This bud's for you

Let's take a look at how our figgy little friend is doing.

Looks like he'll be ready by June! Yes, Spring is here. On the other hand, when I last checked around mid-day, it was exactly one degree warmer in Boston than it was here. So there.

How a bill becomes a law

Spent about six hours in the test kitchen today. I'm on my fifth iteration of a marinated shrimp recipe for the July issue of Sunset, and I'm pretty sure it'll need a couple more tries to get it exactly right. You want reliable recipes? Come to us.

Developing a recipe happens in two phases here. First, the writer comes up with her idea (and it's just us girls here), ingredient list, and a method, then cooks it over and over until it's done. Each time, the whole team tastes and weighs in. Next, the writer sends the text to a fellow editor for a once-over on correct recipe style.

When it comes back, the writer hands the recipe over to one of our group of freelance retesters, who prepare it exactly as written, thus serving as stand-ins for the readers. They're not allowed to improvise or correct, and so they identify your blind spots: the things that you thought you had hashed out or made clear, but didn't.

Very few food magazines make use of this step. And with all the times a retester has pointed out the holes in my own work, I've come to see how critical it is.

Soup to nuts, the process can take anywhere from a week to a month, and it's not unusual for any given recipe that we run to be made ten or fifteen times before it goes in the magazine. I fear this is one of those times. I'll be sure to post this shrimpy thorn in my side as soon as it comes out.

Boldface names

One of the confusing perks of working in the media is party invites. A PR firm sends you an invitation to some benefit dinner without making it clear if it's a publicity thing (i.e. free), or an opportunity to buy a ticket. You might want to go, but what kind of jerk calls the amfAR to ask, "Can you comp me?" Publishing salaries will never furnish your membership in the Young Friends of the Met, but if a non-profit is giving you a free meal, that's a little less money for the charity. So I usually don't go.

But every so often the invite comes at the last minute, and you can safely assume that they're just looking to fill some unsold seats. Or, it's clear that there's PR value for them in having some media present.

Such was the case last night, when I found myself at a benefit for San Francisco State's International Center for the Arts, trying to play it cool at the sight of Michael Baryshnikov eating short ribs one table away. Alaksandr Petrovsky, one table away! My Nutcracker prince! Nikolai Rodchenko, tormented Bolshoi defector in "White Nights," who must overcome his pride and beg his lover, "Hyelp me!" in a way so stirring to my pubescent imagination that I wasted years thinking tortured men were romantic. Alas, none of them could really be hyelped.

Anyway, I played it cool. And I'm happy to report that Baryshnikov's wife, Lisa Rinehart, though beautiful and an ex-dancer, is very smart-seeming and relatively age-appropriate. According to the PR rep, they have three children and live in "the country," which, in New Yorkese, probably means Connecticut or the Hudson River Valley. Though they both appeared to be having a fine time (he was seated next to Alice Waters, who was fantastically animated in his presence), they were both very light eaters and left before dessert was served.

A shame. The food was by Marcus Samuelsson of Aquavit, and it was extraordinary. Let's set aside the question of flying a New York chef in to San Francisco to cook for a local cause: the expense, the out-of-joint noses. I have wanted to try Samuelsson's food for years, and I couldn't have been happier. Smoked salmon with celeriac salad; molten foie gras; arctic char with duck tongue salad (mercifully relieved of its chewy cartillage center); short ribs with a sweet potato tart; and green apple sorbet with white chocolate mousse and fenel cream. It was the perfect menu for an event like this: interesting, without being overly challenging, but laced with one really exotic ingredient for bragging rights. Most of all, it was just so delicious. I had chills.

Taco Rabanne

Me likes the tacos. Let's just establish that upfront. Tacos + Me = BF 4 EVER.

And my hunt for the king of tacos has been snowballing of late. A rigorous, peer-reviewed process. Not complete, by any stretch. But performed with enthusiasm, and a good attitude.

So while the quest continues, I want to announce a new plateau, if not a peak. An apex?

El Huarache Loco*, at the Alemany market. The unsexy market. Saturdays, from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. Order the Mexico City-style tacos, which are good enough that I'm hoping that a certain native son will get his butt out here to try them already. They serve another Mexico City signature, the namesake Huarache: fresh sandal-shaped masa tortillas topped with salsa verde, cheese, meat, nopal salad, and crema.

Now, I'm no fool**. I realize that having to go to a farmer's market on Saturdays to find thse tacos gives them a certain Chowhoundian appeal. There's nothing a Chowhounder likes better than some obscure dish that's available for just one hour each week, and across town, because that's when the sister of the owner drives in from Lodi and she's the only one who knows how to make it, idiot.

