Televised.

My friend Laurence had me as a guest on his SFGTV show: Building SF. The show was called A Kitchen of Her Own - Home Kitchen Design and Construction, and on it I demo the recipe for gougere from the Tartine Cookbook. We discuss the joys of kitchen remodels in San Francisco and how much I like butter.

Here's my version of the Elizabeth Pruett's original Tartine recipe:
1 1/4 C. milk (Elizabeth specifies nonfat, but with that much butter, who cares!)
10 Tbsp. unsalted butter

Coarse salt
1 C. flour
6 eggs
3/4 cup Gruyere cheese cut in 1/1" cubes, plus more for garnish
Some freshly ground black pepper
Some fresh thyme

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper; set aside. Place milk, butter, and 1 teaspoon salt in a saucepan over medium heat. Cook until butter has melted and mixture comes to a boil. Add flour; stir constantly until mixture is incorporated, about 3 minutes. You'll likely need to switch from a whisk to a wooden spoon during this process. Add 5 eggs, one at a time, making sure each is fully incorporated with a wooden spoon before adding the next. Mixture will be thick, smooth, and shiny. Stir in cheese, pepper, and thyme.

Using two table spoons, form rounds about 1 1/2 inches wide on prepared baking sheet, spacing each about 1 1/2 inches apart. In a small bowl, whisk together remaining egg and pinch of salt. Brush each pastry round with egg mixture and sprinkle with cheese.

Transfer baking sheet to oven and bake until puffed, golden brown, and light for their size, 15 to 25 minutes. Remove pastries from oven. Serve hot, warm, or at room temperature. and with lots of well chilled champagne. Preferably to a house full of people whilst wearing a party dress.

[Napa 2001] 4. learning to embroider

I spent hours carefully stitching the outline of a fig leaf into a beautiful piece of linen, intending to stitch it up into a skirt. It would be more than a year before my sewing machine made the trek west, and the project still lays idle.

My fascination with the shape (and scent) of fig leaves remains. A month ago I stole fig leaves from a tree on First Street in Napa to wrap tender bits of halibut in, and steam. I served these in the starry dark of Naya's Napa backyard for Eileen's birthday.

Story four, in a series of 48.

[Napa 2001] 3. dark chocolate sandwiches on sourdough

Despite working in a natural foods superstore and a thoughtful food co-op, I really hadn't sorted out chocolate until I moved to Napa. When I was 14 I spent a month is the USSR, shooting guns at the high school's rifle range in the basement, eating yeasty sweet cheese buns in the cafeteria, vaguely teaching English, eating ice cream in the snow in November, and meting dark chocolate in at spoon carefully held in the tension of a cup of hot black tea. Soviet chocolate had none of the grim waxiness of Hersheys, and I was smitten. Erin and I still love this chocolate trick, 19 years later.

There was breifly good bread in Columbus, Ohio, but the only good bakery had been shuttered in a flurry of financial disasters for several years before I moved to Napa.

So that summer, I lived in a perfect storm of the start-up stress of Copia, Acme sourdough baguettes and Scharffenberger chocolate. In this storm, I acquired one of my favorite sandwiches. Naya seemed to discover this same sandwich in the basement of Ritual.

Story three, in a series of 48.

Brilliant cocktail: the Sungold Zinger.

Last night, when I met a friend for drinks at Range I was fully prepared to order my usual Junipero gin martini -up-with-grapefruit-twist. Yay for well stocked bars. I'd been thinking about it this twist for hours, how the whiff of citrus oil floats across the first sip.

The Range bartenders are amazing, and their specials menu is always worth a gander. You should never, ever go there though. You'll take up all the seats at my 'private' bar and I'll be sad. My fantasy martini never had a chance, as the special menu listed a Sungold Zinger. Perhaps you're not aware that it's Yellow Tomato Week at Rachel. I watched the bartender make them all night, enchanted. I also drank a glass of rosato, a bourbon-based Bit-O-Honey, some bitters, and a glass of champagne. I should have just drank four more Sungold Zingers.

Please make these at home and don't crowd up my neighborhood bar. Thanks.

Sungold Zinger
3-4 Sungold cherry tomatoes
Pinch of sea salt
2 tsp agave surup
2 oz 209 gin
Ice

In a shaker, muddle tomatoes with sea salt. Add agave syrup, gin, and enough ice to fill the shaker. Shake like crazy. Strain through a fine strainer into a martin glass and garnish with a Sungold.

