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"disqusTitle": "'Burb Burps: Howie's Artisan Pizza",
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"content": "\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/howies1.jpg\" alt=\"howies1\" title=\"howies1\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8305\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>People -- mostly those city folk types -- tend to think that living in the suburbs is dull, pedestrian, and conformist. My friend, the stuff I've already seen around this leafy neighborhood...well, it wouldn't exactly curl your hair, but it could raise some over-groomed eyebrows. Like, the morning I found a pair of red satin pajama bottoms draped over the perfectly trimmed Japanese box hedge. I spent an inordinate amount of time \u003ci>Rear Window\u003c/i>-ing it, just waiting to catch someone in the act of retrieval. Sadly, I never did discover which of my neighbors lost their saucy britches, but I certainly look at them all in a brand new light.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Another belief about the suburbs I've been thrilled to disprove is that it's all bad food. It's true that after five years of living in a city so stuffed with fabulous food finds as San Francisco, moving to the suburbs might have seemed like committing gastronomic suicide. However, this was something I refused to accept. Of course, I might be doing a lot more cooking at home -- a sure money and waist saver -- but I was still committed to finding good eats in our new neighborhood.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So, over the next few weeks, I plan to bring you those findings, and let me assure you, they are delicious. Starting us off today, I wish you \"pizza long life\" and give you \u003ca href=\"http://www.howiesartisanpizza.com/\">Howie's Artisan Pizza\u003c/a> in Palo Alto's Town and Country Village. (Erm, \u003ca href=\"http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Vulcan_salute\">any fellow Trekkies\u003c/a> out there?)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For the past year, it has been my fondest desire to find pizza on the Peninsula that made up for the loss of my favorites in the city. \u003ca href=\"http://www.piccinocafe.com/\">Piccino\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"http://pizzetta211.com/\">Pizzetta 211\u003c/a>, and \u003ca href=\"http://www.pizzeriadelfina.com/\">Pizzeria Delfina\u003c/a> set the curve for me in terms of crust and inventive toppings, and it was going to be really hard to, uh, top them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Even before we walked in to pick up what will be our first of many, many orders to come, I was pretty convinced the people at \u003ca href=\"http://www.howiesartisanpizza.com/\">Howie's Artisan Pizza\u003c/a> already knew me. Yeah, hi, I'm the annoying chick who's been bugging you FOR MONTHS about when you're opening? Yeah...sorry about that. Well, as of November 17th Howie's is finally open in Palo Alto's Town and Country Village!\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Of course, nothing would do except to rush right out and get two sample pizzas -- fresh from the wood brick oven -- in oder to render snap judgements on this long-anticipated place. We tried the Wild Mushrooms pizza (sage, pecorino, mozzarella, and tomato) and the Pancetta and Egg pizza (house made pancetta, eggs, arugula, shaved parmesan, and olio santo). I was especially interested to try the pancetta and egg since one of my all-time favorites at Pizzetta 211 is the pizza that always, always has a Rosie's Farm egg cracked and baked right on top along with seasonal toppings.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Possibly due to the understandable confusion and chaos surrounding a grand opening, the egg pie wasn't as advertised on the website menu. No arugula in sight. Instead, we got a pie with cracked egg, caramelized onions, pancetta, some kind of cheese, and red pepper flakes. It was delicious. It's a bit rich to have often, but it was damn good. I would still like to see Howie's do an egg pie that lightens itself up a bit with the advertised arugula one of these days, but given the empty pizza box, I'm clearly not complaining.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/howies21.jpg\" alt=\"howies21\" title=\"howies21\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-8411\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As a consequence of adoring Piccino's stellar white funghi pizza, I was a bit leery of a mushroom pizza that had a red sauce base. Well, I love being proven wrong when it comes to food skepticism, because that pizza was nothing short of awesome. It wasn't too heavy with cheese, which is good because, as a topping, mushrooms can drag down all but the thickest crusts all on their own. The red sauce I was so skeptical of was that kind of red sauce that proves a pizza place is serious about their craft. A pizza place that doesn't understand the importance of a sublime red sauce is as pointless as one that doesn't understand the vital importance of a good crust.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Howie's understands both these points.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As soon as I saw the browned and bubbled up crust, I was instantly reminded of Kim's \u003ca href=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/2005/03/19/pizza-hunter/\">Apizza Scholls\u003c/a> photos. Judging only with my eyes, I knew this was going to be a good crust. Unless we're talking about Chicago-style deep-dish, which I almost never do since I'm not a big fan of the thick and heavy, pizza crusts should be a silent partner in the pizza making. It should be thin, yet able to stand up to the toppings. Chewy, yet not bready or overly filling. Crispy, but not shard-hard. It's a tall order. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Since we weren't eating in, we did what we always do with take-out pizza: slide pieces on our pizza stone in a preheated 500° oven for 1-2 minutes to undo what potential sog set in during the drive home. Perfection. This crust met and exceeded all my expectations and while I hope Howie's get more inventive with seasonal toppings, I can state that we've finally found our local pizza joint on the Peninsula.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>UPDATE:\u003c/strong> Before this went to press, we couldn't resist trying two more pizzas. We sampled the Hobbs' pepperoni pizza and added black olives to it. The pepperoni was delicious, but I wish they didn't use canned olives. Their tinny, over-brined flavor tends to overpower everything. We also tried the sausage pizza with broccoli rabe (pictured above). This was stellar. The house made fennel sausage is from Berkshire pork and was incredible. We're definitely getting that one again.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"http://www.howiesartisanpizza.com/\">Howie's Artisan Pizza\u003c/a>\u003cbr>\nTown and Country Village\u003cbr>\n855 El Camino Real\u003cbr>\nPalo Alto, CA 94301-2326\u003cbr>\n650.32.PIZZA (650.327.4992)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Hours\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\nSunday-Saturday: 11:30am-9:30pm\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "For the past year, it has been my fondest desire to find pizza on the Peninsula that made up for the loss of my favorites in the city. Piccino, Pizzetta 211, and Pizzeria Delfina set the curve for me in terms of crust and inventive toppings, and it was going to be really hard to, uh, top them.",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/howies1.jpg\" alt=\"howies1\" title=\"howies1\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8305\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>People -- mostly those city folk types -- tend to think that living in the suburbs is dull, pedestrian, and conformist. My friend, the stuff I've already seen around this leafy neighborhood...well, it wouldn't exactly curl your hair, but it could raise some over-groomed eyebrows. Like, the morning I found a pair of red satin pajama bottoms draped over the perfectly trimmed Japanese box hedge. I spent an inordinate amount of time \u003ci>Rear Window\u003c/i>-ing it, just waiting to catch someone in the act of retrieval. Sadly, I never did discover which of my neighbors lost their saucy britches, but I certainly look at them all in a brand new light.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Another belief about the suburbs I've been thrilled to disprove is that it's all bad food. It's true that after five years of living in a city so stuffed with fabulous food finds as San Francisco, moving to the suburbs might have seemed like committing gastronomic suicide. However, this was something I refused to accept. Of course, I might be doing a lot more cooking at home -- a sure money and waist saver -- but I was still committed to finding good eats in our new neighborhood.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So, over the next few weeks, I plan to bring you those findings, and let me assure you, they are delicious. Starting us off today, I wish you \"pizza long life\" and give you \u003ca href=\"http://www.howiesartisanpizza.com/\">Howie's Artisan Pizza\u003c/a> in Palo Alto's Town and Country Village. (Erm, \u003ca href=\"http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Vulcan_salute\">any fellow Trekkies\u003c/a> out there?)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For the past year, it has been my fondest desire to find pizza on the Peninsula that made up for the loss of my favorites in the city. \u003ca href=\"http://www.piccinocafe.com/\">Piccino\u003c/a>, \u003ca href=\"http://pizzetta211.com/\">Pizzetta 211\u003c/a>, and \u003ca href=\"http://www.pizzeriadelfina.com/\">Pizzeria Delfina\u003c/a> set the curve for me in terms of crust and inventive toppings, and it was going to be really hard to, uh, top them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Even before we walked in to pick up what will be our first of many, many orders to come, I was pretty convinced the people at \u003ca href=\"http://www.howiesartisanpizza.com/\">Howie's Artisan Pizza\u003c/a> already knew me. Yeah, hi, I'm the annoying chick who's been bugging you FOR MONTHS about when you're opening? Yeah...sorry about that. Well, as of November 17th Howie's is finally open in Palo Alto's Town and Country Village!\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Of course, nothing would do except to rush right out and get two sample pizzas -- fresh from the wood brick oven -- in oder to render snap judgements on this long-anticipated place. We tried the Wild Mushrooms pizza (sage, pecorino, mozzarella, and tomato) and the Pancetta and Egg pizza (house made pancetta, eggs, arugula, shaved parmesan, and olio santo). I was especially interested to try the pancetta and egg since one of my all-time favorites at Pizzetta 211 is the pizza that always, always has a Rosie's Farm egg cracked and baked right on top along with seasonal toppings.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Possibly due to the understandable confusion and chaos surrounding a grand opening, the egg pie wasn't as advertised on the website menu. No arugula in sight. Instead, we got a pie with cracked egg, caramelized onions, pancetta, some kind of cheese, and red pepper flakes. It was delicious. It's a bit rich to have often, but it was damn good. I would still like to see Howie's do an egg pie that lightens itself up a bit with the advertised arugula one of these days, but given the empty pizza box, I'm clearly not complaining.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/howies21.jpg\" alt=\"howies21\" title=\"howies21\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-8411\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As a consequence of adoring Piccino's stellar white funghi pizza, I was a bit leery of a mushroom pizza that had a red sauce base. Well, I love being proven wrong when it comes to food skepticism, because that pizza was nothing short of awesome. It wasn't too heavy with cheese, which is good because, as a topping, mushrooms can drag down all but the thickest crusts all on their own. The red sauce I was so skeptical of was that kind of red sauce that proves a pizza place is serious about their craft. A pizza place that doesn't understand the importance of a sublime red sauce is as pointless as one that doesn't understand the vital importance of a good crust.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Howie's understands both these points.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As soon as I saw the browned and bubbled up crust, I was instantly reminded of Kim's \u003ca href=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/2005/03/19/pizza-hunter/\">Apizza Scholls\u003c/a> photos. Judging only with my eyes, I knew this was going to be a good crust. Unless we're talking about Chicago-style deep-dish, which I almost never do since I'm not a big fan of the thick and heavy, pizza crusts should be a silent partner in the pizza making. It should be thin, yet able to stand up to the toppings. Chewy, yet not bready or overly filling. Crispy, but not shard-hard. It's a tall order. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Since we weren't eating in, we did what we always do with take-out pizza: slide pieces on our pizza stone in a preheated 500° oven for 1-2 minutes to undo what potential sog set in during the drive home. Perfection. This crust met and exceeded all my expectations and while I hope Howie's get more inventive with seasonal toppings, I can state that we've finally found our local pizza joint on the Peninsula.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>UPDATE:\u003c/strong> Before this went to press, we couldn't resist trying two more pizzas. We sampled the Hobbs' pepperoni pizza and added black olives to it. The pepperoni was delicious, but I wish they didn't use canned olives. Their tinny, over-brined flavor tends to overpower everything. We also tried the sausage pizza with broccoli rabe (pictured above). This was stellar. The house made fennel sausage is from Berkshire pork and was incredible. We're definitely getting that one again.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"http://www.howiesartisanpizza.com/\">Howie's Artisan Pizza\u003c/a>\u003cbr>\nTown and Country Village\u003cbr>\n855 El Camino Real\u003cbr>\nPalo Alto, CA 94301-2326\u003cbr>\n650.32.PIZZA (650.327.4992)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Hours\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\nSunday-Saturday: 11:30am-9:30pm\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"disqusTitle": "Morel of a Story",
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"content": "\u003cp>Many Americans are what \u003ca href=\"http://www.amazon.com/All-That-Rain-Promises-More/dp/0898153883\">All The Rain Promises And More \u003c/a> author David Arora calls fungophobic. I started this thin volume on a red-eye flight from San Francisco to New York City several years ago. I'd intended to become an overnight edible mushroom expert. Unfortunately, pills and $6 Heinekens clouded my concentration around the time I thumbed past the introduction, and I soon folded up the book and bopped off into a restless, heaving slumber. As a result, I know little about mushrooms -- their identification and classification. The introduction, however, I do remember, particularly a section in which Arora briefly outlines fungophobia. Now, every fall, when wild mushroom season booms, associations resurface. I think about what mushrooms represent -- to me, a life-long seeker of tasty edible fungi, as well how they've been conceived by others over time.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Arora claims our fungophobia came -- like bowl cuts and breakfast links -- from the British, who believed mushrooms were nutritionally worthless and perhaps hostile by design.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Roman Stoic Seneca may have rather poetically dubbed them a \"voluptuous poison,\" but for thousands of years, in less fearful cultures, mushrooms have been used in the crafting of folk medicines. Lest that fact be relegated to the territory of bubbling cauldrons, pockmarked witches, and spooky incantations, more recent research has linked some of the same mushrooms with cancer-fighting properties, anti-pathogenic activity, and immune system enhancement. Penicillin, along with many other famous pharmaceuticals, comes from the fungi kingdom. Nutritionally, mushrooms are no sweet potatoes, yet many are still high in fiber and provide vitamins like thiamine, riboflavin, niacin, and ascorbic acid -- as well as minerals such as potassium and phosphorus. Exempting those that kill you or make you crazy for six hours, wild mushrooms can, as most readers are very aware, be extremely delicious. Chanterelles are buttery and subtle; fresh porcini are robust and nutty, excellent roasted, or in salads with Parmigiano-Reggiano shavings and pine nuts; lion's mane mushrooms are furry and high-strung, delicate, with a mild, almost seafood-like taste -- especially nice folded into an omelette. The possibilities are nearly limitless, and most dedicated eaters and chefs prize their special qualities and bountiful culinary applications.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But lore is stacked against mushrooms -- and not just because a few of them are quite dangerous. Historically, mystery and sheer perceived strangeness have had as much to do with the stigmas surrounding their consumption as the bloating, vomiting, and painful death certain varieties tend to cause. In medieval Ireland, people thought leprechauns used them as umbrellas. The ancient Egyptians believed mushrooms were the sons of gods, zapped to earth on tremendous bolts of lightning. The English imagined they had to be gathered under a full moon in order to be eaten safely. Mushrooms are weird: fragile, oddly luminous products of darkness and moisture that spring up unannounced -- like magic -- in woodsy crevices. That may have been why people were once so alarmed by them. They don't grow like wild and cultivated plants. Centuries ago, in Western Europe, mushrooms were sketchy pagan symbols, ominous harbingers of supernatural forces -- particularly when they were discovered suddenly sprouting in circular \"fairy ring\" colonies. Today, from \u003ca href=\"http://mikejay.net/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/mushroom_art_med.JPG\">Victorian paintings\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"http://www.alice-in-wonderland.net/alicepic/disney-movie/alice-on-mushroom-3.jpg%0A\">Alice's Adventures in Wonderland\u003c/a> to \u003ca href=\"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heD8vqv0y2Y\">Fantasia\u003c/a> and the distinctive cap-and-stem-like cloud that forms in the wake of a massive explosion, mushrooms are iconic, but not a food with universal appeal.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Last week, when my pre-kindergarten class was making its weekly foray through the Ferry Building, we stopped at the \u003ca href=\"http://www.farwestfungi.com/\">Far West Fungi\u003c/a> store. We'd been there on other occasions, to scope the spore logs and posters, but I was freshly inspired. I'd made very good use of the season's offerings the night before -- skillet-browned porcini, king trumpet, chanterelle, and oyster mushrooms on a crispy pizza with thyme and Bellwether Farms Crescenza -- and was wondering how their bizarre shapes, fetching names, and earthy flavors would go over with the kids. I arranged a few raw ones on the art table for them to draw -- lion's mane, chanterelle, trumpet, and oyster -- and sliced and sauteed the rest in butter with a pinch of salt while the children napped. An hour later, for snack, in addition to cheese and crackers, I passed a plate with four glistening beige-and-brown mounds for them to sample.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/wge-mushroom.jpg\" alt=\"WGE mushroom\" title=\"WGE mushroom\" width=\"500\" height=\"364\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8477\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Of fifteen children, only a third dared to taste. My expectations had been modest following another teacher's mortifying zucchini muffin fiasco, so I was not saddened, but pleased, almost amazed that those five, in the end, managed to vaporize most of what I set before them. \"I like the black one and the yellow one,\" said one boy, gesturing loosely at the trumpets and chanterelles. \"I'm going to tell my mom I like them.\" \"They're pretty and taste good,\" a girl cooed. The other three fared very well, with a slight edge going to the oyster, but no one cared much for the lion's mane mushroom. It didn't hold up, disintegrating into soft, unappetizing strands -- the fault of a chef in a hurry flailing around a crummy electric stove with cheap cookware. On the art table, however, all were popular. One girl thought the chanterelle looked like a flower, and soon they were all calling it the \"flower one,\" most likely because \"chanterelle\" was hard for them to say. The lion's mane, a 'shroom non grata at snack, was a big hit here -- especially once the kids learned its name. They kept \u003ca href=\"http://z.about.com/d/gourmetfood/1/0/g/G/lions_mane_Stu_Spivack.jpg\">petting it\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As part of this little tutorial, I did mention that some mushrooms are dangerous, that only ones from reputable suppliers should be eaten, and that sometimes yucky mushrooms can look like yummy ones. Here and there, a chorus of shrill \"eeewwwwwws\" erupted, but largely, the children were not grossed out, merely fascinated. They explored the mushrooms, passing them back and forth, pulling off the caps, examining the gills, trying to figure them out in that serious contemplative way four-year olds have.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If only the exploratory nibble of a truffle in some French field pre-civilization had initially sparked our ongoing cultural fascination, not the photogenic \u003ca href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amanita_muscaria\">fly agaric toadstool\u003c/a> with its deep-red cap and white spots. Perhaps then aversions would be less common. Thanks to Nintendo, of course, even this wicked-looking specimen has shed some of its evil. In the famous Super Mario Brothers video game, Mario, an Italian-American plumber, winds his way through various worlds within the Mushroom Kingdom. Predictably, when he hops on mushrooms, he either gets bigger and powers up, or rarely but not infrequently, gets zapped with a debilitating dose of poison. Mushrooms giveth and mushrooms taketh away. One of Mario's sidekicks in later additions to the franchise is a grinning little fly agaric named Toad. A kid who used to be in my current class was obsessed with mushrooms because his older sister played a Mario game at home. He would make mushrooms out of Legos and have them hop around, squeaking, growing bigger (as he added more Legos) and then smaller again (as he removed Legos). Once, I built him a mushroom-shaped Lego house big enough for a whole family of Lego mushrooms, and he was ecstatic.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/pretty-space-bar-mushroom.jpg\" alt=\"mushroom pretty space and bar \" title=\"mushroom pretty space and bar \" width=\"500\" height=\"375\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8471\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>My favorite bar in the world epitomizes the slightly uncomfortable degree of cuteness Nintendo has bestowed upon the toadstool. It's called \u003cstrong>Pretty Space & Bar Mushroom\u003c/strong>, and it occupies a minuscule suite in a nondescript office building on a busy bar-lined street in downtown Kyoto, Japan. \u003ca href=\"http://farm1.static.flickr.com/158/355499692_af288ea2da.jpg?v=0\">The Phone Booth\u003c/a> -- and maybe an actual phone booth -- feels roomy by comparison. There's a mushroom on the door, and when you open it, a bizarre little world appears -- not unlike one of the treasure-filled huts in Super Mario Brothers -- which at three in the morning, can be simultaneously exciting and disconcerting. Glitchy video game music sputters on the stereo. A red glow saturates all you see. There are mushrooms everywhere. Even the jolly bartender's hair is carved in the shape of a cap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Back in San Francisco, watching the kids crowd around the mushrooms, I remembered something I once read -- perhaps in Arora's book -- about morels. Never successfully cultivated commercially, wild morels are especially abundant in areas ravaged by forest fires, their spores somehow spurred into action by the destruction. After flames, and then ash, and then rains, they emerge, phoenix-like, a delicious sign of life ready to be plucked and savored. It's an image I like to keep in mind -- even when mushrooms aren't for dinner.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "Exempting those that kill you or make you crazy for six hours, wild mushrooms can, as most readers are very aware, be extremely delicious. Chanterelles are buttery and subtle; fresh porcini are robust and nutty, excellent roasted, or in salads with Parmigiano-Reggiano shavings and pine nuts; lion's mane mushrooms are furry and high-strung, delicate, with a mild, almost seafood-like taste -- especially nice folded into an omelette. The possibilities are nearly limitless, and most dedicated eaters and chefs prize their special qualities and bountiful culinary applications.",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>Many Americans are what \u003ca href=\"http://www.amazon.com/All-That-Rain-Promises-More/dp/0898153883\">All The Rain Promises And More \u003c/a> author David Arora calls fungophobic. I started this thin volume on a red-eye flight from San Francisco to New York City several years ago. I'd intended to become an overnight edible mushroom expert. Unfortunately, pills and $6 Heinekens clouded my concentration around the time I thumbed past the introduction, and I soon folded up the book and bopped off into a restless, heaving slumber. As a result, I know little about mushrooms -- their identification and classification. The introduction, however, I do remember, particularly a section in which Arora briefly outlines fungophobia. Now, every fall, when wild mushroom season booms, associations resurface. I think about what mushrooms represent -- to me, a life-long seeker of tasty edible fungi, as well how they've been conceived by others over time.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Arora claims our fungophobia came -- like bowl cuts and breakfast links -- from the British, who believed mushrooms were nutritionally worthless and perhaps hostile by design.