Bay Area Bites

Warning: This is not a piece extolling the virtues of Slow Food Nation '08, so if there are delicate sensibilities out there who can't bear the suggestion that Slow Food Nation is anything other than shiny, happy people eating food, you should probably stop reading right now.

It would be one thing if this rant was all about how I volunteered at Slow Food Nation and all I got was this lousy apron.

That's not even the half of it. In fact, it's just emblematic of the entire SFN volunteering experience as I lived it. It's emblematic of the rudeness, the exclusion, the contradictions between what SFN advertised and what was actual, and the overall disgust I came away with after volunteering. The blog posts about what SFN did right are already thick on the ground, and the praise is prodigious; this is not going to be one of those pieces.

All my life, I've volunteered at various non-profits, churches, and events, and this is the first time I've been made so boiling mad by the attitude and treatment received. Building houses for Habitat for Humanity in the 105° Missouri heat was a more rewarding experience, and we even had one of our newly-paned HFH windows shot out by a friggin' drive-by!

I volunteered at SFN to help a friend and to help a vendor I believe deeply in; my beef is with neither of those parties. They took care of their volunteers the best they could. They celebrated our participation and did what they could to make it a pleasant experience. Not so for the rest of the SFN organization.

Let me get it out there right away that I appreciate the idea of slow food. (Note the lowercase.) It's the execution of this particular event I take exception to. Do I think it's awesome that there were, like, 26 different preserve makers there? Of course. Do I celebrate all 110 olive oils made in the Slow Food way? Well, I didn't get to taste any of them, but who wouldn't celebrate that range of fat? Was I completely disgusted by the way the organization treated the unpaid volunteers? Oh, hell yes!

Slow Food is about counteracting the "disappearance of local food traditions and people's dwindling interest in the food they eat, where it comes from, how it tastes and how our food choices affect the rest of the world." Slow Food Nation '08 "was created to organize the first-ever American collaborative gathering to unite the growing sustainable food movement and introduce thousands of people to food that is good, clean and fair."

But how about how they treat their workers? Their unpaid workers? People who volunteered their time, energy, and bright smiles to support them in their cause? Shouldn't that be a consideration?

Directly from the SFN website:

Slow Food Nation is a community event and we welcome your participation. We’re seeking volunteers to help in all aspects of planning and on site. Let us know if you'd like to join in this exciting endeavor—we promise plenty of fun and food!

In the cold light of morning, after an exhausted sleep following a long volunteer shift, I just have to laugh at that: "we promise plenty of fun and food!" So, the fun is debatable. You make your own fun; I've always believed that. And we did. At our vendor, we joked with each other, with the "paying guests," and we laughed a lot. One of my "paying guests" friends even told me I looked like the happiest person at the entire event. But the food? Sure, there was "plenty" of food, but none of us volunteers were allowed to eat it.

I direct you to the "food" portion of the multi-page dos, don'ts, and behavior modifications we received in advance as volunteers (bolding mine):

CIVIC CENTER: Although some small snacks may be available to our volunteers, please note that meals are neither provided nor reimbursed. Affordable meals are available each day from 15 unique Slow-On-the-Go vendors in the plaza."

FORT MASON: Volunteers wishing a simple meal may take one as available from our sponsor, Whole Foods. No additional concessions are available for purchase at this location. Volunteers are asked to refrain from eating samples from our taste partners, as these are intended for our paying guests and we will run out.

SFN never pointed out where these "simple meals" were, and I never saw them. If they meant the cheese and bread and juice they had at our check-in location, well, that was a-ways away from where we were working and would take more than a 10-minute break to get there, bolt the food, and get back to our post.

Keep an eye out for all the shouting "NOs" and "NOTs" in the additional portions quoted below from what I'm calling the SFN Dos and Don'ts. They make the overall tone quite objectionable. Get an editor and learn how to convey things in a more palatable manner, especially to people WHO ARE THERE TO HELP YOU.

Getting There: Transportation: Slow Food Nation encourages you to travel in ways that minimize our collective carbon footprint. We will NOT reimburse for parking and there is NO official parking partner affiliated with this event – plus it is a holiday weekend!

Sheesh.

(Also, given that I have a whole separate post coming about the behavior of the Slow Food Nation "paying guests," maybe SFN should have provided Dos and Don'ts for them.)

After checking in as a volunteer, we were directed to wait in our designated food area. Signs above were labeled "olive oil," "wine," "chocolate," etc. We got our one freebie -- the SFN apron -- and stood around a bit. There was milling. I joked (because the firm, bright smile never left my face ALL NIGHT) to a old friend and fellow volunteer that it's like we were the Joad Family. Day laborers from the Dust Bowl era, waiting to see if there's paying work that day.

A SFN organizer briefly welcomed us, thanked us for our time, and then said no less than five times that we were NOT to ask for food in the Taste Pavilion. If we required food during our 4pm-10pm shift, they had food for us there. However, we had to make sure to ask our managers if we could leave our post and really should consider planning our hunger around a lull.

A lull? Sorry, we didn't see a lull at my vendor. None. Not in six hours. My only lull was a 10-minute break that I used to stretch my legs and call home to report a Top Chef Marcel sighting. We never stopped serving people as fast as humanly possible.

"Do NOT ask for ANY food," he repeated. Again. I turned to fellow Joad Family member and shook a finger in her face, "Don't even THINK about food," I ordered her, "You're thinking about it. I can tell. DON'T!" Because you gotta laugh. Or else you'll scream.

Moving on to the "perks" portion of the Dos/Don'ts, we were told:

Each volunteer will be given a Slow Food apron to wear during their work shift, which is then yours to keep. Please note, however, that aprons only are not valid for entrance to ticketed events. Volunteers will be admitted, with their Managers, to work shifts only and do not receive free entrance to any other events.

Let's put my whines about the lack of freebies for the hard-working volunteers aside. Let's instead consider a case where a volunteer actually tried to BUY a Slow Dough coupon so they could participate in the events. They tried and were reportedly told, "You can't, you're a volunteer."

So, let me get this straight: As a volunteer, I work for free. I work for love and laughs, and I don't get any perks aside from an apron that is probably compostable if I add Slow Food-approved olive oil to it. And as a volunteer, I can't even PAY you to let me enjoy the promised "plenty of food and fun"? Unique.

Maybe they weren't allowed to sell to volunteers in case those volunteers shirked their shifts, but shouldn't that be something the volunteer's vendor policed? Maybe the volunteer was going to use the Slow Dough the next day when they weren't working. Is that not allowed?

When we were herded to the Taste Pavilion to start our shifts, a SFN manager came over to get us. "You [food group]?" she asked unsmilingly, "Follow me." "She's very excited about her job," fellow Joad Family member confided in me. We followed her. We got a warm, happy, and grateful welcome from our vendor.

Since we're still and always on food, I'll quote what the Dos/Don'ts said about water:

Water stations will be located in all locations, so please be sure to bring your own water containers to fill. Individual bottles will NOT be available.

SFN never pointed these stations out to us and I never saw them, so I'm thankful for two things: I brought my own container that I'd already filled at home AND our vendor provided us with filled water bottles. Because our vendor? Is awesome beyond the reaches of the SFN org.

Hand-Outs: Please do NOT give food, samples, or leftovers of any kind to any homeless person, at any location, under any circumstances. Word will spread of free food and we will soon have an encampment. Be sure to clean up all waste at days' [sic] end.

Of course, this is just ironic when part of Slow Food's mission is the professed belief "that everyone has a fundamental right to pleasure."

On two totally separate occasions, two UNPAID volunteers on their 10-minute breaks were ordered quite rudely by extraneous SFN workers not connected with our specific vendor, "Bus that table!" When both volunteers explained that they were not general staff but were working for [specific vendor] and also on their break, the response was, "Yeah. Bus that table!" No please, no thank you. Just an apron.

Maybe I've got this all wrong. Maybe every person wearing a SFN apron -- official ribbons or no -- was an unpaid volunteer who was also working just out of the pure goodness of their hearts. Because they believe passionately in the cause. If so, shouldn't that have brought us together in a more cohesive state of camaraderie where communications are clear, polite, and respectful?

At the end of the sweaty six-hour shift, a bar designer came over to us during clean-up and shook out dozens of cocktails composed of Gin 209, St. Germaine, mint, cucumber, and agave for us. He announced, "I've worked enough of these things to know you guys got nothing tonight." He gave the cocktail some name like, "Multi Spa," but I prefer to call it, "Faith Reviver." Maybe not faith in being a SFN volunteer again, but faith that there are still kind people out there who know how to treat others with respect, dignity, and gratitude.

