jesus died for somebody's sins
but not mine
Happy Easter, everyone! Did you enjoy your bunny cake, your chocolate eggs, your righteous pagan fertility worship? Glad to hear it. And now, on to Passover, and rhubarb.
But first, fabulous femme Shar Rednour is doing a reading/talk with Michelle Tea and Chelsea Starr on this Tuesday, April 1st, at the 3 Dollar Bill Cafe at the LGBT Center on Market St. Starts at 7pm, free, and if you ask a question during the Q & A, you get a homemade cookie!
As Shar says, "They have beer and wine at the 3 Dollar Bill Cafe and pretty good potato salad. All a femme needs, right?"
And before that, the swanky XYZ bar in the W Hotel, right near SFMoMA, is kicking off their new green happy hour called, I kid you not, Ecolicious, from 5:30 to 7:30pm. How this will be more green than say, the Easy Lounge's Saturday afternoon happy hour, when they make cocktails out of stuff from the Grand Lake Farmers' Market across the street, is the serious research PQ will be doing on your behalf tomorrow afternoon. Is this the bevvie version of Toyota's latest hookup to the green bandwagon, the hybrid SUV? Tune in on Wednesday for a report...
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
freebies!
Free samples are one of the happy perks of any job. I showed up at The Alley in Oakland the other night with a bag of salted caramels, hazelnut bonbons and big slabs of chocolate studded with candied orange peel and almonds, just because we'd been rotating the display boxes at the chocolate mines and there were loads of extras in the big "eat me" box behind the counter. Everyone needs some sweets to go with their cosmos and French fries. (Of course, when you work for, say, Goldman Sachs, these free samples are called "money", that being the stuff they rotate around. But I digress.)
And now, doing some freelance writing work for an organic produce distribution company, my perks come in the form of bunches of asparagus, bags of kumquats, a cherimoya or two, and most exciting of all, a Buddha's hand! Do you know the Buddha's hand? A very trippy citrus, like a citron made up of a dozen curling fingers covered in bright-yellow, intensely aromatic peel. No real pulp to speak of; it's all about the zest. What to do with it? I'm going to my favorite resource, former Chez Panisse pastry chef, Parisian homme-about-town, and cookbook author, David Lebovitz. His book "Ripe for Dessert" is a fantastic resource for fruit dessert-making, and his citrus-prosecco gelee was a huge hit at the PQ family Christmas dinner last year. So, David, qu'est-ce qu'on peut faire avec le main de Buddha?
And now, doing some freelance writing work for an organic produce distribution company, my perks come in the form of bunches of asparagus, bags of kumquats, a cherimoya or two, and most exciting of all, a Buddha's hand! Do you know the Buddha's hand? A very trippy citrus, like a citron made up of a dozen curling fingers covered in bright-yellow, intensely aromatic peel. No real pulp to speak of; it's all about the zest. What to do with it? I'm going to my favorite resource, former Chez Panisse pastry chef, Parisian homme-about-town, and cookbook author, David Lebovitz. His book "Ripe for Dessert" is a fantastic resource for fruit dessert-making, and his citrus-prosecco gelee was a huge hit at the PQ family Christmas dinner last year. So, David, qu'est-ce qu'on peut faire avec le main de Buddha?
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
spray-on tan
Remember pancake batter in a can? We were talking about this back a month or two ago, and today, the Bay Guardian's "Cheap Eats" Leone does the perfect sum-up.
The verdict on aerosol-can waffle and pancake batter?
Yeah. Whatever. No, I mean, it was free, and it was delicious. But being a person who loves to cook, and who loves to spend as much time as possible doing the things that I love to do, like cooking, why in the world would I ever in the world squeeze waffle batter out of a can? And then blow time looking out the window that I could have more wisely spent separating egg whites and hand-whisking until they hold soft peaks?
No kidding, I make three meals a day. I want to have my hands in the food, and my arms, teeth, and tongue when appropriate. Like sex, I actually want it to take as long as possible. And dirty all the dishes. (I'll do 'em in the morning.) You're in a hurry, I know. You have a job. Me, I'll keep doing what I do ... stirring constantly.
The verdict on aerosol-can waffle and pancake batter?
Yeah. Whatever. No, I mean, it was free, and it was delicious. But being a person who loves to cook, and who loves to spend as much time as possible doing the things that I love to do, like cooking, why in the world would I ever in the world squeeze waffle batter out of a can? And then blow time looking out the window that I could have more wisely spent separating egg whites and hand-whisking until they hold soft peaks?
No kidding, I make three meals a day. I want to have my hands in the food, and my arms, teeth, and tongue when appropriate. Like sex, I actually want it to take as long as possible. And dirty all the dishes. (I'll do 'em in the morning.) You're in a hurry, I know. You have a job. Me, I'll keep doing what I do ... stirring constantly.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Tiptoe through the Tulips
This being San Francisco in citrus season, I may not be the only girl walking around the city with 4 kumquats, a tangelo and a cherimoya in her purse. Ok, two kumquats and a cherimoya, because I ate the rest, dripping juice down my sleeve and biting through that aromatic kumquat skin to the sour pulp within. It's a breezy early-spring day, the stripy, frilly tulips out in buckets in front of Heartfelt, our local card-and-giftie store, and it's pretty, pretty, pretty out there, yet again. And I'm skipping around on this, my day off, singing that Be Good Tanyas song "The Littlest Birds" over and over again and hanging my laundry out to dry in the backyard, so it will come in smelling of sunshine and eucalyptus.