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Roman Stoic Seneca may have rather poetically dubbed them a \"voluptuous poison,\" but for thousands of years, in less fearful cultures, mushrooms have been used in the crafting of folk medicines. Lest that fact be relegated to the territory of bubbling cauldrons, pockmarked witches, and spooky incantations, more recent research has linked some of the same mushrooms with cancer-fighting properties, anti-pathogenic activity, and immune system enhancement. Penicillin, along with many other famous pharmaceuticals, comes from the fungi kingdom. Nutritionally, mushrooms are no sweet potatoes, yet many are still high in fiber and provide vitamins like thiamine, riboflavin, niacin, and ascorbic acid -- as well as minerals such as potassium and phosphorus. Exempting those that kill you or make you crazy for six hours, wild mushrooms can, as most readers are very aware, be extremely delicious. Chanterelles are buttery and subtle; fresh porcini are robust and nutty, excellent roasted, or in salads with Parmigiano-Reggiano shavings and pine nuts; lion's mane mushrooms are furry and high-strung, delicate, with a mild, almost seafood-like taste -- especially nice folded into an omelette. The possibilities are nearly limitless, and most dedicated eaters and chefs prize their special qualities and bountiful culinary applications.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But lore is stacked against mushrooms -- and not just because a few of them are quite dangerous. Historically, mystery and sheer perceived strangeness have had as much to do with the stigmas surrounding their consumption as the bloating, vomiting, and painful death certain varieties tend to cause. In medieval Ireland, people thought leprechauns used them as umbrellas. The ancient Egyptians believed mushrooms were the sons of gods, zapped to earth on tremendous bolts of lightning. The English imagined they had to be gathered under a full moon in order to be eaten safely. Mushrooms are weird: fragile, oddly luminous products of darkness and moisture that spring up unannounced -- like magic -- in woodsy crevices. That may have been why people were once so alarmed by them. They don't grow like wild and cultivated plants. Centuries ago, in Western Europe, mushrooms were sketchy pagan symbols, ominous harbingers of supernatural forces -- particularly when they were discovered suddenly sprouting in circular \"fairy ring\" colonies. Today, from \u003ca href=\"http://mikejay.net/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/mushroom_art_med.JPG\">Victorian paintings\u003c/a> and \u003ca href=\"http://www.alice-in-wonderland.net/alicepic/disney-movie/alice-on-mushroom-3.jpg%0A\">Alice's Adventures in Wonderland\u003c/a> to \u003ca href=\"http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heD8vqv0y2Y\">Fantasia\u003c/a> and the distinctive cap-and-stem-like cloud that forms in the wake of a massive explosion, mushrooms are iconic, but not a food with universal appeal.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Last week, when my pre-kindergarten class was making its weekly foray through the Ferry Building, we stopped at the \u003ca href=\"http://www.farwestfungi.com/\">Far West Fungi\u003c/a> store. We'd been there on other occasions, to scope the spore logs and posters, but I was freshly inspired. I'd made very good use of the season's offerings the night before -- skillet-browned porcini, king trumpet, chanterelle, and oyster mushrooms on a crispy pizza with thyme and Bellwether Farms Crescenza -- and was wondering how their bizarre shapes, fetching names, and earthy flavors would go over with the kids. I arranged a few raw ones on the art table for them to draw -- lion's mane, chanterelle, trumpet, and oyster -- and sliced and sauteed the rest in butter with a pinch of salt while the children napped. An hour later, for snack, in addition to cheese and crackers, I passed a plate with four glistening beige-and-brown mounds for them to sample.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/wge-mushroom.jpg\" alt=\"WGE mushroom\" title=\"WGE mushroom\" width=\"500\" height=\"364\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8477\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Of fifteen children, only a third dared to taste. My expectations had been modest following another teacher's mortifying zucchini muffin fiasco, so I was not saddened, but pleased, almost amazed that those five, in the end, managed to vaporize most of what I set before them. \"I like the black one and the yellow one,\" said one boy, gesturing loosely at the trumpets and chanterelles. \"I'm going to tell my mom I like them.\" \"They're pretty and taste good,\" a girl cooed. The other three fared very well, with a slight edge going to the oyster, but no one cared much for the lion's mane mushroom. It didn't hold up, disintegrating into soft, unappetizing strands -- the fault of a chef in a hurry flailing around a crummy electric stove with cheap cookware. On the art table, however, all were popular. One girl thought the chanterelle looked like a flower, and soon they were all calling it the \"flower one,\" most likely because \"chanterelle\" was hard for them to say. The lion's mane, a 'shroom non grata at snack, was a big hit here -- especially once the kids learned its name. They kept \u003ca href=\"http://z.about.com/d/gourmetfood/1/0/g/G/lions_mane_Stu_Spivack.jpg\">petting it\u003c/a>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As part of this little tutorial, I did mention that some mushrooms are dangerous, that only ones from reputable suppliers should be eaten, and that sometimes yucky mushrooms can look like yummy ones. Here and there, a chorus of shrill \"eeewwwwwws\" erupted, but largely, the children were not grossed out, merely fascinated. They explored the mushrooms, passing them back and forth, pulling off the caps, examining the gills, trying to figure them out in that serious contemplative way four-year olds have.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>If only the exploratory nibble of a truffle in some French field pre-civilization had initially sparked our ongoing cultural fascination, not the photogenic \u003ca href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amanita_muscaria\">fly agaric toadstool\u003c/a> with its deep-red cap and white spots. Perhaps then aversions would be less common. Thanks to Nintendo, of course, even this wicked-looking specimen has shed some of its evil. In the famous Super Mario Brothers video game, Mario, an Italian-American plumber, winds his way through various worlds within the Mushroom Kingdom. Predictably, when he hops on mushrooms, he either gets bigger and powers up, or rarely but not infrequently, gets zapped with a debilitating dose of poison. Mushrooms giveth and mushrooms taketh away. One of Mario's sidekicks in later additions to the franchise is a grinning little fly agaric named Toad. A kid who used to be in my current class was obsessed with mushrooms because his older sister played a Mario game at home. He would make mushrooms out of Legos and have them hop around, squeaking, growing bigger (as he added more Legos) and then smaller again (as he removed Legos). Once, I built him a mushroom-shaped Lego house big enough for a whole family of Lego mushrooms, and he was ecstatic.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/pretty-space-bar-mushroom.jpg\" alt=\"mushroom pretty space and bar \" title=\"mushroom pretty space and bar \" width=\"500\" height=\"375\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8471\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>My favorite bar in the world epitomizes the slightly uncomfortable degree of cuteness Nintendo has bestowed upon the toadstool. It's called \u003cstrong>Pretty Space & Bar Mushroom\u003c/strong>, and it occupies a minuscule suite in a nondescript office building on a busy bar-lined street in downtown Kyoto, Japan. \u003ca href=\"http://farm1.static.flickr.com/158/355499692_af288ea2da.jpg?v=0\">The Phone Booth\u003c/a> -- and maybe an actual phone booth -- feels roomy by comparison. There's a mushroom on the door, and when you open it, a bizarre little world appears -- not unlike one of the treasure-filled huts in Super Mario Brothers -- which at three in the morning, can be simultaneously exciting and disconcerting. Glitchy video game music sputters on the stereo. A red glow saturates all you see. There are mushrooms everywhere. Even the jolly bartender's hair is carved in the shape of a cap.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Back in San Francisco, watching the kids crowd around the mushrooms, I remembered something I once read -- perhaps in Arora's book -- about morels. Never successfully cultivated commercially, wild morels are especially abundant in areas ravaged by forest fires, their spores somehow spurred into action by the destruction. After flames, and then ash, and then rains, they emerge, phoenix-like, a delicious sign of life ready to be plucked and savored. It's an image I like to keep in mind -- even when mushrooms aren't for dinner.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"disqusTitle": "Calling the Pie Therapist",
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"content": "\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/finished-pie.jpg\" alt=\"the finished pie\" title=\"the finished pie\" width=\"300\" height=\"400\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-8416\">Run through your Thanksgiving menu in your head, right now. Something in there is making you nervous. Very nervous. What it is? You can admit it. It's not a phobia, more like an...inadequacy, a fear of never being as good as grandma, a lingering humiliation from that one year you tried and the knife wouldn't even cut through the bottom crust, so rock-like it was. Or when the dough glued itself to the counter in a rebellious mound, refusing to roll and instead sticking to every surface save the pie pan. But yes, it's real. We call it Fear of Pie-ing. And that's why I'm here, your Pie Therapist on call. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Let's get it straight: no one really worries about the filling. They might wonder if the apples should be cut thick or thin, whether to thicken with cornstarch or flour. But inevitably, it's the crust that strikes fear in the heart of grown men and women, even those who can whip out an osso bucco or tom kai gai with aplomb. They hit up the bakery, they settle for those nasty frozen pre-made crusts, they make crisp and cobbler instead. I'm here to tell you: there is NO magic about making pie crust. It takes four ingredients, about 20 minutes or less of hands-on time, and the results are so flaky, so buttery, so sublime, you will amaze your loved ones (and yourself) for life. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Oh, easy for you to say, I hear you muttering. You grew up making pie with Mom, pushing a crumbly handful of dough into a little Pyrex dish so you could dig into your very own pie for dessert. Fair enough. The challenge was this: could two urbanites, one a non-cook, the other a non-baker, turn into confident pie-bakers after a single session with the Pie Therapist? \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The first patient was Kevin, a psychotherapist, who lives in the Castro. Although he has a longtime partner, he has what I think of as the bachelor fridge: limes and condiments. When I arrive with my bag of equipment, he tells me that he had to wake up his sick upstairs neighbor to borrow a pie pan. I realize quickly never to assume what someone will have in his kitchen. In this case, what's missing is anything like a mixing bowl. We make do with a small saucepan and a couple of pasta bowls. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>First, of course, a little therapeutic assessment. His mom was a busy single working woman with no time for baking. Grandma, on the other hand, was a fantastic cook and a great baker, whose pies were memorable. Unfortunately, her recipes passed on with her, and no one in the family has been able to come close. Kevin's sole kitchen skill? Making a mean margarita, and happily, he demonstrates. We put on the Loretta Lynn and get busy. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>First up, the dry ingredients. Flour, a little salt, a little sugar, stirred together in the pot. A glass of ice water, set aside. He's bought fancy butter, a good thing, in this case the high-butterfat, European-style butter from Straus Creamery, Marin's organic dairy. I tell him I've met the Straus family and their happy grass-roaming cows, and we rub up a little locavore glow, helped along by the tequila. Then the butter is cubed and tossed into the flour so that each cube is coated. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/butter-nickels.jpg\" alt=\"making the butter nickels\" title=\"making the butter nickels\" width=\"300\" height=\"400\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8415\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"Now, hold your hands out in front of you, palms up, like a statue of Jesus,\" I tell him, and we scoop our fingers, palms up, down and up through the butter-chunked flour. \"Now, pick up a butter cube between your thumb and fingertips. Flatten it out to a little butter nickel, and drop it back into the bowl.\"\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Keep scooping, aerating the flour as you go, and flattening out your butter nickels. The trick is to keep everything light and airy--no squeezing, no mashing. You don't want paste, you want a crumbly mixture of flour layered with shards of cold fat. As long as you keep your palms facing up and only your thumb and fingertips working the dough, all is well. Stop when it looks somewhere between peas and rolled oatmeal, chunkier than you might imagine, and definitely before it gets to to the dry-cornmeal stage most cookbooks recommend. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So far, so good. Now, the water to make the dough: four or five tablespoons, mixed in lightly with a fork. Then sprinkled in, a tablespoon at a time, maybe 8 to 10 tablespoons in all. Pick up a handful of dough, and squeeze gently. It should come together in a ball that holds together but isn't wet or gluey. Err on the side of slight crumbliness, if you must.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/squeezing-the-dough.jpg\" alt=\"squeezing the dough\" title=\"squeezing the dough\" width=\"300\" height=\"400\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8418\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Once the dough holds together, it goes into the pie-baker's friend, the gallon-size resealable bag. Dough firmly pushed down into a round, air pressed out from the bag and sealed, then into the freezer for 20 minutes, or the fridge for an hour (or overnight). While not absolutely necessary, it relaxes the dough and firms up the butter, increasingly flakiness and making it less likely to stick while rolling or shrink during baking. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The dough comes out and is divided in half, with the second half going back in the fridge. Onto a lightly floured board, we press our dough-lump into a roughly round patty. \"A rolling pin makes life easier,\" I tell Kevin as I pick up my wooden pin. \"But then again, I've also rolled out a lot of pie crusts with a wine bottle.\" \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I hand him the pin and tell him to think of the dough as a sun, with rays radiating out from the center. \"Don't roll back and forth like you're paving a highway. Roll from the center to the edge, around and around so you make an even circle. And after every few rolls, loosen the dough with a spatula, so it doesn't get in the habit of sticking.\"\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He rolls and rolls, and soon we've got a circle a couple of inches bigger than our pan. We loosen the dough, fold in half and in half again, and transfer it into the pan, since it's much easier to move a thick folded triangle of dough than a thin floppy circle. Unfold, press lightly, put in the fridge and repeat with the other half of the dough. The filling goes in--in this case, blueberries, mixed with sugar and a little cornstarch--the top is draped on and crimped, and it goes into the oven. An hour later, his partner is home, and they are two men with a hot pie. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kevin is happy and amazed that it could be so easy. Scones, he wants to make next, and I tell him it's the same technique: mix the dry ingredients, cut in the butter, add liquid, then roll out and cut. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The next patient is Leslie, a great cook and a longtime cookbook editor and author. What could I possibly teach her? But baking, it turns out, is where she feels out of control. \"Bread, cake, pie,\" is how she describes her hierarchy of baking fears. We decide to start at the bottom, with pie. In this case, she has bowls galore, but no pie pan, since she never makes pies. \"I'm a crisp person,\" she admits. We go through the same steps, and I show her the fluff-it-up, palms-up technique. \"Bring it up to God!\" she laughs, and we agree. Surely there is pie in heaven, good pie. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/pie-fruit.jpg\" alt=\"Mound the filling high\" title=\"Mound the filling high\" width=\"300\" height=\"400\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8417\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It's apple this time, and we slice and mound the apples high while the crust chills. This crust is a little crumbly, and wants to crack and stick as we roll. I grab the baker's friend, plastic wrap (waxed paper works well too), and we slap a sheet of plastic between the rolling pin and the dough. Suddenly, everything's easy: the dough stops sticking and the cracks seal up. We fold and drape and crimp, and the pie goes into the oven. Leslie is ecstatic: she has conquered pie! An hour later, her family sits down to steaming slices. Her nieces battle forks for the last piece of crust on the plate. And the Pie Therapist packs up her rolling pin and slips out into the night, another job done. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>All Butter Pie Crust\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\nYes, shortening is easier to work with. But honestly, it's not that hard to use butter, and the taste is so wonderful, there's no reason to bother with anything else. Anyway, if you're going to eat fat, eat honest tasty fat that tastes good. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As for baking times, it depends on the type of filling. Most double-crusted fruit pies can be baked at 375F for about 45 to 55 minutes, until crust in golden brown and filling is just bubbling up. For a single-crust pie, like pumpkin or pecan, bake at 350F for 30-40 minutes, until filling is just set but still a slightly jiggly, since filling will continue to set as it cools. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Equipment:\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\na large bowl\u003cbr>\nmeasuring cups and spoons\u003cbr>\na large spoon for mixing\u003cbr>\na pie pan (metal, glass, or ceramic)\u003cbr>\na rolling pin\u003cbr>\nresealable plastic bag or plastic wrap\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Makes: Enough for a 9-inch 2-crust pie\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 1/4 cups flour\u003cbr>\n1/2 tsp salt\u003cbr>\n1 1/2 tablespoons sugar\u003cbr>\n2 sticks (8 oz, 1 cup) butter, chilled\u003cbr>\n8 to 10 tablespoons ice water\u003cbr>\nextra flour for dusting\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. In a large bowl, sift or whisk together flour, salt, and sugar. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. Cut butter into 1/2-inch cubes. Toss butter cubes into flour mixture. Rub butter cubes between your thumb and fingertips, palms up, until butter flattens into little flour-covered nickels. Keep scooping up flour and butter cubes and flattening into nickels until all butter is flattened into shards. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. Lightly stir in half the water. Add the rest in drizzles, stirring and scooping dough until it just holds together; you may not use all the water. Squeeze a handful of dough together; it should hold together without crumbling. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. Scoop dough into a gallon-size resealable bag. Flatten dough into a thick patty, press air from bag and seal. Chill for at least an hour in the refrigerator, or 20 minutes in the freezer. You can make your dough up to 2 days in advance, keeping it in the refrigerator, or store for up to a month in the freezer.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>5. To roll out dough, sprinkle a wide work surface with flour. Divide dough in half and shape into a round. Rub rolling pin with flour and roll out into a thin, even circle, loosening dough frequently with a spatula. If dough is hard to roll or cracks, it may be too cold. Let it warm up for a couple of minutes, then try again. Put a sheet of waxed paper or plastic wrap between your rolling pin and the dough if dough is very sticky. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6. Loosen dough with a spatula. Fold in half, and then in half again. Transfer to pie pan and press lightly into the pan. Trim so dough is nearly flush with edges of pan. Put in the fridge and roll out second half of dough. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>7. Put filling into pie pan, top with top crust, and seal edges together, crimping in whatever decorative fashion you like. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Note: For a single crust, use 1 1/4 cups flour, 1/4 tsp salt, 1 tbsp sugar, 8 tbsp butter (4 oz/ 1/2 cup), 3-4 tbsp ice water\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/finished-pie.jpg\" alt=\"the finished pie\" title=\"the finished pie\" width=\"300\" height=\"400\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-8416\">Run through your Thanksgiving menu in your head, right now. Something in there is making you nervous. Very nervous. What it is? You can admit it. It's not a phobia, more like an...inadequacy, a fear of never being as good as grandma, a lingering humiliation from that one year you tried and the knife wouldn't even cut through the bottom crust, so rock-like it was. Or when the dough glued itself to the counter in a rebellious mound, refusing to roll and instead sticking to every surface save the pie pan. But yes, it's real. We call it Fear of Pie-ing. And that's why I'm here, your Pie Therapist on call. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Let's get it straight: no one really worries about the filling. They might wonder if the apples should be cut thick or thin, whether to thicken with cornstarch or flour. But inevitably, it's the crust that strikes fear in the heart of grown men and women, even those who can whip out an osso bucco or tom kai gai with aplomb. They hit up the bakery, they settle for those nasty frozen pre-made crusts, they make crisp and cobbler instead. I'm here to tell you: there is NO magic about making pie crust. It takes four ingredients, about 20 minutes or less of hands-on time, and the results are so flaky, so buttery, so sublime, you will amaze your loved ones (and yourself) for life. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Oh, easy for you to say, I hear you muttering. You grew up making pie with Mom, pushing a crumbly handful of dough into a little Pyrex dish so you could dig into your very own pie for dessert. Fair enough. The challenge was this: could two urbanites, one a non-cook, the other a non-baker, turn into confident pie-bakers after a single session with the Pie Therapist? \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The first patient was Kevin, a psychotherapist, who lives in the Castro. Although he has a longtime partner, he has what I think of as the bachelor fridge: limes and condiments. When I arrive with my bag of equipment, he tells me that he had to wake up his sick upstairs neighbor to borrow a pie pan. I realize quickly never to assume what someone will have in his kitchen. In this case, what's missing is anything like a mixing bowl. We make do with a small saucepan and a couple of pasta bowls. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>First, of course, a little therapeutic assessment. His mom was a busy single working woman with no time for baking. Grandma, on the other hand, was a fantastic cook and a great baker, whose pies were memorable. Unfortunately, her recipes passed on with her, and no one in the family has been able to come close. Kevin's sole kitchen skill? Making a mean margarita, and happily, he demonstrates. We put on the Loretta Lynn and get busy. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>First up, the dry ingredients. Flour, a little salt, a little sugar, stirred together in the pot. A glass of ice water, set aside. He's bought fancy butter, a good thing, in this case the high-butterfat, European-style butter from Straus Creamery, Marin's organic dairy. I tell him I've met the Straus family and their happy grass-roaming cows, and we rub up a little locavore glow, helped along by the tequila. Then the butter is cubed and tossed into the flour so that each cube is coated. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/butter-nickels.jpg\" alt=\"making the butter nickels\" title=\"making the butter nickels\" width=\"300\" height=\"400\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8415\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"Now, hold your hands out in front of you, palms up, like a statue of Jesus,\" I tell him, and we scoop our fingers, palms up, down and up through the butter-chunked flour. \"Now, pick up a butter cube between your thumb and fingertips. Flatten it out to a little butter nickel, and drop it back into the bowl.\"\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Keep scooping, aerating the flour as you go, and flattening out your butter nickels. The trick is to keep everything light and airy--no squeezing, no mashing. You don't want paste, you want a crumbly mixture of flour layered with shards of cold fat. As long as you keep your palms facing up and only your thumb and fingertips working the dough, all is well. Stop when it looks somewhere between peas and rolled oatmeal, chunkier than you might imagine, and definitely before it gets to to the dry-cornmeal stage most cookbooks recommend. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So far, so good. Now, the water to make the dough: four or five tablespoons, mixed in lightly with a fork. Then sprinkled in, a tablespoon at a time, maybe 8 to 10 tablespoons in all. Pick up a handful of dough, and squeeze gently. It should come together in a ball that holds together but isn't wet or gluey. Err on the side of slight crumbliness, if you must.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/squeezing-the-dough.jpg\" alt=\"squeezing the dough\" title=\"squeezing the dough\" width=\"300\" height=\"400\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8418\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Once the dough holds together, it goes into the pie-baker's friend, the gallon-size resealable bag. Dough firmly pushed down into a round, air pressed out from the bag and sealed, then into the freezer for 20 minutes, or the fridge for an hour (or overnight). While not absolutely necessary, it relaxes the dough and firms up the butter, increasingly flakiness and making it less likely to stick while rolling or shrink during baking. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The dough comes out and is divided in half, with the second half going back in the fridge. Onto a lightly floured board, we press our dough-lump into a roughly round patty. \"A rolling pin makes life easier,\" I tell Kevin as I pick up my wooden pin. \"But then again, I've also rolled out a lot of pie crusts with a wine bottle.