My parents -- my dad, especially -- didn't raise me to turn a blind eye to the inconsistencies and contradictions of the world. They raised me to speak up and out if changes are to be made to the accepted status quo and not to sit idly by hoping everything will all work out somehow.

Next time you do an event, Slow Food Nation, take better care of the people who turned out to help spread your message. We may not have been "paying guests" in the monetary sense, but we paid with our time, energy, and goodwill and we deserved to be accorded the same respect as those forking over cold hard cash. This was a high-profile chance to show a whole mess of people that you are better than the average food industry expo, and in some ways you did. In other ways, you really didn't.

Bless you and your gleaming cocktail shaker, Bar Designer.

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Every Labor Day weekend, Joshua and Jineui gather 30 or so lucky friends for a four-day camping extravaganza by Manresa State Beach. This is not a hardcore outdoor experience -- this year, there was a badminton game going near a very well stocked bar and a four-burner kitchen set up within snacking distance of our tents. For the price of an hour of downtown parking, some of us could even enjoy a hot shower. It's definitely more about extreme eating and drinking that any thing resembling "camping," but there aren't too many things that bond people together better than wide, shaded hammocks or Scrabble marathons or jumping and screaming together in the ocean's cold waves.

For months leading up to the trip, I obsessed about what I was going to cook. If any of you had chatted with me in the last several weeks, I would have bugged you for banana-leaf grilling recipes. Fish rubbed with lemongrass and chile and then mummified in fragrant banana leaves? Or a nice Yucatan-style marinade poured on some pork and then all that succulent goodness wrapped up in the leaves? Or cute little packets of gingery straw mushrooms? Or maybe otek-otek?

Then, I realized I just didn't have enough time to hassle with banana leaves.

Then, I saw a sale on wild-caught Gulf shrimp.

Then, I got an email from a PR agency. Did I want to try some new regional recipes from a classic seafood seasoning company? I had just hosted a big Zatarain's tasting a few weeks ago, so I was somewhat curious about how the East Coast classic would compare. I made a point of specifying two tins of each new flavor. But in that funny PR way, a few days later a huge box arrived with a gigantic logo stamped on the side. Inside, a big stockpot. A stockpot that I do not need. In a box that was a waste of someone's time to produce and pack and ship. There was one set of seasonings, even though I had requested two for testing and photography purposes. (This isn't expensive stuff, folks. I'm not asking for two tins of caviar.) And my favorite...there was one pot-holder. Stamped, of course, with a big fat logo.

Okay, for you PR people lurking out there, if you're going to try to woo a writer, especially one who makes a point of keeping a proper distance between the writing and the selling, it's worth thinking through what you're sending. Most cooks, both novice and advanced, use TWO pot-holders when moving heavy stockpots filled with boiling water and seafood.

So, I wasn't able to do any proper testing. But all my camping friends did enjoy the shrimp boil I made, compliments of a failed PR pitch, and one of my friends will receive an almost new stockpot, only slightly charred from the campfire. (Hint #2 for PR folks: be sure your client's logo appears on the most expensive, most durable object in the box.) I adapted the recipe provided to the seafood seasoning company by our very own Franciscan Restaurant, for a "San Fran-style" shrimp boil that can be done pretty damn easily in the semi-wild.

There was intense debate around the campfire about whether all the extra effort was worth messing up a perfectly good, simple, old-fashioned shrimp boil. I noticed, though, that there was not a single shrimp left, and even the fennel -- one of those love-it or leave-it foods -- was picked clean, so I'd have have to say this version gets the thumbs-up.

MANRESA-STYLE SHRIMP BOIL

When buying shrimp in bulk for cooking in the outdoors far from home, ask the fishmonger for the still-frozen IQF stuff in the back. They're usually sealed in 5- to 10-pound bags that will thaw in 24 hours if packed in a smallish cooler with some beer bottles but no ice. They'll last a couple of days longer if you throw in some ice, too. Prep your veggies and garnishes in advance and bring them along in plastic bags. Make sure you have access to plenty of potable water, a big-ass pot that you don't care about, a long spoon, and some lively embers under a cooking trivet or a heavy grid over flames. And yes, TWO well-insulated oven mitts or pot-holders.

Serves: 24 hungry campers.

Ingredients:
2 big onions, cut into thin wedges
8 cloves garlic, chopped
1 stick unsalted butter
4 cubes chicken or fish bouillon
2 32-ounce cans diced tomatoes
4 14-ounce cans whole artichoke hearts
3 bulbs fennel, cut into thin wedges (stems and fronds reserved)
2/3 cup of your favorite shrimp or crab seasoning mix (stocked by the seafood counter)
Peel from 1 lemon, removed in wide strips
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes, or to taste
1 bottle of dry white wine (optional)
10 pounds wild-caught Gulf shrimp, shell-on
1/2 cup whole parsley leaves
Fresh lemon wedges

Preparation:
1. Fill a very large stockpot halfway with water.

2. Add the onions, garlic, butter and bouillon, then bring to a boil. Let boil for 10 minutes.

3. Stir in the tomatoes with their juices, artichoke hearts, fennel, seafood seasoning mix, lemon peel, red pepper flakes, and wine. Boil for 3 minutes.

4. Add the shrimp, cooking in two batches if needed, and boil for 4 to 6 minutes, depending on size, just until opaque. Do not overcook.

5. Stir in parsley and serve immediately: With a large net skimmer or slotted spoon, transfer the shrimp and vegetables to a big, deep platter or directly into individual bowls. Pass lemon wedges.

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Yay! It's hot!

At least, it's hot by San Francisco standards, and when I wake up and find the cats have made neat little piles of their fur next to the garbage can, I'm thinking it's hot.

Last May, we took our first trip to Mendocino. After breakfast at the most amazing bed and breakfast in the area and a hike along the coastal cliffs, we drove inland along the Redwooded Rt. 128 to the Philo Apple Farm.

When we arrived, marveling over the 15° temperature change from the coast, the place was silent. We probably would have thought it was deserted if we hadn't caught sight of a cooking class being held in the main house, but instead we just found the stillness -- broken only by two farm cats wandering out to roll in the dirt at our feet and mew for pets -- peaceful. Pleasantly left to our own devices, we walked around the farm and examined the kitchen garden and the tiny cabins. We enjoyed the seven chickens being chased into a rose bush by a single rooster, we decided not to look in said rose bush to see what was going on, and we bought some cider. Hard cider.

The Philo Apple Farm is known for many things applelicious. At their old fashioned farm stand, which adorably operates on the honor system, they sell vinegar and syrup, chutney and juice, jam and jellies. When in season, they've even got apples. However, what got our attention was the open crate of unlabeled bottles on the loading dock. While the pristinely labeled and primly shelved bottles of hard cider were going for $8.50, this hard cider was selling for $6.00 a bottle.

"Torn labels, moldy labels, no labels!" the cardboard sign above announced, "Still the same good stuff!"

Something about the layer of dust coating the dark green glass made this clutch of cider seem more authentic, more farmhouse-y, more like what you would find in Normandy. So we went for it. We didn't need to pay $2.50 extra per bottle for all that window dressing! We shared one bottle that night in our little cabin and heartily agreed with the sign: "good stuff!" (However, I have to admit that the guarantee, "if you are not completely satisfied, blah, blah," now has me saying, "If you don't like the way I'm driving, blah, blah!" or "I'M out of order? YOU'RE out of order! This whole COURTROOM is blah, blah!")

Thursday, just as the heat of the day was melting into the blue of night, just as the sunburn I acquired planting at Land's End started to flare with comic book stars, we turned off all the lights and cooled off with two icy glasses of cloudy Apple Farm cider by the glow of the Democratic National Convention.

The Philo Apple Farm cider may have had a few more particulates than it did three months ago, but it was just as bracing and refreshing as that first May bottle. Even better, it was the perfect nightcap to a hot, sweaty San Francisco day.

Visit the Philo Apple Farm for cider, chickens, apples, or blah, blah.

The Apple Farm
Bates and Schmitt
18501 Greenwood Rd
Philo, CA 95466

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Summer is an ideal time for improvisation-- especially for those of us living in San Francisco. If the sun is shining for more than 30 minutes at a time, we get a bit giddy and wonder if we should just leave our sweaters at home and head for the nearest park or beach to get a much-needed dose of vitamin K. Long term planning is often shed as quickly as our layers of clothing.

