food, and other musings

Local Lovin'

I just got back from the farmer's market and it was like a foodie's version of Hollywood -- I saw David Kinch, David Evans and Michael Pollan.  (You're lucky I got off my ass and drove down there, too -- I was all ready to go with a post about Darfur.) 

I only had a quick 45 minutes but I managed to spend $125. What did I get? Mainly staples for the upcoming Eat Local campaign. I also splurged on a few treats, but I didn't get very much produce because my CSA has started arriving. Yay!

In my basket today...
~ Fatted Calf bacon, otherwise known as the real reason I dashed down to the market today...a life without bacon seems hardly worth living.
~ Stonehouse house-blend olive oil to switch over to cooking and dressing my salads with. It's waaaay more economical than McEvoy Ranch and they're on their way to being certified organic.
~ Spring Hill Jersey butter, salted and sweet, just made yesterday
~ Marin Sun Farms eggs. I am tempted to indulge, allergy or no so stay tuned on that one. I also wanted hanger steak but they were out so I ordered some for next week. (How cool is that?!) Farmer David's also going to have broiler chickens available for pre-order soon, but be warned: he's planning to leave the feet and possibly even the heads on. I spoke up in favor of headless birds, and he just smiled his charming smile, which probably means I'm screwed.
~ Iacopi Farm artichokes for a crab and pasta salad I'm making for friends next week.
~ Porcini mushroom pasta from the Pasta Shop. I know the flour isn't local, but the pasta is made fresh in the Easty Bay, which I figure is about as close as I'm going to get.
~ June Taylor Meyer lemon & grapefruit marmalade, and boysenberry conserve
~ Michael Recchiuti fleur de sel caramels
~ tomatoes (I forget where they're from, sorry! They were a splurge purchase on my way home.)

Next week I'll shop a bit smarter by checking online to see what produce is arriving in my CSA. I was afraid I'd end up with ten bunches of spinach and no oranges, so I didn't really buy any fresh fruit or veg, but then I realized they post the basket contents ahead of time. I'm learning, folks, so bear with me.

The little bistro that couldn't

I'm telling you right now, this might not be pretty. I just had the worst meal I can remember. Payback for last night's deliciousfest at (415)? Perhaps. (And if so, it was worth it.)

Mr. Food Musings and I have developed a routine. While he goes to acupuncture twice a week, I head to the Blue Danube café where I type madly on my laptop for an hour. I usually sip on a Mexican hot chocolate or a big fat Yellow Crush smoothie (mango, banana and juice) while I type. Then we go for a little walk or, if it's lunchtime, we head to somewhere like Giorgio's pizza or Burma Superstar for some chow.

Today we picked Bistro Clement, which I think is run by the owners of Clementine across the street. I cannot vouch for Clementine myself, though I have heard from reliable sources that it's quite good.

I'm going to keep this short because it was miserable and I can't bear to relive it.
1. We waited an hour for a chicken sandwich, a reheated slab of quiche and some french fries.
2. There was only one table in front of us when we walked in. Even if the restaurant had been full, it shouldn't have taken an hour.
3. About 40 minutes in, the waitress came over to refill our drinks and apologize for the wait. She promised that the table of 6 ahead of us were about to be served, and our food would follow theirs "2 minutes later."
4. Oops! I guess she confused us with the two white-haired old ladies who ordered hamburgers, 'cuz that's who got served after the party of 6. Meanwhile, we waited. We drummed our fingers on the table. We ate yet another piece of bread. I ran across the street to pour more precious quarters in the greedy meter and got Mr. FM's crackberry so he could read work emails.
5. Twenty minutes later we still didn't have our food but the old ladies did. I was starving and pissed off and Mr. FM isn't too high on stamina these days so I started putting on my coat. I was actually going to walk out, and not even pay for the coke we had. Seriously. I was so infuriated. I'd been watching the owner of the place (or the manager -- he was wearing a suit and talking to a handyman in the back and was obviously in charge) waltz around rather than drop by to apologize to us and offer us a damn salad or something -- and I had had it. But Mr. FM convinced me to stay, reasoning that the food couldn't be too far behind, and besides the bread had been warm and fresh and good, so the rest of the food was bound to be worth waiting for.
6. The waitress finally brought out our plates. She was mortified and scooted away after apologizing for the wait. Each plate had a paltry pile of undercooked fries, soggy and limp with grease, and an even paltrier clump of underdressed salad leaves on it. My chicken sandwich was wholly average, as was Mr. FM's quiche. The fries were inedible.
7. When I asked for the bill (and yes, I asked nicely and I still tipped the waitress -- it wasn't her fault) they didn't offer to do anything. No free meal. No discount. No offer of a complimentary dessert. The owner/manager never once came over to apologize himself. Not even the freaking Pepsi came off the bill!