Another reason to be happy: you didn't wake up today as Eliot "Mr. Clean" Spitzer, a man who's having a Very Bad Day, the specific sort of Very Bad Day you have when you pledge to clean up corruption in the Empire State and then get busted as "Client 9" by the booker of a high-class escort service, who, alas for the Gov., was wearing a wire when he set up his NY-to-DC assignation with "Kristen" the petite brunette. Did he really think that paying the Amtrak fare for a NYC working girl to come down to DC was somehow more discreet than booking a date with a local? Now, as the result of that train trip, he's doubly busted for the whole crossing-state-lines-for-the-purpose-of-prostitution thing. Politicians: Toujours Stupides!
On another note: good books! Almost finished with Amy Bloom's novel Away, yet another in the sub-genre of Jews in Alaska, stories about (see also Michael Chabon's The Yiddish Policemen's Union). A rambling picaresque, and better than almost everything else I've read by her, except for the small, perfect story "Love is Not a Pie", which remains unsurpassed.
Another reason to be happy: you didn't wake up today as Eliot "Mr. Clean" Spitzer, a man who's having a Very Bad Day, the specific sort of Very Bad Day you have when you pledge to clean up corruption in the Empire State and then get busted as "Client 9" by the booker of a high-class escort service, who, alas for the Gov., was wearing a wire when he set up his NY-to-DC assignation with "Kristen" the petite brunette. Did he really think that paying the Amtrak fare for a NYC working girl to come down to DC was somehow more discreet than booking a date with a local? Now, as the result of that train trip, he's doubly busted for the whole crossing-state-lines-for-the-purpose-of-prostitution thing. Politicians: Toujours Stupides!
On another note: good books! Almost finished with Amy Bloom's novel Away, yet another in the sub-genre of Jews in Alaska, stories about (see also Michael Chabon's The Yiddish Policemen's Union). A rambling picaresque, and better than almost everything else I've read by her, except for the small, perfect story "Love is Not a Pie", which remains unsurpassed.
the littlest birds
Well it's times like these
I feel so small and wild
Like the ramblin' footsteps of a wanderin' child
And I'm lonesome as a lonesome whippoorwill
Singin these blues with a warble and a trill
But I'm not too blue to fly
No, I'm not too blue to fly, cause
The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs...
-Be Good Tanyas, "The Littlest Birds (Sing the Prettiest Songs)", from Blue Horse
I feel so small and wild
Like the ramblin' footsteps of a wanderin' child
And I'm lonesome as a lonesome whippoorwill
Singin these blues with a warble and a trill
But I'm not too blue to fly
No, I'm not too blue to fly, cause
The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs...
-Be Good Tanyas, "The Littlest Birds (Sing the Prettiest Songs)", from Blue Horse
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Woofer
Normally, I don't love being booked for work down in the Marina chocolate mines all weekend, especially on sunny spring days when all the ladies of leisure come breezing in for a couple of fleur-de-sel caramels, full of cheery commentary on how beautiful it is out there beyond the barred gates of retail. But last night, the Giant Scary Dogs arrived in my home, courtesy of my roommate's visiting girlfriend. I haven't seen them, but I've heard them, and they sound like the Hound of the Baskervilles looking to take your leg off. So having a paid excuse to be out of the house today and tomorrow will be very welcome.
Off to the Libery Cafe for coffee and apple turnovers, then on to Bart to see K. off to the airport, where she flies back to Richmond for 3 more months of Army-officer training. Meanwhile we took many slow buses out to Lincoln Park for a spin around the Legion of Honor museum, followed by whole fish and goat cheese with tomato-preserved lemon jam at Aziza.
Which was swell, really, except for the service at Aziza, which was way snootier than anyone doing business at the Outer-Richmond side of Geary deserved to be. I learned a few tricks during my 10 years as a restaurant critic (back pre-Yelping, pre-blogging, when this was a job one got paid to do, with the accompanying professional standards), and one was that the chillier the waiter, the more likely that he or she would know next to nothing about the menu, or the food being served, or anything but the most basic info about the ingredients. And that he or she would, when pressed, b.s. with aplomb, usually in the most patronizing manner possible. So when we asked what was argan oil, exactly, we got the spectacularly unhelpful but smug response that It's Smoky And It Comes From a Tree. Like maple syrup, presumably.
Nothing about the small, oily kernels of the nut of the argan tree, a gnarly little tree native only to a certain part of Morocco. Or how the nuts are encased in a rock-hard shell that is in turn wrapped in a small, olive-like fruit delicious to goats. The goats clamber up the branches, eat the fruit, and drop the nuts (still in their shells) to the ground. Each nut must be cracked and the kernels removed and ground between heavy millstones to release their dark, pungent oil, work often done by women's collectives in rural Morocco. A good story, non? Especially if there had been enough oil dribbled on the white chunk of cheese to actually taste, rather than merely providing gourmet-cachet to the menu.
Off to the Libery Cafe for coffee and apple turnovers, then on to Bart to see K. off to the airport, where she flies back to Richmond for 3 more months of Army-officer training. Meanwhile we took many slow buses out to Lincoln Park for a spin around the Legion of Honor museum, followed by whole fish and goat cheese with tomato-preserved lemon jam at Aziza.
Which was swell, really, except for the service at Aziza, which was way snootier than anyone doing business at the Outer-Richmond side of Geary deserved to be. I learned a few tricks during my 10 years as a restaurant critic (back pre-Yelping, pre-blogging, when this was a job one got paid to do, with the accompanying professional standards), and one was that the chillier the waiter, the more likely that he or she would know next to nothing about the menu, or the food being served, or anything but the most basic info about the ingredients. And that he or she would, when pressed, b.s. with aplomb, usually in the most patronizing manner possible. So when we asked what was argan oil, exactly, we got the spectacularly unhelpful but smug response that It's Smoky And It Comes From a Tree. Like maple syrup, presumably.
