San Francisco

Taken from the new De Young Museum looking toward the Sunset District. Photo credit: Robert Guerrero

San Francisco is the city of my birth. My father and my step-mother both attended Mission High School in the Mission District. After moving to the City in 1940 from Oklaholma my paternal grandmother spent the rest of her life living on Tiffany Avenue in the Mission District. My mother lived in around the City as a child and again as a young newlywed when she and my father married. My maternal great-grandfather owned a barber shop on Market Street until the 1906 earthquake put him out of business. At age eighteen after living in France for a year, I settled in San Francisco. It was the first big city I lived in as an adult. I have a strong sense of history, and a connection to place with San Francisco that is important to me. While I didn't really grow up in the City, it's still one of the cities where I feel at 'home.'

Robert and I spent the three-day Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend visiting 'the City' -- as most locals call it. It was wondeful to be back. I have so many memories now from so many years of coming and going. My adult memories are of my time in the food and restaurant business dating back to the early 80s. Selling cheese at the food emporium the Oakville Grocery; the tyrannical French chef I worked under at Today's on Union Square; working with Jeremiah Tower at his Stars restaurant; socializing with all the 'foodies' of the time. Those were heady, food-filled days. Naturally, this trip also involved food and eating.

One of my favorite things to do in San Francisco is to visit the remodeled Ferry Building. When I was a child, the double-deck Embarcadero Freeway ran right in front of the building. It was the entrance to and exit off the Bay Bridge that started or ended further down the Embarcadero towards North Beach and Fisherman's Wharf. It was ugly and it marred the end of Market Street. The ferry building was nothing but ratty gray offices, a no man's land. After the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake seriously damaged the freeway it was torn down, the Ferry Building was remodeled and it's now like a European food hall. Individual vendors such as Cow Girl Creamery, Acme Bread, and Hog Island Oyster Company line the cavernous halls. On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays there's an outdoor farmer's market. Every time I go there is something new to try. This time it was Boccalone -- Tasty Salted Pig Parts, a salumeria that has a wonderful variety of cooked and cured salumi and salami, hot and cold sandwiches, and their specialty -- Salumi Cones: sliced meat served like a sno-cone.

Boccalone - Tasty Salted Pig Parts in the Ferry Building.

A Salumi Cone from Boccalone.

We grabbed sandwiches at Boccalone and sat outside on the water with my friend Robert Ruiz and ate. After Robert took off we met up with Anna Petruolo and Lisa Robbins of A Dinner Together, foodie friends from Portland on their first visit to San Francisco. Anna is a personal chef in the Portland area and their company specializes in local and sustainable meals. We wandered around the building and through the farmer's market ooing and awing at all the amazing food. I always like to end my visit with a coffee from Frog Hollow Farm. Frog Hollow Farm is a 133-acre organic farm located in Brentwood, California on the Sacramento River Delta that produces twenty-five varieties of peaches, nectarines, cherries, apricots, pluots, plums, pears and grapes. Their little stand inside the Ferry Building sells strong coffee and great baked goods.

Local mushrooms at the Far West Fungi stall.



Brussels sprouts for sale at the framer's market.

Other highlights of the weekend were dinners at Nopalito and SPQR. Nopalito was recommended by David Lebovitz of the food blog: Living The Sweet Life In Paris. He raved about the carnitas and since it's one thing I can't get enough of I had to go. It certainly lived up to the hype. All of the food did. Our San Francisco friends Denise and Pete who had never been to the restaurant loved their meals. Nopalito specializes in traditional Mexican cookery while using 'local, organic and sustainable ingredients,' something I support fully. The carnitas were among the best I've ever eaten. The Quesadilla Roja con Chicharrón that we got for the table was yet another amazing pork belly dish, and the Ceviche Verde de Pescado y Calimari was so fresh and delicious I couldn't believe it was cold and rainy outside. Matthew Accarrino, the chef at SPQR was recently called a 'forager' and a 'wild man' by Serious Eats because he does exactly that: he forages and gathers wild edibles in the surrounding area like the Marin Headlands where he gathers watercress for a burratta with peperonata dish; wild chickweed for a baby-beet salad, and fennel pollen from wild fennel seed to be used in several dishes. We ate a pasta dish with nettles that was delicious: 'Stinging nettle torchio, garlic cream, pancetta and parmesan.' The rest of the meal included two starters: 'Spiced ricotta fritters & smoked maple syrup,' and a 'Pork belly 'croccante,' sundried tomatoes, olives & gremolata'; for our main courses Robert had the 'Petrale sole, cauliflower, capers, verjus butter & pinenuts' while I had the 'Lamb shoulder, chestnuts, mushrooms, parsnip & dandelion leaves.' The foraging chef came through for me. The flavors were earthy yet subtle and I liked knowing that some of the ingredients were locally foraged. On Monday before we left for the airport we ate cheeseburgers at the Slow Club in SoMa with our friend Andrew. Like so many restaurants in the Bay Area it's also all about being sustainable and local; this was printed on their menu: "We use produce & meat from farms & ranches that practice ecologically sound agriculture whenever possible." Ya gotta love the Bay Area and its serious foodies!