Summertime chili.

CIMG1608, originally uploaded by johnyo.

Last night I was challenged with a kitchen full of Alemany farmers market and Farm Fresh to You peppers and tomatoes, but not wanting any of the usual things. I'm officially (after a zillion delicious variations) ratatouilled out. For now.

I also had three treasures: two cups of hand ground wheat flour from Eatwell Farms, four ears of sweet sweet corn and a pound of hand-hulled first-of-season fresh black eyed peas. I wanted chili, but it seemed too heavy for the sunny Mission day in San Francisco. What I had in mind was a brothy, fresh yellow chili and little savory sweetcorn pancakes.

Here is what I made...

Summertime Chili
Saute until soft in a large soup pot:
2 Tbs olive oil
2 tbs salt
2 leeks, diced
3 stalks celery, diced

Cook separately:
2 cups black eyed peas (dry or fresh, cook according to instructions)

Add to the soup pot:
8 c water
4-5 medium yellow heirloom tomatoes, diced
3 ears sweet corn, cut off the cob
3 c mixed color sweet peppers, cut into thin strips

Bring to a boil, add the cooked beans and:
2 pints mixed variety cherry tomatoes, halved

Return to a boil, adjust seasonings and serve with assorted toppings:
plain yogurt, guacamole, fresh cilantro, chipotle powder, grated cheese, pickled peppers and sweet corn pancakes (recipe follows.)

Sweetcorn Pancakes
1 cob sweet corn
2 Tbs butter

2 c whole wheat flour (hand ground is the most fun!)
2 c cornmeal
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder

2 c whole milk
3 eggs

Cut the corn from the cob and saute in rather too much butter. The butter will be the oil in the batter. Mix the dry ingredients in a quart Mason jar. Beat the eggs in a bowl, beat in the milk. Add the sauteed corn and extra butter to the milk mix. Pour the wet into the dry in the Mason jar, add the lid and shake gently. Add milk as necessary to your ideal pancake batter thickness...I prefer extra thin ones and used a total of three cups of milk in this recipe.

Cook in a skillet in a bit of butter.

These are equally delicious with piles of fresh blueberries, slathered in maple syrup.

Glowing.

Lemon Tree Relume, originally uploaded by Andrew-Hyde.

To make these simple lanterns, we twisted wire around the lip of Mason jars, leaving a long tail. Then the tail got a little hook at the end so we could loop them over the branches. Thanks to all my delightful guests for jumping in & making the DIY party!



Three part Twitter recipe:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Micro-localizing.

Photo credit: Peter Dasilva/ NYT

Trevor of MyFarm, who is rather famous lately, was over yesterday for an assessment and soil testing for my future backyard food garden. Keeping in mind that my whole backyard is perhaps 20'x20', and that the vast majority of it is dominated by a Meyer lemon tree perhaps 16' in diameter, we're in for adventure. He was happy to hear that I was interested in making compost and a beehive part of the plan. Wondering if can grow radishes under my roses...

Ribbed.

From the Fatted Calf's email newsletter this week:

Rules For Ribs

Remember, anyone can turn out a few racks of damn good ribs. You do not need a lot of special equipment, be of a specific gender or have a granddaddy from the hill country. Patience, desire and a heat source will do.

Rule 1:Formulating Your Meaty Plan You will want to have at least 3 ribs per person. Some people might only eat two while others are endowed with a gene that allows them to consume an entire rack in one sitting.

Rule 2: Don't Rush It If you allow yourself five hours of cooking time you won't be disappointed with tough, underdone ribs. Keep your grill/smoker at about 225 degrees.

Rule 3: Stack 'em up. Stack your ribs up to three high so that one's steaming in the middle at all times. This exposes all the slabs to different types of heat so that none is getting too much dry heat. Every half hour or so, rotate the bottom rack to the top, the middle to the bottom and the top to the center. Putting a small pan of water in the coals will help ensure moist deliciousness as well.

Rule 4: Create a distraction. You will not be able to keep enthusiastic guests from hovering, poking, prodding, offering unsolicited advice and second guessing your every move unless you distract them. A few Basque Coils and a little salumi set out ahead of time go a long way in keeping too many cooks out of your outdoor kitchen.