Nothing about the small, oily kernels of the nut of the argan tree, a gnarly little tree native only to a certain part of Morocco. Or how the nuts are encased in a rock-hard shell that is in turn wrapped in a small, olive-like fruit delicious to goats. The goats clamber up the branches, eat the fruit, and drop the nuts (still in their shells) to the ground. Each nut must be cracked and the kernels removed and ground between heavy millstones to release their dark, pungent oil, work often done by women's collectives in rural Morocco. A good story, non? Especially if there had been enough oil dribbled on the white chunk of cheese to actually taste, rather than merely providing gourmet-cachet to the menu.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Beautiful Day
Oh, sunshine! Daffodils! Prettiness! It's the nicest day you could imagine out there, even if the burly guys in neon vests are jackhammering up every square inch of the Cortland Street pavement outside Martha's coffee where I'm trying to write this. A day to frolic in the green, green grass, where there should be fluffy white sheep grazing on the top of Bernal Hill. Waiting for the 24 the other day, I heard a rooster crowing, something that never happened in Park Slope. This led to a conversation with an elderly woman at the bus stop, about WWII-era victory gardens, her husband's and my dad's WWII experiences, how hens will lay eggs regardless but it takes a rooster to fertilize them into potential chickens (which led my new pal into singing a verse of "It's So Nice to Have a Man Around the House"). All in all, not a bad way to pass a little of the inevitable waiting for Muni.
Then, down to the Ferry Building, to admire the oranges and watermelon radishes, and to lunch on lamb stew, roast chicken, yams and herby polenta from Mistral, followed by a spin around MOMA (free Tuesday!), tea in very stylish black-and-white cups at Caffe Museo, a trip to the main library to see Dorothea Lange's luminous photos of the summers she spent at her cliffside cottage at Slide Ranch. Family snaps, really, but heartfelt, and some exquisite. And then, around the corner, a fabulous little exhibit of SF nightlife souvenirs. Connie Champagne, hoofers at Bimbo's, eyelinered bartendresses at Coconut Grove, pool players at the 500 Club, Tosca's neon. And a photo of the old 17 Reasons Why sign, just to warm the PQ's heart. Dinner at Little Nepal back home on Cortland, where yak-butter tea has been replaced with mango shakes and chai, but we still enjoyed the mustard greens in tangy ginger broth, and the chunks of chicken in a cashew-thickened, creamy orange garlic-ginger-tomato sauce.
Then, down to the Ferry Building, to admire the oranges and watermelon radishes, and to lunch on lamb stew, roast chicken, yams and herby polenta from Mistral, followed by a spin around MOMA (free Tuesday!), tea in very stylish black-and-white cups at Caffe Museo, a trip to the main library to see Dorothea Lange's luminous photos of the summers she spent at her cliffside cottage at Slide Ranch. Family snaps, really, but heartfelt, and some exquisite. And then, around the corner, a fabulous little exhibit of SF nightlife souvenirs. Connie Champagne, hoofers at Bimbo's, eyelinered bartendresses at Coconut Grove, pool players at the 500 Club, Tosca's neon. And a photo of the old 17 Reasons Why sign, just to warm the PQ's heart. Dinner at Little Nepal back home on Cortland, where yak-butter tea has been replaced with mango shakes and chai, but we still enjoyed the mustard greens in tangy ginger broth, and the chunks of chicken in a cashew-thickened, creamy orange garlic-ginger-tomato sauce.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Chocolate Pie
Tomorrow is Bucky's birthday, so we'll all be celebrating (and raising a glass to his namesake) with a backyard bbq and (for those lucky enough to get tix ahead of time) the Extra Action Marching Band at Cafe du Nord. I've never seen the EAMB, but hanging out with dozens of skimpily dressed brass players blasting away in that little speakeasy space sounds ridiculously fun. I've been tapped to bring a chocolate pie in lieu of the fancy whiskey I'd love to bring but can't afford (now that B.'s ruined me for all but the finest 15-year Islay malts). Since I've got the big new Bubby's Pie Cookbook--written by the founders of NYC's Bubby's and the pastry socialists responsible for the annual Brooklyn Pie Social), I'll be hitting those pages to find me a tasty, tasty recipe for some kind of choco pudding in a crust. Pictures to follow, if I can ever find the little computer cord for my digital camera.
Tonight, it's opening night at Cutting Ball's spankin'-new production of Beckett's Endgame at the Traveling Jewish Theater, 470 Florida at Mariposa. Don't miss it!
Tonight, it's opening night at Cutting Ball's spankin'-new production of Beckett's Endgame at the Traveling Jewish Theater, 470 Florida at Mariposa. Don't miss it!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Poetry Afternoon
It's warm! It's sunny! It's a day for tipping the last bits of ice and strawberries out of your cup of agua fresca--and, if you're strolling in my part of the Mission, to put on your tank top and tiny denim miniskirt and stiletto sandals, and that's just to go to the bank.
And, of course, to roll out the springtime poetry.
Snowdrops
Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
what despair is; then
winter should have meaning for you.
I did not expect to survive,
earth suppressing me. I didn't expect
to waken again, to feel
in damp earth my body
able to respond again, remembering
after so long how to open again
in the cold light
of earliest spring--
afraid, yes, but among you again
crying yes risk joy
in the raw wind of the new world.
--Louise Gluck, "The Wild Iris"
And, of course, to roll out the springtime poetry.
Snowdrops
Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
what despair is; then
winter should have meaning for you.
I did not expect to survive,
earth suppressing me. I didn't expect
to waken again, to feel
in damp earth my body
able to respond again, remembering
after so long how to open again
in the cold light
of earliest spring--
afraid, yes, but among you again
crying yes risk joy
in the raw wind of the new world.