Normally I don't bother posting about bad experiences, but this was so bad in every way, and the man in charge made less than zero effort to alleviate our obvious distress that I figure he had his day in court, so to speak. I don't feel I owe them the courtesy of complaining any further in person. They had their shot and they blew it.

UGH!

Shout Out for the Four-One-Five

Continuing our cycle of gluttonous eating out that started a few weeks back, Mr. Food Musings and I found ourselves at (415) last night. (That's one of the two new spots in the JCC. The other is a Jewish deli. We're hoping to get a Reuben and egg cream there someday soon.)

We expected it to be pretty good, but were blown away that it was quite as good as it was. And we weren't the only ones. The place was full, and our neighbors were having the exact same conversation we were. "OHMYGOD this is so good!" yada yada yada.

I may have found my favorite green papaya salad on Earth. It's full of fresh papaya strands, green beans and halved cherry tomatoes as you'd expect, but it has a lot of zing (thank you, Mr. Jalapeno!) and just a touch of sweetness and crunch from the cashew brittle, which gives it the edge on every other green papaya salad I've had. I felt myself growing addicted to it while our chopsticks duked it out for the last bite.

Then I moved on to a mellow green curry with thin coins of eggplant, crispy fried shallots and a meaty piece of lightly-crusted salmon. This curry defied the stereotype. Rather than tossing chunks of salmon into the soup, which masks the fish's flavor, the chef served a small pool of curry and veg in a wide bowl and rested the salmon on top. I had plenty of jasmine rice on the side (order it a la carte) to sop up the delectable curry.

Mr. FM had halibut with tempura-fried asparagus in a sweet sauce (mirin? miso? soy? can't say for sure) that seems to have replaced the miso-glazed black cod previously on the menu. For dessert, we enjoyed the best fruit tart I've had lately (including the always stupendous lemon version at Vivande). It was made of passionfruit, a nice but subtle twist which took just the edge off the tartness. The crust was thick and buttery but still shattered well during the all-important fork test. Mmmmm... I'd skip the chocolate/tamarind cake, though. It was chocolatey and all -- good marks for flavor -- but the texture was more of a mousse than a molten chocolate cake. Though it pains me to say this about something made with chocolate, it was pretty ordinary.

Next time I want to order the Shanghai scallion bread (the couple to our right went ga-ga over it) and the coconut-braised beef short ribs. Wines by the glass were reasonably priced; I had a lovely Spanish Verdejo for $8, and they pour either 3- or 6-ounce servings if you want to try before you buy. The decor is worth noting for its blend of cozy booths and sultry red walls.  I even caught myself kinda liking the weird cheetah-like print they've put down on the concrete floor, so either it's actually cool or I'm getting tackier with old age.

The best part of the evening, though, came at the end. Mr. FM got the shakes something awful as we were leaving and ran into the waiter's stand (no injuries!) which made him feel really stupid and clumsy and sort of sad, but we soldiered on through like it was no big deal and pretended that all the people were staring at us because we were the King and Queen of France (well, I did, I don't know what sort of coping mechanisms he uses). About two blocks from the fracas, I realized I'd lost an earring and went back to look for it. I didn't find it, and the old me would have been really sad or really pissed off -- these were my favorite earrings and they cost a pretty penny -- but the new me couldn't give a shit about a sliver of metal that hangs from my ear. I just shrugged it off, realizing that I'd enjoyed them as much as was humanly possible when I had them. As we meandered home in the still nighttime air, I found myself quietly thankful for that sense of peace.

