In celebration of our most patriotic holiday, I am declaring my own independence from what I consider one of the most irritating sites on the internet– Yelp.com. Even the name causes me to chafe.

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, the word “yelp” means:

1. Noun: a sharp shrill bark or cry (as of a tog or turkey); (see) also squeal.

2. Intransitive verb: To utter a sharp quick shrill cry.

At least. they’ve given themselves an accurate name.

Perhaps it is my own, personal distaste for democracy, especially in terms of voting for, say, restaurants (think Zagat), pop singers (think American Idol), or even presidents (think about whomever you wish) that makes me dislike sites such as Yelp. Before your underwear gets anymore bunched in places, I am hardly un-American. I am a firm believer in our particular form of government, which happens to be republican, rather than democratic. And before your y-fronts become irretrievably lodged, I am referring to systems of government, not political parties. For the sake of argument today, I shall limit my discussion to restaurant commentary.

It seems that anyone with access to a computer today can write a restaurant review, myself included. But is everyone’s opinion worth reading, let alone writing? That is certainly debatable. I for one, don’t think so.

Call me a snob. Call me an elitist pig. I’ve been called much worse.

Of course, I believe that everyone is certainly entitled to his or her opinion, but many opinions expressed on sites like Yelp are neither well-informed nor, as is more often the case, well-written.

For example, I’ve chosen three reviews of Brenda’s French Soul Food on Polk Street, which has, as of this posting, 338 Yelp reviews. This is from a four yelp star rated piece:

“I enjoyed this place a lot. We found parking right on Vaness. Our wait was about 20 minutes. We arrived at 11am I think. It will seat about 20 people-30people. I did not see Brenda though.”

“My first time eating beignets — I did not know it came in threes, I should of ordered one of each. We got three apple ones. It was gooood and fattening.”

“I ordered the bowl of gumbo (dark gumbo). I am use to the tomatoey colored gumbo but it was pretty good.”

“Also got an entree of the Harrytown special which includes oysters, grits and biscuits.”

“I loved the biscuits.”

“Cute little place to revisit or bring out of towners.”

Harrytown Special? I can only assume she meant Hangtown Fry. With testimonials like this, it’s not surprising the restaurant sustains such long lines out the door. Are reviews such as these typed on a texting keypad, rather than at a keyboard? That would be a charitable explanation of such short sentences. It’s like some unevocative, bastard form of haiku. It horrifies, but that’s just fine, since I tend to savor crappiness. The only point it serves, in my book, is as the object of mockery.

Now here is an excerpt from a not-so-good (two yelp star) review:

“Just before we passed out from hunger, they brought over our beignet flight which was good, our favorite beignet was the crawfish. The only other compliment I have is for the coffee. The breakfast plates were mediocre. My friend, who was starving, took 5 bites of her omelette and left the rest.”

She certainly has a flair for the dramatic. If one decides to set out and review a restaurant, whether one has enjoyed the experience or not, one should, to the best of one’s ability, explain why. What made these crawfish beignets good? What could possibly compel a starving woman to take only five bites of an omelette? These are things I want answered. If a reviewer cannot accurately describe her experience– the food she ate, the service she received, or her surroundings– she has no business wasting anyone’s time with her fourth-grade writing skills. Make that third grade– I know a couple of nine year-olds who write much more vividly.

And, finally, here’s a rather terrible (one yelp star) piece:

“I am as honest as a heartbeat, so believe me when I say that this spot is highly overrated. I just have no desire to come again– wait or no wait.”

“I had a bit of all four of our plates and the sampler benettes, so here goes my opinion…”

“My dish– The Shrimp and Goat Cheese Omelet Grits and Cream Biscuit– The shrimp was not devianed and thus flavorless. I opted not to have the bacon relish on top so I will be fair and refrain from further commenting about it. I like my gritts creamier than it was but it was tastey and the buiscutt was pretty good.”

“Watermelon Sweet Tea– Free refills, but they don’t really tell you that. liked it because it was not sweet, and I like water. It was also luke-warm.”

“The Chalkboard Special, Shrimp Pot Pie- The shrimp was overcooked and rubbery, and the veggies were overcooked and mushy. Boo Hoo!”

Honest as a heartbeat. Perhaps she should have her cardiologist examine her for arrythmia. I don’t trust anyone starts off by telling me how honest she is. It was a bad review on a number of levels, star ratings aside. I do, however, admire her creative spelling, the fact that she feels shrimp proto –intestines are where all the flavor is, and that she can’t tell the difference between a mirror and a chalkboard. I read the bit about why she likes the Watermelon Sweet Tea about ten times.