Sign up for the newsletter now, and know the meaty treats of the week.

I doubt this spiff little Lazzari box-o-charcoal will keep the heat on the ribs for 5 hours, but it sure is pretty. Via Treehugger.

Temptress.

Quite tempted to buy this book by Skye Gyngell for it's cover. Quite.

Caramelles.

Photo: Foodbeam

Um, yes. Yes I will use the newly thrifted, hand cranked Atlas pasta machine to make pasta wrappers for ricotta with basil and black olives. But I think I will put them in a caramellized onion/ butter sauce deglazed with lots of white wine & reduced.

Adapted by Foodbeam from Jamie Oliver's recipe.

Caramelle à la ricotta, au basilic et aux olives noires

serves 4

for the pasta dough
6 large organic eggs
600g tipo 00 flour (or any other fine flour)

Crack the eggs into a small bowl and mix with a fork.
Place the flour in a bowl, make a well in the centre and pour the eggs over. With the tips of your fingers, mix the eggs with flour until everything comes together. It is now time to knead the dough until soft and smooth. To do this, I usually divide the dough in four, mix each ball separately, and then combine the balls into a big one.
Wrap the ball in cling film and put in the fridge for at least half an hour – just enough time to make the filling!

for the filling
250g ricotta cheese
a pinch of grated nutmeg
a small handful of black olives, pitted and chopped
a handfuls of grated parmesan
sea salt and ground pepper
extra virgin olive oil

Separate the larger basil leaves from the smaller ones (that you will keep in a bowl of cold water for decoration). Finely chop the big basil leaves and put half of them in a bowl (the rest will be used in the sauce – see below) with the ricotta, grated nutmeg, olives and parmesan. Season with salt and pepper and add a splash of olive oil.

Roll the pasta dough, one small ball at a time and cut into 10×6cm rectangles Place a teaspoon of filling in the middle and brush lightly with water. Roll up and pinch hard to secure each end. Keep on a flour-dusted tray in the fridge until you need them. Repeat until all the dough/filling is used.

for the sauce
2 knobs of butter
olive oil
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely sliced
400g ripe tomatoes, peeled, halved, deseeded and roughly chopped
balsamic vinegar
a handful of grated parmesan

Gently heat the butter with a splash of olive oil in a saucepan. When the butter starts to foam, add your sliced garlic and the rest for your chopped basil. A minute later, add the tomatoes. Bring to the boil and simmer for five minutes, until softened. Taste and season with salt and pepper and a swig of balsamic vinegar.

Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil and add the caramelle. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, until they begin to float, then carefully remove them to a colander using a slotted spoon. Add the caramelle to the sauce and gently toss. Sprinkle with a handful of grated parmesan, the shake around and cover for 30 seconds. Divide between plates and sprinkle with the drained basil leaves.

Sweet Italian.

After a total yoga failure at lunch, I stopped by AG Ferrari in order to obtain a Pellagrino.

I bought 10 hardcandies from Pastiglie Leone, their Regal Torinos.

I've long been intrigued by the many colored wrappers, but only now tried to figure out the flavors I didn't know. And what a list of flavors it is! (I din't buy all of them, just a handful, so some will remain mysterious for now.)

Pomo cotogno- Quince (pale spring green wrapper)

Cedro-Cedar?

Susina-Plum (royal purple wrapper)

Pesca- (Google translate says ‘fishing’, but this is my favorite iced tea flavor) Peach (rosy peach wrapper)

Menta piemonte- Peppermint

Pera- Pear

Anisetta- Anise (sky blue wrapper)

Mandarino- Mandarin (pumpkin orange wrapper)

Arancia- Orange

Albicocca- Apricot (sunflower yellow wrapper)

Fragolina – Strawberry?

Ratafia- liqueur or cordial flavored with peach or cherry kernels

Ribes- Red currant? (red wrapper)

Tamarindo- Tamarind (reddish brown wrapper)

Fleischgeist.

Meatpaper editors Sasha Wizansky & Amy Standen. Photo Credit: Juilio Duffoo, via The Kitchn

Snips from the latest Meatpaper Newsletter. Subscribe to the mag now!