BUT WAIT!

I haven't gotten to the best part yet! (There was a bit of a bait and switch going on in that last paragraph, and you know I'm too shallow to let it end on such a philosophical note.)

We found the earring! Two blocks from home, glinting ever so slightly on the sidewalk, waiting there patiently for us to find it. I did a small victory dance, Mr. FM smiled at my glee, and we went inside to watch mobsters kill each other. Ah, the good life.

Eating Local: Research

Today I went grocery shopping and, in anticipation of May's "Eat Local" challenge, did some sniffing around.  What I found is that I can buy local creme fraiche, butter, milk, yogurt, cheese and eggs at my local market, so cross dairy off the list. I can also buy chicken from Petaluma, but the beef is all from Kansas. Though the nice butcher man assured me that the beef was very high quality, I wrinkled my nose at him and kept moving. (Well, actually I bought some, but it's still April. Next week I'll wrinkle my nose at him.)

I thought I was all set with my Niman Ranch bacon until Mr. Food Musings made an offhand comment about how he thought they bought animals from all over the country, and further investigation proved him right. Some of the cows come from California (though the steaks are certainly not labeled by point of origin) but all the piggies are raised in the mid-West. Drat! That's okay, it just means I'll need to plan ahead and travel down to the Ferry Building for Marin Sun Farms 100% grass-fed beef and Prather Ranch bacon.

There's also some local ice cream -- very important to you-know-who -- but I haven't investigated it thoroughly and cannot remember the name. (I want to say it's Marianne's from Santa Cruz but I'm not sure. Double drat!)

As I learn more about what's readily available at other local markets, I'll share the news so that those of you who're also making the eat local pledge don't have to.

p.s. Burma Superstar's tea leaf salad and nan pia dok still send me to the moon! Mr. FM and I dropped in after his acupuncture appointment today and licked our lips all the way home.

May "Eat Local" Challenge

May is the "Eat Local" challenge month. You will probably start to see a lot about this on the blogosphere, if you haven't already. To put it simply, it's a month where those interested devote themselves to eating foods that are locally grown and produced.

"What's the point?" you may ask. "I eat organic, why do I need to care where my food comes from?"

It's a long and multi-faceted answer, but let me give you a few reasons why I think it's important.

1. The term "organic" is quickly becoming little more than a marketing term. It's been coopted by large corporations and their lobbyists have succeeded in having the original organic guidelines relaxed. Many farmers will tell you that they might not even bother getting organically certified anymore -- it's expensive and more and more meaningless, so they walk the walk and forget about the label.

2. Eating local means that you know where your food comes from. We should all be informed consumers. If you can shop at a farmer's market, where all the food is local, you can ask upfront about farming practices and pesticides, and ensure that the food meets freshness and quality standards that are important to you.

3. It fosters relationships both economic and social between you and the growing community. Get to know the men and women growing your food. Ask them how to cook those purple baby artichokes or how to prepare fava beans (that's how I learned). Get recipes. Find out what'll be in season next month. Pour your money back into the local economy. Support family farms so they don't have to sell out to large agribusinesses.

4. Stop spending your money on shipping and petroleum and start spending it on better quality food. An oft-quoted fact is that food travels an average of 1,500 miles to get to the hungry mouths that eat it. That is a lot of fossil fuel required to fly the jumbo jets or power the 18-wheelers -- oil that keeps us in political conflict with the Middle East, oil that pollutes the environment, oil that we really need to conserve for other uses. Put the money instead into truly free range eggs or grass-fed meat, both of which are actually healthier for you (increased omega 3's, for example) than products from regular factory-raised animals.