Since food and eating were the focus of this trip I had to check out the new cookbook store Omnivore Books in Noe Valley. I've been adding substantially to my cookbook collection over the past six months and I'm always curious to see what a store might have. This store is a small delight hiding out in a quaint San Francisco neighborhood. It has all types of books -- new, antiquarian, collectibles. The store is well-organized, has every type of book one could want, many of them signed by the authors. I stumbled across a signed copy of 'City Cuisine' by Susan Feniger and Mary Sue Millikin, a book of recipes for dishes they served at their restaurant 'City' in Los Angeles during the 80s. I grabbed it up and it's now part of my growing collection. When we weren't eating we visited the recently re-done De Young Museum as well as the Palace of the Legion of Honor where we saw the show: 'Cartier and America' about the French jeweler and his relationship to the States. While at the De Young we stopped into their cafe (I love museum cafes and restaurants) for a coffee with our friends Karen and Chris who very kindly got us free admission to the museum. The cafe is run by a company called McCall Catering and the chef, Lucas Schoemaker is an old foodie friend from my 80s food days. We didn't get to see him but I noticed that, of course, the food is seasonal and local! 'Seasonal and local San Francisco!' should be a new catchphrase. We had a great time in the City. We did a lot, saw some good friends, ate some wonderful food, and returned to Los Angeles sated and relaxed. We both enjoyed being in a 'real' city (sorry Los Angeles!) where we walked often and a lot. San Francisco has always been a food city to me. And this trip did not disprove that.

The Golden Gate Bridge taken from the Palace of Legion of Honor. Photo credit: Robert Guerrero

**A big thank you to Robert Ruiz for all the great foodie recommendations!

Please Vote For Me! The Foodista Best of Food Blogs Cookbook Contest: I have entered my baked papaya recipe, 'Chef Wally's Baked Papaya,' into the Foodista Best of Food Blogs Cookbook contest. If selected the recipe will be published in cookbook published by Andrews McMeel Publishing. To vote go to the top of my blog to the Foodista icon. Thanks!

My Status: winter (lots of rain recently & we need it!) in Southern California -- cooler days, cold nights, comfort food. Off to Yosemite this weekend to attend the food event 'Chefs' Holidays 2010 at the Ahwanee': three days of cooking demos, lectures and eating with chefs Suzanne Goin, Duskie Estes and John Stewart at the Ahwanee Hotel. Can't wait! Also new cookbooks to try, some to review; new kitchen equipment to use. More cooking, eating, writing, and blogging.

Upcoming Posts: Interview with Chefs John Stewart & Duskie Estes owners of Zazu & Bovolo restaurants in Sonoma County. Reviews: Venezia: Food & Dreams by Tessa Kiros, My Nepenthe: Bohemian Tales of Food, Family and Big Sur by Romney Steele, The Spirit Kitchen: Everyday Cooking with Organic Spices by Sara Engram and Katie Luber and Kimberly Toqe.

Recipe: Padrón Peppers

Are they Italian or Spanish? I was *confused and still am. I first had something like pimientos del Padrón in Ravello, Italy while on a three week trip to France and Italy with my friend, Chef Jeremiah Tower. We spent the day driving along the Amalfi Coast stopping in at all the beautiful towns along the way. On our way back to our apartment further south along the Campania coast, we decided to drive over the mountains that hug the Amalfi Coast and stop in Ravello. Ravello sits high up in the mountains overlooking the Amalfi Coast. After a winding drive up the mountainside we pulled into the town square and, as always, I was hungry. We went into the first ristorante we saw, sat down at the bar and ordered drinks. I looked over the menu and noticed something that said fried green peppers. They sounded interesting so I ordered them. A few moments later they were placed on the bar before us: a plate full of freshly fried small green peppers, stems attached. They were about the size of a jalapeño but didn't have that kind of heat. There was just a hint of heat. They were lightly salted. Perfect bar food. We gobbled them down with our drinks. And I wanted more. But we didn't order more. I have wanted more ever since.

