A civilized breakfast

I've found a grown-up alternative to the toasted-Wonder-bread-with-ricotta-and-grape-jelly breakfast that I loved to love as a child.

1 slice rustic walnut bread, toasted

topped with:

2 tablespoons fromage blanc
2 teaspoons honey

Fast, easy, yum.

See you later, frialator

I have often thought, since we moved to San Francisco, that the city looks like a place out of a child's drawing, with its exaggerated landscape and ornate houses and bright flowers. Even the people look like the cast of Free to Be You and Me.

And then there's Santa Cruz, where we spent the day on Saturday. If ever a town was not merely drawn, but designed by a child, this is it. Who else would line the town beach with an arcade and a boardwalk/amusement park? "It's like all the best of California condensed into one place," Scott marveled. It should have been named Happyville, and I can't believe the grownups let this one through.

Our personal source of childlike delight came in the form of a deep-fried Twinkie that we bought on the boardwalk. This was a first for us (surprising, given our love of carnival food) and I’m happy to say it was better than I had expected. I thought the Twinkies would break down into something oozy and chemical in the cooking, but the result was rich and almost buttery. Mmmm...twinkies. Score one for deep-fried everything.

After a ride on the Hurricane, a really violent rollercoaster which left us feeling dizzy and old, we drove up to Bonny Doon's tasting room, 8 miles north of town. I love this place. Whereas Roshambo's anti-wine-snob posturing left me cold, I find Bonny Doon's quirky approach totally charming. And the wines are delicous. I took home some bottles of the Pacific Rim Chenin Blanc—a light, aromatic white—and their signature Rhone blend, Le Cigare Volant, along with a bottle of the Cardinal Zin. After tasting 6 or 7 wines, we still felt a little dizzy, but old no more.

Our last food stop was at Fambrini's Farm Fresh Produce for some $.99/lb apricots. I've had apricot jam on the brain lately, as I miss the apricot-lime preserves from Hi Rise Bakery in Cambridge. I'm going to try to recreate the recipe sometime this week; I'll let you know how it goes. Starting with discount apricots might not have been the best idea. Blame it on the rollercoaster.

Oink

Oink pretty much sums up my work life of late. Sunset received thousands of submissions to its Thanksgiving recipe contest (prize: a $50,000 kitchen redo). A panel of screeners, all former editors, narrowed that batch down, and then we're choosing which recipes make it to testing. That's a lot of recipes to taste. We have a team of recipe testers to do the cooking--if we didn't, the magazine would never get done--but there's still the matter of eating.

The testers are a jolly bunch--home cooks who we normally employ on a freelance basis to come in and test drive the recipes that we develop. They're stand-ins for our readers, and the questions and problems that they identify help us insure that the recipes work. Now, with the contest, they're in the kitchen cooking up a storm all day, every day. It reminds me of holiday mornings when my grandmother and aunts would be in the kitchen chopping and chatting by the time I woke up. Only this is a Groundhog Day-style repeat loop, where every morning is the holiday morning. For the first couple of days, I sat down at the tasting table singing, "It's the most wonderful time of the year, la-la-la...," and Linda said, "Just you wait."

She was right.

Anyway, speaking of Oink, I took Scott to Memphis Millie's on Haight St. on Wednesday night for his birthday. He loves his barbecue, and Minnie's has received high praise from lots of magazines, including Gourmet and Sunset.

I want to go back there one more time to get a better take, but on first impression, I'd say that if you really like smoke, this is your place. The meat is intensely flavored. Me, I like a little more sweetness in the crust, and Millie's flavors are all base notes. Unless, of course, you add the sauces, which are all terrific. So we're going to go back to try their pulled pork, which will probably ring my bell more than the ribs and brisket did.

A Cake to Bake

My husband's birthday falls one day after my father's. Not sure if that's evidence of some unresolved Electra Complex on my part, or if it just means that good men tend to be born around the longest day of the year. But in practical terms, it means I have birthdays on the brain and lots of presents to buy. And cakes to bake.

Scott is a respectably adventurous eater, but he's not a chowhound or a foodie. Instead, he's what I'd call a good sport. And that's just fine with me. He reminds me that other hobbies can be interesting, too. Like art, or drive-in movies.

And when he says he just wants a simple, old-fashioned yellow birthday cake with chocolate frosting, I say, "Where's my butter, sugar?" No, I don't say that. But I do make the cake.

This is, hands-down, the most delicious cake recipe I have yet to bake. It's from Shirley Corriher's Cookwise (only slightly modified).

If Dante had invented nine circles of heaven, this recipe would be her FastPass to the top. If I was a movie producer, I'd buy the rights and make it into a movie. On top of that, Shirley an awfully nice lady who spends a lot of time answering phone calls from stymied cooks all over the country.