If you’re interested in reading about her bikini waxing at the Pink Cheeks Skin Salon in Sherman Oaks, I will happily email you her yelp profile.

I had hoped the members of Yelp Elite might be a little more helpful or, at least, better writers, since the elite page states:

“…Yelp members who get in are known for having reviews that are insightful, irreverent and personal (aka useful, funny and cool!).”

Of course, it also requests that Elite members have:

“Personal pizazz! Even after all this, we look for a certain je ne sais quoi—we call it Yelpitude. To paraphrase Supreme Court Justice James Stewart when defining pornography in a case about obscenity, ‘Yelp Elite is hard to define, but we ‘know it when we see it.’“

Perhaps I should have sensed trouble when I realized the Yelp Elite squad (or, at least, the person responsible for writing the copy) had mistaken a much-beloved Campbell’s Soup-hawking actor for Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart.

The first elite reviewer I read was a young lady named Beverly. She went on and on about her experience with a DAT date to Frisée Restaurant in the Castro. I hope that by DAT she meant “Dine About Town”. Please read:

“Sidenote: It was cramped as s**t. We sat upstairs and the ceiling was like 6 feet high and we sat at a tiny itty bitty table next to a tiny itty bitty walk way. Oh and the service. SLOW AS S**T. I want to minus stars for the service but the food was so good I just can’t bring myself to do it.”

What is it about her personal writing style that led her to become part of the Yelp Elite? Was it her penchant for using fecal terms when describing her experience? Perhaps it was her photos (which are required of all Elite members). Maybe her two lip rings at the right-hand corner of her mouth catch enough food so that she might savor it more thoughtfully upon her return home from dining, quill pen in hand and that deep-in-thought dreamy look that only fake, blue-tinted contact lenses can properly convey. Does she have “that certain je ne sais quoi”? I’m thinking it’s more like elle ne sait rien.

Well, I’ve had my fun at Yelp’s expense today, but to be fair(ish), I must say that, in browsing the site for several hours this week, I have come across some people who do offer thoughtful– and fairly well-written– reviews. Case in point: Kerry “Tempura Assassin” K in describing her experience at Burritoville in San Anselmo:

“[My husband] was a little more offended at the sight of iceberg lettuce on his carne asada taco ($2.95) than I was. Granted, yes, iceberg lettuce in a Mexican restaurant is an insult to my intelligence, I was able to forgive. This was largely due to the chips, which were thick, crisp, and toasty as well as a lovely salsa bar, friendly and welcoming service, a clean environment, and a buy 9 get 1 free taco card.”

“Caveat lector: on the back of the frequent buyer card, it spells out the number of tacos in spanish, “uno, dos, etc.” After the 9th one it says “bingo gringo”. Gringo eh? That must mean that either Latinos and Chicanos don’t eat here or the food isn’t real Mexican. So perhaps my taste can’t be trusted with this review. If you keep reading, read on with that in mind.”

Finally, someone who notices and describes those little details that make a review worth reading. That, and the fact that she used the term caveat lector correctly (or at all). A bright, shining tablet of antacid to save me from so much Yelping bile. I’d really like to hug her. If elite membership could be limited to the likes of Kerry, I think I might have a little more faith in the website. Otherwise, what is the point of creating an elite class, if it is open to, well, everyone?

If you accused me of elitism, you’d be absolutely correct in doing so. Why should I waste my time reading the average person’s average review? I don’t want an average guy running my country, building my home, or giving me a colonoscopy. I want experts. I want smart people. Same goes for my restaurant reviewers. If all you can give me in describing a gumbo is “OMGITSAWESUM!!!”, perhaps you should just keep it to yourself. The world beyond your Myspace friends list is not ready for you.

The 4th of July is a huge event in our house. My daughters classify it as the third best holiday, after their birthday and Christmas. Yes, I realize their birthday isn’t a holiday, but try telling that to them.

My daughters’ enthusiasm is due in large part to the fact that our city, Piedmont, goes a bit nuts on July 4th. The day starts off with a pancake breakfast hosted by the fire department (which actually we’ve never attended, but it’s there for all to enjoy). Later, we have a homespun parade, complete with Scottish Highland bands, dog brigades, soccer teams marching, and the Oakland Raiderettes. There’s then a big party in the park with a band, hot dogs and shaved ice. Later in the day, the small streets of Piedmont become no-traffic zones as the majority of neighborhoods settle into their annual block parties.

