Let the diligence of the gardener not be judged by their zucchini. They may tend to their plants every day, patiently weeding and watering, maybe even singing to them. No matter the level of care, there is without fail, in every garden, a lurking giant hiding under the leaves waiting to scare the bejeesus out of you when it reaches two feet long and you finally spot it. Grumbling and only partially pleased that your soil is SO fertile to grow such a thing (though I swear they would do just as well in a dusty ditch by the side of the road), all you can say is, "What the hell am I supposed to do with all this squash?"
Read morejust me and my MUHAMMARA
I am a damn fool for a good sauce. While I can usually be contented by the old lemon juice, olive oil and sea salt trick, sometimes you need something more luxurious. Muhammara, a sauce that originated in Syria, is traditionally made with walnuts, breadcrumbs and pomegranate molasses along with the roasted red peppers. I had none of the above the first time I made the dish and thus created a California girls' version of this ancient spread. I substituted almonds for the walnuts, which I think lends enough sweetness to make up for the lack of molasses. As for the breadcrumbs, I am always happy to throw them out of a recipe, because it is one of those steps that is actually three steps in one. And really, unless you're making meatballs, they don't do squat. Instead, I hit the spices hard - cumin, smoked Spanish paprika and garlic.
Read moreThe Family Files: Part I
A few months ago I went to visit my Uncle in Denver. To greet me was a pile of folders - the contents of my grandfathers personal papers. Some were leases or salary negotiations that had to do with his company in Chicago, Acme Machinery Co. But most were letters from his mistress, Mae, affectionately knows “Wiggie”. Page after page of thin translucent paper was filled with her large cursive script. She was my grandfather Myron’s true love, they had been together for many years before he met my grandmother. In the words of my Aunt Deb, she smoothed all of his edges. I had only heard of her existence a few years ago, and was frankly clueless as to the depth of their relationship.
Read morethe great SMOKE out
The day I got promoted from Garde Manger (salad/dessert station) to Grill, I was over the moon. It was 2004 or 2005 at The Olema Inn - now transformed into Sir & Star - and my chef Ed Vigil had really taken me under his wing, teaching an untrained rookie how to cook. He liked having me there because I was a college educated quick learner who was happy listening to NPR with him all day, and I liked it because - I was a line cook! Whether it was out of scheduling necessity or because I'd earned it, moving up to the new station opened up another world. I loved working the grill, keeping all of the temperatures straight, learning the hot spots, and generally feeling important. And then, a few months later, I decided to become a vegetarian.
Read morewhat's an EINKORN?
One of the advantages to being married to a bread baker and flour miller is the stupid depth of knowledge I've been able to soak up about different grains. A few years ago, if you would have told me einkorn is an instrument related to the tuba, I would have believed you. The much more clever me now knows that einkorn can be better described as a cute little farro. Brain plasticity is a wonderful thing.
Read moreSICILY in our eyes
I have had a hard time putting together my thoughts around our time in Sicily. Yes we were exhausted, mentally and physically, when we arrived. Yes we visited in the off season when over half of the businesses are closed. However that may have colored our impressions I can't say. What I can say is that Sicily felt unmistakably like a lost and forgotten land. With a 20% unemployment rate, 38% among young people, the huge flux of emigration over the past twenty years or so has robbed the island of many of its entrepreneurs and youthful energy. Houses are abandoned but not sold, simply left boarded and locked to await their owners who will not return. Construction projects are halted mid-way, leaving windowless office buildings to crumble back to the earth.
Read moreBakers without Borders
Of course there was disappointment. Committing a year of one's life to a single endeavor and in the course of one day have it all be decided is the true nature of competition. And man can it be harsh. Like running a race, there are endless variables beyond your control, and you hope to rise above. In the afterglow of the day there are many things that can be replayed over and over. But who wants to do that? Instead, let us rest our eyes on the brightest spark left now that it's all over - the relationships.
Read moreGOLD or bust
People - you need not wait until February 7th to root for your team. On February 6th history will be in the making in Paris, and that is what everyone should really be paying attention to. This ain't no sporting event. What is about to go down is a true competition in every sense of the word, a test of speed, skill, creativity, and focus. This, my friends, is an international baking competition.
Read moreSMASHED Beets
I do not claim to have ever loved beets. Sometimes I think they taste like dirt. Other times, with the right treatment, they are sweet and sharp and I could actually eat a pile of them. So when two years ago, post Mill Valley Beerworks, my good buddy and very talented chef David Wilcox started cooking everything exclusively outdoors over wood fire, I came along to help out and see what he was up to with that 15# bag of beets.