\" \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I hand him the pin and tell him to think of the dough as a sun, with rays radiating out from the center. \"Don't roll back and forth like you're paving a highway. Roll from the center to the edge, around and around so you make an even circle. And after every few rolls, loosen the dough with a spatula, so it doesn't get in the habit of sticking.\"\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>He rolls and rolls, and soon we've got a circle a couple of inches bigger than our pan. We loosen the dough, fold in half and in half again, and transfer it into the pan, since it's much easier to move a thick folded triangle of dough than a thin floppy circle. Unfold, press lightly, put in the fridge and repeat with the other half of the dough. The filling goes in--in this case, blueberries, mixed with sugar and a little cornstarch--the top is draped on and crimped, and it goes into the oven. An hour later, his partner is home, and they are two men with a hot pie. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Kevin is happy and amazed that it could be so easy. Scones, he wants to make next, and I tell him it's the same technique: mix the dry ingredients, cut in the butter, add liquid, then roll out and cut. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The next patient is Leslie, a great cook and a longtime cookbook editor and author. What could I possibly teach her? But baking, it turns out, is where she feels out of control. \"Bread, cake, pie,\" is how she describes her hierarchy of baking fears. We decide to start at the bottom, with pie. In this case, she has bowls galore, but no pie pan, since she never makes pies. \"I'm a crisp person,\" she admits. We go through the same steps, and I show her the fluff-it-up, palms-up technique. \"Bring it up to God!\" she laughs, and we agree. Surely there is pie in heaven, good pie. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/pie-fruit.jpg\" alt=\"Mound the filling high\" title=\"Mound the filling high\" width=\"300\" height=\"400\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8417\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It's apple this time, and we slice and mound the apples high while the crust chills. This crust is a little crumbly, and wants to crack and stick as we roll. I grab the baker's friend, plastic wrap (waxed paper works well too), and we slap a sheet of plastic between the rolling pin and the dough. Suddenly, everything's easy: the dough stops sticking and the cracks seal up. We fold and drape and crimp, and the pie goes into the oven. Leslie is ecstatic: she has conquered pie! An hour later, her family sits down to steaming slices. Her nieces battle forks for the last piece of crust on the plate. And the Pie Therapist packs up her rolling pin and slips out into the night, another job done. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>All Butter Pie Crust\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\nYes, shortening is easier to work with. But honestly, it's not that hard to use butter, and the taste is so wonderful, there's no reason to bother with anything else. Anyway, if you're going to eat fat, eat honest tasty fat that tastes good. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As for baking times, it depends on the type of filling. Most double-crusted fruit pies can be baked at 375F for about 45 to 55 minutes, until crust in golden brown and filling is just bubbling up. For a single-crust pie, like pumpkin or pecan, bake at 350F for 30-40 minutes, until filling is just set but still a slightly jiggly, since filling will continue to set as it cools. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Equipment:\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\na large bowl\u003cbr>\nmeasuring cups and spoons\u003cbr>\na large spoon for mixing\u003cbr>\na pie pan (metal, glass, or ceramic)\u003cbr>\na rolling pin\u003cbr>\nresealable plastic bag or plastic wrap\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Makes: Enough for a 9-inch 2-crust pie\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 1/4 cups flour\u003cbr>\n1/2 tsp salt\u003cbr>\n1 1/2 tablespoons sugar\u003cbr>\n2 sticks (8 oz, 1 cup) butter, chilled\u003cbr>\n8 to 10 tablespoons ice water\u003cbr>\nextra flour for dusting\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. In a large bowl, sift or whisk together flour, salt, and sugar. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. Cut butter into 1/2-inch cubes. Toss butter cubes into flour mixture. Rub butter cubes between your thumb and fingertips, palms up, until butter flattens into little flour-covered nickels. Keep scooping up flour and butter cubes and flattening into nickels until all butter is flattened into shards. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. Lightly stir in half the water. Add the rest in drizzles, stirring and scooping dough until it just holds together; you may not use all the water. Squeeze a handful of dough together; it should hold together without crumbling. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. Scoop dough into a gallon-size resealable bag. Flatten dough into a thick patty, press air from bag and seal. Chill for at least an hour in the refrigerator, or 20 minutes in the freezer. You can make your dough up to 2 days in advance, keeping it in the refrigerator, or store for up to a month in the freezer.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>5. To roll out dough, sprinkle a wide work surface with flour. Divide dough in half and shape into a round. Rub rolling pin with flour and roll out into a thin, even circle, loosening dough frequently with a spatula. If dough is hard to roll or cracks, it may be too cold. Let it warm up for a couple of minutes, then try again. Put a sheet of waxed paper or plastic wrap between your rolling pin and the dough if dough is very sticky. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6. Loosen dough with a spatula. Fold in half, and then in half again. Transfer to pie pan and press lightly into the pan. Trim so dough is nearly flush with edges of pan. Put in the fridge and roll out second half of dough. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>7. Put filling into pie pan, top with top crust, and seal edges together, crimping in whatever decorative fashion you like. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>Note: For a single crust, use 1 1/4 cups flour, 1/4 tsp salt, 1 tbsp sugar, 8 tbsp butter (4 oz/ 1/2 cup), 3-4 tbsp ice water\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"disqusTitle": "Nora Ephron and Mashed Potatoes ",
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"content": "\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0394531809/kqedorg-20\">\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/heartburn-cover200.jpg\" alt=\"Heartburn by Nora Ephron\" title=\"Heartburn by Nora Ephron\" width=\"200\" height=\"289\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-8342\">\u003c/a>So, I'm reading \u003ca href=\"http://www.huffingtonpost.com/nora-ephron\">Nora Ephron\u003c/a>'s 1983 novel \u003ci>Heartburn\u003c/i> -- I think I'm the last person in America to realize that Ephron was a foodie long before \u003ci>Julie & Julia\u003c/i> -- and the book is filled with love and longing and heartbreak and food. Lots of food. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The main character, Rachel, is a cookbook writer who is dealing with the discovery that her husband has been having an affair with a mutual friend. Oh, and Rachel and her husband have a baby together and are expecting another one when the affair comes to light. Oh, and this book is a thinly-veiled portrayal of what happened between Ephron and her ex-husband Carl Bernstein (\u003ca href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nora_Ephron\">yes, THAT Bernstein\u003c/a>), right down to Ephron being 7 months pregnant when she learned of Bernstein's affair and later going into premature labor.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Anyway, all that horribleness aside, Ephron's funny-sad novel is seeded with a bunch of quick recipes, all of which weave naturally in and out of the plot. Among others, there's Lillian Hellman's pot roast, Rachel's closely guarded vinaigrette recipe, and the Key lime pie Rachel ends up throwing at her husband's cheating face during a dinner party. However, the one I zeroed in on was her mashed potato recipe. It wasn't so much the recipe that resonated with me as it was Ephron's explanation of why mashed potatoes are so necessary to life:\u003cbr clear=\"all\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Nothing like mashed potatoes when you're feeling blue. Nothing like getting into bed with a bowl of hot mashed potatoes already loaded with butter, and methodically adding a thin cold slice of butter to every forkful. The problem with mashed potatoes, though, is that they require almost as much hard work as crisp potatoes, and when you're feeling blue the last thing you feel like is hard work. Of course, you can always get someone to make the mashed potatoes for you, but let's face it: the reason you're blue is that there \u003ci>isn't\u003c/i> anyone to make them for you. As a result, most people do not have nearly enough mashed potatoes in their lives, and when they do, it's almost always at the wrong time.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>That whole bit reminded me of the mashed potato recipe in my \u003ci>Friends\u003c/i> cookbook. (Yes, I have the \u003ci>Friends\u003c/i> cookbook -- you wanna make something of it?) In that cookbook, the recipe is called \"Mashed Potatoes for the Broken Hearted\" and carries the note, \"These fluffy, smooth potatoes (with plenty of sour cream and butter) have been known to mend even the most fractured heart.\"\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What is it about mashed potatoes and comfort and soothing? Is it that their bland simplicity makes them non-threatening, and therefore calming, to the palate? That they are merely a vehicle for butter, salt, and/or sour cream and we crave fattening foods when at our lowest points? That they remind us of home and childhood when life was easier? I don't think I can answer these questions, but I do know that a big pile of mashed potatoes on my plate never fails to raise my spirits and warm my cockles. And on chilly grey days and dark sharp nights, mashed potatoes are one of those foods that I want to crawl into and pull up around my shoulders.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With mashed potatoes, the prep is so minor and the payoff is so huge that I've never understood why anyone would make mashed potatoes from a box. In fact, since my own mother didn't do that, I never knew they existed until I had them at a friend's house and was totally and horribly scarred by the experience. (That same mother made a kick-ass lemon chicken, so I was able to forgive her. In time.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>My own mashed potatoes are fine. They're basic, easy -- they get the job done. No garlic, no blue cheese, no bacon. I'm perfectly happy with them. However, in my lifetime I've encountered two particular mashed potato presentations so wonderfully rich and heavenly that there are times I consider rethinking my comparatively spartan recipe.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>First, there's Fatemeh's \u003ca href=\"http://www.gastronomie-sf.com/2004/12/nannies_party_p.html\">\"Party Potatoes\"\u003c/a> that come from her husband's \"Irish-ish\" grandmother and are known to contain butter, sour cream, AND cream cheese. And then there are the mashed potatoes \u003ca href=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/author/kim-laidlaw/\">Kim's\u003c/a> husband Keith made for \u003ca href=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/2008/01/24/burns-night-and-ode-to-a-haggis/\">last year's Burns Night\u003c/a>. It was my first Burns Night, my first haggis, and my first taste of Keith's potatoes. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Both of those sets of mashed potatoes? Yeah, I've decided that they're God's shaving cream.\u003cbr clear=\"all\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cobject width=\"425\" height=\"344\">\u003cparam name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/k79DDjvl9vE&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0\">\u003cparam name=\"allowFullScreen\" value=\"true\">\u003cparam name=\"allowscriptaccess\" value=\"always\">\u003cembed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/k79DDjvl9vE&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" allowscriptaccess=\"always\" allowfullscreen=\"true\" width=\"425\" height=\"344\">\u003c/embed>\u003c/object>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After finishing \u003ci>Heartburn\u003c/i> well after midnight last night, I went to bed feeling quite melancholy for Rachel. I didn't cheer up until the next morning when I found out that Ephron's been happily married to screenwriter Nick Pileggi for twenty years. I hope he makes her lots of mashed potatoes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003ci>Heartburn\u003c/i> Mashed Potatoes\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>For mashed potatoes: Put 1 large (or 2 small) potatoes in a large pot of salted water and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for at least 20 minutes, until tender. Drain and place the potatoes back in the pot and shake over low heat to eliminate excess moisture. Peel. Put through a potato ricer and immediately add 1 tablespoon heavy cream and as much melted butter and salt and pepper as you feel like. Eat immediately. Serves one.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0394531809/kqedorg-20\">\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/heartburn-cover200.jpg\" alt=\"Heartburn by Nora Ephron\" title=\"Heartburn by Nora Ephron\" width=\"200\" height=\"289\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-8342\">\u003c/a>So, I'm reading \u003ca href=\"http://www.huffingtonpost.com/nora-ephron\">Nora Ephron\u003c/a>'s 1983 novel \u003ci>Heartburn\u003c/i> -- I think I'm the last person in America to realize that Ephron was a foodie long before \u003ci>Julie & Julia\u003c/i> -- and the book is filled with love and longing and heartbreak and food. Lots of food. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The main character, Rachel, is a cookbook writer who is dealing with the discovery that her husband has been having an affair with a mutual friend. Oh, and Rachel and her husband have a baby together and are expecting another one when the affair comes to light. Oh, and this book is a thinly-veiled portrayal of what happened between Ephron and her ex-husband Carl Bernstein (\u003ca href=\"http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nora_Ephron\">yes, THAT Bernstein\u003c/a>), right down to Ephron being 7 months pregnant when she learned of Bernstein's affair and later going into premature labor.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Anyway, all that horribleness aside, Ephron's funny-sad novel is seeded with a bunch of quick recipes, all of which weave naturally in and out of the plot. Among others, there's Lillian Hellman's pot roast, Rachel's closely guarded vinaigrette recipe, and the Key lime pie Rachel ends up throwing at her husband's cheating face during a dinner party. However, the one I zeroed in on was her mashed potato recipe. It wasn't so much the recipe that resonated with me as it was Ephron's explanation of why mashed potatoes are so necessary to life:\u003cbr clear=\"all\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>Nothing like mashed potatoes when you're feeling blue. Nothing like getting into bed with a bowl of hot mashed potatoes already loaded with butter, and methodically adding a thin cold slice of butter to every forkful. The problem with mashed potatoes, though, is that they require almost as much hard work as crisp potatoes, and when you're feeling blue the last thing you feel like is hard work. Of course, you can always get someone to make the mashed potatoes for you, but let's face it: the reason you're blue is that there \u003ci>isn't\u003c/i> anyone to make them for you. As a result, most people do not have nearly enough mashed potatoes in their lives, and when they do, it's almost always at the wrong time.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\u003cp>That whole bit reminded me of the mashed potato recipe in my \u003ci>Friends\u003c/i> cookbook. (Yes, I have the \u003ci>Friends\u003c/i> cookbook -- you wanna make something of it?) In that cookbook, the recipe is called \"Mashed Potatoes for the Broken Hearted\" and carries the note, \"These fluffy, smooth potatoes (with plenty of sour cream and butter) have been known to mend even the most fractured heart.\"\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What is it about mashed potatoes and comfort and soothing? Is it that their bland simplicity makes them non-threatening, and therefore calming, to the palate? That they are merely a vehicle for butter, salt, and/or sour cream and we crave fattening foods when at our lowest points? That they remind us of home and childhood when life was easier? I don't think I can answer these questions, but I do know that a big pile of mashed potatoes on my plate never fails to raise my spirits and warm my cockles. And on chilly grey days and dark sharp nights, mashed potatoes are one of those foods that I want to crawl into and pull up around my shoulders.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With mashed potatoes, the prep is so minor and the payoff is so huge that I've never understood why anyone would make mashed potatoes from a box. In fact, since my own mother didn't do that, I never knew they existed until I had them at a friend's house and was totally and horribly scarred by the experience. (That same mother made a kick-ass lemon chicken, so I was able to forgive her. In time.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>My own mashed potatoes are fine. They're basic, easy -- they get the job done. No garlic, no blue cheese, no bacon. I'm perfectly happy with them. However, in my lifetime I've encountered two particular mashed potato presentations so wonderfully rich and heavenly that there are times I consider rethinking my comparatively spartan recipe.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>First, there's Fatemeh's \u003ca href=\"http://www.gastronomie-sf.com/2004/12/nannies_party_p.html\">\"Party Potatoes\"\u003c/a> that come from her husband's \"Irish-ish\" grandmother and are known to contain butter, sour cream, AND cream cheese. And then there are the mashed potatoes \u003ca href=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/author/kim-laidlaw/\">Kim's\u003c/a> husband Keith made for \u003ca href=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/2008/01/24/burns-night-and-ode-to-a-haggis/\">last year's Burns Night\u003c/a>. It was my first Burns Night, my first haggis, and my first taste of Keith's potatoes. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Both of those sets of mashed potatoes? Yeah, I've decided that they're God's shaving cream.\u003cbr clear=\"all\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cobject width=\"425\" height=\"344\">\u003cparam name=\"movie\" value=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/k79DDjvl9vE&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0\">\u003cparam name=\"allowFullScreen\" value=\"true\">\u003cparam name=\"allowscriptaccess\" value=\"always\">\u003cembed src=\"http://www.youtube.com/v/k79DDjvl9vE&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0\" type=\"application/x-shockwave-flash\" allowscriptaccess=\"always\" allowfullscreen=\"true\" width=\"425\" height=\"344\">\u003c/embed>\u003c/object>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After finishing \u003ci>Heartburn\u003c/i> well after midnight last night, I went to bed feeling quite melancholy for Rachel. I didn't cheer up until the next morning when I found out that Ephron's been happily married to screenwriter Nick Pileggi for twenty years. I hope he makes her lots of mashed potatoes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>\u003ci>Heartburn\u003c/i> Mashed Potatoes\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cblockquote>\u003cp>For mashed potatoes: Put 1 large (or 2 small) potatoes in a large pot of salted water and bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for at least 20 minutes, until tender. Drain and place the potatoes back in the pot and shake over low heat to eliminate excess moisture. Peel. Put through a potato ricer and immediately add 1 tablespoon heavy cream and as much melted butter and salt and pepper as you feel like. Eat immediately. Serves one.\u003c/p>\u003c/blockquote>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"disqusTitle": "Cesare's Salad: Tossing My Own.",
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"content": "\u003cp>\u003cimg class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-8314\" title=\"caesar salad\" src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/caesar-salad.jpg\" alt=\"caesar salad\" width=\"350\" height=\"231\">I'm a sucker for a great Caesar salad. Call me old school, but there are few things that can beat it in my book. Garlicky, lemony, cheesy, and anchovy-y, if there is such a word. If there isn't, there should be.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Sadly, a great restaurant Caesar salad has eluded me in San Francisco.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With the possible exceptions of Zuni Café and Tadich Grill (both old school and old guard), I have been bitterly disappointed every time I order a Caesar salad in a restaurant. And the above venues merely create good salads, not, in my opinion, great ones. Yet I keep on ordering them everywhere I go. It's like forgetting the pain of childbirth or the tragedy of falling in love with a crazy sadist-- I fall blindly and hopefully back into bed with the salad section of the menu and think, \"This time, it's going to be good. This time I am going to find the one I've been waiting for all my life.\" Invariably, I am served a Romaine salad with either a flaccid, mayonnaise-like dressing, or an underdressed, uninspired one with croutons like ship biscuits that leaves me asking my server for a little extra lemon and another napkin with which I might dry my tears.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Perhaps I just live to be disappointed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And then, when discussing the demise of this salad with a friend over a lunch that included a particularly sorry looking one, I understood what all of these salads were missing, good and bad:\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Drama.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Caesar salad is a dish that cries out for table-side service. It is, in my opinion if not in fact, the ham actor of the salad world-- a fact none too surprising when one considers that it was first created in a pique of impromptu by Cesare Cardini, an Italian man living in the once-glamorous town Tijuana, Mexico. Fortunately for us, Cardini had the good sense (or delicious folly, depending on your point of view) to seek out his fame and fortune in Hollywood, dressing recipe in hand, where the salad soon became a favorite among the local movie stars and luncheon élite. Cesare's salad soon evolved into Caesar's salad and, somewhere along the way, the apostrophe \"s\" was lost, and Caesar salads were being dramatically created in front of and for delighted diners in leather banquetted dining rooms and Danish Modern living rooms across the country.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Sadly, Cesare's salad is going the way of Banana's Foster, Cherries Jubilee, and the dodo, thanks to the demise of table side service. There is little room in most restaurants today to manoeuver the necessary salad carts, and diners (with the possible exception of brief fads like the Benihana's craze of the 70's, and eating at chef's tables in the 90's) seem less interested in having a server who entertains. Lastly, and perhaps most sadly of all, those venues who do still provide table side cooking are often so old-fashioned and unchanging that they have become a sort of dwindling, petrified forest. And those diners who habituate them are either equally as fossilized or, at best, there solely for kitsch.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>So what can one do?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I, for one, have started making my own damned Caesar salads. Or Cesare salads, as I prefer now to call them. I can make them as obscenely garlicky as I like and can toss them as high and dramatically as my ceiling and physical abilities allow. I'm a professional waiter, after all, and one with a strong dramatic bent. Just ask anyone. Just don't ask me to make one for you at my restaurant-- there is no way in hell I could ever get that rolling cart past the drunken cougars hovering at the bar.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Lyle's Muy Fuerte Cesare's Salad:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Serves 2 to 4\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At my birthday party last summer, I had decided that my own contribution to the buffet would be my favorite old-school salad, since I was now, officially (according to some people) old. It was then that I realized that I had never actually made one before. The one's I had known and loved were always made for me by people who understand gusto like my friend Shan or my ex-boyfriend Paul, who was about as theatrically dramatic as they come.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When I confessed this salad-tossing inexperience to my friend Lyle, he told me he would walk me through the entire process. Being my birthday, I let him take over, while I poured myself another glass of wine and watched him do all the work.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This is a recipe \u003cem>muy fuerte\u003c/em>-- extra garlic, extra anchovy, extra everything. Brash and unsubtle. In other words, just the way I like it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I would suggest preparing this dish with at least one other person in the room when you first try it. Talk the entire time you are mashing, whisking, and tossing. Remember: you are the entertainment. If you don't have anyone on hand to chat with, I suggest, chatting up your pet. If you have no pet, bring a houseplant into your kitchen and talk to that. If you are lacking a house plant, you are more than likely not the type of person who would ever make a Caesar salad and are therefore not reading this.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Two heads of Romaine lettuce, well washed, outer leaves removed, and torn into bite-sized pieces.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>About 1/3 cup Parmesan cheese. Please use the good stuff. Nothing that comes out of a shaker will do no matter how good a deal you got with that double coupon.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Whole anchovies for garnish are entirely optional.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>For the Dressing:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1 coddled egg. Yolk only.