Dinners are no exception. Last Sunday, I was invited down to Hillsborough for an al fresco meal in an impossibly rose-scented garden. The event had been in the planning for several weeks, owing to the varied schedules of the guests and host. All that was required of me was to show up-- with dessert. When the idea for the dinner was germinating, I had proudly announced that I would make cannoli because of some unaccountable need to flex the confectionery muscle of my father's people. Besides, I knew my friend Cybele, in whom Sicilian DNA also makes its home, would be there. I think I wanted to impress her.

For those of you with little or no experience with cannoli, it is about the least spur-of-the moment dessert one can make. The dough is made, it rests for a couple of hours. It is rolled and stretched and rested again. And rolled again. It is cut and fried, cooled and filled.

The day prior, I had the dough ready for preparation. The day of the dinner, I got as far as mixing the filling when, suddenly, it just felt allwrong. It was a warm day. Cannoli are for holidays. They are not for garden parties. The dough is still sitting on a shelf in my refrigerator, getting to know its neighbors, the cornichons and mustard.

When I arrived at Cybele's house, I showed her the cake I'd made, and the figs and cream with which I'd planned to serve it. I had planned to simply slice the figs, toss them with a little sugar, and be done with them.

"Figs?" she asked, "What about putting a little pomegranate molasses in them?" She took me into the kitchen, and poured two slow-moving drops of the stuff onto the end of a fork and put it in my mouth. It was a flavor new to me-- sweet, sour, full of depth. It was exactly what the figs needed to make them interesting without taking over the dessert. I learned something new.

One of the many things I love about this woman, apart from her warmth, humor, intelligence, and just-plain-great-to-look-at-ness, is her uncanny cooking-sense. She goes by instinct. She just gets food. It is something that cannot be taught. Not completely.

The dinner was a complete success. Boccalone salumi and Beecher's "Just Jack" cheese (in honor of our host) washed down with a couple bottles of cool Pinot d'Alsace, which fit in nicely with my current obsession with World War I military planning errors. Rib eye prepared by my friend Lyle (who often refers to himself as the luckiest man alive, owing to his partnering with Cybele), roasted, garlicky potatoes and mushrooms to smother- but-not-choke the steaks, accompanied by good, elegant bottles of Rioja. And a perfect salad of Asian pear, lettuces, and summer tomatoes ended the meal. Digestion-aiding conversation followed.

We were ready for dessert by sunset. Given the gargatuan nature of the meal consumed-- especially the 22-ounce steaks, I was grateful I followed my now-engorged gut and decided to leave to cannoli for another day. As I served out dessert, I asked for a bit of feedback, as is my habit with anything I make for the first time. I had mentioned substituting much of the cornmeal with corn flour. Jack rightly commented that "any more cornmeal would have made this a dessert for hamsters." I was rather inclined to agree. Everyone was in full agreement about the addition of the pomegranate molasses-- it was just the right touch.

This post is just my little way of thanking Cybele for simply being around. She is, in her own way, the pomegranate molasses in everyone's life- sweet, with just the right amount of acid wit. A blend of the exotic and oddly familiar, she adds a touch of subtlety and depth to everything she does. And, as if by instinct, it is always the right touch.

So, thanks, Cybele. You have a habit of making good things better.

Almond-Cornmeal Cake

The idea of this cake came from a recipe by Lorenza di Medici, who knows a thing or two about al fresco dining. And Italian food. As I made the dough, I realized it was going to be too dry for my purposes. I wanted something moist-- a word I detest but, at the same time, a quality I treasure in baked goods. Too late in the day for going back to the market for fresh supplies, I decided to wing it and make some major adjustments, in keeping with my own rigidly, self-imposed idea that improvisation was the theme of the day. Fortunately, it worked, and worked very well.

This cake plays well with late-summer fruits. I chose figs, but berries would do well, too. Or just a big dollop of sweetened cream and a good, cool glass of Tokaj.

Serves: 6 to 8

For Cake

Ingredients:

1 cup almonds, blanched and without skin
1/3 cup yellow cornmeal
2/3 cup corn flour
1/4 cup unbleached all purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
4 ounces unsalted butter
3 egg yolks
a pinch of salt
powdered sugar for decoration

For Figs

Ingredients:

1 pint of fresh Mission figs
2-3 tablespoons of sugar, depending upon the ripeness of the figs
1 teaspoon pomegranate molasses

Preparation:

1. Grease with butter a 9-inch cake pan with removable bottom, lining the pan with similarly-greased parchment paper.

2. In a Cuisinart, or whatever you wish to call yours, combine almonds, cornmeal, corn flour, all purpose flour, and salt. Pulse until the almonds are crushed sufficiently to make a fine meal.

3. Cream butter and sugar until, well, creamy. Add yolks one at a time. The color should be roughly equivalent to that of a blinding afternoon sun.

4. Combine the butter mixture with the flour group until well incorporated. Spread into cake pan and bake on the middle rack of a pre-heated 400° oven for about 30 minutes, or until done.

5. Wash figs, slice into quarter segments. Toss them in sugar and molasses, but gently. Let sit for about an hour.

6. Remove from oven. Remember to turn off your oven. Place the now-baked cake on a rack to cool. Remove from pan. Please remove the parchment paper. Dust with powdered sugar when plated.

7. Slice cake and serve with prepared figs and sweetened cream.

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Monday was the first day of school. Yes, school starts in August in our district, which always seems crazy to me as I used to start school after Labor Day when I was a kid. This means that instead of determining what my kids will eat for lunch at around noon, I am now frantically making lunches at 7:30 in the morning.

Although making a school lunch may seem like a no brainer (PB&J with a banana, anyone?), a lot has changed since my mom threw cellophane-wrapped sandwiches into my childhood Scooby Doo lunch box. For one thing, most lunch boxes are no longer made of tin, but polyester and nylon. For another, people are now starting to take note of how much trash is created during the school lunch hour.

Did you know that a typical American school kid’s lunch generates 67 pounds of trash a year? When I first heard about this statistic, I was amazed. I then did a little math and realized that a class of 20 kids produces 1,340 pounds of trash in the school year, and was horrified when I further calculated that a school with 200 kids (which is a small school), creates 133,400 pounds of school lunch trash a year!

The day-to-day issues of dealing with all this trash, combined with a desire to help students become more environmentally aware, led the administrators and parents club at my children’s school to initiate a No Trash Lunch program. What, you may ask, is a no trash lunch? Well, it’s pretty much exactly what it sounds like: a lunch that doesn’t use anything you would throw away -- no baggies, plastic sporks, juice boxes, or paper napkins. I started making no trash lunches two years ago, and although I sometimes slip and use a baggy in moments of desperation -- usually when the containers aren’t clean -- I’ve found that packing a no trash lunch can be just as convenient as making one that generates piles of trash.

But making a no trash lunch isn’t just about giving up baggies and paper napkins. The fad of toting a disposable water bottle has also thankfully fallen out of vogue. Kids are now being taught that those little plastic bottles of Crystal Geyser and Evian clog up land fills and are bad for the environment. The current trend is to use stainless steel water bottles. I’ve seen these available everywhere from REI and Whole Foods, to the L.L. Bean web site and our school’s parents club. Although the stainless steel bottles cost more than the plastic variety, they will last for years and are not made of plastics that could potentially leach chemicals into your child's water. Many reusable plastic bottles are also great, but be sure to purchase those with a 1, 2, 4 or 5 on them as they are thought to be safer.

So if you’re ready to give up baggies and plastic bottles, here are some tips that might help. Once you invest in the basics, a no trash lunch can be just as fast and easy to make as one full of waste.

Making a No Trash Lunch

1. Buy a reusable lunch box. I like the ones made out of Nylon and Polyester that can be washed.
2. Get some sandwich and snack-sized containers. These are sold everywhere from Target and Longs, to IKEA.
3. Purchase a reusable water container. I like the stainless steel ones, but these can be pricey. If you get a plastic bottle, try to purchase one that does not have the numbers 3, 6, or 7 imprinted on the bottom as these are most likely to leach chemicals. The best choices are those with the numbers 1, 2, 4 and 5 (although these are often more difficult to find).
4. Give your child a cloth napkin instead of a paper one.
5. If your child will need a fork or spoon, include a metal one that can be taken home, washed and reused. You can buy inexpensive sets of four at most drug stores.
6. If your child likes warm food, purchase a reusable thermos.

If you have any other ideas for how to create a No Trash Lunch, I’d love to hear them.