Flash forward to my recent trip to France and Spain with Robert. We're sitting in Cervecería Ciudad Condal on our first night in Barcelona and I see on the table next to us a plate of fried green peppers. They looked exactly like the peppers I remember eating in Italy. I quickly scanned the menu and there they were, 'pimientos del Padrón' -- they were a Spanish tapas dish. They were lovely, and wonderful, and delicious: fried perfectly in Spanish olive oil, dusted with large-grain salt. Grabbed by their little stems, bitten into and pulled off with your teeth, an explosion of crispy skin, salt crunch, slightly bitter pepper taste, a little fire, and olive oil. Drop the stem on your plate, grab another one, repeat. Of course they were gone too soon. I wanted more. I ALWAYS want more of delicious things. Just the kind of eater I am but we moved on to all the other amazing food we ordered. We spent two more nights in Barcelona and we had pimientos del Padrón at each of those meals.

Like I tend to do with my crazy delicious food experiences I have been dreaming about eating those peppers again since I've been home. I did a little Internet research and found out that they come from Padrón, a municipality in the area of northwest Spain called Galicia. They are grown and harvested from June to September, and eaten all over Spain. What I didn't know about them is that they are also known as 'Russian roulette peppers,' in that one in ten can be extremely hot. As in you bite into it and immediately the heat sears your tongue and mouth, smoke comes out of your ears like in the cartoons, and you think you'll die. When we ate them in Barcelona they were all fairly mild; neither of us came across any with super-fire. I found out that as the season progresses, the hotter they get. August and September peppers are much hotter than early season peppers. I also found out that they are difficult to find in the U.S. however, one company, La Tienda, does sell them via mail order. La Tienda is based in Virginia, and specializes in Spanish food products. Their website states that Virginia is on the same latitude as Galicia so it's perfect for growing these peppers. They grow them from seeds that came from a pepper farmer in Padrón. I placed an order. Three weeks later one pound, or about one hundred peppers, arrived via U.P.S. in a styrofoam container with an ice pack.

When my Spanish friend, Júrgio (pronounced 'sure-show'), heard that I had pimientos del Padrón he was quite surprised. Júrgio, who is Galician and knows Padrón and the peppers well, has lived in Los Angeles for a number of years and has never seen them here. We made a dinner date for the following night to cook them. Júrgio helped me make them and I am glad he did. From watching his mother cook them as a child, he knew things about preparing them that I did not. He told me there are pepper sellers in Padrón, little old Spanish ladies, who can tell how hot the peppers are just by looking at them. When you shop for them there, they ask how much heat you want. Júrgio, his partner Kevin, Robert and I ate all one hundred of them in a matter of a few minutes. There was no Russian roulette for us however. We didn't get any really hot ones. So I've still not eaten one that sends me shooting out of my chair and into the fountain in the square outside. An experience for another day. Lack of heat aside, Júrgio approved; they tasted just like they do in Spain. I was so happy to eat them again!

*Coda: I have yet to figure out how the Italian peppers we ate differ from, or are similar to, the pimientos del Padrón. If anyone knows, please let me know. Otherwise, I'll do more research and write about what I find in a future post.

Here's how we made them:

Pimientos del Padrón

Ingredients

1 lb. Padrón peppers (80-100 peppers)
3-4 cups olive oil
Salt, large grain rock, Kosher, sel de mer, etc.

Clean the peppers by rinsing them lightly. Dry them completely so they won't splatter when they hit the hot oil. Leave the stems attached.

Place the olive oil in a large skillet suitable for deep frying, like a cast iron skillet. You may also use any other type of deep fryer you have on hand. Allow the olive oil to heat on medium to high heat. It will take awhile to get to the right temperature. When you think the oil is close to being the right temperature, place a small piece of bread in it. When the bread begins to bubble and crisp up, the oil is ready.

Place all of the peppers in the heated oil; it will take a moment or two for them to begin cooking. Stir or turn with a metal slotted spoon or sieve. Once they are bubbling and boiling in the hot oil watch for the skins to start puffing and wrinkling. This should only take a few minutes.

Remove the cooked peppers from the oil and place on a baking sheet lined with paper towels to drain off excess oil.

Place on a serving platter, and sprinkle generously with the salt.

My Status: it's still hot in Los Angeles - upper 90s, summer is really here; enjoying all the summer produce; writing, cooking, blogging and eating!

Upcoming Posts: The Wedge Salad: a recipe, the origins of the salad and of Iceberg lettuce. Review: 'The Barcelona Cookbook'.