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3 anchovy filets (spanish, preferably)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 cloves garlic, crushed\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A pinch of coarse salt (kosher is excellent)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The juice of one half lemon\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4 to 5 drops Worcestershire sauce\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4 to 5 drops Tabasco sauce\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1/4 teaspoon Dijon mustard\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6 tablespoons (approximate) of extra virgin olive oil\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Coarsely ground black pepper to taste.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>For Croutons:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For two cups of croutons (it is always a good idea to make extra):\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 cups of day-old bread (french, sour, white-- take your pick), dried out a touch and cut into 3/4\" cubes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 tablespoons butter, melted\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>a heavy pinch of salt\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>To Coddle an Egg:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Coddling the egg yolk lends a richer texture to the dressing by thickening it slightly, in case you were wondering. If you want a better scientific understanding of this process, ask a scientist. I prefer to live in ignorance and call it a miracle.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Bring your egg (which should be very fresh) to room temperature by placing it in a heat-proof glass of warm water for a few minutes. When this temperature has been achieved, drain water and cover egg with boiling water. Let stand for exactly one minute. Drain. Run cold water over egg. Egg has now been thoroughly traumatized and is now ready for use in your dressing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Making the Croutons:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Preheat oven to 375F. Drizzle butter/oil mixture over bread cubes while tossing cubes with your free hand (if you have no extra hand available, use someone else's.) Coat evenly but do try to avoid an absolute drenching.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Place a single layer of bread cubes on a baking sheet and pop into the oven on the upper rack. Peek into oven at around 7 to 8 minutes into the process, shake and turn cubes. Remove from oven when cubes have become golden brown and therefore have officially attained crouton status*.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>*To my mind, croutons should be very much like Lou Grant from The Mary Tyler Moore Show-- hard, crusty exterior, but soft and warm on the inside. They should, however, not smell strongly of bourbon in the middle of the afternoon.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>To Make the Dressing:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8312\" title=\"anchovy and garlic\" src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/anchovy-and-garlic.jpg\" alt=\"anchovy and garlic\" width=\"350\" height=\"233\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Place kosher salt, anchovy, and garlic in the bottom of a wooden bowl. Mash these ingredients together with the aid of two forks until a rough paste is formed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. Next, add mustard, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco, and lemon juice. Trade in the two forks for a wire whisk. Whisk until well-blended.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. Add coddled egg yolk to the mix and whisk with gusto for about one minute to allow the citric acid from the lemon to \"cook\" the yolk a little.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. Slowly drizzle in olive oil from as great a height as you dare, for theatrical purposes. Pause occasionally to taste with a clean finger. Make dramatic noises as you do so.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8313\" title=\"falling romaine leaves\" src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/falling-romaine-leaves.jpg\" alt=\"falling romaine leaves\" width=\"350\" height=\"233\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>5. Let the lettuce leaves rain down into your dressing-drenched wooden bowl. Do not add any sound effects at this point. With the two forks you had earlier cast aside or with larger, more festive, salad utensils, begin to toss the salad. Sprinkle in a little cheese here, a little there. Hum as you sprinkle. Something lilting and hopeful.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6. Add your croutons, tossing and humming all the more.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>7. Now add cracked black pepper to finish both the tossing of your salad and the incessant humming.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>8. If serving directly from the salad bowl, sprinkle with a bit more cheese to garnish, if serving individually, divide equally among chilled plates, then add more cheese. Whatever you do, serve and eat immediately.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Enjoy.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "I'm a sucker for a great Caesar salad. Call me old school, but there are few things that can beat it in my book. Garlicky, lemony, cheesy, and anchovy-y, if there is such a word. If there isn't, there should be.\r\n\r\nSadly, a great restaurant Caesar salad has eluded me in this city of ours.\r\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cimg class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-8314\" title=\"caesar salad\" src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/caesar-salad.jpg\" alt=\"caesar salad\" width=\"350\" height=\"231\">I'm a sucker for a great Caesar salad. Call me old school, but there are few things that can beat it in my book. Garlicky, lemony, cheesy, and anchovy-y, if there is such a word. If there isn't, there should be.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Sadly, a great restaurant Caesar salad has eluded me in San Francisco.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>With the possible exceptions of Zuni Café and Tadich Grill (both old school and old guard), I have been bitterly disappointed every time I order a Caesar salad in a restaurant. And the above venues merely create good salads, not, in my opinion, great ones. Yet I keep on ordering them everywhere I go. It's like forgetting the pain of childbirth or the tragedy of falling in love with a crazy sadist-- I fall blindly and hopefully back into bed with the salad section of the menu and think, \"This time, it's going to be good. This time I am going to find the one I've been waiting for all my life.\" Invariably, I am served a Romaine salad with either a flaccid, mayonnaise-like dressing, or an underdressed, uninspired one with croutons like ship biscuits that leaves me asking my server for a little extra lemon and another napkin with which I might dry my tears.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Perhaps I just live to be disappointed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And then, when discussing the demise of this salad with a friend over a lunch that included a particularly sorry looking one, I understood what all of these salads were missing, good and bad:\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Drama.\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The Caesar salad is a dish that cries out for table-side service. It is, in my opinion if not in fact, the ham actor of the salad world-- a fact none too surprising when one considers that it was first created in a pique of impromptu by Cesare Cardini, an Italian man living in the once-glamorous town Tijuana, Mexico. Fortunately for us, Cardini had the good sense (or delicious folly, depending on your point of view) to seek out his fame and fortune in Hollywood, dressing recipe in hand, where the salad soon became a favorite among the local movie stars and luncheon élite. Cesare's salad soon evolved into Caesar's salad and, somewhere along the way, the apostrophe \"s\" was lost, and Caesar salads were being dramatically created in front of and for delighted diners in leather banquetted dining rooms and Danish Modern living rooms across the country.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Sadly, Cesare's salad is going the way of Banana's Foster, Cherries Jubilee, and the dodo, thanks to the demise of table side service. There is little room in most restaurants today to manoeuver the necessary salad carts, and diners (with the possible exception of brief fads like the Benihana's craze of the 70's, and eating at chef's tables in the 90's) seem less interested in having a server who entertains. Lastly, and perhaps most sadly of all, those venues who do still provide table side cooking are often so old-fashioned and unchanging that they have become a sort of dwindling, petrified forest. And those diners who habituate them are either equally as fossilized or, at best, there solely for kitsch.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>So what can one do?\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I, for one, have started making my own damned Caesar salads. Or Cesare salads, as I prefer now to call them. I can make them as obscenely garlicky as I like and can toss them as high and dramatically as my ceiling and physical abilities allow. I'm a professional waiter, after all, and one with a strong dramatic bent. Just ask anyone. Just don't ask me to make one for you at my restaurant-- there is no way in hell I could ever get that rolling cart past the drunken cougars hovering at the bar.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Lyle's Muy Fuerte Cesare's Salad:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Serves 2 to 4\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>At my birthday party last summer, I had decided that my own contribution to the buffet would be my favorite old-school salad, since I was now, officially (according to some people) old. It was then that I realized that I had never actually made one before. The one's I had known and loved were always made for me by people who understand gusto like my friend Shan or my ex-boyfriend Paul, who was about as theatrically dramatic as they come.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>When I confessed this salad-tossing inexperience to my friend Lyle, he told me he would walk me through the entire process. Being my birthday, I let him take over, while I poured myself another glass of wine and watched him do all the work.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>This is a recipe \u003cem>muy fuerte\u003c/em>-- extra garlic, extra anchovy, extra everything. Brash and unsubtle. In other words, just the way I like it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I would suggest preparing this dish with at least one other person in the room when you first try it. Talk the entire time you are mashing, whisking, and tossing. Remember: you are the entertainment. If you don't have anyone on hand to chat with, I suggest, chatting up your pet. If you have no pet, bring a houseplant into your kitchen and talk to that. If you are lacking a house plant, you are more than likely not the type of person who would ever make a Caesar salad and are therefore not reading this.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Two heads of Romaine lettuce, well washed, outer leaves removed, and torn into bite-sized pieces.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>About 1/3 cup Parmesan cheese. Please use the good stuff. Nothing that comes out of a shaker will do no matter how good a deal you got with that double coupon.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Whole anchovies for garnish are entirely optional.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>For the Dressing:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1 coddled egg. Yolk only.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3 anchovy filets (spanish, preferably)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 cloves garlic, crushed\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>A pinch of coarse salt (kosher is excellent)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The juice of one half lemon\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4 to 5 drops Worcestershire sauce\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4 to 5 drops Tabasco sauce\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1/4 teaspoon Dijon mustard\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6 tablespoons (approximate) of extra virgin olive oil\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Coarsely ground black pepper to taste.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>For Croutons:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For two cups of croutons (it is always a good idea to make extra):\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 cups of day-old bread (french, sour, white-- take your pick), dried out a touch and cut into 3/4\" cubes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 tablespoons butter, melted\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>a heavy pinch of salt\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>To Coddle an Egg:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Coddling the egg yolk lends a richer texture to the dressing by thickening it slightly, in case you were wondering. If you want a better scientific understanding of this process, ask a scientist. I prefer to live in ignorance and call it a miracle.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Bring your egg (which should be very fresh) to room temperature by placing it in a heat-proof glass of warm water for a few minutes. When this temperature has been achieved, drain water and cover egg with boiling water. Let stand for exactly one minute. Drain. Run cold water over egg. Egg has now been thoroughly traumatized and is now ready for use in your dressing.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Making the Croutons:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Preheat oven to 375F. Drizzle butter/oil mixture over bread cubes while tossing cubes with your free hand (if you have no extra hand available, use someone else's.) Coat evenly but do try to avoid an absolute drenching.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Place a single layer of bread cubes on a baking sheet and pop into the oven on the upper rack. Peek into oven at around 7 to 8 minutes into the process, shake and turn cubes. Remove from oven when cubes have become golden brown and therefore have officially attained crouton status*.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>*To my mind, croutons should be very much like Lou Grant from The Mary Tyler Moore Show-- hard, crusty exterior, but soft and warm on the inside. They should, however, not smell strongly of bourbon in the middle of the afternoon.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>To Make the Dressing:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8312\" title=\"anchovy and garlic\" src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/anchovy-and-garlic.jpg\" alt=\"anchovy and garlic\" width=\"350\" height=\"233\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Place kosher salt, anchovy, and garlic in the bottom of a wooden bowl. Mash these ingredients together with the aid of two forks until a rough paste is formed.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. Next, add mustard, Worcestershire sauce, Tabasco, and lemon juice. Trade in the two forks for a wire whisk. Whisk until well-blended.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. Add coddled egg yolk to the mix and whisk with gusto for about one minute to allow the citric acid from the lemon to \"cook\" the yolk a little.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. Slowly drizzle in olive oil from as great a height as you dare, for theatrical purposes. Pause occasionally to taste with a clean finger. Make dramatic noises as you do so.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8313\" title=\"falling romaine leaves\" src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/falling-romaine-leaves.jpg\" alt=\"falling romaine leaves\" width=\"350\" height=\"233\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>5. Let the lettuce leaves rain down into your dressing-drenched wooden bowl. Do not add any sound effects at this point. With the two forks you had earlier cast aside or with larger, more festive, salad utensils, begin to toss the salad. Sprinkle in a little cheese here, a little there. Hum as you sprinkle. Something lilting and hopeful.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6. Add your croutons, tossing and humming all the more.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>7. Now add cracked black pepper to finish both the tossing of your salad and the incessant humming.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>8. If serving directly from the salad bowl, sprinkle with a bit more cheese to garnish, if serving individually, divide equally among chilled plates, then add more cheese. Whatever you do, serve and eat immediately.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"disqusTitle": "Pumpkin Cheesecake with a Pecan Shortbread Crust",
"title": "Pumpkin Cheesecake with a Pecan Shortbread Crust",
"headTitle": "Thanksgiving Recipes | Bay Area Bites | KQED Food",
"content": "\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/slice-of-pumpkin-cheesecake.jpg\" alt=\"slice of pumpkin cheesecake\" title=\"slice of pumpkin cheesecake\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-8267\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Pumpkin pie is the quintessential Thanksgiving dessert. Most people eat it just once a year, and that's after first gorging themselves on turkey, mashed potatoes, yams, and about ten other side dishes. Yet more often than not I hear people say they'll take only a \"sliver\" of pumpkin pie, saving any available room for the other desserts. Sure, we serve pumpkin pie each November, but mostly because it's become obligatory: an expected holiday staple very few get excited about. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But pumpkin pie can be more than the standard fare of pureed pumpkin mixed with cream, sugar, eggs, and spices in a butter or graham cracker crust. I mean, honestly, do we all need to make the same pie every year? So this holiday, after a lifetime of eating traditional pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving, I decided I was in the mood for something a little different. While enjoying some pecan shortbread last week, I started to wonder how it would taste paired with a pumpkin custard. But then my mind began to wander even further from the norm. Why make a regular custard filling when I could use cream cheese? I looked up some pumpkin cheesecake recipes, but most seemed more cheesecake than pumpkin pie, and I wanted to retain the pie's essence for the holiday, so I decided to make up my own concoction.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As I wanted the pie to preserve some traditional flavors, I started with the customary pumpkin puree mixed with eggs, sugar, and cream, along with the conventional spices of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. With my eye on making my pie creamier and richer than in years past, I then mixed in a package of cream cheese that had been whipped with some sugar, more eggs and vanilla. Then, to wake up the palate a bit, I also added in some ginger. Of course I used a pecan shortbread crust, the idea of which started this whole adventure in the first place. Finally, once the cake cooled, I topped it with sour cream that had been flavored with maple syrup simply because I wanted a hint of tartness and sugar to help balance the rich creaminess of the cake. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>My new and improved pumpkin dessert was light and silky with a rich Fall flavor that wasn't overwhelming. Using only one package of cream cheese endowed the filling with a velvety sumptuousness that was more fluffy than overwhelmingly cheesy. The pecan crust's nutty and buttery crispness was also the perfect foil for the creamy center. And did I mention that you just press the dough in the pan, which means you don't have to prepare and roll out a crust? I have a feeling this new pumpkin dessert will find a place in my holiday repertoire of desserts, but I'm also open to future experimentation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/pumpkin-cheesecake.jpg\" alt=\"pumpkin cheesecake\" title=\"pumpkin cheesecake\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-8268\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Pumpkin Cheesecake with a Pecan Shortbread Crust\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Makes: \u003c/strong>1 8-inch cake\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Crust\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1/2 cup softened unsalted butter\u003cbr>\n1/3 cup sugar\u003cbr>\n1/2 tsp vanilla\u003cbr>\n1 cup flour\u003cbr>\n1/3 cup chopped pecans\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Pumpkin Cheesecake Filling\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1 8-oz package cream cheese\u003cbr>\n1/4 cup granulated sugar\u003cbr>\n4 large eggs\u003cbr>\n1/2 tsp vanilla\u003cbr>\n1 15-oz can pureed pumpkin or 2 cups cooked pumpkin\u003cbr>\n3/4 cups brown sugar\u003cbr>\n3/4 cup whipping cream\u003cbr>\n1/2 tsp cinnamon\u003cbr>\n1/2 tsp nutmeg\u003cbr>\n1/4 tsp cloves\u003cbr>\n1/4 tsp ground ginger\u003cbr>\n1/4 tsp salt\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Topping\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1/2 cup sour cream\u003cbr>\n2 Tbsp maple syrup\u003cbr>\n2 Tbsp chopped pecans\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees.\u003cbr>\n2. Mix together all ingredients using either the paddle of a mixer or your hands.\u003cbr>\n3. Press crust into a 9-inch spring-form pan, being sure to make the bottom even and also pressing the edges of the dough about a 1/4 to 1/2 way up the sides of the pan. Set the pan in the refrigerator.\u003cbr>\n4. In a medium bowl, whip together the pumpkin puree, cream, 2 eggs, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, ginger and salt until fully incorporated.\u003cbr>\n5. Using a the paddle attachment on your mixer, combine the softened cream cheese, 2 eggs, granulated sugar and vanilla until creamy.\u003cbr>\n6. Gently add the pumpkin mixture to the cream cheese, being sure not to over mix.\u003cbr>\n7. Take the crust out of the refrigerator and set the pan on a large baking sheet. Pour the filling into the pan.\u003cbr>\n8. Place the filled pan (which should still be on the large baking sheet) into the oven for 45 minutes or until the center only slightly jiggles. If the middle shakes like jell-o, leave it in until it sets further.\u003cbr>\n9. Once the cake has cooled down, mix the sour cream and maple syrup together. Spread the mixture on top of the cake and then sprinkle on the chopped pecans.\u003cbr>\n10. Refrigerate at least 2 hours or overnight and serve.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "But pumpkin pie can be more than the standard fare of pureed pumpkin mixed with cream, sugar, eggs, and spices in a butter or graham cracker crust. I mean, honestly, do we all need to make the same pie every year? So this holiday, after a lifetime of eating traditional pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving, I decided I was in the mood for something a little different. ",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/slice-of-pumpkin-cheesecake.jpg\" alt=\"slice of pumpkin cheesecake\" title=\"slice of pumpkin cheesecake\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-8267\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Pumpkin pie is the quintessential Thanksgiving dessert. Most people eat it just once a year, and that's after first gorging themselves on turkey, mashed potatoes, yams, and about ten other side dishes. Yet more often than not I hear people say they'll take only a \"sliver\" of pumpkin pie, saving any available room for the other desserts. Sure, we serve pumpkin pie each November, but mostly because it's become obligatory: an expected holiday staple very few get excited about. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But pumpkin pie can be more than the standard fare of pureed pumpkin mixed with cream, sugar, eggs, and spices in a butter or graham cracker crust. I mean, honestly, do we all need to make the same pie every year? So this holiday, after a lifetime of eating traditional pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving, I decided I was in the mood for something a little different. While enjoying some pecan shortbread last week, I started to wonder how it would taste paired with a pumpkin custard. But then my mind began to wander even further from the norm. Why make a regular custard filling when I could use cream cheese? I looked up some pumpkin cheesecake recipes, but most seemed more cheesecake than pumpkin pie, and I wanted to retain the pie's essence for the holiday, so I decided to make up my own concoction.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As I wanted the pie to preserve some traditional flavors, I started with the customary pumpkin puree mixed with eggs, sugar, and cream, along with the conventional spices of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. With my eye on making my pie creamier and richer than in years past, I then mixed in a package of cream cheese that had been whipped with some sugar, more eggs and vanilla. Then, to wake up the palate a bit, I also added in some ginger. Of course I used a pecan shortbread crust, the idea of which started this whole adventure in the first place. Finally, once the cake cooled, I topped it with sour cream that had been flavored with maple syrup simply because I wanted a hint of tartness and sugar to help balance the rich creaminess of the cake. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>My new and improved pumpkin dessert was light and silky with a rich Fall flavor that wasn't overwhelming. Using only one package of cream cheese endowed the filling with a velvety sumptuousness that was more fluffy than overwhelmingly cheesy. The pecan crust's nutty and buttery crispness was also the perfect foil for the creamy center. And did I mention that you just press the dough in the pan, which means you don't have to prepare and roll out a crust? I have a feeling this new pumpkin dessert will find a place in my holiday repertoire of desserts, but I'm also open to future experimentation.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/pumpkin-cheesecake.jpg\" alt=\"pumpkin cheesecake\" title=\"pumpkin cheesecake\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-8268\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Pumpkin Cheesecake with a Pecan Shortbread Crust\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Makes: \u003c/strong>1 8-inch cake\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Crust\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1/2 cup softened unsalted butter\u003cbr>\n1/3 cup sugar\u003cbr>\n1/2 tsp vanilla\u003cbr>\n1 cup flour\u003cbr>\n1/3 cup chopped pecans\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Pumpkin Cheesecake Filling\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1 8-oz package cream cheese\u003cbr>\n1/4 cup granulated sugar\u003cbr>\n4 large eggs\u003cbr>\n1/2 tsp vanilla\u003cbr>\n1 15-oz can pureed pumpkin or 2 cups cooked pumpkin\u003cbr>\n3/4 cups brown sugar\u003cbr>\n3/4 cup whipping cream\u003cbr>\n1/2 tsp cinnamon\u003cbr>\n1/2 tsp nutmeg\u003cbr>\n1/4 tsp cloves\u003cbr>\n1/4 tsp ground ginger\u003cbr>\n1/4 tsp salt\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Topping\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1/2 cup sour cream\u003cbr>\n2 Tbsp maple syrup\u003cbr>\n2 Tbsp chopped pecans\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees.\u003cbr>\n2. Mix together all ingredients using either the paddle of a mixer or your hands.\u003cbr>\n3. Press crust into a 9-inch spring-form pan, being sure to make the bottom even and also pressing the edges of the dough about a 1/4 to 1/2 way up the sides of the pan. Set the pan in the refrigerator.\u003cbr>\n4. In a medium bowl, whip together the pumpkin puree, cream, 2 eggs, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, ginger and salt until fully incorporated.\u003cbr>\n5. Using a the paddle attachment on your mixer, combine the softened cream cheese, 2 eggs, granulated sugar and vanilla until creamy.\u003cbr>\n6. Gently add the pumpkin mixture to the cream cheese, being sure not to over mix.\u003cbr>\n7. Take the crust out of the refrigerator and set the pan on a large baking sheet. Pour the filling into the pan.\u003cbr>\n8. Place the filled pan (which should still be on the large baking sheet) into the oven for 45 minutes or until the center only slightly jiggles. If the middle shakes like jell-o, leave it in until it sets further.\u003cbr>\n9. Once the cake has cooled down, mix the sour cream and maple syrup together. Spread the mixture on top of the cake and then sprinkle on the chopped pecans.\u003cbr>\n10. Refrigerate at least 2 hours or overnight and serve.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"disqusTitle": "Vietnamese Coffee: In Pursuit of the Perfect Cup",