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Listen to Slow Food Nation on KQED's Forum.

Slow Food Nation
This Labor Day weekend San Francisco will host Slow Food Nation -- a four day gathering to promote sustainable and healthy food. We talk with organizers and experts in the slow food movement, exploring the connection between our plates and the planet.

Host: Michael Krasny

Guests:
• Anya Fernald, executive director of Slow Food Nation
• Dr. Vandana Shiva, author of "Biopiracy: The Plunder of Nature" and founder and director of Navdanya, an organization supporting conservation, renewal and rejuvenation of biodiversity
• Eric Schlosser, award-winning journalist, author of "Fast Food Nation" and a correspondent for the Atlantic Monthly
• Michael Pollan, professor of journalism at UC Berkeley and author of "In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto"

Read Amy Sherman's Event post about Slow Food Nation.

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The first weekend in September I will be flying off to Portugal to learn about cork, but if I was in town I'd be sauntering down to Ghirardelli Square to check out the annual Chocolate Festival. It's free to attend, but tickets are sold for "tastings" and all proceeds benefit Project Open Hand. There are close to 30 vendors including Ghirardelli chocolate, Ciao Bella Gelato, Kara's Cupcakes, Presidio Cafe and Young's Double Chocolate Stout.

Some highlights include a chance to meet Kara Lind, owner of Kara's Cupcakes and learn about cupcake making and decorating, a wine and chocolate pairing seminar and demonstrations by Master Chocolatier Ann Czaja who will share chocolate recipes and entertaining ideas. Yes, there will be samples!

What: Chocolate Festival Indulge in chocolate treats, sip at the Wine & Chocolate Bar, and enjoy Chef Demonstrations and other family activities.

Where: Ghirardelli Square, 900 North Point St, San Francisco

When:9:00am-5:00pm, September 6-7, 2008

How: Admission is free, but tickets are available for tastings, 15 tastings for $20 or 6 tastings for $10

Why: This is a fundraiser for Project Open Hand, for over 20 years, Project Open Hand has provided meals and bags of groceries to men, women and children living with symptomatic HIV and AIDS. They also provide daily congregate lunches to seniors and provide meals to people who are homebound and critically ill.

Here is the winning recipe from Ghirardelli's America's Most Intense Chocolate Recipe:

Triple Chocolate Truffle Cake

Ingredients:
2 sticks unsalted butter, softened, plus additional for pan
3 cups Ghirardelli Semi Sweet Chocolate Baking Chips
8 large eggs, cold
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 cup Ghirardelli Milk Chocolate Baking Chips
2 ounces Ghirardelli White Chocolate Baking Bar, chilled

Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 325° F. Arrange rack in center of oven. Butter the bottom and sides of a 9 by 2-inch round cake pan and line the bottom with parchment paper.

2. Melt butter and semi-sweet chocolate chips over double boiler until smooth; cool slightly. Meanwhile, with a hand mixer or in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whip attachment, whip eggs and salt on medium speed until doubled in volume, about 5 minutes.

3. Gently fold, in thirds, whipped eggs into melted chocolate. Pour batter into prepared cake pan and place pan in water bath. Bake until the cake pulls away from the sides of the pan and is set in the center, about 40 minutes. Remove pan from water bath to a cooling rack and cool cake completely in pan. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight. To remove cake, dip the bottom and halfway up the sides of the pan in warm water and run a thin metal spatula around the inside of the pan. Invert onto a plate to unmold, remove parchment paper.

4. To prepare ganache, bring heavy cream to a simmer and pour over milk chocolate chips. Stir gently until smooth; cool slightly. Pour ganache over top of cake and spread with an offset spatula to evenly cover. (There will be some ganache leftover.) Chill cake until ganache sets, about 30 minutes. To garnish, grate white chocolate bar on top of cake.

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I have a really amazing circle of friends and family. Because of this, I am always on the lookout for great gifts that are easy on the wallet, and that hold to my buying philosophy: buy from mom-and-pop shops over chain superstores whenever possible. While I definitely have some San Francisco stores that I frequent in order to find unique gifts, my obsession lately has been Etsy.

Etsy is an online marketplace of over 100,000 sellers who sell all things handmade.

I've had particular luck using Etsy for my food-loving friends.

A couple of months ago, I purchased the above apron from Bella Bee Designs. Wendy at Bella Bee uses fantastic fabrics, and is currently selling aprons, napkins and totes. As has been the case with all of my Etsy transactions, customer service was friendly and she even worked with me to get a gift out very quickly to a friend. The friend was thrilled, and by the time I saw the apron I was jealous that I hadn't bought one for myself. I am really looking forward to buying more gifts from Bella Bee Designs.

This necklace was a purchase for myself about a year ago. It was made by Rachael Sudlow, and I love wearing it to the farmers market during sweet pea season. Sudlow also makes this cute cupcake necklace.

Sumiko makes really beautiful pottery including the sushi set above. I was so pleased when I purchased this gift for a friend. Not only was the sushi set exactly as advertised, but the wrapping and attention to packaging detail was impeccable. I have my eye on this olive plate as a purchase for myself.

It's hard to go wrong with Etsy. It seems to be a relatively safe buying environment, and I've never had trouble receiving a purchased item. I keep an eye on ratings and feedback which are available for every seller. If I'm purchasing from a seller with relatively few ratings, I use a little more caution than I do from sellers with many high ratings.

In gathering links for this story, I came across several new Etsy items that I'd like to purchase including a hemp tote bag from Uzura, this "pretty peas" bag from dailybread, cute floursack towels from YourWayEmbroidery, this lovely soup bowl from kimwestad, and this gorgeous bag from iragrant.

It's easy to spend a lot of time on Etsy. One search leads to another, and two hours later you are still clicking around looking at beautiful items. Etsy provides some tools to help you refine searches.

My favorite ways to search are:
• Using gift guides
• Checking out featured sellers
• By color

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CAKE by Camille Holvoet, 2008.

The recent opening of a gallery exhibition at Creativity Explored in the Mission District was a reminder of just how much San Franciscans love their food. The exhibit, entitled Tasty, highlighted the work of local artists who had explored the shape and color of eating in a variety of media. During the reception, both the small gallery up front and the large studio space in back were packed wall to wall with friends, donors and hungry viewers. It was the most crowded I’d ever seen their gallery. Attach the word "food" to any event here in Northern California, especially if your normal operations have nothing to do with anything edible, and you can expect to sell out.

In this month’s noise of food and more food, though, the art on the walls at Creativity Explored reminded me of two vital gifts, the same forces that pushed me into my own work and that inspire me still after all these years. One, the power of unleashed creativity and uncensored expression to reveal who we are as individuals. And two, the power of people coming together to support each other and help each other thrive.

Camille Holvoet, one of the studio artists at Creativity Explored, is known for her rich, lush oil pastels of cakes, pies and pastries.

If you haven’t visited the exhibit yet, please try to carve some time out of these waning weeks of summer to stop by and see the works. Be sure to linger at Steven Greeter’s Popsicles, Kevin Roach’s interpretation of meat in Pork Cut Chart, the vivid montage of green in Peter Cordova’s papier mache Vegetable Bowl, John Patrick McKenzie’s hand-lettered Tablecloth, Betty Benard’s Watermelon collage, and Camille Holvoet’s many cupcakes. They are truly stunning, and while I may be biased about the provocative images (yes, a few of those red dots marking sold paintings and sculptures are mine), I also believe Creatively Explored to be one of the most important nonprofits in the Bay Area. Their mission, to support the creative efforts of developmentally disabled adults, has been realized through an ambitious vision pushed forward with much hard work. In addition to offering a safe studio space and workshops for their artists, they promote their artists’ works at their Valencia Street gallery and in museum exhibits around the world. Like many mainstream, for-profit galleries, half of the money received from buyers goes directly to the artist.

I’d been lucky enough to help teach a workshop earlier this summer at their studio with Sharon Smith, one of many instructors who teach there and a friend who nurses her own personal mission to show the artists how to eat more healthfully. Wanting to offer easy, nutritious and delicious alternatives to the daily snack truck that arrives everyday at the studio, Sharon had asked me to assist her with transforming whole fruit into edible art.

FAVORITE FOODS, by Camille Holvoet, 2007.

It was new territory for Creativity Explored. A hands-on cooking class had never been on their list of objectives, but with some dedicated fundraising through Sharon’s contacts with the food industry and lots of paring knives, we were able to come up with four tables worth of colorful, edible art.