--Louise Gluck, "The Wild Iris"
Friday, February 22, 2008
No Snow, pie!
It's a little damp today, yes indeed. A hat might be well-advised; perhaps some boots, or at least not your favorite suede platforms. This morning, I'm drinking coffee in my crossword-puzzle pajamas and making pie crust for Meyer lemon meringue pies, part of What Is To Be Done with the big box o' lemons that's been filling my kitchen for the past week. And while the kitchen fills with the scent of sweet California citrus, am I feeling just a tiny, tiny bit grateful not to be here"?
Yep. California is a beauteous place, especially when it's snowing in NYC.
Yep. California is a beauteous place, especially when it's snowing in NYC.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Will Bake for...
Doesn't every office deserve a resident baker? Especially one devoted to rev-'em-up, his-n-her pleasure in every size, shape, and glittery color. It was Jackie's one-year anniversary at the Oakland warehouse/headquarters of Babeland, and rather than hire a stripper, she called me, PQ, baker for hire. I tied on my fabulous Parisian pin-up birthday apron (thanks, susie!), filled my bag with Meyer lemons and brown sugar, and nipped across the bay. Up on the 3rd floor, past the Pam Grier and Jenna Jameson posters, was a little kitchenette, with a coffee machine, a fridge full of soy milk, and a real full-size gas oven. Say no more, say no more...on that rainy Tuesday morning, it was HQ of Babeland Bakery.
Grating, juicing, making crust and mixing up cake, ransacking the cupboards for usable baking pans...by lunchtime, there were two pie plates full of vegan carrot cake and a sheet pan of buttery-tangy Meyer lemon bars, thickly drifted with powdered sugar. The Babeland babes (and dudes) wandered in, drawn to the scent of hot butter and sugar, nutmeg and lemons, and stood there in a daze, clutching their coffee cups in stunned amazement. After all, there are visuals, and then there's stuff you can actually put in your mouth.
Truly, this is what your workplace needs--me, baking for you. Warm, fresh-from-the-oven, made-from-scratch treats beat Safeway cupcakes any day when it comes to promoting worker productivity and encouraging general smiley well-being. Book the PQ now! Wide selection of vintage aprons available...
Meyer Lemon Bars
There's a kick-ass sounding recipe for lemon bars in the Tartine cookbook, involving (as all their recipes do) vast amounts of butter and egg yolks. I'm sticking to my old tried-and-true simple one, though, because it always works and makes everyone happy, without much effort at all. Remember to allow time to cool--these are sort of disgusting hot out of the oven, but fantastic chilled. Let them cool to room temp, then cover and chill for several hours, if you can bear to wait that long.
Crust
1 cup flour
1/2 cup powdered sugar, sifted
1 stick (8 TB/4 oz) butter, softened
a couple teaspoons of water
Filling
2 eggs
6 TB Meyer lemon juice (approx. 2 juicy lemons)
zest of those 2 lemons*
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder
Powdered sugar for decorating
Preheat oven to 350F. Sift flour and powdered sugar together. Cut in/mash softened butter into flour mixture, to get a crumbly texture that's halfway between cookie dough and pie crust before you add liquid. Add just enough water to make it stick together. Press into a 9 x 9 baking pan (8 x 8 is ok too--whatever square brownie-making type pan you have is fine). Bake until golden brown, about 20 minutes.
While crust is baking, stir or sift together the sugar and baking powder. Beat in eggs, lemon juice, and zest. When crust is ready, pour filling over hot crust and return to the oven. Bake until set but not browned, about 15 minutes. It's OK if it still seems slightly gooey in the center--it's better to underbake a little than to overbake. Let cool on a rack, then cover and refrigerate. Sift a good snowy drift of powdered sugar over the pan, cut into bars, and serve.
*Yet another shout-out for the amazingness of the microplane grater in this instance. I had to go down to Cole Hardware and buy another one of these, my original one being (like everything else) in storage in Brooklyn. Fast, easy, no-waste grating every time, with no shredded knuckles--if I could do infomercials for one piece of cooking equipment, this would be it. It's especially useful with Meyer lemons, which, besides being soft and tender, also have that very smooth, hard-to-grab peel. Available in cookware stores and fancied-up hardware stores everywhere, it's a tool that will make you at least as grateful when you use it as anything Babeland has to offer.
Grating, juicing, making crust and mixing up cake, ransacking the cupboards for usable baking pans...by lunchtime, there were two pie plates full of vegan carrot cake and a sheet pan of buttery-tangy Meyer lemon bars, thickly drifted with powdered sugar. The Babeland babes (and dudes) wandered in, drawn to the scent of hot butter and sugar, nutmeg and lemons, and stood there in a daze, clutching their coffee cups in stunned amazement. After all, there are visuals, and then there's stuff you can actually put in your mouth.
Truly, this is what your workplace needs--me, baking for you. Warm, fresh-from-the-oven, made-from-scratch treats beat Safeway cupcakes any day when it comes to promoting worker productivity and encouraging general smiley well-being. Book the PQ now! Wide selection of vintage aprons available...
Meyer Lemon Bars
There's a kick-ass sounding recipe for lemon bars in the Tartine cookbook, involving (as all their recipes do) vast amounts of butter and egg yolks. I'm sticking to my old tried-and-true simple one, though, because it always works and makes everyone happy, without much effort at all. Remember to allow time to cool--these are sort of disgusting hot out of the oven, but fantastic chilled. Let them cool to room temp, then cover and chill for several hours, if you can bear to wait that long.
