Last week, I ate at Essencia, executive chef Anne Gingrass' just-opened Peruvian joint in Hayes Valley. Read all about my meal over at KQED's Bay Area Bites.
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June 14, 2007
June 13, 2007
Donna's Tamales
Shirley Virgil (L) and Donna Eichhorn (R) of Donna's Tamales. Photograph reprinted with permission.
If you’ve ever eaten a homemade tamale, you know just how good they can be. The mere thought of soft, sweet corn masa molded around ooey-gooey cheese and roasted chilies is enough to make my tummy rumble. But unless you have a Mexican grandmother, getting your hands on a good one isn’t easy. Enter Donna Eichhorn and Shirley Virgil, the founders of Donna’s Tamales.
Four days a week, they make tamales fresh from masa that’s been ground and cooked that morning. Everything is vegetarian, from the classic Cheese Chile Corn tamale with roasted Anaheim chilies, to one stuffed full of red and black beans, yams, poblano chilies and ancho chili sauce. There are ever-changing seasonal selections – “We try to reflect what’s in the market,” Shirley explains – and depending on the month, you might see tamales bursting with asparagus from the Delta or the first zucchini of the season.
Inspired by the green corn tamales Donna liked to devour right off the plane on visits to Arizona, she left her job as the head chef of a restaurant fifteen years ago and hasn’t looked back. One cornerstone of the business is a commitment to organic ingredients, from dried white corn to locally made Monterey Jack, white cheddar and jalapeno Jack cheeses, and from Wildwood tofu to Muir Glen tomatoes. Another cornerstone is helping the community by donating food to numerous organizations several times a year.
The Goods – Fresh vegetarian and vegan tamales served hot or to go, plus burritos, pupusas, enchamales, and salsa
The Markets – Ferry Plaza (Tuesdays), Marin Civic Center (Thursdays & Sundays), Oakland/Grand Lake (Saturdays) and Oakland/Temescal (Sundays)
Fun Fact – Every year, Donna’s Tamales serves their kid-friendly corn tamales to inner city kindergartners during a field trip to the Ferry Plaza farmers’ market. In return, Shirley says they get “fabulous fan mail.”
Originally published in "Fresh from the Farm," Northside San Francisco May 2007. "Fresh from the Farm" is a monthly column on sustainable agriculture, humane husbandry & artisanal food production. Reprinted with permission.
June 12, 2007
Zuckerman's Farm
Farmer Roscoe Zuckerman during an interview with CUESA volunteer Jen Maiser. Note the asparagus on his tee shirt.
Mother Nature chose well when she selected asparagus as the first sign of spring. It’s green, after all (though there are white and purple varieties, too) and its feathery tips resemble flower buds waiting to open.
Asparagus season (mid-February – late May) finds Roscoe Zuckerman, a third generation asparagus farmer from the Central Valley, at farmers' markets all over the Bay Area. His shock of white hair makes him easy to spot as he unloads crates or prepares his famous deep-fried spears. He sells up to 2,000 pounds of asparagus a week at the peak of the season, and his jumbo bunches, which are tenderer than thinner varieties, often sell out by 10 a.m.
Roscoe’s farm occupies close to 3,000 acres in Stockton, with 700 acres dedicated to asparagus. (He also grows eight kinds of potatoes, and corn for kettle corn.) He’s experimenting with a purple variety known as Purple Passion; look for that next year. It takes three years before asparagus can be harvested from the crown, the plant’s root system, and another year or two before the plant reaches full production. All Roscoe’s asparagus is picked, sorted and packed by hand. Though the farm isn’t certified organic, he tends his crops conscientiously, spraying only after the harvest is over for the year.
When asparagus season ends, you can content yourself with Roscoe’s handmade ravioli stuffed with asparagus, Parmesan cheese, mushrooms, and a secret ingredient or two.
The Goods – Several varieties of asparagus, plus potatoes and kettle corn.
The Markets – Ferry Plaza, Marin, and other local markets in season.
Fun Fact – Saturdays at Ferry Plaza, Roscoe deep-fries jumbo spears and serves them hot with condiments like Parmesan cheese, balsamic vinegar, ranch dressing, soy sauce, and – Roscoe’s personal favorite – hot Chinese mustard and ketchup.