But these really are terrific.

Even better, El Hurache's owner, Veronica Salazar, got her start through La Cocina, a very inspiring SF non-profit that helps women start their own food businesses by providing affordable commercial kitchen space, business training, and moral support. I love the food coming out of La Cocina (I'll devote a post to it in coming days).


* I love that the name means "The crazy sandal."

** My imaginary factchecker demands a clarification: I am, not infrequently, a fool about many things, including daytime reality TV. I do, however, try to be smart about my food.

More Mendocino finds

Did I mention that the drive to Mendocino is a bugger? First, it's twisty-turny, which means my only recourse is to do all the driving myself (or invest in a car with better handling). Extreme carsickness makes me want to die. Really, just give it up and expire.

Second, the trip from San Francisco is neatly divided into two parts: an endless, often clogged highway, and the aforementioned twisty-turny part. You crawl across one finish line only to find the second leg of the race.

Still, it is so pretty. Especially Route 182, from Sonoma to the coast. You switchback over the hills, now bright green with the rain, then coast down through wine country into the redwoods, which lead you to the churning ocean. Along the way, you can stop at Schramsberg vineyards, makers of excellent California sparklers, or buy a sack of apples and some apple balsamic vinegar from the Apple Farm in Philo. But you must always stop at Gowan's Oak Tree produce stand for the crispy apple chips. They're like potato chips, but thicker and more delicate. "Are these fried?" I asked the salesgirl. No, she said, they freeze the apples to dry them out. I bit in, and my taste buds went to Toontown. Zing! Pow! Wow! I raced out to the car with two bags. "Are these fried?" Scott asked. "No," I cried, "They're a miracle!"

We are now in the second half of Dungeness crab season and a great time has been had by all. I didn't think I'd find crustacean love beyond the Maine lobster, but Mama's got a brand new crab. We had these these fantastic Dungeness tacos at Sharon's by the Sea in Noyo Harbor, where the crab boats come in each day to deposit their catch. Sharon piles an Asian fusion-y slaw on top of the meat, which is what you see here. Those are homemade potato chips on the right.

Bread heaven

I had a getting-to-know-you visit today with my new doctor. This being San Francisco, I filled out a lengthy questionnaire about my health history, my relationships, my feelings, and my food habits. She gave me great advice, and told me it never hurts to try accupuncture. I wanted to say, "Really? It never hurts?" But I bet she gets that all the time.

One of the questionnaire items had me listing foods that I crave and foods that are comforting. That would be "bread," and "bread." And I found the most fantastic bread up in Mendocino last weekend at Café Beaujolais. Best I've had so far, and that's saying something.

The breads are baked in a wood-fired oven and sold out of a little window on the side of a cottage. Couldn't be more charming. And they are the moistest, crustiest, most flavorful loaves. We bought a fougasse and a levain, and it took some willpower to not devour them on the 4-hour drive home. In the rain, with no lunch.

So here's the question: Now that we've found it, is it...hmm, excessive to do an 8-hour round-trip just for the bread?

Spamalot

Mmmmmm.....meat cupcakes. Could I even make this up? A friend linked me to this recipe on the Hormel website. "Thought it might make a great element in a story on emetics or something along those lines," she said.

I love the yellow ribbon. It says, "Sure, you can dress up your canned pig's ass as a teatime dainty. But don't forget the troops, eating theirs straight out of the can."

Catch-up

So back in May, after we had been here for just a month or so, I wrote this post about mental maps and the challenge of learning a new city.

I'd feel like San Francisco was really home, I said, when I knew the following:

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."

So here's a progress report:

1) Pizza: The one decent delivery place we've found so far is Pizza Express. We'd like to do better.

2) Sushi: Success! Deep Sushi is a mere ten-minute walk away.

3) Ice cream that's just far enough away: That would be Mitchell's.

4) Brunch, no line: In San Francisco? Impossible. But if you get up early, you can sneak into Tartine.

5) Dim Sum: I can't believe I said "ibid." Anyway, it's City View, before 10:30 a.m..

6) Where to send visitors: That's easy. Everybody loves the Ferry Building.

7) The young chef: Can't say enough good things about Dennis Leary at Canteen.

8) Rice pudding: Help! We haven't found any good rice pudding yet...

9) Puffy Indian breads: Of the places we've tried so far, Naan n' Chutney is the puffiest.

10) Place to meet for drinks: That would require me to actually meet friends for drinks. Seriously, we'd all rather eat.

11) The place that becomes "your place": Aw, that's cute. Can't say we've found The One. But nothing beats Saturday mornings at the farmers market with Scott.

---