The list goes on and on, and that's enough for now. There are also the simpler things -- like flavor.

Remember, this is not an exercise for bloggers. It's for everyone.

In the Bay Area, we are fortunate enough to be able to source most products locally, but I know that not everyone lives in such a food mecca. That might make your challenge even more difficult. Do what you can. The point is not to kill yourself driving miles and miles to the one local apple orchard so you can make your husband's birthday pie. The point is to raise your awareness.

Here's how I've decided to structure my own Eat Local challenge.
1. I am defining "local" (e.g. the foodshed) as anything grown within California.
2. If something is not grown in the state, e.g. wheat for pasta, spices like salt and pepper, coffee I will not abstain from eating them. I will just try to find the best alternative...
3. ...meaning buying bread, pastries, coffee and the like from locally owned businesses.
4. If I cannot find something locally, I'll default to buying something organically grown or, failing that, something that is regional where it is produced e.g. Brie cheese and Champagne from France, Chianti from Italy, etc.
5. If I absolutely have a craving for Twinkies, I'm giving in. Life is hard enough these days without making yourself feel guilty about something new.
6. I'm going to go to the farmer's market as much as I can, but I'm going to shop smart by renewing my subscription for a CSA. That's basically a box of locally grown fruit and veg that is delivered to your door step weekly by any number of participating farms.

Figure out what feels doable for you. Even if it's just making one meal during the month from locally grown produce or locally raised meat or seafood, that's plenty. The point is to support local family farms and increase awareness and appreciation of the bounty of foods that are available near you.

If you would like more information about how to craft your own eating local challenge or to join in, here are a few good resources.

> Guidelines for eating locally from Locavores
> Top 12 reasons to eat locally
> Bay Area foodshed
> Local food in YOUR area
> Join in  the fun! (with instructions for bloggers who want to blog about it)

Recipe Archive

Updated 4/2/07

***

I figured it's about time I collected these all in one place. I can't tell you how many times I've thought, "Now how did I make that?" or "Where did I get that recipe from?" I'll plan to update it regularly.

Some observations that probably don't interest anyone but me:
1. We eat a lot of salads.
2. Soups, too.
3. We're not majorly carnivorous, and when we are it's usually chicken.
4. I rarely make the same thing twice for dinner.
5. I like simple, comforting foods.
6. I should be way fatter than I am! (Check out all the desserts.)

Bon appetit!

Appetizers
Cumin-spiced pumpkin and cream cheese spread
Marinated artichokes
Roasted red pepper dip
Smoked salmon skewers with lemon zest
Spinach and feta dip

Salads
Arborio rice salad with pine nuts and lemon zest
Caesar salad
Caprese salad
Fava bean and tomato salad (see also: Roasted chicken, fava bean, tomato and garlic-crouton salad)
Fava bean salad with walnuts
Nigella's Vietnamese chicken & mint salad
Rice salad with walnuts and green beans
Salade Nicoise
Salmon, butternut squash, and feta salad
Simple green salad
Southwestern chicken salad
Summer salad with corn, haricots verts and cherry tomatoes
Thai wild mushroom salad

Soups and Stews
Asian chicken & corn soup
Butternut squash soup with bacon
Carrot soup with orange and tarragon
Chicken and veggie udon
Cream of zucchini soup with parmesan crisps
Creamy asparagus soup
Edamame & corn chowder
Potage Saint-Germain (pea soup)
Thai-style butternut squash soup with cilantro pesto and seared prawns

Pasta & Risotto
Black pepper pasta with roasted cauliflower and baby broccoli
Capellini with peas, goat cheese & fresh mint
Pasta with fresh herbs and lemon
Pasta with peas and prosciutto
Perciatelli all'Amatriciana (pasta with pancetta and tomatoes)
Risotto with butternut squash and spinach
Risotto with fava beans and artichokes
Spaghetti alla carbonara
Spicy Asian-ish-style pasta
Spaghetti and meatballs
Summer pasta with tomatoes and fresh basil