Originally published in "Fresh from the Farm," Northside San Francisco April 2007. "Fresh from the Farm" is a monthly column on sustainable agriculture, humane husbandry & artisanal food production. Reprinted with permission.
June 11, 2007
La Cocina at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market
Jason Rose (L) and Caleb Zigas (R) of La Cocina Community Kitchen
Most of you know all about La Cocina's farmers' market stall from earlier posts, but as part of my promise to put all my "Fresh from the Farm" columns online (and in case there is renewed interest in, say, the sinfully good clairesquares -- ahem partygoers) here you go. More this week, including the King of local asparagus and the Queen of tomales.
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Flaky handheld pies stuffed with peppery beef. Buttery shortbread topped with caramel and a stamp of Belgian chocolate. Sweet jams made from nothing but sugar, lemon juice, and locally grown fruit. What do these treats have in common? They’re all made at La Cocina Community Kitchen, and beginning this February they’re available every Saturday at the Ferry Plaza farmers’ market.
La Cocina opened two years ago to help low-income entrepreneurs, primarily minority women, turn their food-related small business dreams into reality. The non-profit commercial kitchen located in the Mission provides more than a dozen participants with inexpensive kitchen space and advice from industry experts including chefs and marketers.
Though several La Cocina participants sell their wares at the Alemany Farmers’ Market, the Ferry Plaza stand can showcase more products to a wider audience – one that is already clamoring for more. On the first Saturday, program director Caleb Zigas and culinary director Jason Rose awoke at 5 a.m. to load their truck. By noon, the hot food was gone. By the end of the day, they had sold everything they brought.
The booth is designed for browsing, and each week they’ll be sampling something new. As new businesses get up and running, they’ll be added to the selection.
The Goods – Includes food from 7 La Cocina businesses: meat and veggie pies (Mystipies), vegetarian spring rolls (Shi’s Tofu), chocolate- and caramel-covered shortbread (Clairesquares), seasonal fruit jam (CMBsweets), plantain chips (Estrellita’s Snacks), alfajores (Sabores del Sur) and Brazilian honey cakes (Kika’s Treats). Hot items will rotate on a monthly basis.
The Markets – Alemany and Ferry Plaza farmers’ markets. The Ferry Plaza stand is located outside between The Fatted Calf and Bluebottle Coffee Company.
Fun Fact – La Cocina businesses draw from culinary traditions all over the world, from South Africa to Ireland, and from Chile to El Salvador.
Originally published in "Fresh from the Farm," Northside San Francisco March 2007. "Fresh from the Farm" is a monthly column on sustainable agriculture, humane husbandry & artisanal food production. Reprinted with permission.
June 09, 2007
Happy Girl Kitchen Company
Most every Saturday, I come home with a big glass jar of Happy Girl Kitchen Co. spicy pickled carrots. And then I eat them all really fast, trying hard not to let Mr. Food Musings know I've opened another batch. Let him buy his own.
But this morning was different. At a friend's suggestion, I also nabbed a small jar of cumin pickled green beans.
Holy Mother of God, people. Mr. FM can have the carrots from now on.
In honor of these awesome organic pickled vegetables, which are sold by two of the absolute loveliest human beings at the market, I thought I'd republish my latest "Fresh from the Farm" column about Happy Girl Kitchen Company. I'm also going to go back through my FFTF archives and reprint all the columns I meant to put online, but never did.
***
With markets bursting under the weight of English shelling peas in paper sacks, fist-sized artichokes, and – suddenly – peaches, it might seem crazy to feature pickles. That alone is a testament to just how delicious Happy Girl Kitchen Company’s pickled and preserved vegetables are.
Truthfully, the gorgeous farmer’s market display grabbed me first. Rays of sunlight glinted off glass jars, big and small, full of cumin-spiced green beans, bright amethyst beets, fat carrot wedges swimming in a vinegary bath, and heirloom tomato juice settled into brilliant layers of red and gold. The carrot addiction soon followed.
Todd and Jordan Champagne are the operation’s canners extraordinaire. Todd first learned the craft from Vermont farmers whose winter survival depended on putting up summer produce. After spending time on a fjord farm in Norway, helping friends and preserving berries, the couple headed to California to apprentice on organic farms.