After the artists had a chance to sketch the fruit whole, we all worked together to prepare platters of rainbow-bright snack skewers. Melon-ballers helped us transform large, unwieldy, intimidating orbs into small, friendly finger-food. Oranges kept their peels, as color and convenience dictated the results as much as flavor, while five different hues of apples fueled debates on everyone’s preferences for sweet vs. tart. To my delight, I noticed that both green and red grapes managed to travel more directly to mouths than skewers. The patterns, shapes, textures and rhythms that emerged on each artist’s skewer informed a second wave of sketches. Along the way, we all shared stories about our favorite fruit.

The recipe for the day was a dessert dip made with three ingredients: yogurt, honey and orange juice mixed to taste (lots of tasting!) and poured into a colorful bowl. It doesn’t get much easier than that.

It’s a challenge for all of us to eat healthfully but especially so for adults of diverse development levels who may not have full kitchens, basic cooking skills, steady incomes or an attentive family. Thanks to Sharon, though, Creativity Explored has an instructor as dedicated to their artists’ physical health as their creative spirit.

CREATIVITY EXPLORED
Gallery Exhibition: Tasty
Curator: Judith La Rosa
August 14 through October 1, 2008
3245 16th Street (at Guerrero Street)
San Francisco CA 94103
(415) 863-2108
Map

CAKES by Camille Holvoet, 2008.

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When I was growing up, Happy Days was my favorite show on TV. In addition to thinking The Fonz was the coolest and Potsie was funny, I loved when Richie Cunningham would sing “I found my thrill, on blueberry hill…” Whenever he would start to croon, I would day dream about walking on a big hill full of blueberries, picking fruit and eating all along the way. I was a kid and so didn’t realize the Fats Domino song was being played to show that Ritchie was feeling “frisky.” All I knew was that I desperately wanted to live near a blueberry hill.

When I see blueberries, I still sometimes hum Mr. Domino’s song. I’ve been doing this a lot lately as we are now in the height of blueberry season. In addition to stuffing those plump, round, bluish-purple balls of juicy delight into tarts and pies, I have been making fresh blueberry muffins for breakfast.

Although you can easily use frozen blueberries for muffins, there’s no reason to do that now, when berries are fresh, in season, and moderately inexpensive. Frozen berries are for the winter, when you have to pay little buckets of gold for a half pint of fresh ones. Plus, fresh berries exude bursts of sweetness that are unmatched by their frozen cousins.

Although I sometimes like streusel toppings, when I have the luxury of fresh seasonal blueberries, I don’t want to overshadow the berry flavor with a thick lid of butter and sugar. Crowning each muffin with just a sprinkle of brown sugar is a more simple and straightforward way to get the crunchy muffin top I want, while still highlighting all that blueberry goodness inside.

Here’s my recipe for fresh blueberry muffins. It’s fast and easy enough that you can whip it up in the morning for breakfast. It’s also a great way to enjoy blueberries in the height of the season. I imagine Mrs. Cunningham served these to Ritchie all the time.

Fresh Blueberry Muffins

Makes: 12 medium muffins

Ingredients:
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp baking soda
2 eggs
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup sour cream
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 Tbsp milk
1 cup fresh blueberries
1/4 cup brown sugar

Preparation:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Oil your muffin pan or set in paper muffin liners.
3. In a large bowl, mix the flour, baking powder, salt and baking soda.
4. In a separate bowl, beat the sugar into the eggs and mix in the sour cream, vegetable oil and milk.
5. Add in the blueberries.
6. Incorporate the dry mixture into the wet ingredients and gently stir, being sure not to over mix the flour.
7. Divide the batter into the muffin pan. I like to spoon out the batter using an ice cream scoop.
8. Sprinkle brown sugar on top of each muffin.
9. Bake at 350 degrees for 15 - 20 minutes (depending on whether or not you have a convection oven and how hot your oven runs).
10. When you can cleanly run a toothpick through the middle muffin, pull them out and left them cool for few minutes before diving in.

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Several weeks ago, Amy Sherman gave me a cookbook entitled Hungry Girl: Recipes and Survival Strategies for Guilt-Free Eating in the Real World, because she knew it would drive me crazy.

How well she knows me.

I browsed through the pink-tinged pages looking at the recipes, fighting my way through the over-enthusiastic use of exclamation marks and cute-and-confusing titles like “pizzalicious chop chop” (page 44) and “amazing ate-layer dip” (page 158). Intending to be “sassy” and “fun”, the writing comes across as though it were the product of a calorie-obsessed teen-aged girl rather than an adult woman.

The author, Lisa Lillien, is “a self-appointed ‘foodoligist’ (sic)” and founder of the website HungryGirl.com – a popular website with more than 100,000 subscribers. According to her website, she rightly states that she is neither a dietitian nor a food professional, but “an average female, struggling with the same food issues most females struggle with every day.” Losing and gaining the same 10-15 pounds several times over, and trying “every diet under the sun,” she has a self-admitted food obsession– counting calories and finding low-fat, low-carbohydrate substitutes for a wide variety of foods.

The book, which is a natural extension of her popular website, is sadly rife with rather unnatural foods. For example, her “2-good twice-baked potato” (page 124, from”Manly Meals” Chapter 6) calls for fat-free American cheese and fat-free liquid non-dairy creamer. Is substituting the fats found in natural dairy products with things like corn syrup solids and Polysorbate 60 (both found in non-dairy creamer) such an excellent idea, however many calories might be saved? Polysorbate 60, as I have learned from a rather amusing article posted at Wired magazine, is:

…made by polymerizing ethylene oxide (a precursor to antifreeze) with a sugar alcohol derivative. The result can be a detergent, an emulsifier, or, in the case of polysorbate 60, a major ingredient in some sexual lubricants.

Perhaps the dish should be re-christened “2-good twice-lubed potato.” (And hint to the recipe testers– you might want to sprinkle the potato with paprika and parsley after removing it from the oven.)

In Chapter 12, or, “Happy Hour”, Lillien states up front that it’s no secret that alcohol has “lots of calories”, and guides her readers towards lower-calorie choices if one must drink, but her drink recipes fumble. The “kickin’ cranberry cosmo“ (page 249), for example:

Ingredients:
5 ounces Diet Ocean Spray Cranberry Spray Juice drink
1 1⁄2 ounces of vodka
1 teaspoon lime juice
5 to 8 ice cubes

Optional: splash of diet lemon-lime soda, lime wedge (for garnish)

By omitting the Cointreau or triple sec for the sake of approximately 20 calories, Lillien has turned the Cosmopolitan into a Cape Cod. I should think any author as attached to the color pink as Miss Lillien is would know the difference.

And dessert? How about the “ginormous creamy frozen caramel crunchcake” (page 227)? Cover the top half of one caramel-flavored rice cake with Cool Whip Free. Gently place another rice cake on top, making a sandwich. Freeze for at least 1 hour, then enjoy. There’s that Polysorbate 60 again. And high-fructose corn syrup? Yup. A diet high in fructose makes lab rats fatter than those placed on other diets. Read that Wired article again – it’s all about Cool Whip. Oh, it’s also been pointed out that the Sorbitan Monostearate, which is also found in this fat-free topping is sometimes used as hemorrhoid cream.

Super fab!

This book isn’t all bad. In fact, it contains some excellent, sensible advice for those of us out there battling with our own weight issues. For example, Lillien suggests ways of staying active at work, how to avoid mindless snacking, and is vigilant about listing the per-serving calories, fat, sodium, fiber, carbs, sugars, and proteins in all of her recipes.

And not all of the recipes are creepy, just most of the names. For example, the “v10 soup” is completely devoid of atomic-age substitutes and comes with a warning that it is “jam-packed with an INSANE amount of veggies!!!”

Perhaps I’ve got it all wrong. Maybe living as I do in the heart of the Bay Area has spoiled me to the point of not recognizing what the “real world” might be, in terms of day-to-day eating. I’m not an on-the-go girl trying to fit into cute, size 2 pants. Nope, I’m a nearly-40 year-old man. But, as a gay man, the tyranny of body consciousness and fitness is not unknown to me.

In a country which is growing fatter by the year, it’s a shame that the author, who has such a large following, should choose to lead her readers down the path of empty calories and diet tricks. In an effort to help people avoid the “real world” dangers of fast food and junk food, Miss Lillien merely offers pale substitutes of the originals. In obsessing over calorie and fat content, she offers little in the way of whole foods–relying heavily upon heavily processed, store-bought items instead– many of which are thought to contribute to weight-gain in the first place, like high-fructose corn syrup.