* Save the date: July 20, 2008! We’re partnering with Gastronomica magazine for a summer issue launch party at Perbacco restaurant in San Francisco. Join us for tastings by chefs Staffan Terje of Perbacco, Chris Kronner of Serpentine and Slow Club, Leif Hedendal Vegetarian Cuisine, and more. Enjoy beverages from Verge Syrah, Trumer Pils, Bluecoat Gin, La Fee Absinthe, Rhum Clement, and others. Plus: live gypsy jazz by Gaucho. Stay tuned for details.

* Issue Four lands in bookstores and mailboxes mid-June. SUBSCRIBE NOW and you’ll be the first to find out about the global politics of chicken wings, animal cannibalism in the children’s books of Richard Scarry, plus the beefytini, weeniecello, and other adventures in mixology.

Restoring.

Photo Credit: The Kitchn

More on this topic soon...thinking lots about local, Comfort Food Club, and my kitchen as studio.

Foraging.

Photo credit: Forage Oakland

From Forage Oakland, who is trying to entice cherries: These are images from cherries from two trees in North Berkeley. I have hand delivered letters to the proprietors of these homes, and I hope to receive a response any day.

Those look like Montmorency cherries to me. Maybe they're just under-ripe Bings though. Suuuuper impressed by the Forage Oakland (and apparently Forage SF) effort. Sent this to them yesterday:

I have a large Meyer lemon tree in the Mission/ SF. Not really any lemons now, but there sure will be. Herbs in the backyard pots, happy to share small quantities with nearby neighbors.

Interested in stone fruit (especially plums and apricots) and unusual citrus varieties. Always willing to trade fruit for preserves.

Very happy to help you with the project. A google map of this stuff would be awesome. I'm a bit of a geek (my job is to help large nonprofits with internet strategy) and admittedly a food nerd...

Rachel
Lexington, SF

Will report on the much-anticipated outcome.

(Good) food on the interweb.

Illustration: Hadley Hooper for the NYT

Harumph. The NYT has a round-up of local food access points. Just which local, exactly, is a bit ambiguous...I assume local meant NYC, but no. At the end of the article the author is placing a standing order with my beloved Farm Fresh To You. (Gold star for that.) I was surprised to read this on FFTY's web site today: "Currently over 800 families are participating in our family farm's CSA, Farm Fresh To You." I feel like I must know one eighth of their customers. I assumed they delivered thousands of boxes a week.

Michelle Slatalla did introduce me to Spud, which delivers in Seattle, SF, LA & Portland. They'll deliver Strauss glass bottle milk to my house. Distance feature is awesome. Clicking on Strauss shows "This supplier is located 52 miles from our San Francisco warehouse." Still, unless they'll deliver the big jars of A Bientot plain yogurt too, they're not the magical wonderland I'd hoped for. Hrm...bakery section notably missing Acme bread. Household section missing Mrs. Meyers.

Haney's asking a great question over on LinkedIn:
What online platform would work best to connect tens of thousands of individuals and organizations (for-profit and non-profit) in a long-term campaign to create a sustainable, non-exploitative food system in California?

Refrigerated.

Photo: Phil Mansfield for The New York Times

Ms. Puett sees the refrigerator as just as valid a territory for thoughtful arrangement as any other part of the house. "It's a really fun game," she said. "It makes moving through the banalities of life stimulating."

Good heavens, J. Morgan Puett must be an interesting person. Ooooh...and her kitchen is a showcase for her vintage chemist's glassware.

Permalink to photos linked above: kitchen is #6, refrigerator is #9

{Via The Kitchn}

Trendy.

If nothing else, I'm hip. I started making jam in 2004. I ate miracle fruit last year. I go on and on about authenticity.

hole.

Tonight I won't start eating. Nothing will fill me. I could eat half a loaf of apple raisin bread pan- toasted in butter with cup after cup of heavy Eagle Brand sweet PG Tips. I could eat the frozen whole wheat penne with vodka sauce, scaling it with sharded slivers of hard Parmesan. Defrost the single cheddar squash tamale and wolf it down with spicy kim chi and the tiny vinegary yellow Brazilian peppers. I could stew and salt the collards. Steam the kale, dipping entire leaves in lemon tahini sauce.

I could eat the whole pound of earlobe-shaped artichoke pasta, with butter and backyard Meyer lemon zest. There are cold blocks of duck-rich cassoulet, memory-thick bean stew. There are freezer dessicated haricots verts, revivable with lemon and olive oil. Garlic sharp crackers. Irish oatmeal with plump raisins, custardy boiled dates, and toasted walnuts.