Honey

An homage.

If I could be a beekeeper I would be. I love bees, always have. Not sure why exactly. I’ve been stung numerous times. I’m not afraid. I have two books on beekeeping, ‘The Shamanic Way of the Bee’ by Simon Buxton and “Beekeeping – A Practical Guide’ by Richard E. Bonney. One day I hope to have a few hives of my own.

I also like what bees produce: Honey. My love affair with honey dates back to my childhood. My great-grandparents lived on a 17-acre parcel of land in Arroyo Grande, California that everyone called ‘The Ranch.’ Grampa Rollie raised sheep, chickens and Angus beef; they grew vegetables and had a few fruit trees; and Gramma Ora had a beautiful flower garden. They lived quite comfortably off this piece of land. The next door neighbors, the Van den Meters, had beehives and sold honey to my great-grandparents.

Traditions with Honey

Somewhere along the line, when I was probably four or five years old, a tradition began with my great-grandfather, myself and my younger sister, Traci. Traci and I would sit at the kitchen table with Grampa Rollie. He’d have a stack of toast on a plate, butter, and a jar of the neighbor’s amazing clover honey. He’d break off a piece of toast, put a dab of butter on it, spoon on some honey, then pop it into one of our mouths. Then he’d do it all over again for the other mouth. Back and forth, one in my mouth, one in my sister’s, until all the toast was gone. It was as if we were his baby birds and he was feeding us. Each visit required this ‘feeding’, and he always obliged. It’s a memory that I cherish to this day. I also remember the flavor of that clover honey. Fresh, unadulterated, like the clover fields the bees collected pollen in.

Mexican Honey

A year ago almost to the day, Robert and I were on a 10-day tour of the Yucatán Peninsula. While in Mérida we stopped in to see my friend, Chef Jeremiah Tower, who now makes Mérida his home base. One afternoon he took Robert and me to the local public market as he wanted us to try the Yucatán delicacy cochinita pibil – citrus marinated pork slow-roasted in banana leaves. The market was a wonder to behold. An assault of smells, sounds, and colors. Every type of food item from the area available. After a tour of the market, Jeremiah led us to a small stand that specializes in cochinta – his favorite purveyor of the pork dish. He ordered us a round of tacos and we sat at a little ceramic table in the middle of the market to eat. By the time we left I had eaten three cochinita tacos – each one topped with a sprinkling of crunchy chicharrón, or pork rind. They were amazing. He was right. I’ve had cochinta before but this was a notch above.

The reason I tell this story is that as we left the market Jeremiah stopped at another vendor, grabbed a plastic bottle of honey and told me I had to try it. So I did. I bought the bottle, a small plastic water bottle repurposed as a container for the amber honey. I managed to get it home to Los Angeles without getting caught at customs and have been eating it for the last year. And now, sadly, it’s gone. By the time we finished it off, it was all sugary and crystallized but still edible. And it was wonderful.

The flavor and color of honey is affected by the flowers that the bees collect pollen from. I was used to the more common clover and orange blossom honeys that are available in California. The kind I grew up eating at my great-grandfather’s knee. The Yucatán honey was a different experience completely; amber in color with a nice herbal bite to it. It’s flavor was sharper, more complex than what I was used to but I learned to love it. And I am very sad it is gone. A return trip to the Yucatán may be in the offing.

Local Honey

So to replace the Yucatán honey Robert and I went to the Atwater Village Farmers Market a couple weekends ago, and I bought some new honey from Aunt Willie at her little stand. I opted for avocado this time to see what that tasted like and it’s delicious. The flavor is less sweet with molasses and butterscotch overtones. It’s a nice replacement to my plastic-water-bottle-Mexican-honey.

Aunt Willie has beehives where she collects her honey around the Los Angeles region: in La Habra, Fallbrook, Moorpark and San Bernardino. All roughly within 1o0 miles of Los Angeles. She explained to Robert and me that the bees, the farmers and she have a symbiotic relationship. They need her bees to pollinate their crops, and she needs their land to house her hives. Without bees to pollinate crops we wouldn’t have produce. They are a necessary component of our food cycle. Aunt Willie told us that bees via pollination can double a farmers yield. Even backyard beehives, like the ones I may eventually get if Robert will allow it, contribute to the food cycle.

French Honey

One final note: another honey that I learned to love, and have already blogged about, was the miel de sapin that I ate when I lived in France. The pollen is collected from the pine trees in the Vosges Mountains of Alsace – it has a distinctive, sharp, and piney taste to it.

I love bees, and I love honey.