guy named Clark Wolf, who has a home near the Russian River Valley. Clark is a restaurant consultant, pretty much the restaurant consultant in the country right now, and he divides his time between New York and Las Vegas, so he was doing double shots of espresso at every stop. But he's all heart, very generous, and he loves Sonoma. Back in the 70s, he stumbled across a job at one of the first-ever gourmet cheese shops in San Francisco, which means he landed right at the birth of the American food renaissance. And he met all the players, from James Beard to M.F.K. Fisher to Ruth Reichl. More recently, he helped found the Russian River Food and Wine Fest. The first festival took place last September, and this year's fest takes place on September 25. The New York Times has called the Russian River Valley "the new Normandy," and if the festival captures even a slice of the spirit that I saw on this trip, it'll be well worth the traffic on 101 to get there.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Where's Bento?
In order to feel at home in a place, you need a good mental map. Otherwise, everything you do is work. Need gas? Gotta find the gas station, then figure out how to get there. When my mental map includes not just a 24-hour pharmacy, a hairdresser, and a dentist, but my favorite bistro, friends-in-town restaurant, and guilty comfort food, I'll know I'm home. So while I fight my way into The Slanted Door, what I really want is to be able to find:
1) A good pizza place that delivers
2) Sushi within walking distance
3) Ice cream within walking distance that's just far enough away
4) A brunch place where you don't have to stand in line
5) Dim Sum, ibid
6) That place you recommend to visitors
7) That place with the young chef who just needs one good review
8) The place with the rice pudding
9) An Indian restaurant with puffy breads
10) The place where you meet friends for drinks
11) The place that becomes "your place."
1) A good pizza place that delivers
2) Sushi within walking distance
3) Ice cream within walking distance that's just far enough away
4) A brunch place where you don't have to stand in line
5) Dim Sum, ibid
6) That place you recommend to visitors
7) That place with the young chef who just needs one good review
8) The place with the rice pudding
9) An Indian restaurant with puffy breads
10) The place where you meet friends for drinks
11) The place that becomes "your place."
The Journey Begins
Actually, the journey began a month ago. The planning began back in January. My husband was offered a book project (I know, his-and-hers sites, ugh.) that would bring him to California for a year. As luck would have it, there was a job out there for me, too. We were a tech writer and a food writer looking for an adventure, and San Francisco opened its doors. We took it as a sign.
So I left one regional magazine and landed at another, and here we are. Now my job is to get out and explore this enormous region and become an authority on food in the West. There's a lot to learn, and I wouldn't mind a little company along the way. I promise not to tell any stories about my cat.
So I left one regional magazine and landed at another, and here we are. Now my job is to get out and explore this enormous region and become an authority on food in the West. There's a lot to learn, and I wouldn't mind a little company along the way. I promise not to tell any stories about my cat.
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