Is Hungry Girl’s cookbook “guilt-free” as advertised? Hardly. This book, however well-intentioned, offers little in the way of substance. If anything, it’s guilty of promoting the same unhealthy food obsessions that drove Miss Lillien to create her popular website in the first place.

Now, if you will please excuse me, I’ve got a big bowl of Fiber One® drowning in some delicious non-dairy creamer to consume.

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Photo credit Scott Chernis

Slow Food is a movement that started in Italy and promotes a return to the way people used to eat. While it's a sentiment most of us can get behind, life is very different in Italy. Perhaps that is part of the reason why Slow Food USA has had a difficult time building massive grassroots support.

Certainly there have been public statements by the founder of Slow Food that have turned off potential local supporters. Many Slow Food programs have also left believers in the cause feeling, as the New York Times put it recently, as if Slow Food was "just one big wine tasting with really hard to find cheeses that you weren’t invited to."

But the Slow Food Nation events in San Francisco over Labor Day weekend are intended to be accessible to everyone. While some of the events are still pricey to attend, the good news is, there are plenty of events that are free. Here's a round up of just a handful of some of the major free events and programs. Head to the Slow Food Nation site for the complete Slow Food Nation schedule.

Slow Arts
Poetry by peach farmer David "Mas" Masumoto, a photography exhibit on the theme of Life in a Tuscan Town and a Bulgarian Honeybee and Harvest dance are just some of the many arts programs that are part of Slow Food Nation. All but the photo exhibit take place at the Victory Garden.

Youth Food Movement programs
Retreats, films and workshops and a culminating "Eat-In" are planned for those in the 16-34 age range.

Marketplace
The Marketplace will take place in the Civic Center Plaza. There will be produce for sale, street food, "soap box" story telling and water stations for everyone.

Food for Thought films
You'll need to RSVP and tickets are limited, but there will be showings of films such as The Future of Food and Our Daily Bread. Films take place at the Cowell Theater at Fort Mason.

Whichever events you end up taking part in, here's hoping you have a very slow Labor Day weekend.

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I had something else planned for my post today, but the truth is that I am completely under the weather. As in having to rest between the kitchen and the bedroom, as in bundled in blankets and fleeces and warm socks. What are your magic remedies when you're not feeling great? Here are some of mine:

Dr. Mathra's Totally Hot Toddy. Ever since I got my hands on this recipe, it has been my go-to hot toddy drink when I'm under the weather. A pinch of red chili flakes is a great addition.

Tom Yum Goong from Thai House Express on Geary at Larkin. This hot and sour soup warms me up and helps clear up any congestion. If I don't have the energy to pick up, I order from Chai Yo on Polk street.

Pho from Mai's on Clement. There's better pho in town, but this small restaurant is a comfortable spot to slurp some pho when you're under the weather.

Parmesan toast with tomatoes. This is one of my tribe's comfort foods. I've been eating it since I was a kid.

In an ideal world, I would have the energy to whip up my own lentil soup or chicken soup or spicy tomato sauce, but when all I can think about is going back to bed, these quick food options provide comfort and sustenance.

What do you do when you're under the weather?

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If you live anywhere near the Northern California coastline in a house that was built during the first two decades of the 20th century and if you haven't had a chance or don't have the heart to remodel your home completely, then you probably still have a strange, little cabinet in a corner of your kitchen. Unlike the other cabinets in the room, it has open shelves of wire or slats or perforated wood. It also feels very cold and breezy, and you might even be able to glimpse sunlight through the back of it if you stand at a certain angle and tilt your head a certain way. It may have a lock or, at the least, a secure latch.

This, my friend, is a California cooler.

In the days before easy electricity and Freon™ there was cold air from the ocean to keep your root vegetables crisp and your ham succulent. In San Francisco, a city built on sand, California coolers replaced the Midwestern cellar as a family's depository of food. An ingenious architect came up with the idea of a louvered box attached to an outside wall of the building. With some open shelving and an easy-access door right from the kitchen, busy housewives could stay close to their pantry staples.

Currently sitting in my California cooler are some onions and garlic, some potatoes, lots of vinegar and oils, a few heavily brandied fig and almond cakes from last Christmas, and a cloth-wrapped hunk of what will, I hope, become duck prosciutto by the end of next week.

Many modern designers remove these cabinets entirely, but I love when homeowners retain the cooler in their modern kitchen. There really is no better way to keep ingredients for weeks and months at a time in precisely the cool, dark, well-ventilated, and off-the-grid way that is best for the food that sustains us.

What are you keeping right now in your California cooler?

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I've just booked a trip that ensures that in less than a month, I'll be happily winging off to my home state of Minnesota. Minneapolis is where I grew up as the pickiest of eaters, eschewing nearly every vegetable aside from corn and artichokes. (Don't ask where my mother got artichokes in Minneapolis in the 70s and 80s. Or Pomegranates and avocados for that matter, but my mother was born and bred in Glendale, CA and she knew what she liked and she made sure she found it for us.)

However, on this next trip home, I will finally (FINALLY) visit the St. Paul's Farmers' Market, the jewel in Minnesota's market crown. I've done Mill City and the older Minneapolis Farmers' Market. I've also done the tiny Thursday stalls along Nicollet Avenue back when I worked downtown at my dad's law firm. Now, it's time for St. Paul, the city on the other side of the river. Capitol twin to my beloved Minneapolis.

Befitting a hardworking Midwestern state, the SPFM is only open from April 26th to November 15th. Those dates are certainly significant to any Minnesotan, because we all know that snow is no stranger to May, and I fondly remember a historic Halloween my senior year in high school when we got 33 inches of nice fluffy white stuff between 9 PM and 5 AM.

It was the first actual Snow Day of my memory. (See, we went to school even when the power went out at Jefferson Elementary and when the busses stalled. In the former, we just wore our snowsuits and in the latter, other busses came to get us.) However, Minnesota being what it is, in 1992 the roads were plowed and my dad was on his way to work by noon.

A farmers' market of some fashion has been operating in St. Paul since 1852. Back then, fresh produce was -- as it is now -- only available during the feverish and fecund summer months. However, throughout the year and even during the glacial, killing months, they had dairy, flour, cakes, and candies. Now, they also have local baked goods, cheese, poultry, buffalo, venison, beef, pork, lamb, maple syrup, eggs, honey, organic produce, flowers, plants, and shrubs.

Living in the (comparatively) warm Bay Area has definitely softened my Midwestern hide and it's also babied my palate and kitchen. I'm excited about checking out and cooking the fruits and vegetables I would have despised in my callow youth and remembering, celebrating my sturdy roots.

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At dinner the other evening, the man who, for the purposes of my blogging, wishes to be referred to as “that guy who like smoothies”, was recounting his recent trip to Pittsburgh for a friend’s wedding. Having attended a small college near the city, he became rather nostalgic talking about his late nights chugging coffee and cramming for finals at the local Kings Family Restaurant. Never having been to neither Northeastern Pennsylvania, nor Ohio, I had never heard of such a place and said as much. He then proceeded to mention that Kings Family Restaurants were the home of the “Frownie”.

“The what?” I asked, though the name seemed to illustrate itself with near-perfect precision.

“A Frownie is a brownie, but with a frownie face piped onto it. If you purchase a whole pack, it’s called a Pity Party.”

I stopped hearing anything more about the wedding. I only wanted to know about Frownies, so I went home to do a little research.

That’s one mean dessert.

Kings Restaurants’ latest dessert offering, which they are calling The Angry Mob, includes twelve frownies, accompanied by hot fudge, whipped cream, twelve scoops of vanilla ice cream, and a poster. I suppose that, if one can manage to ingest such vast quantities of fat and sugar, one might as well eat the poster, too.

The Frownie, as much as I have been able to learn, was dreamed up about three years ago to drum up business at the 40 year-old restaurant chain, which had been flagging in recent times. Thanks to Smith Brothers Advertising, who make the likes of other Pittsburgh-area brands like Heinz Tomato Ketchup sexy, the Frownie has caught on.

It’s not surprising that the Frownie originated near Pittsburgh, home of Carnegie Mellon University. Carnegie Mellon, if you didn’t know, is the birthplace of the emoticon, thanks to Scott Fahlman, who started the whole sideways smiling business more than 25 years ago on the University’s Computer Science community b(ulliten)-board. He invented the frowning emoticon, too. In the same message, no less.