Each neighborhood’s party is a little different — there are those with bounce houses for the kids, while others have potato sack races — but the common denominator for all are hordes of kids running, scootering, and cycling around what becomes a parking lot of garden chairs in the road filled with adults of all ages. Some may think our parties are a bit hokey, and they may be right, but there’s really something to be said for breaking bread (or rather a hot dog roll) with your neighbors at least once a year.

My favorite part, however, is that there is serious food to be had. Although the parties offer the standard hamburgers, hot dogs, and veggie burgers you see throughout America on July 4th, this is by and large a potluck affair where every family brings a dish. I love scoping out the tables to see what everyone has brought. Sure, some people bring the Safeway platter of cut fruit, but more often than not, my lovely neighbors bring something homemade, which warms my heart and makes me feel less irritated later in the year when I hear their dog barking all night or when a buzz saw wakes me up at 7:00 a.m. on a Sunday because someone has decided to put in a new planter box (Oh wait. That was my husband.).

As our neighborhood’s party just happens to land right on my doorstep, I’m lucky to have the main food table literally touching my front yard. I love checking out the selection and finding out who brought what. We start with the appetizers, brought by families with last names from A-G. These usually include some freshly made guacamoles and salsa, deviled eggs, and prosciutto and cheese plates. Each year, a mother and her daughters bring homemade lychee, maraschino cherry, and lime gelatin in Dixie cups. I barely know this family, and I’m not a big fan of gelatin, but I admire their spirit of culinary experimentation. When I catch a glimpse of them throughout the rest of the year, I fondly recall that they’re the Jell-o family.

H-O families then bring the salads. There’s usually a great range of these, from Capreses and mixed greens, to taco salads and Asian cole slaws. I find it impossible to choose only one or two and so usually opt for small tastes of each.

Finally, the P-Z families bring the desserts. Homemade berry pies are the real stars here, although I am also quite partial to the coffee cakes with brown sugar toppings and freshly baked cookies as well. Sure, some people bring see-through plastic containers of hydrogenated store cookies, but these are always left to linger while the neighborhood discusses recipes and unabashedly debates which dessert is the best.

I am technically an “L,” and so therefore should bring a salad. But, for many years I was an “S” (as in Santoro), and my signature block party dish was always my peach crisp with vanilla ice cream. When I got married, a neighbor asked me to stick with dessert because she looked forward to eating my crisp each year. Since then, I have brought my crisp, even when I had infant twins and just wanted to sack out in a garden chair.

I love this crisp recipe because it’s huge, feeds a crowd, and is ridiculously simple to make. You will see that the directions are a bit vague, but that’s the beauty of this dessert. It’s something you throw together and then share with the neighbors, much like we do with ourselves at the block party.

Block Party Peach Crisp

Serves: 10 people (or thereabouts)

Ingredients:
Filling
4 - 5 pounds of peaches or enough freshly sliced peaches to fill a 9×13” baking pan
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup flour

Topping
1 cup flour
1 cup Instant oatmeal
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
2 sticks butter

Preparation:

1. Slice enough peaches into 1/4 inch slices to fill a buttered 9/13” baking pan to the top
2. Mix in sugar and flour
3. In a separate bowl, combine the flour, oatmeal and brown sugar.
4. Incorporate the butter until it is broken into small chunks (you can do this in a food processor, but I think it comes out better if you just squish the butter with your hands)
5. Set the topping on top of the filling in the pan, spreading evenly.
6. Bake at 350 degrees for about an hour, or until the topping is browned and you can see the peach filling bubbling inside.
7. Set aside to cool a bit and then serve with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.

Sake is a popular beverage but how it pairs with food is still a mystery to most of us. While many people first encounter sake on sushi menus, where sake really shines is with izakaya or tavern style Japanese small plates. Izakaya is getting more and more popular in San Francisco. Great places to try izakaya dishes include Hime, Oyaji and O Izakaya Lounge.

Here’s another great opportunity to try izakaya style cuisine paired and sake. The Japan Society of Northern California, in cooperation with Sozai Restaurant and Sake Lounge and True Sake, presents its next Japanese Language & Cultural Experience Workshop: Sake Appreciation.

Matching food and sake is just like matching food and wine. It’s a fun, imprecise process that largely depends on your own unique taste buds. What’s a perfect match to one may be the ultimate mismatch to another. The important thing is what’s delicious to you!