Crust
1 cup flour
1/2 cup powdered sugar, sifted
1 stick (8 TB/4 oz) butter, softened
a couple teaspoons of water
Filling
2 eggs
6 TB Meyer lemon juice (approx. 2 juicy lemons)
zest of those 2 lemons*
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder
Powdered sugar for decorating
Preheat oven to 350F. Sift flour and powdered sugar together. Cut in/mash softened butter into flour mixture, to get a crumbly texture that's halfway between cookie dough and pie crust before you add liquid. Add just enough water to make it stick together. Press into a 9 x 9 baking pan (8 x 8 is ok too--whatever square brownie-making type pan you have is fine). Bake until golden brown, about 20 minutes.
While crust is baking, stir or sift together the sugar and baking powder. Beat in eggs, lemon juice, and zest. When crust is ready, pour filling over hot crust and return to the oven. Bake until set but not browned, about 15 minutes. It's OK if it still seems slightly gooey in the center--it's better to underbake a little than to overbake. Let cool on a rack, then cover and refrigerate. Sift a good snowy drift of powdered sugar over the pan, cut into bars, and serve.
*Yet another shout-out for the amazingness of the microplane grater in this instance. I had to go down to Cole Hardware and buy another one of these, my original one being (like everything else) in storage in Brooklyn. Fast, easy, no-waste grating every time, with no shredded knuckles--if I could do infomercials for one piece of cooking equipment, this would be it. It's especially useful with Meyer lemons, which, besides being soft and tender, also have that very smooth, hard-to-grab peel. Available in cookware stores and fancied-up hardware stores everywhere, it's a tool that will make you at least as grateful when you use it as anything Babeland has to offer.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
my heart is telling me...
Spring in San Francisco always sneaks up on me. I know that come February, the rains will taper off, shy mauve blossoms will star the plum trees, the bees will start pummeling the fuzzy clusters of acacia, and the boys in their speedos will be lying out on Dolores Beach. But still, just a couple of weeks after January's icy nonstop rains, it's suddenly a new season.
This weekend was just ravishing, everyone out with bare ankles, stumbling around still winter-pale and grinning stupidly at the warm sun. Ti Couz had their umbrellas up for the noontime crowds eating crepes, drinking cider and pretending that 16th St was the Latin Quarter, except that we're much luckier, because Paris in February is wind-whipped and gray, the castles of pink macaroons at Laduree the only cheerful thing in the whole bitter frozen town.
It was a day for--what else?--a mint chip cone at the Bi-Rite Ice Creamery (yes, I'm filling up my buy-10-get-one-free punchcard, thank you very much), indie movies at the Roxie (what's playing at the Roxie? I'll tell you what's playing at the Roxie....the SF Indie Film Fest, that's what) and then, on Sunday, a hike up to the top of green, green Bernal Hill to survey the territories. And then an N-Judah out to the beach, where the happy hordes were swarming the Java Beach cafe (because god forbid you're ever less than a block from a latte and an oat cake, even at the far western fall-off of the continental U.S.) and it was just a easy stroll across the sandy pavement of the Great Highway onto the wide strand of Ocean Beach, where the waves were breaking in great tumults of creamy foam and dogs were racing madly everywhere.
This being my life, I got a call from Molly halfway down the beach. She was shooting some photos to promote the Sundance, her favorite country-western dancing bar, and did I want to come down to be in the shoot? Well, sure! This being Molly, she had about 7 complete extra outfits, including cowboy boots and hat, in her car, so I bought some cheap lipstick and mascara on the way and we trucked down from Cafe Flore to Troy Dean's basement photo studio for a hour of dancing and posing. I fully expect to be handed a club flyer with my grinning mug on it one of these days...
Down in the overgrown Bernal background of Wild Side West to celebrate our Cindy-and-Naomi moment, an impromptu old-time music jam was going on under the trees and every little nook was full of neighbors sprawling over beers and bloody marys and plastic packs of mini-cupcakes, celebrating the first beautiful weekend of spring. And then Molly ran off to dance and I ran home to madly chop the bounty of my Mariquita Farm mystery box, a huge haul of greens, parsnips, true baby carrots, squash, turnips, fennel, parsnips, beets, parsnips, leeks, and parsnips. Dinner with Papa Sueno and the Red Meat Ranger followed--roasted squash, green noodles with leeks, garlic, greens and parmesan, with pears, toasted walnuts and dark chocolate for dessert. And, of course, we had to talk about fruit.
All in all, a very good day.
This weekend was just ravishing, everyone out with bare ankles, stumbling around still winter-pale and grinning stupidly at the warm sun. Ti Couz had their umbrellas up for the noontime crowds eating crepes, drinking cider and pretending that 16th St was the Latin Quarter, except that we're much luckier, because Paris in February is wind-whipped and gray, the castles of pink macaroons at Laduree the only cheerful thing in the whole bitter frozen town.
It was a day for--what else?--a mint chip cone at the Bi-Rite Ice Creamery (yes, I'm filling up my buy-10-get-one-free punchcard, thank you very much), indie movies at the Roxie (what's playing at the Roxie? I'll tell you what's playing at the Roxie....the SF Indie Film Fest, that's what) and then, on Sunday, a hike up to the top of green, green Bernal Hill to survey the territories. And then an N-Judah out to the beach, where the happy hordes were swarming the Java Beach cafe (because god forbid you're ever less than a block from a latte and an oat cake, even at the far western fall-off of the continental U.S.) and it was just a easy stroll across the sandy pavement of the Great Highway onto the wide strand of Ocean Beach, where the waves were breaking in great tumults of creamy foam and dogs were racing madly everywhere.