Read moreA ROSTI by any other name
I used to be an over-coordinator. Maybe it's too soon to use the past tense so casually. I am less often an over-coordinator with every year that passes. It could be the influence of being around so many friends with small children who fly in the face of your planning. Or that I'm simply chilling out as I age. Whatever the reason, it feels good to loosen the reigns a little bit, or "go with the flow" as hippies such as myself like to say.
Read morethe return of the CHEFY
I am officially back at the helm of the stoves at M.H. Bread & Butter. And stoked! When I heard that my replacements had put in their notice, I had no other single thought in my mind: I must go back. It seemed impossible to ask customers to stomach yet another menu change, not to mention the stress that another chef change puts on the front of house staff, the cooks, and the huge strain it would put on the owners. I am very happy that Devon and Nathan felt the same way.
Read moreI'm a BUSINESS, man.
One day I had an empty calendar, bare feet, a great suntan and dirt clogging my fingernails, and the next day my phone was ringing off the hook and I was all booked up. Five events in one week meant my catering business was officially rocking and I retreated inside for many, many hours in the kitchen. I have been fortunate to get a lot of referrals from nice people who like me, and even more fortunate to book a lot of different kinds of events - variety is truly the spice of life. I swung from a private school garden party to a catalog photo shoot to a dinner at a crazy beautiful Belvedere home.
Read morelike butter baby
We inherited a rather fantastic apple tree on our property in Woodacre. At some point in time it was grafted with four different types of apples, so that each section of the tree shows a distinct personality. I have no clue what the varieties are, but one wears red stripes like a Gala, another is honeyed and soft, and a third crunchy and bright...a Gravenstein? When this tree gives, she gives. Late summer found me struggling to find creative ways to preserve the bounty. Jar upon jar of applesauce line the shelves next to snappy, cinnamon laced apple chips from the dehydrator. The most alluring transformation, however, happened in a big, sticky pot of apple butter.
Read morenot your MAMA's hot sauce
One of my closest friends in college was a 6'5" red headed Frenchman named Bruce. He was at one point a member of an organization called Clowns without Borders, and later went on to work for the World Bank. He was an interesting character to say the least. Between existential philosophy, economics classes and theater, Bruce spent his time in the kitchen of my dorm house, crying. These were not tears of sadness or tears of joy, they were straight up tears of FIRE!
Read moreit's chicken terrine.
It was going to be a big leap - until then I had only ever worked under someone as sous chef extraordinaire, dutifully following direction, maintaining the chef's vision and fielding questions from the rest of the cooks. And then, two years ago, I had the opportunity, thanks to the faith of Devon & Nathan Yanko, to lead my own kitchen. I am so happy I took that leap.
Read morecamp CHEFY
And then one day it became clear - pasta is the ultimate camp food. I was 18 and living in Florence for the summer while taking a film making program through NYU. At that moment however school was a distant thought as I struggled to fit in among the shaggy, bohemian young Italians camped riverside at a music festival outside of town. When they weren't smoking hash the cool kids were getting busy with huge pots of water, boiling and straining pasta. My American mind was reeling - pasta and camping? I was used to hot dogs, canned beans, maybe a quesadilla. That day the world shifted a little bit. Pasta stepped into the great outdoors.
Read moreback of the house
A kitchen is only as strong as its dishwasher. Not the machine (though hopefully that's in good working order), but the person who daily performs the wet, thankless, finger pruning task of washing every dish and scrubbing every pot in the place. I am thankful to previous chefs who taught me to treat them well, sneak over little treats (salmon collar snacks!) and show respect to the guy who often doesn't get a whole lot of it. This translates to how I feel about the entire kitchen staff: they are the rock and the wheels of a restaurant. And most of them are immigrants, some legal some not.
Read moreain't no party like a taco party
There is a journey to my over-involved and somewhat obsessive thought process in the dinner menu planning department: what starts on the foggy coast of Brittany, travels over the Moroccan desert, and dives through every wormhole in my brain, invariably leads me to tacos. It is an undisputed fact that I have never encountered a human who did not like tacos. Therefore, as the host, I'm pretty much setting myself up for total success by throwing a big, fat taco party.
Read moreif it's not a yes it's a no
Sometimes I feel like my mind is a sieve. I meet new neighbors, turn around and instantly forget their names. I visit a town and couldn't tell you which way was north, nevermind which direction we came from. But god damn and thank my lucky stars if I didn't hold on tight to the single best piece of advice uttered to me by anyone, anywhere, ever.
Read morejam on it.
Not to be a bore but we are mid-way through summer, pretty much as of today. I know some folks aren't as big of fans of laborious time sucking home projects as I am, but making jam is so gratifying. I usually make up a few smaller jars to give away to visiting friends, and people are STOKED. That's worth it in and of itself.
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