"title": "Vietnamese Coffee: In Pursuit of the Perfect Cup",
"headTitle": "Bay Area Bites | KQED Food",
"content": "\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/vietnamese-coffee-slow-drip.jpg\" alt=\"vietnamese coffee slow drip\" title=\"vietnamese coffee slow drip\" width=\"500\" height=\"333\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8283\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Vietnamese Coffee, Trung Nguyen\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Enjoying your slow-drip coffee is a quintessential part of life in Vietnam. Whether you're stoopin' it, shouting your order down the street to the local coffee cart on the corner, or enjoying a carefully prepared cup in an upscale coffee house, Vietnamese coffee is meant to be savored and enjoyed to the max. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One reason is the time it takes to brew a cup. Vietnamese coffee is not for the rushy-rushy. Single servings are brewed through a simple metal filter called a \u003cem>Phin\u003c/em>, which takes a good 5-10 minutes to produce a cup. The filter is fitted over the top of a cup, or glass (if you're making iced coffee), the grounds are placed inside the filter (about the same size grind as what you would use for a French press), a small weighted piece is placed on top, and then hot water is poured into the chamber. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/vietnamese-coffee-phin-filter.jpg\" alt=\"vietnamese coffee phin filter\" title=\"vietnamese coffee phin filter\" width=\"333\" height=\"500\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8282\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Vietnamese coffee, Phin filter\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Another reason to approach the experience with leisure is simply the heavenly flavor. Like espresso, Vietnamese coffee is deep and rich, and a little goes a long way. What makes it really stand out though in my mind, is its incredible buttery aroma and flavor. It wasn't until I bought some roasted beans from a mom-and-pop coffee/tea shop that I learned why exactly the coffee tasted so buttery -- you got it, it's because the beans are actually roasted in clarified butter! Brilliant.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As if that doesn't sound decadent enough, sweetened condensed milk is typically used in lieu of cream and sugar both for practical reasons (it doesn't have to be refrigerated) and for taste (Have you had sweetened condensed milk lately? Think creamy, thick, dulce de leche goodness...in your coffee...\u003cem>everyday\u003c/em>!). This is why Vietnamese coffee is a habit I could really get used to. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/iced-vietnamese-coffee.jpg\" alt=\"iced vietnamese coffee\" title=\"iced vietnamese coffee\" width=\"500\" height=\"333\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-8279\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Vietnamese Iced Coffee (Ca Phe Sua Da)\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In Saigon, with so much fantastic coffee everywhere we turned, it was tough to be too discriminating. So, I left it to the locals to show me the way. Vietnam is a country of food-lovers and total coffee addicts. My favorite conversation starter was asking a local: Where is the best food in town? People would bubble over with recommendations and loved talking about their favorite food, where to get it, and how to eat it. Everyone had an opinion.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One afternoon, over a Lazy Susan laden with dim sum, an impassioned discussion over the most delectable \u003cem>banh xeo\u003c/em>, the silkiest tofu, the best hand-pulled noodles with half a crab on top, turned into a full-on debate over where to grab coffee afterward. One fellow named Nguyen insisted, \"The best coffee is at my sister's place,\" and after a few nods of acquiescence from his accompanying friends, we were off to taste for ourselves if he was indeed correct.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We hopped on our motorbikes and went caravanning off through the maze of commuters. Put-putting over main highways, over to District 7 we went...on a mission for the perfect \u003cstrong>Ca Phe Sua Da\u003c/strong> (iced coffee with sweetened condensed milk). It was spontaneous, exhilarating, and as the wind whipped through my hair, I couldn't help but envision Anthony Bourdain's crew on our tracks, kicking up some dust behind us. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/saigon-motorbikes.jpg\" alt=\"saigon motorbikes\" title=\"saigon motorbikes\" width=\"500\" height=\"333\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8281\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Saigon Motorbike Ebb and Flow\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What we came upon was a breezy little oasis of an internet cafe, tucked away amongst sprawling new developments and construction sites. The cafe itself is called \u003cstrong>Goc Peo\u003c/strong>, but the main signage outside speaks to the main reason for visiting -- the rich and aromatic \u003cstrong>Trung Nguyen\u003c/strong> coffee served. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/coffee-time-at-trung-nguyen.jpg\" alt=\"coffee time at trung nguyen\" title=\"coffee time at trung nguyen\" width=\"500\" height=\"333\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8278\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Coffee time at Trung Nguyen\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Trung Nguyen seems to have made a nice business for itself, their chains and signs are all over Saigon, as well as the airport gift shop, and while the prices are expensive by Vietnamese standards, they are still relatively cheap by US standards (a cup of their famous \"Legendee Coffee\" was about $2 USD). Incidentally, Trung Nguyen has a pretty comprehensive website that explains all about what defines Vietnamese coffee and makes it unique, namely:\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1)\tThe topography of the Annamite Range has allowed for a diverse variety of beans to flourish in Southeast Asia. By \u003cstrong>blending a variety of bean species\u003c/strong> (Arabica, Robusta, Excelsa and Catimor) rather than sticking to a single-source (like 100% Arabica), a broader flavor range is achieved.\u003cbr>\n2)\tA \u003cstrong>lower-temperature, longer roasting process\u003c/strong> that is stable and consistent.\u003cbr>\n3)\tRoasting the beans in \u003cstrong>clarified butter\u003c/strong>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Another interesting fact I learned about Trung Nguyen's coffee is that they produce what they call their Legendee Coffee, a \"unique enzymatically-treated coffee that releases flavors bound in the beans and not released under ordinary processing.\" The Legendee Coffee was what Nguyen brought us to taste. Read more about the \u003ca href=\"http://www.trung-nguyen-online.com/legendee.html\">Legend of Legendee\u003c/a> and how modern science has attempted to reproduce the infamously expensive (and kinda gross) Kopi Luwak coffee, made with the help of the weasel-like civit. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>My final verdict? The Legendee was worth experiencing, although a little intense for me to want to drink on a daily basis. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/iced-vietnamese-coffee-at-trung-nguyen.jpg\" alt=\"iced vietnamese coffee at trung nguyen\" title=\"iced vietnamese coffee at trung nguyen\" width=\"333\" height=\"500\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8280\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Vietnamese Iced Coffee, Trung Nguyen \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Regardless, it was a joy to spend an afternoon in pursuit of the perfect cup with company who really loved their coffee. Company who loved it so much, they continued on their way, buzzing away to the next cup as we rookie tourists bid farewell. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>ADDRESS\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Goc Peo\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\nSo 16 Duong 8B, KDC Trung Son\u003cbr>\nNguyen Van Cu noi dai – TP. Ho Chi Minh City\u003cbr>\nVietnam\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "Like espresso, Vietnamese coffee is deep and rich, and a little goes a long way. What makes it really stand out though is its incredible buttery aroma and flavor. Add a generous drizzle of sweetened condensed milk and you have a habit that will be hard to shake. ",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/vietnamese-coffee-slow-drip.jpg\" alt=\"vietnamese coffee slow drip\" title=\"vietnamese coffee slow drip\" width=\"500\" height=\"333\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8283\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Vietnamese Coffee, Trung Nguyen\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Enjoying your slow-drip coffee is a quintessential part of life in Vietnam. Whether you're stoopin' it, shouting your order down the street to the local coffee cart on the corner, or enjoying a carefully prepared cup in an upscale coffee house, Vietnamese coffee is meant to be savored and enjoyed to the max. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One reason is the time it takes to brew a cup. Vietnamese coffee is not for the rushy-rushy. Single servings are brewed through a simple metal filter called a \u003cem>Phin\u003c/em>, which takes a good 5-10 minutes to produce a cup. The filter is fitted over the top of a cup, or glass (if you're making iced coffee), the grounds are placed inside the filter (about the same size grind as what you would use for a French press), a small weighted piece is placed on top, and then hot water is poured into the chamber. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/vietnamese-coffee-phin-filter.jpg\" alt=\"vietnamese coffee phin filter\" title=\"vietnamese coffee phin filter\" width=\"333\" height=\"500\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8282\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Vietnamese coffee, Phin filter\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Another reason to approach the experience with leisure is simply the heavenly flavor. Like espresso, Vietnamese coffee is deep and rich, and a little goes a long way. What makes it really stand out though in my mind, is its incredible buttery aroma and flavor. It wasn't until I bought some roasted beans from a mom-and-pop coffee/tea shop that I learned why exactly the coffee tasted so buttery -- you got it, it's because the beans are actually roasted in clarified butter! Brilliant.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As if that doesn't sound decadent enough, sweetened condensed milk is typically used in lieu of cream and sugar both for practical reasons (it doesn't have to be refrigerated) and for taste (Have you had sweetened condensed milk lately? Think creamy, thick, dulce de leche goodness...in your coffee...\u003cem>everyday\u003c/em>!). This is why Vietnamese coffee is a habit I could really get used to. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/iced-vietnamese-coffee.jpg\" alt=\"iced vietnamese coffee\" title=\"iced vietnamese coffee\" width=\"500\" height=\"333\" class=\"alignnone size-medium wp-image-8279\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Vietnamese Iced Coffee (Ca Phe Sua Da)\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>In Saigon, with so much fantastic coffee everywhere we turned, it was tough to be too discriminating. So, I left it to the locals to show me the way. Vietnam is a country of food-lovers and total coffee addicts. My favorite conversation starter was asking a local: Where is the best food in town? People would bubble over with recommendations and loved talking about their favorite food, where to get it, and how to eat it. Everyone had an opinion.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One afternoon, over a Lazy Susan laden with dim sum, an impassioned discussion over the most delectable \u003cem>banh xeo\u003c/em>, the silkiest tofu, the best hand-pulled noodles with half a crab on top, turned into a full-on debate over where to grab coffee afterward. One fellow named Nguyen insisted, \"The best coffee is at my sister's place,\" and after a few nods of acquiescence from his accompanying friends, we were off to taste for ourselves if he was indeed correct.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>We hopped on our motorbikes and went caravanning off through the maze of commuters. Put-putting over main highways, over to District 7 we went...on a mission for the perfect \u003cstrong>Ca Phe Sua Da\u003c/strong> (iced coffee with sweetened condensed milk). It was spontaneous, exhilarating, and as the wind whipped through my hair, I couldn't help but envision Anthony Bourdain's crew on our tracks, kicking up some dust behind us. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/saigon-motorbikes.jpg\" alt=\"saigon motorbikes\" title=\"saigon motorbikes\" width=\"500\" height=\"333\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8281\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Saigon Motorbike Ebb and Flow\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What we came upon was a breezy little oasis of an internet cafe, tucked away amongst sprawling new developments and construction sites. The cafe itself is called \u003cstrong>Goc Peo\u003c/strong>, but the main signage outside speaks to the main reason for visiting -- the rich and aromatic \u003cstrong>Trung Nguyen\u003c/strong> coffee served. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/coffee-time-at-trung-nguyen.jpg\" alt=\"coffee time at trung nguyen\" title=\"coffee time at trung nguyen\" width=\"500\" height=\"333\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8278\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Coffee time at Trung Nguyen\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Trung Nguyen seems to have made a nice business for itself, their chains and signs are all over Saigon, as well as the airport gift shop, and while the prices are expensive by Vietnamese standards, they are still relatively cheap by US standards (a cup of their famous \"Legendee Coffee\" was about $2 USD). Incidentally, Trung Nguyen has a pretty comprehensive website that explains all about what defines Vietnamese coffee and makes it unique, namely:\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1)\tThe topography of the Annamite Range has allowed for a diverse variety of beans to flourish in Southeast Asia. By \u003cstrong>blending a variety of bean species\u003c/strong> (Arabica, Robusta, Excelsa and Catimor) rather than sticking to a single-source (like 100% Arabica), a broader flavor range is achieved.\u003cbr>\n2)\tA \u003cstrong>lower-temperature, longer roasting process\u003c/strong> that is stable and consistent.\u003cbr>\n3)\tRoasting the beans in \u003cstrong>clarified butter\u003c/strong>.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Another interesting fact I learned about Trung Nguyen's coffee is that they produce what they call their Legendee Coffee, a \"unique enzymatically-treated coffee that releases flavors bound in the beans and not released under ordinary processing.\" The Legendee Coffee was what Nguyen brought us to taste. Read more about the \u003ca href=\"http://www.trung-nguyen-online.com/legendee.html\">Legend of Legendee\u003c/a> and how modern science has attempted to reproduce the infamously expensive (and kinda gross) Kopi Luwak coffee, made with the help of the weasel-like civit. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>My final verdict? The Legendee was worth experiencing, although a little intense for me to want to drink on a daily basis. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/iced-vietnamese-coffee-at-trung-nguyen.jpg\" alt=\"iced vietnamese coffee at trung nguyen\" title=\"iced vietnamese coffee at trung nguyen\" width=\"333\" height=\"500\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8280\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Vietnamese Iced Coffee, Trung Nguyen \u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Regardless, it was a joy to spend an afternoon in pursuit of the perfect cup with company who really loved their coffee. Company who loved it so much, they continued on their way, buzzing away to the next cup as we rookie tourists bid farewell. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>ADDRESS\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Goc Peo\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\nSo 16 Duong 8B, KDC Trung Son\u003cbr>\nNguyen Van Cu noi dai – TP. Ho Chi Minh City\u003cbr>\nVietnam\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"disqusTitle": "Chilaquiles in the Mission District",
"title": "Chilaquiles in the Mission District",
"headTitle": "Bay Area Bites | KQED Food",
"content": "\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/losjarritos500.jpg\" alt=\"Los Jarritos\" title=\"Los Jarritos\" width=\"500\" height=\"375\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8250\">\u003cbr>\nAt \u003ca href=\"http://losjarritos.com/\">Los Jarritos\u003c/a>, the Reyes Padilla family's sit-down eatery on the corner of South Van Ness and 20th, components of the restaurant's fantastic chilaquiles remo are reminiscent of canonized comfort foods from other cultures. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Like noodles in a day-old lasagne, the quarters of fried corn tortilla are pasta-like, smothered in tomato sauce, congealed, pinioned under an oozing crown of cheese. Nestled amongst the bits of tortilla, the long-simmered strands of chicken taste as if they have been lifted from a huffing stockpot of soup. Scrambled eggs are there too, slippery and elusive, binding everything into a velvety mass further enriched and enlivened by a pour of crema. As the crema melts and disappears, the effect is smooth: none of the comforting elements stand out unless they're deliberately eaten apart from the others; taken together, the flavors are big and familiar, yet invigorating and, to the uninitiated, new. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Sometimes, the homiest dishes -- foods without pretense or artifice -- are most revealing about the cultures from which they spring, and inspire the most debate amongst their devotees. However, from countless regional Mexican renditions -- like white sauces in Sinaloa and Guadalajara's polenta-like cazuela cook-downs -- to American adaptations that echo Tex-Mex migas, all chilaquiles aim to soothe -- regardless of a particular variation's provenance and claims to authenticity. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The other weekend, hungover and exhausted from a morning of pick-up basketball, I was looking for comfort in sustenance. I found it easily, several thousand calories' worth: two distinct and excellent versions of chilaquiles served up at two very different Mission District establishments. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The chilaquiles at Los Jarritos aren't particularly spicy, merely salty and luxurious. Cranberry-colored and riddled with ice, a pitcher-sized glass column of agua fresca de jamaica -- a refreshing tea-like infusion of dried hibiscus flowers -- compliments the richness with tart notes as well as sweetness. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Furthermore, you need not make a breakfast of chilaquiles alone. The \"Mexicano\" side of the divided desayunos menu -- the one from which you should be ordering -- is rife with other enticing offerings, like machaca, a melange of flank steak, scrambled eggs, onions, tomatoes, and peppers, and huevos divorciados. The latter boasts tender pork cubes in two sauces -- a red, oily chile colorado and a spicy, slightly sour chile verde -- kept separate and served atop two runny fried egg rounds. The basket of pillowy, sweating tortillas comes in handy here. Strips of the thick discs are good for sopping sauce and scooping up errant morsels, but, nibbled unadorned, they also offer a welcome respite from the heavy assault of pig and eggs. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Interestingly, there are huevos con amor as well, but they are not as delicious and, surprisingly, no less expensive. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Inside, Los Jarritos looks as bold as its food tastes, like a typically kitschy roadside diner wonderfully lost in translation. A chalkboard announces specials like birria and menudo. The tabletops are a lively turquoise; sombreros swing from hooks high up on the walls alongside toy guitars in pastel hues and large black-and-white photographs. A miniature plastic marlin peers down blankly from a lower perch. Tiny painted drinking mugs -- the restaurant's namesake -- hang in bunches between the windows.\u003cbr>\n \u003cbr>\nBy comparison, the interior of the four-year-old \u003ca href=\"http://www.yelp.com/biz/pastores-san-francisco\">Los Pastores\u003c/a> is demure: a floor tiled in matte brown squares, a beige back counter, and peach walls dotted with a few faded reviews in simple frames. If the inside of the restaurant is austere, the outside is barely visible at all, even from just across the street -- a narrow storefront at the foot of Bernal Hill, right where Cortland runs into Mission. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/chilaquiles.jpg\" alt=\"chilaquiles\" title=\"chilaquiles\" width=\"500\" height=\"375\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8252\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem> Chilaquiles con huevos from Los Pastores. Photo by Bucko W.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here, the chilaquiles con huevos barely resemble their chicken-laden counterparts at Los Jarritos. Tortilla triangles are fried until they are brittle and brown around the edges, and arranged over a shallow pool of thin green sauce shot through with citrus and chile heat. Cojita-studded crema tops the chips, darting out in little rivulets from under a trio of overlapping fried eggs that leak yolk at the slightest twist of a fork. When the big plate arrives, the individual parts are distinct, uncombined, but their sum emerges gradually over the course of eating. The first few bites contain crisp tortilla, a little sauce, and a sliver or two of egg. Pour the bowlful of extra sauce over the eggs, and let it soak in. Once the sauce has done its work, and the broken yolks from the eggs have been swirled in, the tortilla chips will be soft, with just a pleasurable hint of the old crunch remaining. You can order chilaquiles with steak in lieu of eggs but either way, skip coffee, and instead slurp a pineapple agua fresca -- ultra-sweet, extremely cold, and topped with pale froth like a soda jerk's quaffable confection. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Because chef, owner, and server Irma Calderon does all the work herself, service at Los Pastores is fastest when the room is empty -- early on a weekend morning. Bustling Los Jarritos is a more polished operation, but a server still sidles up and cracks, \"time's up!\" five minutes after the menus have been opened -- not that you really care. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Visit either restaurant on a Saturday at any time, order up some chilaquiles, and indulge in a self-satisfied smirk as you contemplate the mornings many neighborhood brunchers are \u003ca href=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/2009/09/02/brunchin-is-a-habit-waiting-for-the-bran-26-dollars-in-my-hand/\">putting themselves through\u003c/a>: forty-five minute waits on crammed sidewalks for mediocore food they'll end up scarfing in a 20-minute frenzy. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Oh, you might be waiting too, but at least you'll be at a table, comforted by the chilaquiles in your near future, sipping an agua fresca, and enjoying good fellowship -- ingredients of which great morning meals are made.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/losjarritos500.jpg\" alt=\"Los Jarritos\" title=\"Los Jarritos\" width=\"500\" height=\"375\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8250\">\u003cbr>\nAt \u003ca href=\"http://losjarritos.com/\">Los Jarritos\u003c/a>, the Reyes Padilla family's sit-down eatery on the corner of South Van Ness and 20th, components of the restaurant's fantastic chilaquiles remo are reminiscent of canonized comfort foods from other cultures. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Like noodles in a day-old lasagne, the quarters of fried corn tortilla are pasta-like, smothered in tomato sauce, congealed, pinioned under an oozing crown of cheese. Nestled amongst the bits of tortilla, the long-simmered strands of chicken taste as if they have been lifted from a huffing stockpot of soup. Scrambled eggs are there too, slippery and elusive, binding everything into a velvety mass further enriched and enlivened by a pour of crema. As the crema melts and disappears, the effect is smooth: none of the comforting elements stand out unless they're deliberately eaten apart from the others; taken together, the flavors are big and familiar, yet invigorating and, to the uninitiated, new. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Sometimes, the homiest dishes -- foods without pretense or artifice -- are most revealing about the cultures from which they spring, and inspire the most debate amongst their devotees. However, from countless regional Mexican renditions -- like white sauces in Sinaloa and Guadalajara's polenta-like cazuela cook-downs -- to American adaptations that echo Tex-Mex migas, all chilaquiles aim to soothe -- regardless of a particular variation's provenance and claims to authenticity. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The other weekend, hungover and exhausted from a morning of pick-up basketball, I was looking for comfort in sustenance. I found it easily, several thousand calories' worth: two distinct and excellent versions of chilaquiles served up at two very different Mission District establishments. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The chilaquiles at Los Jarritos aren't particularly spicy, merely salty and luxurious. Cranberry-colored and riddled with ice, a pitcher-sized glass column of agua fresca de jamaica -- a refreshing tea-like infusion of dried hibiscus flowers -- compliments the richness with tart notes as well as sweetness. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Furthermore, you need not make a breakfast of chilaquiles alone. The \"Mexicano\" side of the divided desayunos menu -- the one from which you should be ordering -- is rife with other enticing offerings, like machaca, a melange of flank steak, scrambled eggs, onions, tomatoes, and peppers, and huevos divorciados. The latter boasts tender pork cubes in two sauces -- a red, oily chile colorado and a spicy, slightly sour chile verde -- kept separate and served atop two runny fried egg rounds. The basket of pillowy, sweating tortillas comes in handy here. Strips of the thick discs are good for sopping sauce and scooping up errant morsels, but, nibbled unadorned, they also offer a welcome respite from the heavy assault of pig and eggs. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Interestingly, there are huevos con amor as well, but they are not as delicious and, surprisingly, no less expensive. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Inside, Los Jarritos looks as bold as its food tastes, like a typically kitschy roadside diner wonderfully lost in translation. A chalkboard announces specials like birria and menudo. The tabletops are a lively turquoise; sombreros swing from hooks high up on the walls alongside toy guitars in pastel hues and large black-and-white photographs. A miniature plastic marlin peers down blankly from a lower perch. Tiny painted drinking mugs -- the restaurant's namesake -- hang in bunches between the windows.\u003cbr>\n \u003cbr>\nBy comparison, the interior of the four-year-old \u003ca href=\"http://www.yelp.com/biz/pastores-san-francisco\">Los Pastores\u003c/a> is demure: a floor tiled in matte brown squares, a beige back counter, and peach walls dotted with a few faded reviews in simple frames. If the inside of the restaurant is austere, the outside is barely visible at all, even from just across the street -- a narrow storefront at the foot of Bernal Hill, right where Cortland runs into Mission. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp> \u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/chilaquiles.jpg\" alt=\"chilaquiles\" title=\"chilaquiles\" width=\"500\" height=\"375\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8252\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem> Chilaquiles con huevos from Los Pastores. Photo by Bucko W.\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Here, the chilaquiles con huevos barely resemble their chicken-laden counterparts at Los Jarritos. Tortilla triangles are fried until they are brittle and brown around the edges, and arranged over a shallow pool of thin green sauce shot through with citrus and chile heat. Cojita-studded crema tops the chips, darting out in little rivulets from under a trio of overlapping fried eggs that leak yolk at the slightest twist of a fork. When the big plate arrives, the individual parts are distinct, uncombined, but their sum emerges gradually over the course of eating. The first few bites contain crisp tortilla, a little sauce, and a sliver or two of egg. Pour the bowlful of extra sauce over the eggs, and let it soak in. Once the sauce has done its work, and the broken yolks from the eggs have been swirled in, the tortilla chips will be soft, with just a pleasurable hint of the old crunch remaining. You can order chilaquiles with steak in lieu of eggs but either way, skip coffee, and instead slurp a pineapple agua fresca -- ultra-sweet, extremely cold, and topped with pale froth like a soda jerk's quaffable confection. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Because chef, owner, and server Irma Calderon does all the work herself, service at Los Pastores is fastest when the room is empty -- early on a weekend morning. Bustling Los Jarritos is a more polished operation, but a server still sidles up and cracks, \"time's up!\" five minutes after the menus have been opened -- not that you really care. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Visit either restaurant on a Saturday at any time, order up some chilaquiles, and indulge in a self-satisfied smirk as you contemplate the mornings many neighborhood brunchers are \u003ca href=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/2009/09/02/brunchin-is-a-habit-waiting-for-the-bran-26-dollars-in-my-hand/\">putting themselves through\u003c/a>: forty-five minute waits on crammed sidewalks for mediocore food they'll end up scarfing in a 20-minute frenzy. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Oh, you might be waiting too, but at least you'll be at a table, comforted by the chilaquiles in your near future, sipping an agua fresca, and enjoying good fellowship -- ingredients of which great morning meals are made.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"disqusTitle": "Sweet Potato Gratin",
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"headTitle": "Thanksgiving Recipes | Bay Area Bites | KQED Food",
"content": "\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/sweet-potato-gratin-009.jpg\" alt=\"Sweet Potato Gratin\" title=\"Sweet Potato Gratin\" width=\"500\" height=\"333\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8069\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Sweet Potato Gratin\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Turkey season is upon us, and for me, that means sweet potato season! I love sweet potato in pretty much any form -- baked, fried, pie'd -- but in this gratin form, it is savory-sweet bliss at its finest. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I first discovered this recipe years ago at a potluck in Brooklyn (thanks, Heidi, for sharing). I've since made it every Thanksgiving. It is the perfect sweet potato side dish for your table. Yes, this means your aunt can stop bringing those awful candied yams with marshmallows on top. Ickk. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The prep is the most tedious part of this dish, but it can be made a breeze if you have a good mandolin or food processor with a slicing attachment. If you are going the old fashioned knife route, I find it easier to nuke the potato just a minute or so to soften it before attempting to cut into thin slices. Don't worry if your slices are not perfect, they will be covered with delicious crunchy topping anyway.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/sweet-potato-gratin-003.jpg\" alt=\"Sweet potato prep\" title=\"Sweet potato prep\" width=\"500\" height=\"333\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8068\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Sweet potato prep\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Back to the savory-sweet bliss part. If you're always walking the line between salty and sweet, meet in the middle \u003cem>au gratin\u003c/em>, and come with a big serving spoon. The earthy sweetness of the potato anchors this dish, while savory sweet onions add an aromatic dimension. The thyme complements the sweet potato well without overpowering it with herby-ness. Heavy cream and butter make this a holiday dish (don't skimp, it's worth it). And, the topping, mmm…extra crunchiness from the panko offsets the soft texture of the gratin, Parmigiano brings even more buttery, savory, goodness into the picture, and pecans top it all off with toasted nuttiness, tinged with a sweet maple flavor. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Make this dish ahead of time to save on holiday stress. Simply prepare it up to the topping part. That way, come meal time, all you have to do is sprinkle the topping, drizzle with olive oil, and pop it in the oven until heated through and golden on top.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Leaves you more time to figure out what to do with Aunt Ro's marshmallows.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Sweet Potato Gratin\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Serves:\u003c/strong> 8 to 12 \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients: \u003c/strong> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>For the topping:\u003c/em>\u003cbr>\n1 cup panko bread crumbs\u003cbr>\n1 cup pecans, chopped\u003cbr>\n¼ cup Parmigiano\u003cbr>\nOlive oil for drizzling\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>For the gratin:\u003c/em>\u003cbr>\n4 lbs. sweet potato\u003cbr>\n2 lbs. onions, thinly sliced\u003cbr>\n4 tablespoons unsalted butter\u003cbr>\n2 cups heavy cream\u003cbr>\n½ teaspoon salt\u003cbr>\n½ teaspoon pepper\u003cbr>\n½ teaspoon cayenne pepper\u003cbr>\n1 ½ teaspoons fresh thyme \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1.\tHeat the oven to 350°F and arrange a rack in the middle. Butter a 13-by-9-inch baking dish and set aside.\u003cbr>\n2.\tMelt butter in a medium frying pan over medium-low heat. When it foams, add onion and season well with salt and pepper. Slowly cook until soft and translucent (about 30 minutes); set aside.\u003cbr>\n3.\tPeel sweet potatoes and cut into 1/8\" slices with a mandolin, sharp knife, or food processor with slicer attachment.\u003cbr>\n4.\tMix the cream, cayenne and thyme leaves in a large bowl and set aside.\u003cbr>\n5.\tIn the baking dish, layer 1/3 potato slices on the bottom, 1/3 cream mixture, add salt and pepper, and ½ of the onions. Repeat, layering another 1/3 of potato slices, 1/3 cream mixture, salt and pepper, and the rest of the onions. Finish off with the last of the sweet potato and cream mixture, and a sprinkle of salt and pepper.\u003cbr>\n6.\tCover with foil and bake 40-50 minutes (it should be soft and cooked through).\u003cbr>\n7.\tCombine topping ingredients and sprinkle mixture evenly over gratin. Drizzle with a little olive oil to help with the browning. Bake uncovered, about 10 minutes, until golden. Keep an eye out to make sure the pecans don't burn.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "Turkey season is upon us, and for me, that means sweet potato season! I love sweet potato in pretty much any form -- baked, fried, pie'd -- but in this gratin form, it is savory-sweet bliss at its finest. ",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/sweet-potato-gratin-009.jpg\" alt=\"Sweet Potato Gratin\" title=\"Sweet Potato Gratin\" width=\"500\" height=\"333\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8069\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Sweet Potato Gratin\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Turkey season is upon us, and for me, that means sweet potato season! I love sweet potato in pretty much any form -- baked, fried, pie'd -- but in this gratin form, it is savory-sweet bliss at its finest. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I first discovered this recipe years ago at a potluck in Brooklyn (thanks, Heidi, for sharing). I've since made it every Thanksgiving. It is the perfect sweet potato side dish for your table. Yes, this means your aunt can stop bringing those awful candied yams with marshmallows on top. Ickk. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The prep is the most tedious part of this dish, but it can be made a breeze if you have a good mandolin or food processor with a slicing attachment. If you are going the old fashioned knife route, I find it easier to nuke the potato just a minute or so to soften it before attempting to cut into thin slices. Don't worry if your slices are not perfect, they will be covered with delicious crunchy topping anyway.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/sweet-potato-gratin-003.jpg\" alt=\"Sweet potato prep\" title=\"Sweet potato prep\" width=\"500\" height=\"333\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8068\">\u003cbr>\n\u003cem>Sweet potato prep\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Back to the savory-sweet bliss part. If you're always walking the line between salty and sweet, meet in the middle \u003cem>au gratin\u003c/em>, and come with a big serving spoon. The earthy sweetness of the potato anchors this dish, while savory sweet onions add an aromatic dimension. The thyme complements the sweet potato well without overpowering it with herby-ness. Heavy cream and butter make this a holiday dish (don't skimp, it's worth it). And, the topping, mmm…extra crunchiness from the panko offsets the soft texture of the gratin, Parmigiano brings even more buttery, savory, goodness into the picture, and pecans top it all off with toasted nuttiness, tinged with a sweet maple flavor. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Make this dish ahead of time to save on holiday stress. Simply prepare it up to the topping part. That way, come meal time, all you have to do is sprinkle the topping, drizzle with olive oil, and pop it in the oven until heated through and golden on top.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Leaves you more time to figure out what to do with Aunt Ro's marshmallows.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Sweet Potato Gratin\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Serves:\u003c/strong> 8 to 12 \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients: \u003c/strong> \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>For the topping:\u003c/em>\u003cbr>\n1 cup panko bread crumbs\u003cbr>\n1 cup pecans, chopped\u003cbr>\n¼ cup Parmigiano\u003cbr>\nOlive oil for drizzling\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>For the gratin:\u003c/em>\u003cbr>\n4 lbs. sweet potato\u003cbr>\n2 lbs. onions, thinly sliced\u003cbr>\n4 tablespoons unsalted butter\u003cbr>\n2 cups heavy cream\u003cbr>\n½ teaspoon salt\u003cbr>\n½ teaspoon pepper\u003cbr>\n½ teaspoon cayenne pepper\u003cbr>\n1 ½ teaspoons fresh thyme \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1.\tHeat the oven to 350°F and arrange a rack in the middle. Butter a 13-by-9-inch baking dish and set aside.\u003cbr>\n2.\tMelt butter in a medium frying pan over medium-low heat. When it foams, add onion and season well with salt and pepper. Slowly cook until soft and translucent (about 30 minutes); set aside.\u003cbr>\n3.\tPeel sweet potatoes and cut into 1/8\" slices with a mandolin, sharp knife, or food processor with slicer attachment.\u003cbr>\n4.\tMix the cream, cayenne and thyme leaves in a large bowl and set aside.\u003cbr>\n5.\tIn the baking dish, layer 1/3 potato slices on the bottom, 1/3 cream mixture, add salt and pepper, and ½ of the onions. Repeat, layering another 1/3 of potato slices, 1/3 cream mixture, salt and pepper, and the rest of the onions. Finish off with the last of the sweet potato and cream mixture, and a sprinkle of salt and pepper.\u003cbr>\n6.\tCover with foil and bake 40-50 minutes (it should be soft and cooked through).\u003cbr>\n7.\tCombine topping ingredients and sprinkle mixture evenly over gratin. Drizzle with a little olive oil to help with the browning. Bake uncovered, about 10 minutes, until golden. Keep an eye out to make sure the pecans don't burn.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"disqusTitle": "Persimmons: Fu. Yu.",
"title": "Persimmons: Fu. Yu.",
"headTitle": "Bay Area Bites | KQED Food",
"content": "\u003cp>\u003cimg class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-8133\" title=\"fuyu-persimmons2\" src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/fuyu-persimmons2.jpg\" alt=\"fuyu-persimmons2\" width=\"350\" height=\"236\">If you think these fuyu persimmons seem to be looking wide-eyed off into space, you're wrong. They're looking into the future-- namely, theirs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Shortly after this photo was taken, they were mercilessly vivisected and consumed by me, the author of this post.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I shall be doing the same to their brethren soon on that greatest of all American days of sharing and feasting-- Thanksgiving. I like to think of this as a small step in personal growth. For me, not for the persimmons.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I have historically shied away from persimmons, since my first experience with one wasn't the least bit pleasant on several accounts.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fresh from college graduation in Southern California, I realized I still had what I referred to as unresolved \"living-in-Berkeley issues.\" So I packed up my Volvo and headed north to live in a large Victorian house with one of my best friends from school, his sister, and four Berkeley graduate students.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It was pretty much a total disaster. None of my roommates were especially welcoming, which may or may not have been due to the fact that my friend's girlfriend, who was not particularly attractive to begin with, was extremely insecure about her hold on him. This may or may not have been due to the fact that he was a former theater major whom she asked out as he was on his way to the Gay Pride parade in San Francisco.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And when I say \"not particularly welcoming,\" I mean cold, passive-aggressive, and downright rude.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of the small consolations of living with next-to-no-money in a household filled with people who did not like me was the fact that this house was situated two blocks from the old Berkeley Bowl-- a place where one could choose from a mind-boggling selection of produce and come home with a bag full of beautiful fruits and vegetables for, well, next-to-no-money. As a result, there was always a big bowl full of fruit residing on the kitchen table in our happy little home.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One morning, as I was sitting at that table, nursing my coffee and poring over the newspaper, two of my housemates wandered into the kitchen, poured their own coffee, and sat down with me. They gave me a perfunctory \"Good morning,\" and continued the string of conversation that they had been carrying on for days.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"What colour was yours this morning?\" asked Helen, the nearsighted English girl.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"Black. Really, really \u003cem>black\u003c/em>,\" replied Marci, who always had a bit of a pinched look on her face and was from nowhere especially interesting.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"You're lucky. I haven't even gotten to black yet,\" said Helen, who sounded more than a little envious of Marci's fecal matter.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The two girls were on a cleansing diet. All they seemed able to talk about was their bowel movements. I asked if they wouldn't mind changing the topic, since I was just about to make breakfast. Marci shot me a look.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"Those persimmons look beautiful,\" she said looking at the fruit bowl. \"Are they from The Bowl or from the neighbor's tree? Have you tried one yet?\"\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I told her I wasn't sure where they were from. Surprised and encouraged by the fact that she was even talking to me, I went as far as telling her that I had never, in fact, seen a persimmon before moving to Berkeley, let alone tried one.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"Oh, you have got to try one. Here, take this one. They're amazing. You can eat it just like an apple.\"\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So I took an enormous bite. Having no prior persimmon knowledge, I did not understand the difference between the fuyu persimmon, which may be eaten \"just like an apple\" and the hachiya, which must first be ripened to near mush before being consumed otherwise, their extremely high tannin levels will suck all the moisture from one's mouth, making for great discomfort and/or great pleasure from those looking on. Three guesses as to which kind were in that bowl.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As I ran to the kitchen sink to spit out the persimmon and found that no amount of water seemed to replace the lost moisture in my mouth, Marci and Helen howled.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"Oh my god, he \u003cem>fell\u003c/em> for it. I can't believe he's that \u003cem>stupid\u003c/em>!\" is what came out of Marci's still moistened, but thin lips.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Had I known anything about persimmons, this scene could have been easily avoided, of course. Had I understood their medicinal properties, I could have actually participated in their cleansing conversations, sharing with them the knowledge that, in traditional Chinese medicine, for example, raw persimmons are used to treat constipation and hemorrhoids and that, however contradictory it may sound, the cooked fruit is helpful in the treatment of diarrhea. Perhaps, if I had known and shared this informations with them, we might have been great friends and they would have felt comfortable enough to invite me to cleanse with them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Of course, that did not happen. After a rather dramatic episode in which the girls suddenly became mortally offended by the Mammy-motif heirloom cookie jar I kept on the kitchen counter, I was asked to leave the house. And leave I did. Gladly. My \"living-in-Berkeley issues\" had finally been resolved.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For years, I had always associated persimmons with the unpleasant chill of my Berkeley housemates. I have since gotten over that. More or less. Today, I prefer to associate them with the much more pleasant chill of Autumn. I still don't have a lot of experience with fully ripened Hachiya persimmons, but I really love the other kind, the ones you really can eat like an apple.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And with that, I would like to end with a little, thankful message to Marci, wherever she is:\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fu yu.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8130\" title=\"fuyu-salad\" src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/fuyu-salad.jpg\" alt=\"fuyu-salad\" width=\"292\" height=\"350\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Persimmon Salad with Honey-Orange Vinaigrette\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Serves 4\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Where I work, we do a fresh fuyu persimmon salad and give it the Greek name Lotosalata, which is unsurprising, since we tend to give everything a Greek name with the possible exception of the Ladies' room. The term \u003cem>lotos\u003c/em> is a possible reference to the \u003cem>Lotophagi\u003c/em>, or Lotus Eaters, found in Book Nine of the Odyssey, who tempted members of Odysseus' crew with food that causes those to eat it to forget where they have been and where they are going.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I cannot promise that my version of lotosalata will make anyone forget anything. But it's damned good. I can, however, promise you it will be the least fattening thing on your Thanksgiving table, with the possible exception of the napkins and flatware.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Do give it a go.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 fuyu persimmons, sliced about 1/8\" think lengthwise. Don't bother to peel.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1 medium-sized fennel bulb, well-cleaned and thinly sliced (or shaved) lengthwise\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1/2 half shallot, treated exactly like the fennel (minus washing)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The juice of one orange\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1 teaspoon of zest from that same orange (Please zest prior to juicing, thank you).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (This is not a classic oil-to-acid ratio of a vinaigrette. Less oil works better for this particular salad.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3 tablespoons honey\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 tablespoons champagne vinegar\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>salt and pepper to taste\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Pomegranate seeds for garnish\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Whisk together orange juice, 2 tablespoons of the honey, and a pinch of salt. Place persimmon slices in a wide, shallow dish and toss with orange-honey mixture. Let persimmons marinate for at least 15 minutes. Toss them occasionally.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. To make the vinaigrette, I typically use a small mason jar, since the days of my brother showing me how the souls of the dead are sorted out in the afterlife with the aid of a free-with-purchase Good Seasons cruet are long behind me. Place zest, olive oil, vinegar, and salt (add black pepper, if you wish) into jar, close lid tightly, and shake vigorously, which is always somehow extremely satisfying. Shake again as needed, whether it is for your benefit or that of the vinaigrette.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. In a mixing bowl, place fennel and shallot. Pour over vinaigrette, toss, and let sit for at least 15 minutes. Think \"slaw\" and you might get a clearer picture of where I am going with this salad.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. When you are ready to serve the salad, pour off and reserve the excess vinaigrette from the fennel and shallots. Place them on the serving dish of your choice as a sort of bed for the awaiting persimmons. Remove persimmons from the orange juice and honey, shaking off any excess moisture as you go, and arrange them atop the fennel/shallots. Drizzle persimmons with some of the reserved vinaigrette and sprinkle with pomegranate seeds.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>5. Serve.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6. Refrain from talking about anything fecal while at the dinner table.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>7. Enjoy.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "If you think these fuyu persimmons seem to be looking wide-eyed off into space, you're wrong. They're looking into the future-- namely, theirs.\r\n\r\nShortly after this photo was taken, they were mercilessly vivisected and consumed by me, the author of this post.\r\n\r\nI shall be doing the same to their brethren soon on that greatest of all American days of sharing and feasting-- Thanksgiving. I like to think of this as a small step in personal growth. For me, not for the persimmons.\r\n",