This being my life, I got a call from Molly halfway down the beach. She was shooting some photos to promote the Sundance, her favorite country-western dancing bar, and did I want to come down to be in the shoot? Well, sure! This being Molly, she had about 7 complete extra outfits, including cowboy boots and hat, in her car, so I bought some cheap lipstick and mascara on the way and we trucked down from Cafe Flore to Troy Dean's basement photo studio for a hour of dancing and posing. I fully expect to be handed a club flyer with my grinning mug on it one of these days...
Down in the overgrown Bernal background of Wild Side West to celebrate our Cindy-and-Naomi moment, an impromptu old-time music jam was going on under the trees and every little nook was full of neighbors sprawling over beers and bloody marys and plastic packs of mini-cupcakes, celebrating the first beautiful weekend of spring. And then Molly ran off to dance and I ran home to madly chop the bounty of my Mariquita Farm mystery box, a huge haul of greens, parsnips, true baby carrots, squash, turnips, fennel, parsnips, beets, parsnips, leeks, and parsnips. Dinner with Papa Sueno and the Red Meat Ranger followed--roasted squash, green noodles with leeks, garlic, greens and parmesan, with pears, toasted walnuts and dark chocolate for dessert. And, of course, we had to talk about fruit.
All in all, a very good day.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Ain't We Got Fun?
Well, Saturday's weather outside was frightful--I kept singing that line from "Lady is a Tramp" that goes "Hates California, it's cold and it's damp..."-- but the citrus faithful (aka Papa Sueno and the now-veggie/flexetarian (hey, she's a Gemini, and the world still contains bacon) Red Meat Ranger and their fabulous child-toting friends, Rox n' Nance, and the fabulous Molly McK), all showed up, along with a bunch of other almond-cake-curious locals, even as the rain drizzled down and my little fingers froze as I sliced and sliced through the cara-caras, the blood oranges, the ruby grapefruits and the page mandarins. Gorgeous, gleaming fruit from Torey Farms, Olsen Organics, and Hamada Fruits, and raw almonds and orange/vanilla/honey-coated crunchy candied almonds from Alfieri Farms. What was really fun was going back to the farmers afterwards with samples, to show what their wonderful food had become. Quite a treat all around, especially since there was lots of cake and citrus compote left over to share with the hard-working CUESA volunteers. They'll be doing a cooking demo every Saturday from now til Dec., so do drop by.
It was almost worth losing my voice over, not that near-complete croakiness kept me from a grilled-veggie burrito at Azteca that afternoon or the fluffy pancakes at my new favorite breakfast place, Rudy's No-fail cafe in Emeryville, with Kas and Kirsten. Much fun, and then I had to go home for tea and complete silence. No Superbowl screaming (well, as if), no hanging out at K'vetch with the RM Ranger and Shar the Cupcake Queen.
But today, a sunny day! And here's a challenge to all you folks out there: the PQ needs gainful employment. I can cook for you, teach you to make pie (among other things), write for your website/newspaper/magazine/blog, edit articles/books/whatever, even feed your cat or weed your garden. Anyone that gets me a job lead that pays off gets 2 jars of just-made orange marmalade (or the future jam of your choice) or a freshly made homemade pie (your choice!) from the PQ kitchen. Let the networking begin!
It was almost worth losing my voice over, not that near-complete croakiness kept me from a grilled-veggie burrito at Azteca that afternoon or the fluffy pancakes at my new favorite breakfast place, Rudy's No-fail cafe in Emeryville, with Kas and Kirsten. Much fun, and then I had to go home for tea and complete silence. No Superbowl screaming (well, as if), no hanging out at K'vetch with the RM Ranger and Shar the Cupcake Queen.
But today, a sunny day! And here's a challenge to all you folks out there: the PQ needs gainful employment. I can cook for you, teach you to make pie (among other things), write for your website/newspaper/magazine/blog, edit articles/books/whatever, even feed your cat or weed your garden. Anyone that gets me a job lead that pays off gets 2 jars of just-made orange marmalade (or the future jam of your choice) or a freshly made homemade pie (your choice!) from the PQ kitchen. Let the networking begin!
Friday, February 01, 2008
Sunny D-Lite
Look outside, it's sunny! Thanks to 11 days of rain, Bernal Hill looks like Ireland. Keep your fingers crossed that this brief interval between storms stretches out through Saturday morning, so you won't have to stand under a deluge to get your bite of Orange-Almond Cake with Citrus Compote.
Yes, the PQ will be doing a cooking demonstration, complete with samples, at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market at the foot of Market St tomorrow morning at 11am. Look for the demo kitchen out in front of the Ferry Plaza, on the north side of the arcade, near Taylor's Refresher (if you're standing in front the building, look to your left). It's part of the market's Citrus Festival, so I'll be using as much fabulous Cali citrus as possible. Kumquats! Blood oranges! Navels! Pomelos! Come by, heckle, eat cake, maybe even buy a copy of Fun Food, my kids' cookbook, afterwards. More info on the CUESA site.
See you there!
Yes, the PQ will be doing a cooking demonstration, complete with samples, at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market at the foot of Market St tomorrow morning at 11am. Look for the demo kitchen out in front of the Ferry Plaza, on the north side of the arcade, near Taylor's Refresher (if you're standing in front the building, look to your left). It's part of the market's Citrus Festival, so I'll be using as much fabulous Cali citrus as possible. Kumquats! Blood oranges! Navels! Pomelos! Come by, heckle, eat cake, maybe even buy a copy of Fun Food, my kids' cookbook, afterwards. More info on the CUESA site.
See you there!
Friday, January 25, 2008
Si se puede!
Rain, cypress trees, woolly hats, kale for breakfast, flamenco songs about worms: it's Eco-Farm 2008 at Asilomar, and a wonderful place it is.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Down, Up, Up
So I didn't get that marketing-writing gig at Whole Foods that I was hoping for. The up side? I don't have spend my days trying to promote
organic spray-on pancake batter. But the can's recyclable, yo.