Entrees: meat
All-American hamburgers
Baked curry-glazed chicken
Blue cheese-stuffed burgers
Chicken & shrimp in tomato cream sauce
Chicken enchiladas with spicy pumpkin sauce
Chicken nachos
Chicken pot pie
Grandma's fried chicken
Sausage pizza
Smothered chicken breasts

Entrees: seafood
Almond-crusted salmon with pineapple salsa
Asian-style sea bass
Batter-dipped cod
Halibut with gremolata
Reddened catfish
Roasted salmon with lemon, zucchini and dill
Salmon with shitake mushrooms and wilted greens
Thai noodles with prawns and peanuts

Entrees: vegetarian
Butternut squash and tomato curry
Citrus-braised tofu stir-fry
Double cheese quiche
Lentils with spinach and goat cheese
Panang vegetable curry
Tomato pie

Vegetables & Sides
Artichokes with new potatoes and feta
Cous cous with feta and pine nuts
Double potato salad
Fried okra
Garlic-lemon green beans with bread crumbs
Italian zucchini and tomatoes
Roasted asparagus
Sweet potato and apple Thanksgiving casserole
Spicy roasted sweet potatoes
Twice-baked potatoes

Dessert: chocolate
Bittersweet chocolate truffles with lime and honey
Buttermilk chocolate cake
Chocolate-pumpkin cupcakes
Chocolate Rice Krispie treats
Chocolate shortbread
Chocolate tapioca pudding
Old-fashioned chocolate cake

Dessert: cookies
Banana oatmeal cookies
Chunky peanut, chocolate & cinnamon cookies
Pumpkin-chocolate chip cookies
World's best chocolate chip cookies

Dessert: fruit
Apple and pear crumble
Blood orange tart
Nectarine and blackberry crostata
Peach cobbler

Dessert: other
Blood orange sorbet
Bourbon Street sundaes
Carrot cake
Clotilde's yogurt cake
Ice cream sandwiches
Million dollar pie
Peanut brittle
Strawberry ice cream

Beverages
Fruit smoothie
Mango lassi
Orange tipple cocktail
Pimm's No. 1 cocktail
Wendy's hangover cure

Breakfast-y baked goods
Blackberry scones
Strawberry bread

Sauces
Basil pesto
Marinara sauce
Tartar sauce
Tomato sauce with olives

Other
Paneer
Pimiento cheese

A Star (Taco!) is Born

Mmm, I had me some goooood carnitas last night! I snuck into Mamacita's with a friend for a dinner that was part business, part pleasure. We snacked on chilaquiles and chili rellenos made with fat jalapeños (I got a hot one, although no one believed me...Nate, one of the owners, accused me of being a wimp. Harumph.) And the tacos? Oh, the tacos. Tender, juicy Niman Ranch pork goes into the carnitas, which is then topped with sweet corn, guacamole and queso fresco. The tortillas are handmade in the morning by genuine señoras (if you've never seen those women pat them out, I suggest a road trip to Santa Barbara.)

A quick chat with Mr. "You-are-a-spice-wimp" Nate revealed that nearly all of the food they source is local and sustainably raised. In fact, they are working on getting fresh veggies from several acres of Sonoma farmland that will soon be dedicated to production for the restaurant. I might get the opportunity to tour it for a new writing assignment I've got. How cool is that?

But back to the nosh. I hear that the spice-rubbed pork chop is divine, though I cannot judge myself, but the churros dusted with cinnamon sugar and served with a small cup of Mexican hot chocolate are heavenly, all crunchy and sugary outside, doughy and soft inside. As my dinner companion so elegantly did, drink whatever's left of the hot chocolate. You wouldn't want it to go to waste. (Is it just me, or is Mexican hot chocolate "hot" these days?)

A word on the noise: I had avoided Mamacita because I'd heard that it was louder in there than a WWII air raid, and I hate to shout (a lady never does, did you know that?) But I was pleasantly surprised. There's no denying the din, but S. and I talked easily the entire night, even when the place was at full throttle. I'm not sure if a larger table would have felt the same way, but if you can sneak in at 5:30 when it opens, you're guaranteed at least an hour's peace.