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"description": "If you think these fuyu persimmons seem to be looking wide-eyed off into space, you're wrong. They're looking into the future-- namely, theirs.\r\n\r\nShortly after this photo was taken, they were mercilessly vivisected and consumed by me, the author of this post.\r\n\r\nI shall be doing the same to their brethren soon on that greatest of all American days of sharing and feasting-- Thanksgiving. I like to think of this as a small step in personal growth. For me, not for the persimmons.\r\n",
"title": "Persimmons: Fu. Yu. | KQED",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cimg class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-8133\" title=\"fuyu-persimmons2\" src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/fuyu-persimmons2.jpg\" alt=\"fuyu-persimmons2\" width=\"350\" height=\"236\">If you think these fuyu persimmons seem to be looking wide-eyed off into space, you're wrong. They're looking into the future-- namely, theirs.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Shortly after this photo was taken, they were mercilessly vivisected and consumed by me, the author of this post.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I shall be doing the same to their brethren soon on that greatest of all American days of sharing and feasting-- Thanksgiving. I like to think of this as a small step in personal growth. For me, not for the persimmons.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I have historically shied away from persimmons, since my first experience with one wasn't the least bit pleasant on several accounts.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fresh from college graduation in Southern California, I realized I still had what I referred to as unresolved \"living-in-Berkeley issues.\" So I packed up my Volvo and headed north to live in a large Victorian house with one of my best friends from school, his sister, and four Berkeley graduate students.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>It was pretty much a total disaster. None of my roommates were especially welcoming, which may or may not have been due to the fact that my friend's girlfriend, who was not particularly attractive to begin with, was extremely insecure about her hold on him. This may or may not have been due to the fact that he was a former theater major whom she asked out as he was on his way to the Gay Pride parade in San Francisco.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And when I say \"not particularly welcoming,\" I mean cold, passive-aggressive, and downright rude.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One of the small consolations of living with next-to-no-money in a household filled with people who did not like me was the fact that this house was situated two blocks from the old Berkeley Bowl-- a place where one could choose from a mind-boggling selection of produce and come home with a bag full of beautiful fruits and vegetables for, well, next-to-no-money. As a result, there was always a big bowl full of fruit residing on the kitchen table in our happy little home.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>One morning, as I was sitting at that table, nursing my coffee and poring over the newspaper, two of my housemates wandered into the kitchen, poured their own coffee, and sat down with me. They gave me a perfunctory \"Good morning,\" and continued the string of conversation that they had been carrying on for days.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"What colour was yours this morning?\" asked Helen, the nearsighted English girl.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"Black. Really, really \u003cem>black\u003c/em>,\" replied Marci, who always had a bit of a pinched look on her face and was from nowhere especially interesting.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"You're lucky. I haven't even gotten to black yet,\" said Helen, who sounded more than a little envious of Marci's fecal matter.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The two girls were on a cleansing diet. All they seemed able to talk about was their bowel movements. I asked if they wouldn't mind changing the topic, since I was just about to make breakfast. Marci shot me a look.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"Those persimmons look beautiful,\" she said looking at the fruit bowl. \"Are they from The Bowl or from the neighbor's tree? Have you tried one yet?\"\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I told her I wasn't sure where they were from. Surprised and encouraged by the fact that she was even talking to me, I went as far as telling her that I had never, in fact, seen a persimmon before moving to Berkeley, let alone tried one.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"Oh, you have got to try one. Here, take this one. They're amazing. You can eat it just like an apple.\"\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So I took an enormous bite. Having no prior persimmon knowledge, I did not understand the difference between the fuyu persimmon, which may be eaten \"just like an apple\" and the hachiya, which must first be ripened to near mush before being consumed otherwise, their extremely high tannin levels will suck all the moisture from one's mouth, making for great discomfort and/or great pleasure from those looking on. Three guesses as to which kind were in that bowl.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>As I ran to the kitchen sink to spit out the persimmon and found that no amount of water seemed to replace the lost moisture in my mouth, Marci and Helen howled.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"Oh my god, he \u003cem>fell\u003c/em> for it. I can't believe he's that \u003cem>stupid\u003c/em>!\" is what came out of Marci's still moistened, but thin lips.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Had I known anything about persimmons, this scene could have been easily avoided, of course. Had I understood their medicinal properties, I could have actually participated in their cleansing conversations, sharing with them the knowledge that, in traditional Chinese medicine, for example, raw persimmons are used to treat constipation and hemorrhoids and that, however contradictory it may sound, the cooked fruit is helpful in the treatment of diarrhea. Perhaps, if I had known and shared this informations with them, we might have been great friends and they would have felt comfortable enough to invite me to cleanse with them.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Of course, that did not happen. After a rather dramatic episode in which the girls suddenly became mortally offended by the Mammy-motif heirloom cookie jar I kept on the kitchen counter, I was asked to leave the house. And leave I did. Gladly. My \"living-in-Berkeley issues\" had finally been resolved.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>For years, I had always associated persimmons with the unpleasant chill of my Berkeley housemates. I have since gotten over that. More or less. Today, I prefer to associate them with the much more pleasant chill of Autumn. I still don't have a lot of experience with fully ripened Hachiya persimmons, but I really love the other kind, the ones you really can eat like an apple.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And with that, I would like to end with a little, thankful message to Marci, wherever she is:\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Fu yu.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8130\" title=\"fuyu-salad\" src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/fuyu-salad.jpg\" alt=\"fuyu-salad\" width=\"292\" height=\"350\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Persimmon Salad with Honey-Orange Vinaigrette\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Serves 4\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Where I work, we do a fresh fuyu persimmon salad and give it the Greek name Lotosalata, which is unsurprising, since we tend to give everything a Greek name with the possible exception of the Ladies' room. The term \u003cem>lotos\u003c/em> is a possible reference to the \u003cem>Lotophagi\u003c/em>, or Lotus Eaters, found in Book Nine of the Odyssey, who tempted members of Odysseus' crew with food that causes those to eat it to forget where they have been and where they are going.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I cannot promise that my version of lotosalata will make anyone forget anything. But it's damned good. I can, however, promise you it will be the least fattening thing on your Thanksgiving table, with the possible exception of the napkins and flatware.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Do give it a go.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 fuyu persimmons, sliced about 1/8\" think lengthwise. Don't bother to peel.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1 medium-sized fennel bulb, well-cleaned and thinly sliced (or shaved) lengthwise\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1/2 half shallot, treated exactly like the fennel (minus washing)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The juice of one orange\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1 teaspoon of zest from that same orange (Please zest prior to juicing, thank you).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (This is not a classic oil-to-acid ratio of a vinaigrette. Less oil works better for this particular salad.)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3 tablespoons honey\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 tablespoons champagne vinegar\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>salt and pepper to taste\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Pomegranate seeds for garnish\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Whisk together orange juice, 2 tablespoons of the honey, and a pinch of salt. Place persimmon slices in a wide, shallow dish and toss with orange-honey mixture. Let persimmons marinate for at least 15 minutes. Toss them occasionally.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. To make the vinaigrette, I typically use a small mason jar, since the days of my brother showing me how the souls of the dead are sorted out in the afterlife with the aid of a free-with-purchase Good Seasons cruet are long behind me. Place zest, olive oil, vinegar, and salt (add black pepper, if you wish) into jar, close lid tightly, and shake vigorously, which is always somehow extremely satisfying. Shake again as needed, whether it is for your benefit or that of the vinaigrette.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. In a mixing bowl, place fennel and shallot. Pour over vinaigrette, toss, and let sit for at least 15 minutes. Think \"slaw\" and you might get a clearer picture of where I am going with this salad.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. When you are ready to serve the salad, pour off and reserve the excess vinaigrette from the fennel and shallots. Place them on the serving dish of your choice as a sort of bed for the awaiting persimmons. Remove persimmons from the orange juice and honey, shaking off any excess moisture as you go, and arrange them atop the fennel/shallots. Drizzle persimmons with some of the reserved vinaigrette and sprinkle with pomegranate seeds.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>5. Serve.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6. Refrain from talking about anything fecal while at the dinner table.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>7. Enjoy.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"disqusTitle": "Lasagna Illuminated",
"title": "Lasagna Illuminated",
"headTitle": "Bay Area Bites | KQED Food",
"content": "\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/lasagna-with-raviolis1.jpg\" alt=\"lasagna with raviolis\" title=\"lasagna with raviolis\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8089\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Lots of things can go wrong in the kitchen. Anyone who has spent any time cooking has burnt a finger, added too much salt to the sauce, or maybe even dropped an entire pan of food on the floor. Accidents are common and unavoidable and even those competitive souls on Top Chef can completely blow it every once in a while (which really helps ratings). Yet errors can also be illuminating. A few years ago when I added too much salt to a tomato pasta sauce I threw in some leftover mashed potatoes to help soak up the salt. Normally I would never (ever) add mashed potatoes to a pasta sauce, but was desperate. So I was surprised to find that those potatoes gave the dish a uniquely creamy and lustrous texture. It was an enlightening moment.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I was confronted with a similar situation last Saturday. My friend Christina decided it would be fun to have a ravioli-making party with the Italian ladies in her life. What a great idea. So on Saturday morning at 10:00 a.m., Christina, her friend Laura and I congregated in Christina's kitchen to make homemade pasta dough. After comparing methods, we set to work using Laura's grandmother's tried and true pasta recipe (use one egg per person plus a half egg shell of water for each two people and then add semolina and flour \"l'occhio\" (by eye) -- brilliant!). Laura had also brought over her Kitchen Aid pasta-making attachment, which had Christina and me oohing and aahing as those strips of pasta beautifully rolled through the press, perfect every time. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Once all the dough was made and laid out on the counter, one of us looked at the clock to discover it was noon. Laura had to take her two-year old home for a nap, Christina had to take her son to a friend's house, and I had to dash off to my daughters' soccer game nearby. After a few kisses on the cheeks and promises to be back by four, we all rushed out the door -- our morning's labor deserted.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_8076\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 400px\">\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/dried-pasta.jpg\" alt=\"dried pasta\" title=\"dried pasta\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"size-full wp-image-8076\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dried pasta\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After a few hours, we met up again to fill those raviolis, but were horrified to find none of us had actually covered the pasta -- which was still sitting on the counter, most of it dry as crackers and not fit to shape around a filling to make raviolis. After staring in horror at the pasta, we laughed at our mistake. I mean, honestly, what else could we do? Thankfully Christina's husband Marhsall is handy with a shaker and he made us some Manhattans to ease the pain while we put our heads together to find a solution. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Although some of the dough was still pliable enough to make raviolis, most wouldn't make the cut. We quickly used the most supple pasta pieces to make a butternut squash ravioli, but it seemed obvious we would need to abandon our meat ravioli plans as we quickly ran out of dough that could be shaped. The most logical and natural answer was to just make lasagna out of the dry pieces. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Now the three of us are all from Neapolitan or Sicilian families, so are used to preparing lasagna with fresh ricotta cheese and mozzarella (two ingredients we did not have on hand). The situation, however, demanded that we abandon those traditions. So instead of creating the usual cheesy lasagna, we decided to make the most of the perfectly seasoned and slow-roasted short rib ragù Christina had cooked and then pureed the night before as a ravioli filling, along with the light marinara sauce Laura had made earlier that day. We also chose to make a béchamel sauce to round out the flavors and finally added some aged Parmesan cheese. That’s it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_8077\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 400px\">\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/layering-lasagna.jpg\" alt=\"layering the lasagna\" title=\"layering lasagna\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"size-full wp-image-8077\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Layering the lasagna\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So there we were, making béchamel, lining the dish with sauce and dried pasta, grating cheese, and drinking Manhattans. The lasagna went into the oven and we all sighed, wishing those ingredients had become raviolis instead. When the lasagna came out of the oven a while later, we set the table for the feast and then sat down with the other diners, laughing again about our pasta dough disaster.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But once we started cutting into the lasagna we knew something wonderful had happened in the kitchen that day. We had thought the butternut squash raviolis in a brown butter sauce with fresh sage would be the highlight of the meal, and although they were lovely, they were no match for the cobbled together and impromptu lasagna. Those once-dried noodles, ragù, marinara sauce and béchamel had melded themselves perfectly together. The raviolis were ignored as each person first smelled and then tasted the lasagna. Very few words were spoken -- mostly \"Wow!\" and \"Oh!\" interspersed with the noise of forks touching plates. Finally one of the husbands said \"Boy I'm glad you guys messed up the ravioli dough.\" And so was I.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Never in my life had I experienced such perfect lasagna. The once-forgotten dough that had languished on the counter all day was transformed into a thing of beauty when combined with the meat filling and sauces. And that ragù! If we had used ricotta and mozzarella with it, the cheeses would have blanketed our taste buds with their creamy flavors and textures. Without them, the ragù was the diva of the dish -- capturing our attention and mesmerizing us.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So remember that although some kitchen disasters lead to burned fingers, others lead to superlative lasagna. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_8078\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 400px\">\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/pan-of-lasagna.jpg\" alt=\"lasagna in a pan\" title=\"lasagna in a pan\" width=\"400\" height=\"301\" class=\"size-full wp-image-8078\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Lasagna\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Superlative Lasagna\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Makes: \u003c/strong>One 9x13 pan\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003ca href=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/2008/08/14/making-homemade-pasta/\">Homemade pasta dough\u003c/a> rolled out into sheets\u003cbr>\nChristina’s Short Rib Ragù (recipe below)\u003cbr>\nBéchamel sauce (recipe below)\u003cbr>\nMarinara sauce (here is \u003ca href=\"http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2007/10/mario-batali-recipe-for-marinara-sauce.html\">Mario Batali's Marinara recipe\u003c/a> if you don't have a favorite of your own)\u003cbr>\nParmesan cheese (enough to thinly coat each layer of the lasagna, about 1 cup)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1. Make and short ribs and marinara sauce ahead of time and then refrigerate. You can do this the morning you'll make the lasagna or the day before.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. Make the pasta dough. You can make it a couple of hours ahead of time, but should cover it with waxed paper or dish towels to avoid curling.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. When ready to assemble the lasagna, make the béchamel sauce.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. In a large 9 x 13 pan, assemble your lasagna by lightly layering the bottom of the pan with marinara sauce, followed by a layer each of pasta, ragù, béchamel sauce and grated Parmesan cheese.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>5. Continue layering until you are out of ingredients, being sure to leave enough marinara sauce to coat the top of the lasagna. Sprinkle on a final coating of Parmesan cheese.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6. Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 30-40 minutes or until cooked through.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>7. Serve.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Béchamel Sauce\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Makes:\u003c/strong> 1 1/2 cups\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1 stick unsalted butter\u003cbr>\n3/4 cup all purpose flour (or enough to create a thick roux with the flour)\u003cbr>\n3 cups whole milk\u003cbr>\nSalt, pepper and nutmeg to taste\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1. In a medium sauce pan, melt the butter on medium low heat.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. Once the butter is melted, slowly whisk in the flour until the sauce has a smooth consistency.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. Slowly add in the milk, whisking to avoid lumps.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. Simmer sauce for a few minutes and season with salt, pepper and nutmeg to taste (I only use a sprinkling of nutmeg, but you can add more of you like a heartier nutmeg flavor).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/ragu.jpg\" alt=\"ragu\" title=\"ragu\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-8225\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Christina’s Short Rib Ragù \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Adapted from: \u003ca href=\"http://events.nytimes.com/recipes/9357/2005/05/08/Faux-Babbo-Ravioli/recipe.html?scp=1&sq=faux%20babbo&st=cse\">Faux Babbo Ravioli recipe\u003c/a>; Originally published with \u003cem>THE CHEAT; So You Still Can't Get a Reservation at Babbo? \u003c/em>By Sam Sifton, May 8, 2005 \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Makes:\u003c/strong> Enough ragù for one lasagna\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 lbs short ribs\u003cbr>\n3 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil\u003cbr>\n1 large onion chopped\u003cbr>\n2 celery stalks chopped\u003cbr>\n2 carrots chopped\u003cbr>\n2 1/2 cup red wine\u003cbr>\n1 cup tomatoes diced drained\u003cbr>\n2 Tbsp chopped fresh rosemary or oregano\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. Heat a large ovenproof skillet (such as a cast-iron pan) on medium-high heat.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. Add the oil and then mix in the chopped onion, celery and carrots and sauté for five minutes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. Remove the vegetables and turn the heat up to medium-high heat. Brown the short ribs (being sure not to crowd the pan.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>5. Remove the meat and deglaze the pan with the wine; add in the tomatoes and herbs as well as salt and pepper to taste.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6. Add in the meat and vegetables and then bring mixture to a boil. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>7. Set the pan in the oven and bake for 2 hours or until the short ribs are falling apart.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad floatright]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>8. Let mixture cool and then refrigerate overnight or at least two hours. Puree or chop until mixture is fairly smooth.\u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "Never in my life had I experienced such perfect lasagna. The once-forgotten dough that had languished on the counter all day was transformed into a thing of beauty when combined with the meat filling and sauces. And that ragù! If we had used ricotta and mozzarella with it, the cheeses would have blanketed our taste buds with their creamy flavors and textures. Without them, the ragù was the diva of the dish -- capturing our attention and mesmerizing us.",