Today's joy—the incredibly beautiful weather, strip-off-your-parka warm (at least in the Mission) and cloudless blue sky. I got to the top of Dolores Park and decided it was ice cream weather, and Bi-Rite Creamery obliged by having not just its usual highfalutin' flavors (salted caramel, roasted banana, orange-cardamom) but ROCKY ROAD, made with chocolate chips, almonds, and minimarshmallows, $1.95 for a single scoop that's more than enough to set you up on a happy choccy high for a few hours. Next visit, it will be a mandarin-orange popsicle stained with blood-orange segments.
And mark your calendars: on Saturday, Feb. 2nd, I'll be doing a cooking demo as part of the "Market to Table" program at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market. Yippee! The big question: which apron to wear? The orange-and-pink retro flowers from K's mom? The reversible Parisian pin-up print from Susie? The demure French-maid white lacy vintage one? It's the market's Citrus Festival, so whatever I make will be featuring citrus prominently. Clementines! Meyer Lemons! Satsumas! Blood oranges! Oh, after those icy days selling sauerkraut and celeriac in Union Square, the mind reels.
organic spray-on pancake batter. But the can's recyclable, yo.
Today's joy—the incredibly beautiful weather, strip-off-your-parka warm (at least in the Mission) and cloudless blue sky. I got to the top of Dolores Park and decided it was ice cream weather, and Bi-Rite Creamery obliged by having not just its usual highfalutin' flavors (salted caramel, roasted banana, orange-cardamom) but ROCKY ROAD, made with chocolate chips, almonds, and minimarshmallows, $1.95 for a single scoop that's more than enough to set you up on a happy choccy high for a few hours. Next visit, it will be a mandarin-orange popsicle stained with blood-orange segments.
And mark your calendars: on Saturday, Feb. 2nd, I'll be doing a cooking demo as part of the "Market to Table" program at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market. Yippee! The big question: which apron to wear? The orange-and-pink retro flowers from K's mom? The reversible Parisian pin-up print from Susie? The demure French-maid white lacy vintage one? It's the market's Citrus Festival, so whatever I make will be featuring citrus prominently. Clementines! Meyer Lemons! Satsumas! Blood oranges! Oh, after those icy days selling sauerkraut and celeriac in Union Square, the mind reels.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Happylemonland
O frabjous day! Calloo, callay!
Yep, I'm back on the best coast, settling in and doing exactly what I did back in August of 1990, when I first moved to San Francisco fresh out of college.
Which would be, of course, buying a warm blanket, since just like in nearly every apartment I've lived in here, the heater only warms two rooms, neither of which is my bedroom. But it's lovely to be back, and wonderful to be living in Bernal Heights. More soon, but for now, yippee!
Yep, I'm back on the best coast, settling in and doing exactly what I did back in August of 1990, when I first moved to San Francisco fresh out of college.
Which would be, of course, buying a warm blanket, since just like in nearly every apartment I've lived in here, the heater only warms two rooms, neither of which is my bedroom. But it's lovely to be back, and wonderful to be living in Bernal Heights. More soon, but for now, yippee!
Friday, January 04, 2008
roll, roulade, roll
Happy New Year! It's January 2008, cold as, well, a cold thing, which means hello, Florida! Yep, we're packing up and waving bye-bye to Park Slope on Monday. A week in lovely central Florida--Orlando, Vero Beach, Jacksonville--to follow. And then, K. heads off to more officer training and I go to my new temporary digs in Bernal Heights, home of the Liberty Cafe's apple pie, my dear pal Jen of Manic D Press, and Wild Side West, where the mullets roam free. Yep, I'm ditching the snow and slush and ever-escalating metrocards for happy lemontreeland, at least through mid-May. Joy, oh joy.
But first, lunch with B. at the Bar@Etats-Unis, another day pushing cookies and sauerkraut at the Hawthorne Valley Farm stand at Union Square, dins with the newly-married E. in Manhattan, and celebratory wedding brunch in Pennsylvania for my oldest friend Bea on Sunday. And did I mention packing? So it's going to be takeout and restaurant food for the next few days. But I will post the highly sucessful NYE raspberry roll-up cake, or as we like to call it here at the castle, la rouuuuu-laaaahde.
But first, lunch with B. at the Bar@Etats-Unis, another day pushing cookies and sauerkraut at the Hawthorne Valley Farm stand at Union Square, dins with the newly-married E. in Manhattan, and celebratory wedding brunch in Pennsylvania for my oldest friend Bea on Sunday. And did I mention packing? So it's going to be takeout and restaurant food for the next few days. But I will post the highly sucessful NYE raspberry roll-up cake, or as we like to call it here at the castle, la rouuuuu-laaaahde.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
South by West
Happy day-after-Boxing Day! Hope you had a wonderful Christmas time, as the song goes. Used a nifty Zipcar to go up the PQM's house, where my aunts and uncle were gathered for the usual family hilarity. I went toting 2 kinds of biscotti (the zuni cafe cookbook's cornmeal-and-almond jobs, made sans anise and avec orange and lemon zest, and some quite fabulous double-chocolate-and-pistachio ones from last December's issue of Food & Wine, the one where I modeled for Julie Powell's holiday-party story but ended up figuring only as a headless torso holding a plate of pork and salad) and multiple jars of strawberry jam, apple butter, and green-tomato relish from the farm jam kitchen. And came back with about 2 dozen pairs of socks, a plate of christmas cookies (summarily dispatched with K. to spread the cheer among the soldiers in her Nat'l Guard unit), and lots of yummy Clarins face creams to make me smell French and expensive.