Double this recipe if you want two layers.

Basic Moist Sweet Cake

Yield: 1 layer

Ingredients:

1-1/2 cups cake flour
1-1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 stick cold unsalted butter
1-1/3 cup sugar, placed in the freezer to chill
1/3 cup vegetable oil
2 large eggs at room temperature
3 large egg yolks at room temperature
1/2 cup buttermilk at room temperature
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Preparation:

Preheat oven to 350°. Line a cake pan with parchment paper, grease the bottom and sides with butter, and sprinkle with flour. Toss out the excess and set aside.

Sift together dry ingredients so that the baking powder is evenly dispersed. Chill your bowl and beaters. Beat the hard butter in the chilled bowl for three to four minutes, then gradually pour in chilled sugar. Beat for another three to four minutes until well-blended and very fluffy (a total of eight minutes).

Add oil to butter and sugar mixture, then blend. Add eggs and yolks and beat very lightly on a low speed. Too much beating after adding the eggs will produce a tough crust. Add the buttermilk and vanilla and blend lightly. Fold in sifted dry ingredients.
Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan, then bake for 35 minutes, or until an inserted toothpick comes out clean.

Happy Birthday Dad!

He makes a mean batch of roasted chestnuts.

Behind the Music

Two Rivers Winery
Originally uploaded by amytraverso.

I had lunch last week at Cafe Niebaum-Coppola in Palo Alto. I wanted to try the pizza, since the cafe is one of just 12 U.S. restaurants named to the Associazione Vera Pizza Napoletana. Seemed prestigious, but...eh. It was about as good as any pizza I've had so far. Which is to say, not as good as I had expected. We have had pizza from Pauline's and Pizza Express and so far, nothing to write home about. Haven't yet made it to A-16. Suggestions are welcome.

After lunch, I went back to the office to face 12 Thanksgiving desserts, 2 salads, and some beef tacos, all of which needed tasting and rating for a recipe contest and a wine club premium, respectively. This part of the job? It's tough. Just a bite or two each, and I'll skip dinner tonight, but on days like this it's impossible to not feel like a fatted calf, sacrificed to the glory of food writing.

Which brings me to Colorado. Bad transition.

We had incredible food on our Colorado wine tour. Delicous, abundant food. Tell a chef that 10 wine and food writers are coming to the restaurant and s/he's going to aim for the bleachers, so we had exactly one meal with fewer than 6 courses. Follow the just-two-bites rule all you want, but you won't be getting up from that table for at least 2 hours. It can, at times, feel like an endurance test.

My trip was sponsored by the Colorado Wine Industry Development Board to introduce food and wine writers to their growing wine trade. At the moment, there are about 60 wineries around the state, concentrated within the two AVAs (American Viticultural Areas): Grand Valley and West Elks. Boosters point to the region's warm days, cool nights, abundant sunshine, and well-drained soil. New Mexico has had some success with sparkling wines, so why not Colorado? In fact, grapes were grown all over the Western Slope more than 100 years ago, but the vines were torn out during Prohibition and replaced with peach trees, which thrived and became quite famous. Western Slope peaches are even served on Air Force One. What a waste of a good peach.

We visited 8 wineries and tasted wines from about 15-20 more (my notes get a little slurry). A lot of wine for three days. The verdict? Well, there's tremendous momentum here, and I felt lucky to be on the first-ever CO wine tour. I can't wait to see what the landscape will look like 5 and 10 years from now. The wines were mixed, but there were some real stand-outs and some terrific bargains. The vines are relatively young, growers are still figuring out which grapes thrive in each zone, and vinification methods vary. But the winemakers are a passionate, committed bunch, carving a wine industry out of high desert orchard land, despite the perils. Everyone had a bad frost story to tell. And they're seeing some success with Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Riesling, Gewurtztraminer, and fruit wines.

Some of my favorites, in no particular order:

1) Two Rivers Cabernet Sauvignon
2) Graystone Winery Port
3) Boulder Creek Riesling
4) Canyon Wind Rosé
5) The Winery at Holy Cross Abbey Merlot Reserve
6) Spero Cherry Wine (like bottled cherry pie)
7) Carlson Vineyard Gewurtztraminer
8) Garfield Estates S2
9) Stoney Mesa's Ptarmigan Vineyards line
10) Trail Ridge Lemberger (yes, Lemberger)

I also fell in love with the cheeses from Haystack Mountain Goat Dairy. Check 'em out!

All the little live things

Originally uploaded by amytraverso.

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.

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.

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.

Sonomapalooza

Originally uploaded by amytraverso.

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...