In 2000, they started pickling vegetables in partnership with Happy Boy Farms, and two years ago they went solo. The small-batch pickles are made in old-fashioned speckled enamel pots with hand-cut vegetables they buy from organic farms near their Santa Cruz County home. They add apple cider vinegar, filtered water, sea salt, herbs, and spices in a process that owes much to World War II Victory Gardens, as well as Mexican, Italian, and Indian traditions. Then they pack the jars themselves.
The Goods – Sourdough pickles, pickled spicy carrots, cumin green beans, heirloom tomato juice, salsa, marinara, ketchup, pesto, strawberry lemonade, cherries in honey water.
The Markets – Ferry Plaza (Saturday), Santa Cruz farmers’ market (Wednesday), Rainbow Grocery (SF), Star Grocery (Berkeley). Also at the Slanted Door bar in select cocktails.
Fun Fact – Four-year-old Ry Champagne helps his parents by placing grape leaves in jars, spooning in pickling spices, and packing up pickles for market day.
Originally published in "Fresh from the Farm," Northside San Francisco June 2007. "Fresh from the Farm" is a monthly column on sustainable agriculture, humane husbandry & artisanal food production. Reprinted with permission.
March 31, 2007
Spring Strawberries
They're back! My first hint that strawberries were coming 'round the mountain again was Wednesday night at Manresa. We had a strawberry souffle and, alongside it, a shotglass of fresh berries.
These specimens, from Yerena Farms, are really sweet. Mmm... that makes me happy.
(What doesn't make me happy? Leaving $10 worth of tomatoes somewhere at the farmers' market. Grrr...)
March 27, 2007
Marin Sun Farms: Thoughts on Sunday's Tour
Sunday something quite extraordinary happened: Mr. Food Musings and I both got out of bed by 8 a.m. It may not sound like much to you, but trust me when I say that we sleep late in our house. Though I act proud of it, in truth it makes me feel desperately guilty and very lazy, but I tell myself that the only reason other people don't sleep as late as we do has nothing to do with being better people, the kind who are bursting with ambitious goals and peppy hearts; it's because they can't. Well, we can. Mr. FM is home on temporary 6-month disability leave, and I work from home. In fact, I am sitting here at 9:30 in the morning, typing away in my PJs.
But I digress, as the rooster in the photo to the left so clearly shows. We were up early to drive north to Point Reyes Station for Marin Sun Farms' annual farm tour. Marin Sun Farms raises 100% grass-fed cattle for beef as well as broiler chickens, pastured eggs, and, as of this year, goats. I have toured the farm before. About a year ago, I contacted David Evans, the rancher there, because I wanted to write about him for my Fresh from the Farm column. He invited me up, asking if I wouldn't mind doing some work with him -- the only way he'd have time to show me around. I eagerly said yes, and promptly set about choosing an appropriate outfit. (Hey, I used to write a fashion column, too.)
The shit-kicking boots I chose were perfect. But the mini-skirt? Well, let's just see you climb on the back of an ATV in that skirt without pulling a Britney. (For the sake of absolute and utter clarity, I would like to note that I love panties and I wear them every day.)
Hmm, where was I? Oh yes, talking about the farm. David and I zoomed around the property that day, moving steers from one pasture to the next with the help of his trusty dog, Bueno. He told me all about the history of the historic "H" Ranch that has been in his family for three generations, the native grasses such as white clover and perennial rye that the animals munch on from birth until death, his efforts to raise cattle in a way that mimics the way large herds once used the land, the health benefits of grass-fed beef (higher Omega-3 fatty acids, for one thing), the danger of industrial feedlots and slaughterhouses, the way he ages his beef up to 50 days at the butcher shop before selling it retail. We then drove down to his parents' main property to look at the chickens. They're secured in a henhouse at night to protect them from predators, but during the day they have unfettered access to pasture, just like the cows.