S. and I agreed, upon leaving, that Mamacita does the classics right. The tacos stick to the basics -- carne asada, carnitas, deep-fried mahi and chicken (there isn't an ahi tuna version in sight!) -- but they've updated them with the best ingredients the Bay Area has to offer. My Mamacita margarita was good, if a little sweet for my taste (I prefer fresh-squeezed lemon juice with a twist of lime) but the Argentinian Malbec was trippin'. Yo-lé.

Revival

It's been a week of religious moments.

First, there was the second coming of Moses (wasn't that supposed to be Jesus? Oops!)

Then there was Easter, chockfull of the God I worship -- chocolate.

Finally, there was the Meetinghouse revival Mr. Food Musings and I attended last night at the Elite Café. Hear ye, hear ye, the biscuits are back -- warm, flaky, and so full of butter you can smell it on 'em! With a glass of my favorite wine I was happier than a pig in ... um... a blanket.

(That's right. We went out. Again. And actually, again. It's old hat by now, folks, so let's move on, shall we?)

Mr. Food Musings and I Go Out to Dinner! (or, A Tale of a Recovery)

Holy guacamole, folks, we went out to dinner last night! I know, it sounds pretty anti-climactic -- a food blogger and her boyfriend went out to eat? (yawn). But this is the first time we've been able to do that in about 2 months.

YEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAW!

I got all gussied up in this dress I bought right after Mr. FM fell. I've been saving it up for a special occasion, and a few weeks ago when it was starting to look like what we thought would be a l-o-n-g recovery was going to stretch into a r-e-a-l-l-y  l-o-n-g recovery, I set my goal: I'd wear that fancy new dress with the silk black top and the flowy white skirt when Mr. FM and I could finally go out to eat. I've been looking at my pretty spring dress, fingering the soft flowery fabric for weeks, shutting the closet door on it day after day with an apologetic glance. "Pick me, pick me!" it seems to say. I know, honey. I know.

Then yesterday dawned all rosy and warm outside, but it wasn't quite so nice Chez Food Musings. Mr. FM gets these terrible spasms that mutiny and take over his entire body. Sometimes they're mild, other times violent, but either way they make it hard for him to walk. Yesterday they were pretty ugly, but we soldiered on and went for a walk around the park near our apartment.

"Doesn't the beautiful spring weather cheer you up?" I asked as we passed by a clear view of the Bay all the way down to Alcatraz and beyond.

He was silent for a moment, then looked left at the water.

"I wish it did," he answered.

As the weather got ever so much worse -- the sun pouted behind pale gray clouds, the balmy breezes turned cold and a smattering of rain drops fell -- Mr. FM got ever so much better. By the time acupuncture was over, he was in damn fine spirits and his tremors had all but vanished. We talked about what we might do for dinner, and I floated the idea of catfish and okra.

Then I got got all glinty-eyed and slid him a sidelong glance.

"Or, if you feel up to it, we could go out." My heart was pounding. Disappointment is easy to come by these days and I didn't want to get my hopes up.

"Okay."

That was it. A simple yes.

So we headed home, swinging first by our favorite café for a bittersweet hot chocolate, then dropping into the market for dinner supplies -- just in case. At home, Mr. FM trudged to the bed, exhausted from the afternoon's activities, and begged to rest. I handed him a few magazines and trotted off to get some work done.

A few hours later, 'round about 8 o'clock, I went in to check on him.

"Ready for some dinner?" I asked. Then I held my breath. Would we go out? Or stay in?

"Why don't we go to Vivande?"

As quick as you can say jackrabbit, I brushed on a fresh layer of lip gloss, slipped my party dress over my head and pushed Mr. FM and his cane out the door. As we walked along, I really did feel a bit of a spring in my step. Who cares that the San Francisco wind was blowing hard enough to turn my coif into a rat's nest? I was off to dinner with my beloved (in my pretty dress!) and all was -- almost -- right with the world.