Where I attended culinary school, plating foods in such a way as to resemble a human face was frowned upon– the thought being that no one wanted to dig into something that resembled one’s self. Clearly, they were mistaken. Then again, they were mistaken about a lot of things. Children are undeniably attracted to the cannibalization of smiley-faced pancakes, so who can say eating a scowling brownie is wrong?

Imagine living through a Northeastern winter. I know if I were to spend months freezing my hind quarters off battling the elements, I might find myself entering a local family restaurant and sitting down to a hearty meal and mugs of hot coffee to warm my hands and insides. If a dessert happened to come to the table with a scowl frosted onto its face, I’d most likely take another swig of coffee, look out the window at my iced-over car, and think, Frownie, I know just how you feel.

Katharine Hepburn’s Frownies
I had been thinking about brownies even before Frownies entered my consciousness, thanks to the September 2008 issue of Saveur Magazine. In their article, they list Katharine Hepburn’s home recipe, which originally accompanied and interview with the actress in the August 1975 issue of The Ladies’ Home Journal. Needing a basic brownie recipe, Hepburn’s seemed worthy, based upon name-recognition alone. It had been suggested to me that I might wish to give these Frownies some Hepburn-like quality. Since I neither know anyone who can lend me an Oscar on short notice, nor do I possess the ability to create slacks for dessert items, and taking a tremorous, Parkinson’s-like blurry photo would have been in extremely poor taste, I decided to just let the unhappy things alone.

Makes: 9 Frownies.

Ingredients:
8 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more for greasing
2 ounces unsweetened chocolate
1 cup sugar
2 eggs, beaten
1⁄2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup roughly chopped walnuts
1⁄4 cup flour
1⁄4 teaspoon fine salt
1⁄2 cup powdered sugar
1 tablespoon water

Preparation:

1. Pre-heat oven to 325°. Grease an 8 x 8 inch baking pan with butter. Line the pan with parchment paper; grease the paper. Set pan aside.

2. Melt the butter and chocolate together in a 2-quart saucepan over low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, since one cannot imagine Miss Hepburn using anything else. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the sugar. Add the eggs and vanilla and stir to make a smooth batter. Add the walnuts, flour, and salt; stir until incorporated. Pour batter into the baking pan and spread evenly. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, 40-45 minutes. Let cool on a rack. Remove from pan and cut into nine squares.

3. Mix the powdered sugar and water in a small bowl, making a smooth, thick icing. Place icing into a piping bag fitted with a fine, plain tip, or place in a zip-lock bag, cutting a very small amount off one of the bottom corners with scissors. Pipe two blank, disappointed-looking eyes and a frown onto each brownie. Serve.

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I only make homemade pasta a few times a year, but when I do, I am always surprised at how easy it is. One thing I never forget is how good it tastes. Making pasta from scratch is always worth the effort as the freshness of the flavor and the silkiness of the texture exceeds that of any noodle you can buy, unless you’re lucky enough to have a good local shop near your house that makes it daily.

Contrary to popular belief, making pasta from scratch isn’t difficult. Although the process can take a while and your arms will get a workout kneading the dough, the steps themselves are not only basic, they’re pretty fun. And, if you have some friends or kids around to help, you can all have a great time making unique shapes and rolling out the dough together. There’s no need to buy a pasta maker. I’ve had one for years, but have only used it once as my rolling pin does a great job and it doesn’t take that long to roll the dough out by hand.

Following is the recipe I use when making pasta along with some suggestions for varying it. Please keep in mind that pasta-making is not an exact science. You can include extra eggs for a richer dough; make different shapes and thicknesses to match your sauce (or simply to have fun); or add herbs, lemon zest, pureed vegetables, squid ink, or whatever sounds good. It’s best to first become comfortable with the basic recipe, but once you do, there are no limits.

I’ve also included one of my favorite pasta recipes: Fettuccini with Heirloom Tomatoes, Fresh Basil, Ricotta Cheese, and Parmesan. When tomatoes are in season, this is a great way to capture their flavor in a warm meal without cooking the fresh flavor and plumpness out of them. The ricotta then provides a creaminess to the pasta that I really love.

Mangia!

Homemade Pasta
Serves: 4-8 people (depending on how hungry you all are)

Ingredients:
3 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour
4 - 6 eggs (the more eggs you add, the richer the dough)
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp olive oil
1 Tbsp warm water

Preparation:

Preparing Dough by Hand
1. Set flour on a marble or wooden counter or board, making a well in the center.
2. In a bowl, mix the eggs, salt and olive oil.
3. Pour the egg mixture into the well and slowly incorporate the flour into the egg, mixing everything together as you go along.
4. Add the warm water slowly if you need to moisten the dough (I almost always do this). Sometimes you may need it all, sometimes you will only need a bit.
5. Collect the mixture into a ball.

Preparing Dough Using a Mixer with a Dough Hook
1. Place the flour into your mixing bowl.
2. In a separate bowl, mix the eggs, salt and olive oil.
3. Turn the mixer on low and then slowly pour the egg mixture into the bowl, incorporating the egg into the flour.
4. Add the warm water slowly if you need to moisten the dough (I almost always do this). Sometimes you may need it all, sometimes you will only need a bit.
5. When the egg is added into the flour and you have a rough dough, take everything out of the bowl and set it on a marble or wooden counter or board.

6. Collect the mixture into a ball on a marble or wooden counter or board.

Preparing Dough by Using a Food Processor
1. Place the flour into your processor’s bowl.
2. In a separate bowl, mix the eggs, salt and olive oil.
3. Pulse the processor while slowly pouring the egg mixture into the bowl and incorporating it into the flour.
4. Add the warm water slowly if you need to moisten the dough (I almost always do this). Sometimes you may need it all, sometimes you will only need a bit.
5. When the egg is added into the flour and you have a rough dough, take everything out of the bowl and set it on a marble or wooden counter or board.

Kneading the Dough
1. Knead the dough for 10-15 minutes. When you’re done, it should be smooth with everything fully incorporated. Be sure not to stop too soon (even if your arms are tired) as your dough won’t stretch well later and you’ll regret it.
2. Let the dough rest in a bowl covered with plastic wrap for at least an hour on the counter or up to a day in the refrigerator.

Making the Pasta
A. Rolling out the Dough by Hand
1. Line a cookie sheet with paper towels that have been sprinkled with flour.
2. Spread some flour onto your counter or board and set the dough on top of it.
3. Cut a 1/2-inch slice off your dough ball, and keep the rest covered with the plastic wrap.
4. Using your rolling pin, roll your dough to your desired thickness (I like it on the thin side) and then cut into whatever shape you’d like. I think pappardelle, tagliatelle, and fettuccini are the easiest to cut.
5. Set the cut noodles onto the cookie sheet, being sure not to clump them too much. Sprinkle on more flour if needed.
6. Continue until you are out of dough.

Making Individual Shapes by Hand
1. Line a cookie sheet with paper towels that have been sprinkled with flour.
2. Spread some flour onto your counter or board and set the dough on top of it.
3. Cut a 1/2-inch slice off your dough ball, and keep the rest covered with the plastic wrap.
4. Make whatever shapes you’d like (I think orecchiette is the easiest as you just make little balls and then press your knuckle into them), being sure not to make your shapes too thick or too big as they won’t cook well. About.com has a nice pasta gallery you can look at if you’re interested.
5. Set the cut noodles onto the cookie sheet, being sure not to clump them too much an sprinkling on more flour if needed.
6. Continue until you are out of dough.

Note: I won’t provide pasta-maker instructions as I rarely use mine and each machine comes with a helpful manual.

Cooking the Pasta
1. Add the pasta to salted boiling water. Be sure to have a nice full pot so there’s enough room for the pasta to move around and cook in separate batches if your pot isn’t big enough.
2. Boil for 3-5 minutes, or until the pasta seems cooked through.
3. The pasta should be firm, but cooked through, when you take it out. Just be sure not to let it get mushy.
4. Serve with your favorite sauce.

Freezing the Pasta
An entire batch usually makes two full dinners in our house, so I freeze the other half for later use. Just follow these simple directions:
1. Take your fresh (uncooked) noodles still lying on the cookie sheet and cover them with a layer of paper towels.
2. Stick the cookie sheet in the freezer for about an hour.
3. When the noodles are frozen, place them in a freezer bag or container and freeze until ready for use.