David showed us all that and more on our tour Sunday. A group of 50 or so folks gathered at the butcher shop and loaded onto buses for the trip to the farm, near Inverness. David walked us by "fragrant" piles of composting manure and food, old farm equipment, and compressing peat that will be used to feed the cattle. We watched the steer lumbering along in a vast swath of green pasture, munching the grass or lolling about the landscape, truly "happy cows." We saw young chickens of varying ages that will be sold at market, head and feet on, in another few weeks. We saw laying hens in gorgeous shades of ginger and tobacco brown who scattered at the merest hint of an approach. The gray and white-flecked roosters cock a doodle doo'ed every so often, claiming their turf, but they were no fiercer than the ladies. David stepped into the henhouse and pulled out a few just laid eggs, some tan, others pale blue-green. We paid a visit to the goats that David's sister is raising for meat. The kids were just a few months old and they were clumsy and energetic, jumping up and down in their pen and tackling one another as their mothers stood by, watching them play. The tour ended at the chicken slaughtering facility, a low-tech operation that consists of nothing more than a series of metal cones where the chickens are placed upside down and their jugular veins slit, a bath where the carcasses are dunked in hot water, and a rubber finger-lined barrel that spins them to remove the feathers. Then they are bagged and stored until they go to market the next day. There is also an egg washing facility inside, and dozens upon dozens of the eggs were loaded up and ready to go.
David is smart, witty and articulate. Among other things, he talked about sustainability as self-sustaining, and it made me stop and think. "I'm not sure we can ever be truly sustainable," he said, "but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try." He buys organic chicken feed and hay for his cattle, for instance, so it's not a purely closed loop.
He also talked about creatures, including us, as vessels of solar energy. I'd never thought of the chicken or steak I eat as something that takes in the sun's energy, eats, excretes, and thus nourishes the soil. He also discussed balance. The chickens root through cow pies to eat the fly larvae, and in doing so, they distribute the manure across a wider area, fertilizing it. It also means fewer flies to bother the cows.
After the tour, we went back to the butcher shop and sat down outside to a lunch of roast beef sandwiches, cookies and beer. Mr. FM and I sat next to Alan Pehrson, the sous chef at Acme Chophouse, one of the local restaurants that serves Marin Sun Farms beef. David came over and sat down, and we talked more -- about the goats and how they're selling (they sold three baby goats for Easter in one Saturday at the market; there's still one more available) and about David's ideas for saving the local Petaluma slaughterhouse from closure, now that it's been sold by its aging owners to a developer.
On our drive home, Mr. FM told me, "I used to think that the 'Save the family farms' movement was bullshit. If agribusiness can do it better, great." Gulp. "But now I've changed my mind." Dinner that night was a juicy, grass-fed steak.
Related posts:
My photo essay
Mr. Food Musings' blog posts 1 and 2 on the subject.
March 26, 2007
March 16, 2007
The Best little Alfajores in Texas
If I had an editor they'd nix that headline since these dulce de leche-filled babies are made right here at home in San Francisco. (The writer in me is still snickering.) A friend and I dropped by the ExpoCocina this week, where all participants of the La Cocina commercial kitchen were showing off their wares. One bite of these and I knew I was in trouble. I dashed back to the Sabores del Sur booth to tell Guisell Osorio how delicious her powdered sugar-covered cookies were (well, it was a small space so "dash" perhaps lends a mistaken impression of my efforts) and there she was, smiling at me. Guisell may be the nicest woman on Earth, full of smiles and laughter and always a joke on the tip of her tongue, the kind of person who loves life and makes you want to love it more, too.
"These are the best alfajores I've ever had!" I gushed. Guisell just smiled and invited me to have another one. She even put out a fresh plate for the photo.
Why are they so good? If you've ever had an alfajor (or, like me, many, many alfajores) you know they're buttery biscuit-style cookies joined in the middle by a layer of dulce de leche and showered with powdered sugar. But quality varies widely, and all alfajores are not created equal. Guisell's epitomize the exquisite: soft cookie with just a little snap, enough powdered sugar to endanger your new black top but not your new black pants, and -- the best and most important layer -- a ribbon of dulce de leche that is this cookie's raison d'etre. In a bad alfajor, it's nothing more than glue holding the cookies together. Guisell's dulce de leche was soft and honey-colored, spread on thick enough to see from a distance, rich enough to thrust itself into the spotlight. It was creamy but not overly sweet, and not sticky at all. If you'll permit me the cliche, it was a small bite of heaven.
Available at the Saturday Ferry Plaza farmer's market at the La Cocina stand (regular and chocolate-coated) and by special order.
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