"Why Vivande?" you may wonder. "It's your first dinner out in ages, why not go somewhere with a lot of bells and whistles?" I'm glad you asked. An excerpt from my very first post on Vivande, over a year ago:

For Mr. Food Musings and me, it’s a special place: the place we used to go on Sunday nights, back when I was an advertising slave and couldn’t bear the thought of another work week full of bitchy clients and impossible deadlines; the place we still go when one of us has gotten bad news, or when neither of us can face cooking; the place we’ve taken family and friends for as long as we’ve lived around the corner; the place we dash into when the rain starts to fall and we need to get inside, quick; the place we go when we’re making up. We bought our very first black truffle there, about two years ago. We carried it home, proud and careful, our baby nestled in a soft bed of arborio rice. We set it on the counter and stared at it for a while. "Is it really ours?"

Last night we ate the first favas of the season, sautéed with onions in olive oil and topped with thin shavings of ricotta salata. I twirled forkful after forkful of fettucine in a sauce of tomatoes and cream flecked with green onions. For dessert, we shared a lemon tart (what else? Vivande's is the best I've ever had, not counting my Aunt Margaret's but hers isn't for sale and it isn't close by so what can you do?) Our friendly neighborhood waiter welcomed us back and was nice enough to ignore the fact that Mr. FM hadn't shaved in a week and was wearing track pants ("my old folks' clothes," Mr. FM calls them).

We love Vivande, oh yes we do.

As we sat at our table last night, talking politics and sipping wine, I felt happy, a kind of happy that most people haven't had the bad luck to ever feel because it's the kind that comes to you only after you've walked up to a wall built of sorrow and fear, leaned your head against it and put palms flat to touch its rough surface. "How will I ever climb this wall?" you think. It seems to stretch from the ground to the sky.  But you look for a handhold and a foothold, and you start. Sometimes you slip and fall, maybe just a few scary feet, maybe all the way to the bottom. Every now and then someone comes along to give you a boost. Then you look up one day and realize that, okay, your hands may be bloody and raw from clambering and your legs may be sore, but you can see the top. And you know that, as much as it will hurt to keep climbing, as much as your muscles will ache and strain, you can do it. You might even think, if you have had a few glasses of wine, bring it on.

Vivande Porta Via, San Francisco, 2125 Fillmore Street, 415-346-4430

 

Fame! Fortune! Prizes!

Welcome to the first ever Food Musings contest.

A few weeks ago, I was contacted by the author of a new cookbook called I Want My Dinner Now! She asked if I'd like to review the cookbook, and I said sure. When it arrived, though, I realized that I have way too much going on in my life right now to read a cookbook and make at least 3 recipes (which is what I think is the proper way to review cookbooks). So, being a fair-minded individual, I offered to send the cookbook back or to give it away as a gift to one of my readers. She happily agreed to the gift idea.

A quick glance at the book tells me it would be great for someone who's a beginner cook, someone who might be a little shy at making their own pie crust or who thinks roasted red peppers only come in a jar at the grocery store. I think it would also make a great gift for cooking-impaired bachelors and kids just graduating from college who'll need to learn to cook for themselves for the first time. The recipes are simple and familiar -- think lasagna, Tex-Mex scrambled eggs, vegetable curry. What's more, they're geared towards someone who has little time to put together dinner.

If this sounds like a cookbook you'd like to have, riddle me this: What book am I currently devouring?

Hint:
1) It was just released Tuesday, April 11th
2) It was written by a Bay Area writer
3) It's a non-fiction book in the vein of Fast Food Nation
4) The author is giving a talk on May 7th at the Ferry Plaza Farmer's Market

(Disclaimer: First correct answer to be posted in the comments section wins. No purchase necessary. Friends and family excluded. (Sorry!) Friends are defined for these purposes only as people with whom I've gotten together for social reasons at least twice.)