Fettuccini with Heirloom Tomatoes, Fresh Basil, Ricotta Cheese, and Parmesan

Makes: 4 Servings

Ingredients:
Half a batch of freshly prepared and cooked fettuccini
1 -2 pounds of heirloom tomatoes chopped
1/2 cup fresh ricotta cheese
3 Tbsp chopped basil
Olive oil
2 Tbsp freshly grated Parmesan Cheese

Preparation:
1. Add the cooked pasta to a large bowl, adding enough olive oil to thinly coat the noodles.
2. Add the tomatoes, basil, ricotta cheese and Parmesan and toss.
3. Season with salt and pepper if desired (I find that the Parmesan often adds enough saltiness to the dish, but you may need more).
4. Serve and enjoy.

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On Labor Day weekend there are a myriad of culinary experiences to choose from including Slow Food Nation in San Francisco and further north, the Sonoma Wine Country Weekend. While this tremendously popular annual event consistently sells out, there are still a few tickets left to some of the winemaker lunches on Friday, August 29th, winemaker dinners on Saturday, August 30th and a chance to attend a high rolling wine auction on Sunday, August 31st.

What: Sonoma Wine Country Weekend

Where: Events take place at wineries in Sonoma County

When: August 29 - 31, 2008

How: Buy tickets to attend, tickets range from $75 to $750, depending upon the event.

Why: Get up close and personal with winemakers, chefs and local producers from our own backyard. My pick is the Taste of Sonoma a local food and wine tasting showcase event on Saturday at the historic MacMurray Ranch, that's rarely open to the public. There will be chef demonstrations, wine seminars and more.

Whichever events you choose to attend, you'll be helping to support local charities that serve the students, children, farm workers and those in need.

Local restaurants and chefs will be participating all weekend. Here are two terrific recipes courtesy of Duskie Estes and John Stewart of Zazu and Bovolo Restaurant and Farm.

Peach Bellini Sorbetto
1 1/4 pounds ripe peaches
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 cup iron horse sparkling wine

Combine the peaches, sugar, and lemon juice in a food processor. Stir in the sparkling wine. Freeze in ice cream maker according to its directions.

Redwood Hill Goat Yogurt Gelato
4 cups plain goat yogurt
1 cups sugar
3/4 cup water

In a small sauce pan on high heat, bring the sugar and water to a boil to melt the sugar. Cool. Mix the yogurt with the simple syrup and freeze according to your ice cream machine’s directions.

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A few years ago I met a fellow who talked some very big words about pie. He seemed to think he knew a lot. He said he had this friend, Aligator, who organized a pie competition every year, and, if I was lucky, I might get to attend.

Through veils of secrecy and language written to intimidate even the most scholarly, Pie Off was turning out to be something to be reckoned with. People who came just to watch and snack and spy were turned away. Gorgeous, fruit-laden pretties were disqualified for blatant disregard for the rules, and stories were told about past year rule breakers, who were, conspicuously, missing from the day’s event.

Pie Off was going to be a serious affair.

Weeks before the date, emails came from an undisclosed location. There was an argument about whether I would be allowed to make a pie. Ransom notes for the precious Pie Off Trophy were hung in Oakland’s Temescal neighborhood. Christo* was hired to wrap the secret location. More emails came.

I was asked to be a Pielebrity. Star-struck like a fan in line all night I said yes, having absolutely no idea what I just said yes to.

Pie Off Rules were challenged. An interloper threatened meat pie and the Committee issued a warning.

“Dear Bakers,

As you have no doubt heard, the Pie Off Steering Committee and International Sisterhood/ Brotherhood/ Sockpuppethood of Pie Bakers, Iron Ship Builders and Boilermakers, PIE-TCB have been embroiled in a summer-long dispute over banned substances appearing in award-winning filling throughout the ten-year lifespan of Pie Off, Pie Off East, and all related Pie Off events.

I am happy to report that these disputes and allegations have been resolved in their entirety, and thankfully without much media fanfare. And while I am not at liberty to discuss any settlement terms or amounts, suffice it to say that you will most likely see the value of gourds, tomatoes, and lamb suffer a rather steep decline in the coming months.”

A baker’s dozen of questions about filling categories were raised and answered,

“the combo rule is one of preponderance. bakers/teams are allowed to enter combo pies. the choice of category should be based on whichever fruit is the preponderant ingredient in the filling. if different fruits share equal representation in the filling, then bakers/teams are allowed to make a game-time decision, submitting their pie into one of the appropriate categories.”

The date approached. An invite arrived on Facebook. The location stayed covered. I asked the Committee if I could talk about Pie Off on Eggbeater. A firewall protected email exchange took place. I could tell about the event but give no details about where exactly pies would be dropped off and judged.

The exact response to my question was this:
“In general, the committee does not mind, and perhaps even supports, online discussion of Pie Off, Pie Off International and Pie Off, The Movie. We would only ask that any blog mention of this Sunday's event does not amount to an open invitation. This "eggbeater" village intimidates us more than a little, quite frankly; and our humble gathering wishes only to craft pie with the tools and notions that our mamas gave us.

In short, the answer is yes.
you dig?”

The clincher? No spectators. You had to bring a pie to get in the door. But you could bake a pie with one other person.

One would think with so many rules, regulations and verbiage, one might feel constrained. But many pies came, were eaten, judged and enjoyed. In fact, before pies were eaten, someone set up a serious pot of oil in a back yard and made whole fried pie snackettes.

In total 38 pies were made in 5 categories.
1. stone fruit (peach, nectarine, cherry, plum, apricot)
2. Tree fruit (apple, pear)
3. berry (strawberry, blueberry, cranberry)
4. Caneberry (raspberry, blackberry, boysenberry, marionberry)
5. citrus/tropical (lemon, key lime, banana, mango, etc.)

My Pielebrity status translated into being the overall judge and I, along with another pie discerning individual, chose 1st, 2nd & 3rd place after judges picked a #1 pie in each of their categories. Pie bakers could also cast a Baker’s Choice ballot and a fellow who had never, in all of his life, made a pie before, won with basil-blackberry.

At the end of the day, after tasting 38 pies, I had a better understanding of just how awful bad pie could be and how inventive one could become with a pie plate, something called homemade pie dough and “filling” could be interpreted.

I also saw the power of Pie. Pie binds us. Pie tells a story. Pie is simple, and very very hard. Pie explains hospitality in edible form. Pie is summer. Pie is conviviality. And Pie competitions are fierce.

And, as said best by the Aligator,
Revenge is a dish best served Pie.

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My original recipe for this, passed down from my mom on a handwritten 3x5 card, is named "Ice Box Pickles" for the days when large blocks of ice were cut during the winter, buried in straw through the summer, and delivered house to house on a horse-drawn wagon. A modern-day, electric-powered freezer works just as well, though, for one my favorite ways of highlighting the season's crisp cucumbers.

I used to make these in college, when canning was out of the question. Even my little refrigerator cube, hidden away from the dorm inspectors inside my closet and sporting only a tiny "freezer" shelf, could finish decent pickles. It's an easy, low-maintenance recipe that's perfect for lazy weekends.

Fresh seeds collected from the ripened heads of dill plants were a recent garnish for my latest batch of these crisp, cold pickles. But I also love fresh or dried dills leaves, whole mustard seeds, tiny celery seeds, or even a hint of gorgeous sumac.

Freezer pickles are perfect for accompanying sandwiches or, if you tend towards a sour palate like me, a refreshing snack spooned straight from the jar.

They're super easy to make, so be sure to make a couple of extra jars that you can share with a neighbor or friend, bring to a potluck or picnic, or enjoy all the way through the waning days of August.

Freezer Pickles

Makes: 3 half-pint jars.

Ingredients:
4 cups thinly sliced pickling, Japanese, or Armenian cucumbers
1 small, thinly sliced red onion
2 tablespoons kosher salt
1-2 cups sugar (depending on your taste for sweetness)
1 cup white, distilled vinegar
2 tablespoons dill, celery, or mustard seeds
1/2 teaspoon dried chile flakes or 1 fresh chile, sliced thinly (optional)

Preparation:
1. Toss together the cucumber slices, red onion, and salt. Refrigerate this mixture overnight. Rinse well, then squeeze dry in a clean cloth or press well against a colander to remove as much moisture as possible.

2. In a glass, plastic or ceramic bowl, stir together vinegar, sugar, and spices. Add the cucumber and stir well with a wooden spoon or your hands.

3. Pack into glass jars, leaving 1/2-inch of headspace, and freeze at least 24 hours. Thaw pickles in serving bowl for at least 10 minutes just before serving.

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