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"description": "Never in my life had I experienced such perfect lasagna. The once-forgotten dough that had languished on the counter all day was transformed into a thing of beauty when combined with the meat filling and sauces. And that ragù! If we had used ricotta and mozzarella with it, the cheeses would have blanketed our taste buds with their creamy flavors and textures. Without them, the ragù was the diva of the dish -- capturing our attention and mesmerizing us.",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/lasagna-with-raviolis1.jpg\" alt=\"lasagna with raviolis\" title=\"lasagna with raviolis\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-8089\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Lots of things can go wrong in the kitchen. Anyone who has spent any time cooking has burnt a finger, added too much salt to the sauce, or maybe even dropped an entire pan of food on the floor. Accidents are common and unavoidable and even those competitive souls on Top Chef can completely blow it every once in a while (which really helps ratings). Yet errors can also be illuminating. A few years ago when I added too much salt to a tomato pasta sauce I threw in some leftover mashed potatoes to help soak up the salt. Normally I would never (ever) add mashed potatoes to a pasta sauce, but was desperate. So I was surprised to find that those potatoes gave the dish a uniquely creamy and lustrous texture. It was an enlightening moment.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I was confronted with a similar situation last Saturday. My friend Christina decided it would be fun to have a ravioli-making party with the Italian ladies in her life. What a great idea. So on Saturday morning at 10:00 a.m., Christina, her friend Laura and I congregated in Christina's kitchen to make homemade pasta dough. After comparing methods, we set to work using Laura's grandmother's tried and true pasta recipe (use one egg per person plus a half egg shell of water for each two people and then add semolina and flour \"l'occhio\" (by eye) -- brilliant!). Laura had also brought over her Kitchen Aid pasta-making attachment, which had Christina and me oohing and aahing as those strips of pasta beautifully rolled through the press, perfect every time. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Once all the dough was made and laid out on the counter, one of us looked at the clock to discover it was noon. Laura had to take her two-year old home for a nap, Christina had to take her son to a friend's house, and I had to dash off to my daughters' soccer game nearby. After a few kisses on the cheeks and promises to be back by four, we all rushed out the door -- our morning's labor deserted.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_8076\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 400px\">\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/dried-pasta.jpg\" alt=\"dried pasta\" title=\"dried pasta\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"size-full wp-image-8076\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Dried pasta\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>After a few hours, we met up again to fill those raviolis, but were horrified to find none of us had actually covered the pasta -- which was still sitting on the counter, most of it dry as crackers and not fit to shape around a filling to make raviolis. After staring in horror at the pasta, we laughed at our mistake. I mean, honestly, what else could we do? Thankfully Christina's husband Marhsall is handy with a shaker and he made us some Manhattans to ease the pain while we put our heads together to find a solution. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Although some of the dough was still pliable enough to make raviolis, most wouldn't make the cut. We quickly used the most supple pasta pieces to make a butternut squash ravioli, but it seemed obvious we would need to abandon our meat ravioli plans as we quickly ran out of dough that could be shaped. The most logical and natural answer was to just make lasagna out of the dry pieces. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Now the three of us are all from Neapolitan or Sicilian families, so are used to preparing lasagna with fresh ricotta cheese and mozzarella (two ingredients we did not have on hand). The situation, however, demanded that we abandon those traditions. So instead of creating the usual cheesy lasagna, we decided to make the most of the perfectly seasoned and slow-roasted short rib ragù Christina had cooked and then pureed the night before as a ravioli filling, along with the light marinara sauce Laura had made earlier that day. We also chose to make a béchamel sauce to round out the flavors and finally added some aged Parmesan cheese. That’s it.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_8077\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 400px\">\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/layering-lasagna.jpg\" alt=\"layering the lasagna\" title=\"layering lasagna\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"size-full wp-image-8077\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Layering the lasagna\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So there we were, making béchamel, lining the dish with sauce and dried pasta, grating cheese, and drinking Manhattans. The lasagna went into the oven and we all sighed, wishing those ingredients had become raviolis instead. When the lasagna came out of the oven a while later, we set the table for the feast and then sat down with the other diners, laughing again about our pasta dough disaster.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But once we started cutting into the lasagna we knew something wonderful had happened in the kitchen that day. We had thought the butternut squash raviolis in a brown butter sauce with fresh sage would be the highlight of the meal, and although they were lovely, they were no match for the cobbled together and impromptu lasagna. Those once-dried noodles, ragù, marinara sauce and béchamel had melded themselves perfectly together. The raviolis were ignored as each person first smelled and then tasted the lasagna. Very few words were spoken -- mostly \"Wow!\" and \"Oh!\" interspersed with the noise of forks touching plates. Finally one of the husbands said \"Boy I'm glad you guys messed up the ravioli dough.\" And so was I.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Never in my life had I experienced such perfect lasagna. The once-forgotten dough that had languished on the counter all day was transformed into a thing of beauty when combined with the meat filling and sauces. And that ragù! If we had used ricotta and mozzarella with it, the cheeses would have blanketed our taste buds with their creamy flavors and textures. Without them, the ragù was the diva of the dish -- capturing our attention and mesmerizing us.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>So remember that although some kitchen disasters lead to burned fingers, others lead to superlative lasagna. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cem>\u003c/em>\u003c/p>\n\u003cfigure id=\"attachment_8078\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\" style=\"max-width: 400px\">\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/pan-of-lasagna.jpg\" alt=\"lasagna in a pan\" title=\"lasagna in a pan\" width=\"400\" height=\"301\" class=\"size-full wp-image-8078\">\u003cfigcaption class=\"wp-caption-text\">Lasagna\u003c/figcaption>\u003c/figure>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Superlative Lasagna\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Makes: \u003c/strong>One 9x13 pan\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n\u003ca href=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/2008/08/14/making-homemade-pasta/\">Homemade pasta dough\u003c/a> rolled out into sheets\u003cbr>\nChristina’s Short Rib Ragù (recipe below)\u003cbr>\nBéchamel sauce (recipe below)\u003cbr>\nMarinara sauce (here is \u003ca href=\"http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2007/10/mario-batali-recipe-for-marinara-sauce.html\">Mario Batali's Marinara recipe\u003c/a> if you don't have a favorite of your own)\u003cbr>\nParmesan cheese (enough to thinly coat each layer of the lasagna, about 1 cup)\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1. Make and short ribs and marinara sauce ahead of time and then refrigerate. You can do this the morning you'll make the lasagna or the day before.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. Make the pasta dough. You can make it a couple of hours ahead of time, but should cover it with waxed paper or dish towels to avoid curling.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. When ready to assemble the lasagna, make the béchamel sauce.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. In a large 9 x 13 pan, assemble your lasagna by lightly layering the bottom of the pan with marinara sauce, followed by a layer each of pasta, ragù, béchamel sauce and grated Parmesan cheese.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>5. Continue layering until you are out of ingredients, being sure to leave enough marinara sauce to coat the top of the lasagna. Sprinkle on a final coating of Parmesan cheese.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6. Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 30-40 minutes or until cooked through.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>7. Serve.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Béchamel Sauce\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Makes:\u003c/strong> 1 1/2 cups\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1 stick unsalted butter\u003cbr>\n3/4 cup all purpose flour (or enough to create a thick roux with the flour)\u003cbr>\n3 cups whole milk\u003cbr>\nSalt, pepper and nutmeg to taste\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003cbr>\n1. In a medium sauce pan, melt the butter on medium low heat.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. Once the butter is melted, slowly whisk in the flour until the sauce has a smooth consistency.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. Slowly add in the milk, whisking to avoid lumps.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. Simmer sauce for a few minutes and season with salt, pepper and nutmeg to taste (I only use a sprinkling of nutmeg, but you can add more of you like a heartier nutmeg flavor).\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/ragu.jpg\" alt=\"ragu\" title=\"ragu\" width=\"400\" height=\"300\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-8225\">\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Christina’s Short Rib Ragù \u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Adapted from: \u003ca href=\"http://events.nytimes.com/recipes/9357/2005/05/08/Faux-Babbo-Ravioli/recipe.html?scp=1&sq=faux%20babbo&st=cse\">Faux Babbo Ravioli recipe\u003c/a>; Originally published with \u003cem>THE CHEAT; So You Still Can't Get a Reservation at Babbo? \u003c/em>By Sam Sifton, May 8, 2005 \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Makes:\u003c/strong> Enough ragù for one lasagna\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Ingredients:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2 lbs short ribs\u003cbr>\n3 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil\u003cbr>\n1 large onion chopped\u003cbr>\n2 celery stalks chopped\u003cbr>\n2 carrots chopped\u003cbr>\n2 1/2 cup red wine\u003cbr>\n1 cup tomatoes diced drained\u003cbr>\n2 Tbsp chopped fresh rosemary or oregano\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003cstrong>Preparation:\u003c/strong>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>2. Heat a large ovenproof skillet (such as a cast-iron pan) on medium-high heat.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>3. Add the oil and then mix in the chopped onion, celery and carrots and sauté for five minutes.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>4. Remove the vegetables and turn the heat up to medium-high heat. Brown the short ribs (being sure not to crowd the pan.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>5. Remove the meat and deglaze the pan with the wine; add in the tomatoes and herbs as well as salt and pepper to taste.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>6. Add in the meat and vegetables and then bring mixture to a boil. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>7. Set the pan in the oven and bake for 2 hours or until the short ribs are falling apart.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>8. Let mixture cool and then refrigerate overnight or at least two hours. Puree or chop until mixture is fairly smooth.\u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"disqusTitle": "Fat of the Land: Adventures in 21st Century Foraging",
"title": "Fat of the Land: Adventures in 21st Century Foraging",
"headTitle": "Bay Area Bites | KQED Food",
"content": "\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1594850070/kqedorg-20\">\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/fotl-cover300.jpg\" alt=\"Fat of the Land by Langdon Cook\" title=\"Fat of the Land by Langdon Cook\" width=\"300\" height=\"464\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-7987\">\u003c/a>The fig tree in my neighbor's yard--the one with lots of branches hanging temptingly over the sidewalk--is just starting to ripen its fall crop. According to California law, fruit growing in public space (hanging on a branch over a city sidewalk, for example) is public fruit, and free for the taking, as long as the picker leaves what's on the other side of the fence (or property line) alone. Going out to get yogurt and a newspaper on a Saturday morning, I'd arrive home with a foraged breakfast centerpiece of ripe sweet figs. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But clearly, I've barely cracked the spine on \u003cem>Foraging for Dummies.\u003c/em> At least compared to Seattlite Langdon Cook, author of \u003ca href=\"http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1594850070/kqedorg-20\">Fat of the Land: Adventures of a 21st Century Forager\u003c/a> for whom a daily forage might involve digging for razor clams at dusk in December, or setting up a spotlight for late-night squid jigging in January. Spearfishing for lingcod within the city limits, hand-grabbing Dungeness crab out of the Sound, dodging homeless guys to harvest choice young dandelion greens near the I-5 on-ramp. . . if you sum it up like that, Cook sounds like a pretty wild and crazy guy. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Except that he's almost always eclipsed in his own narrative by the buddies who show him the ropes. With nicknames like Trouthead and Warpo, these dudes are guy's guys, passionate, risk-loving, obsessive hunter-gatherers who let Cook tag along as they head into their element: to the bank of the Columbia at dawn for shad, into a beat-up canoe on the Hood Canal for shrimp, tramping a burnt-out section of the Okanogan National Forest for morels.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Cook walks the walk, and dives the dive, but hard as he tries, he never quite transcends. Throughout, he remains a game but nerdy writer, less on the hunt for shrimp and sturgeon (the toothy, prehistoric-looking fish that Cook's friend Beedle describes admiringly as \"one tough hombre\") than for a certain manly authenticity that remains always a little out of his reach, no matter how many times he grabs for his pen to scribble down a colorful phrase. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"What can be said about this river that hasn't already been said?\" he notes from the banks of the surging Columbia River, looking up at the power lines swooping overhead. \"I try to put myself in a dugout canoe circa 1805, but the wires keep getting in the way.\" \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>[ad fullwidth]\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The book is organized in a way familiar to readers of Mark Kurlansky or Michael Pollan: first an action narrative, then a loop through biology and ecology, a dash through the stinging nettles of climate change and ever-encroaching environmental destruction, a quick end run through socio-cultural history, then a wind-up of the narrative and a triumphant meal and recipe. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The reader tags along after Cook, skimming along through his magazine-ready adventures (it's no surprise to find out that he writes frequently for publications like\u003cem> Outside\u003c/em> and \u003cem>The Stranger)\u003c/em>, learning some nifty stuff about, say, the fruiting cycles of the morel mushroom, or why hunting for Dungeness crabs during their mating season is like shooting fish in a barrel. But, just like those lurking lingcod, the truly captivating stories stay in the shadows. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What does fishing mean for the Asian grandmothers who come down night after night to fish for squid off the municipal pier where Cook shows up one evening, nervous of his status as Anglo newbie amid the bantering regulars from Cambodia and Nicaragua? Or the morel-hunting locals on the edges of a remote mountain town who saw their forest go up in smoke around them during a recent wildfire? Cook can't quite shake the knowledge that what's fun (or at least fodder for a book contract) for him is necessity for others, and neither can the reader. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Still, it's an intriguing read, and a way to take a fresh look at the edible abundance available for the (slightly stealthy) taking even in the heart of a sprawling American city. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And if you're not quite ready to free-dive for abalone yet, you can join interdisciplinary artist Julie Kahn (currently working at the \u003ca href=\"http://www.headlands.org\">Headlands Center for the Arts\u003c/a>) for a feast of wild game and foraged foods in Marin on November 15th. It's a benefit for \u003ca href=\"http://swampcabbagemovie.com\">Swamp Cabbage\u003c/a>, which Kahn and her fellow filmmaker Hayley Downs call a \"dark and sweaty\" documentary in progress tracing their personal connections to the fast-disappearing backwoods traditions of rural Florida. The multi-course menu includes chicharrones from Ryan Farr's 4505 Meats, swamp cabbage pickles, gator bites, locally hunted wild boar from Mendocino, local abalone, acorn bread, truly wild mushroom pizza, persimmon gelato foraged and made by Liana and Michael Orlandi of Mill Valley's Gelateria Ceci, and more. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I'll be baking foraged fruit turnovers for the spread, too--which means I better get up early and start stalking those succulent figs around the corner. \u003c/p>\n\n",
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"excerpt": "Could Langdon Cook be a Euell Gibbons for the urban homesteading crowd? Spearfishing for lingcod within the city limits, hand-grabbing Dungeness crab out of the Sound, dodging homeless guys to harvest choice young dandelion greens near the I-5 on-ramp...if you sum it up like that, the Seattle author of Fat of the Land: Adventures in 21st Century Foraging can sound like a pretty wild and crazy guy. But does he really have the passion (and the chops) to be a renegade hunter-gatherer in a triple-latte town? ",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003cp>\u003ca href=\"http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1594850070/kqedorg-20\">\u003cimg src=\"http://ww2.kqed.org/bayareabites/wp-content/uploads/sites/24/2009/11/fotl-cover300.jpg\" alt=\"Fat of the Land by Langdon Cook\" title=\"Fat of the Land by Langdon Cook\" width=\"300\" height=\"464\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-7987\">\u003c/a>The fig tree in my neighbor's yard--the one with lots of branches hanging temptingly over the sidewalk--is just starting to ripen its fall crop. According to California law, fruit growing in public space (hanging on a branch over a city sidewalk, for example) is public fruit, and free for the taking, as long as the picker leaves what's on the other side of the fence (or property line) alone. Going out to get yogurt and a newspaper on a Saturday morning, I'd arrive home with a foraged breakfast centerpiece of ripe sweet figs. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>But clearly, I've barely cracked the spine on \u003cem>Foraging for Dummies.\u003c/em> At least compared to Seattlite Langdon Cook, author of \u003ca href=\"http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1594850070/kqedorg-20\">Fat of the Land: Adventures of a 21st Century Forager\u003c/a> for whom a daily forage might involve digging for razor clams at dusk in December, or setting up a spotlight for late-night squid jigging in January. Spearfishing for lingcod within the city limits, hand-grabbing Dungeness crab out of the Sound, dodging homeless guys to harvest choice young dandelion greens near the I-5 on-ramp. . . if you sum it up like that, Cook sounds like a pretty wild and crazy guy. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Except that he's almost always eclipsed in his own narrative by the buddies who show him the ropes. With nicknames like Trouthead and Warpo, these dudes are guy's guys, passionate, risk-loving, obsessive hunter-gatherers who let Cook tag along as they head into their element: to the bank of the Columbia at dawn for shad, into a beat-up canoe on the Hood Canal for shrimp, tramping a burnt-out section of the Okanogan National Forest for morels.\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Cook walks the walk, and dives the dive, but hard as he tries, he never quite transcends. Throughout, he remains a game but nerdy writer, less on the hunt for shrimp and sturgeon (the toothy, prehistoric-looking fish that Cook's friend Beedle describes admiringly as \"one tough hombre\") than for a certain manly authenticity that remains always a little out of his reach, no matter how many times he grabs for his pen to scribble down a colorful phrase. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\"What can be said about this river that hasn't already been said?\" he notes from the banks of the surging Columbia River, looking up at the power lines swooping overhead. \"I try to put myself in a dugout canoe circa 1805, but the wires keep getting in the way.\" \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\u003c/div>",
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"content": "\u003cdiv class=\"post-body\">\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The book is organized in a way familiar to readers of Mark Kurlansky or Michael Pollan: first an action narrative, then a loop through biology and ecology, a dash through the stinging nettles of climate change and ever-encroaching environmental destruction, a quick end run through socio-cultural history, then a wind-up of the narrative and a triumphant meal and recipe. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>The reader tags along after Cook, skimming along through his magazine-ready adventures (it's no surprise to find out that he writes frequently for publications like\u003cem> Outside\u003c/em> and \u003cem>The Stranger)\u003c/em>, learning some nifty stuff about, say, the fruiting cycles of the morel mushroom, or why hunting for Dungeness crabs during their mating season is like shooting fish in a barrel. But, just like those lurking lingcod, the truly captivating stories stay in the shadows. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>What does fishing mean for the Asian grandmothers who come down night after night to fish for squid off the municipal pier where Cook shows up one evening, nervous of his status as Anglo newbie amid the bantering regulars from Cambodia and Nicaragua? Or the morel-hunting locals on the edges of a remote mountain town who saw their forest go up in smoke around them during a recent wildfire? Cook can't quite shake the knowledge that what's fun (or at least fodder for a book contract) for him is necessity for others, and neither can the reader. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>Still, it's an intriguing read, and a way to take a fresh look at the edible abundance available for the (slightly stealthy) taking even in the heart of a sprawling American city. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>And if you're not quite ready to free-dive for abalone yet, you can join interdisciplinary artist Julie Kahn (currently working at the \u003ca href=\"http://www.headlands.org\">Headlands Center for the Arts\u003c/a>) for a feast of wild game and foraged foods in Marin on November 15th. It's a benefit for \u003ca href=\"http://swampcabbagemovie.com\">Swamp Cabbage\u003c/a>, which Kahn and her fellow filmmaker Hayley Downs call a \"dark and sweaty\" documentary in progress tracing their personal connections to the fast-disappearing backwoods traditions of rural Florida. The multi-course menu includes chicharrones from Ryan Farr's 4505 Meats, swamp cabbage pickles, gator bites, locally hunted wild boar from Mendocino, local abalone, acorn bread, truly wild mushroom pizza, persimmon gelato foraged and made by Liana and Michael Orlandi of Mill Valley's Gelateria Ceci, and more. \u003c/p>\n\u003cp>\u003c/p>\n\u003cp>I'll be baking foraged fruit turnovers for the spread, too--which means I better get up early and start stalking those succulent figs around the corner. \u003c/p>\n\n\u003c/div>\u003c/p>",
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"info": "What kind of no sabo word is Hyphenación? For us, it’s about living within a hyphenation. Like being a third-gen Mexican-American from the Texas border now living that Bay Area Chicano life. Like Xorje! Each week we bring together a couple of hyphenated Latinos to talk all about personal life choices: family, careers, relationships, belonging … everything is on the table. ",
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"info": "Our flagship program, helmed by Kai Ryssdal, examines what the day in money delivered, through stories, conversations, newsworthy numbers and more. Updated Monday through Friday at about 3:30 p.m. PT.",
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"mindshift": {
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"info": "The MindShift podcast explores the innovations in education that are shaping how kids learn. Hosts Ki Sung and Katrina Schwartz introduce listeners to educators, researchers, parents and students who are developing effective ways to improve how kids learn. We cover topics like how fed-up administrators are developing surprising tactics to deal with classroom disruptions; how listening to podcasts are helping kids develop reading skills; the consequences of overparenting; and why interdisciplinary learning can engage students on all ends of the traditional achievement spectrum. This podcast is part of the MindShift education site, a division of KQED News. KQED is an NPR/PBS member station based in San Francisco. You can also visit the MindShift website for episodes and supplemental blog posts or tweet us \u003ca href=\"https://twitter.com/MindShiftKQED\">@MindShiftKQED\u003c/a> or visit us at \u003ca href=\"/mindshift\">MindShift.KQED.org\u003c/a>",
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"order": 12
},
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"info": "For decades, the process for how police police themselves has been inconsistent – if not opaque. In some states, like California, these proceedings were completely hidden. After a new police transparency law unsealed scores of internal affairs files, our reporters set out to examine these cases and the shadow world of police discipline. On Our Watch brings listeners into the rooms where officers are questioned and witnesses are interrogated to find out who this system is really protecting. Is it the officers, or the public they've sworn to serve?",
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"perspectives": {
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"title": "Political Breakdown",
"tagline": "Politics from a personal perspective",
"info": "Political Breakdown is a new series that explores the political intersection of California and the nation. Each week hosts Scott Shafer and Marisa Lagos are joined with a new special guest to unpack politics -- with personality — and offer an insider’s glimpse at how politics happens.",
"airtime": "THU 6:30pm-7pm",
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"possible": {
"id": "possible",
"title": "Possible",
"info": "Possible is hosted by entrepreneur Reid Hoffman and writer Aria Finger. Together in Possible, Hoffman and Finger lead enlightening discussions about building a brighter collective future. The show features interviews with visionary guests like Trevor Noah, Sam Altman and Janette Sadik-Khan. Possible paints an optimistic portrait of the world we can create through science, policy, business, art and our shared humanity. It asks: What if everything goes right for once? How can we get there? Each episode also includes a short fiction story generated by advanced AI GPT-4, serving as a thought-provoking springboard to speculate how humanity could leverage technology for good.",
"airtime": "SUN 2pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/Possible-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
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"source": "Possible"
},
"link": "/radio/program/possible",
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},
"pri-the-world": {
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"title": "PRI's The World: Latest Edition",
"info": "Each weekday, host Marco Werman and his team of producers bring you the world's most interesting stories in an hour of radio that reminds us just how small our planet really is.",
"airtime": "MON-FRI 2pm-3pm",
"imageSrc": "https://cdn.kqed.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/The-World-Podcast-Tile-360x360-1.jpg",
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},
"radiolab": {
"id": "radiolab",
"title": "Radiolab",
"info": "A two-time Peabody Award-winner, Radiolab is an investigation told through sounds and stories, and centered around one big idea. In the Radiolab world, information sounds like music and science and culture collide. Hosted by Jad Abumrad and Robert Krulwich, the show is designed for listeners who demand skepticism, but appreciate wonder. WNYC Studios is the producer of other leading podcasts including Freakonomics Radio, Death, Sex & Money, On the Media and many more.",
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