Spent Christmas Eve with B. and his new wife and her family,eating wine-soaked cassoulet and playing scrabble. A new invention, though, for the non-meat eaters: pomegranate squash. A butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cubed, roasted with olive oil and salt, then tossed with carmelized onion, some good glugs of pomegranate molasses, and a handful of fresh pomegranate seeds. Can be served warm or room temp, quite delicious all around and very festive looking.
Then, post-xmas, much lying around on the couch in my new flannel pjs, printed with crossword puzzles! no actual clues, alas, but plenty of the familiar black-and-white squares. Park Slope being as cozy and bougie as it is, these are the best selling item at our local lingerie boutique.
But soon, we'll be departing from NYC--first for a week in sunny 70-degree Florida, then back to California! While K. goes for more training, I'll be returning to the BEST coast, to live in Bernal just a stone's throw from the Liberty Cafe (home of the best chicken-pot-pie and apple turnovers in the city), ready to bask in the meyer-lemon-ness of it all. Yippee!
Until then, come say hi to moi, your sauerkraut girl, at the Hawthorne Valley Farm stand on Saturdays at the Union Square Greenmarket from 8am to 6pm.
Double Chocolate Pistachio Biscotti
2 cups flour
3/4 cup cocoa
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/8 tsp salt
1 1/4 cups brown sugar
4 tablespoons soft butter
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp almond extract
1 TB strong coffee
3 eggs
1 cup chocolate chips
1 cup chopped pistachio nuts
Whisk flour, cocoa, soda, and salt together (sift if cocoa seems very lumpy). Set aside. Cream brown sugar and butter together in a large bowl. Beat in extracts and coffee. Beat in eggs one at a time, then stir in cocoa mixture. Stir in chips and nuts. Form into 2 long, flattish logs on a nonstick or lightly greased baking sheet. Bake for 20-25 min at 375 degrees F. Remove from oven and let cool. Slice into thin cookies on the diagonal and place cut sides down on the baking sheet. Bake slowly at 250 degrees F for 20 minutes or so, until firm and crunchy. Let cool, then store in a tightly covered container.
Spent Christmas Eve with B. and his new wife and her family,eating wine-soaked cassoulet and playing scrabble. A new invention, though, for the non-meat eaters: pomegranate squash. A butternut squash, peeled, seeded and cubed, roasted with olive oil and salt, then tossed with carmelized onion, some good glugs of pomegranate molasses, and a handful of fresh pomegranate seeds. Can be served warm or room temp, quite delicious all around and very festive looking.
Then, post-xmas, much lying around on the couch in my new flannel pjs, printed with crossword puzzles! no actual clues, alas, but plenty of the familiar black-and-white squares. Park Slope being as cozy and bougie as it is, these are the best selling item at our local lingerie boutique.
But soon, we'll be departing from NYC--first for a week in sunny 70-degree Florida, then back to California! While K. goes for more training, I'll be returning to the BEST coast, to live in Bernal just a stone's throw from the Liberty Cafe (home of the best chicken-pot-pie and apple turnovers in the city), ready to bask in the meyer-lemon-ness of it all. Yippee!
Until then, come say hi to moi, your sauerkraut girl, at the Hawthorne Valley Farm stand on Saturdays at the Union Square Greenmarket from 8am to 6pm.
Double Chocolate Pistachio Biscotti
2 cups flour
3/4 cup cocoa
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/8 tsp salt
1 1/4 cups brown sugar
4 tablespoons soft butter
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp almond extract
1 TB strong coffee
3 eggs
1 cup chocolate chips
1 cup chopped pistachio nuts
Whisk flour, cocoa, soda, and salt together (sift if cocoa seems very lumpy). Set aside. Cream brown sugar and butter together in a large bowl. Beat in extracts and coffee. Beat in eggs one at a time, then stir in cocoa mixture. Stir in chips and nuts. Form into 2 long, flattish logs on a nonstick or lightly greased baking sheet. Bake for 20-25 min at 375 degrees F. Remove from oven and let cool. Slice into thin cookies on the diagonal and place cut sides down on the baking sheet. Bake slowly at 250 degrees F for 20 minutes or so, until firm and crunchy. Let cool, then store in a tightly covered container.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Union Square Hello
Brrr! Baby, it's cold outside. Thank heaven for the long, lovely clawfoot tub in our temporary digs in Park Slope...And speaking of chilly, I'm working the all-day shift at the Hawthorne Valley Farm stand at the Union Square Greenmarket tomorrow, Saturday. Stop by and say hello!
We'll have loads of organic breads, cookies, rolls, and sweet treats, plus pasture-raised beef and pork, organic cheeses, and fabulous lacto-fermented sauerkrauts, including my favorite, ginger-carrot. And biodynamic mache and celeraic, too.
We're on the left side, near the far northwest corner of the park, more or less kitty-corner from Coffee Shop. The farm itself, a complex comprising a livestock operation, dairy, vegetable farm, and bakery, is located about 130 miles north of the city, in Columbia County. The whole place is both certified organic and biodynamic. More about the farm here-- they also have groovy-sounding internships, school programs, and farm-camp programs.
We'll have loads of organic breads, cookies, rolls, and sweet treats, plus pasture-raised beef and pork, organic cheeses, and fabulous lacto-fermented sauerkrauts, including my favorite, ginger-carrot. And biodynamic mache and celeraic, too.
We're on the left side, near the far northwest corner of the park, more or less kitty-corner from Coffee Shop. The farm itself, a complex comprising a livestock operation, dairy, vegetable farm, and bakery, is located about 130 miles north of the city, in Columbia County. The whole place is both certified organic and biodynamic. More about the farm here-- they also have groovy-sounding internships, school programs, and farm-camp programs.
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