Freezer jars of applesauce to heat in the chocolate brown Le Creuset saucepan from my mother's wedding set, adding sugar and cinnamon to invoke my grandmother. Navel oranges from last week's box. A square pan of Droste brownies with pecans. The last of the milk and two pale blue green Auracana eggs with a block of Scharffenberger into chocolate pudding. A jar of sour cherries from Eastern Europe with half a carton of eggs fork whisked into a clafouti, finished with the big raw sugar crystals I carried home from Maui, on the trip with the pool and the plums.

I can eat jar after jar of apricot jam, starting with the tiny jar saved from the 2007 batch. I would think of Sylvia's line, "I eat men like air" as I emptied my pantry, my refrigerator, my freezer. I could eat my kitchen as easily as breathing, fueled by the tightness in my chest. It is the only thing that is how I hoped it would be, how I expected, that kitchen. All else I have accomplished falls short by my measure, who I had hoped to be and to become. I am emptied, and tonight I will not start eating because nothing in my kitchen will fill the hole.

[napa 2001] 2. peaches from our tree

fragrant, originally uploaded by sassyradish.

In the summer of 2001 I was banned from making pies. This is the story of how that judgement came to be.

I was born across the alley from an apricot tree. A huge apricot tree in the backyard of a large brick Victorian with a turreted tower with a resident clan of hippies. Those apricots were my first food, and I remain fascinated and comforted by ripe apricots. As a kid, sometimes we still had access to that huge tree. At some point in my childhood, the monster was cut down. I would not encounter limitless access to seasonal fruit, except for semi-yearly apple orchard trips and hot days gorging in pick-your-own strawberry fields, until the summer of 2001. In the interim, my appetite for picking ripe fruit grew unchecked for 20 years.

Finding myself in baking ingredient paradise, I commenced with an unchecked pastry manufacturing orgy. Meyer lemon meringue pie (our own eggs! our own lemons!), a meringue-frosted tall cake decorated with tiny marzipan toys for a baby shower, a double-stacked plum upside down cake, blackberry pie, strawberry pie, blackberry crisp, peach cobbler, and an endless stream of peach pies. Eventually, K --who despises mushy foods as a category and consequently seems to loathe Thanksgiving, banned the making of pies. I still came home from work and, after a trip to the tree, sat at the oak kitchen table prepping peach slices for freezing. The juice ran in streams down my forearms, pooling at my elbows. It was heaven.

Thanksgiving 2002 I showed up at their house with 9 pies, including a still-controversial fresh pumpkin pie made apple pie-style. I figured I could get away with flaunting the pie-making ban. I'm not sure that I did.

Story two, in a series of 48.

anchor & hope

Over a lovely lunch at shiny new Anchor & Hope (shared Ceviche with Lime & Coconut, butter-slathered Lobster Rolls with Old Bay Spiced Potato Chips) I had a restorative conversation with friends. We talked about Japanese baths, and community baths in general, L complaining strongly that Kabuki does it all wrong by enforcing silence. I shared my adoration for Cathedrals of the Flesh, a dead-on perfect gift from E. Doug and Steven stopped by the table, talking acoustics with our party.

One of us is headed to Paris, so I recounted my fall visit with E to the worn hammam at the mosque there, and the intense experience of being forcefully gommaged. It is indeed like being licked by a cat's tongue...a hand-sized one.

While in Paris, I 'borrowed' a lovely tiny guide to historic restaurants, Historic Restaurants of Paris. It was filled with gems and lovely turns of phrase. When a turn in the Jardin du Luxembourg slid into bolting from a downpour, we ducked out of the rain and into
Restaurant POLIDOR (41, rue Monsieur Le Prince, 75006 Paris). The banned napkin storage cabinet was indeed there, as was the Turkish toilet, in much too small of a room. We started out lunch alone, and by the time we paid the check the many communal tables were packed cozily with soggy refugees from the deluge. I often think of E's fragrant chicken with morels in cream sauce. Very often.

The fresh chips were so melt-in-my-mouth salty good that I took the unfinished remainder back to the boys at the office. As I walked the two blocks back to finish a stressful day, I noticed Anchor & Hope's hot mermaid (above) tastefully embossed on their paper takeout box. Well done.