What: Sake Appreciation
Where: Sozai Restaurant and Sake Lounge, 1500 Irving St., San Francisco
When: 6:00pm-8:00pm, Tuesday, July 15, 2008
How: $30 Japan Society Language Students, $35 Japan Society Members, $45 Non-Members, Space is limited; please RSVP by Friday, July 10th.
Why: This informative tasting workshop will detail different types of sake and answer questions about the intricacies of food pairing. A variety of seasonal delicacies will be served during the tasting, pairing each sake with traditional and contemporary Japanese tapas, all created by Chef Mari.
Note: Although this is a language workshop and some sake-related vocabulary will be introduced, all Japanese language levels are welcome to participate.

Lotus of Siam, a Thai restaurant in Las Vegas, has been lauded as the best Thai restaurant in the country by some of the most well-known critics around. It is known for it’s excruciating attention to detail with sauces and depth of flavor, its expansive German wine list, and its low-key, unpretentious approach.

I’d been aware of Lotus of Siam for years but it didn’t come to the front of my consciouness until recently when it seemed that everyone around me was talking about LOS.

Most notably, I have a good friend who went to Las Vegas solely to eat at LOS. She ate there five times in three days, then happily returned to San Francisco raving about the food and the wine list.

And last week I thumbed through Jay Rayner’s new entertaining book The Man Who Ate the World. In his chapter about Las Vegas, he explores the question of whether Lotus of Siam is the best Thai restaurant in America. His conclusion:

“Either Thai restaurants in the U.S. are staggeringly poor, or Lotus of Siam, an admirable restaurant serving very good food at reasonable prices, had been hyped beyond all human understanding. I tend toward the latter.” Rayner continues on to say that nevertheless, he enjoyed his meal at LOS more than any other in Las Vegas.

Obviously, Lotus of Siam incites very strong feelings among food lovers and I put it at the top of my list when going to Las Vegas last weekend. While a group of girlfriends were shopping and laying by the pool, I grabbed a cab to Lotus of Siam, located in a strip mall about $10 away from the strip.

At lunchtime, LOS offers a buffet which I bypassed and asked for a menu. Armed with advice from others, I ordered the Northern style pork larb, the nam prik noom (a mixture of chilis, garlic, onion and tomato made into a dip for veggies and pork skin) and the Northern style tom kah kai. And just when I thought I couldn’t eat anymore, I ordered the mango sticky rice.

The dishes that came out of the kitchen were outstanding, and I would return in a minute. The flavors were bright and amazing, and I enjoyed every bite. There were a couple of things that I would do differently, however. Next time, I will go with others so that I can taste many more dishes. And next time, I will have a conversation with the server about the spice levels. When at most restaurants, I make sure that the server knows that I like spice, and that even though I have a “vanilla face” I like things hot. But here I didn’t do that — I let my guard down and the food didn’t come out spicy enough for me (it was too spicy, however, for a friend who ate my leftovers and had to gulp down gallons of water afterward).

Is this the best Thai restaurant in the country? I have no idea, and am in no way qualified to answer that. Will I go back? In a heartbeat.

Reasons to go to Lotus of Siam when in Vegas:

1) It’s off the strip, inexpensive, and a good respite from the chaos.
2) The wine list is enormous and a rare exploration into German wines.
3) The depth of flavor in every dish is well thought out and wonderful.
4) The mango sticky rice. Next time I’m in Vegas, I will go there just for this dish.
5) Rare dishes that are hard to find in North America, with a focus on Northern style, Issan dishes.
6) Enormous menu that guarantees you can eat differently many many times. Any level of Thai eater will be happy — beginner or expert.

Lotus of Siam
953 E Sahara Ave, Las Vegas
map
702.735.3033
Open for lunch Monday - Friday

My Midwestern parents live at the epicenter of the soybean industry, but tracking down whole beans still requires a 45-minute drive to the nearest Asian market. We all consume soybean in some form every day, yet few know what the bean even looks like. Tofu has come a long way in the US from its commune days. Yet, it’s not that bland, white cube that is behind soy’s success. Worth ten times more than a bushel of unprocessed beans, derivatives drive the soy market: soy’s emulsifiers, proteins and oils appearing in everything from paint to paint stripper, polyester to protein shakes.

My mother and father’s kitchen is decidedly low-tech, but during my recent visit home, they were proudly showing off to me — with wide-eyed amazement as much as parental pride — their soymilk machine. What I thought was a much-needed, new coffeemaker turned out be an all-in-one soybean grinder, strainer and cooker.

Like any proper immigrant’s appliance, it still sported all its labels and the manual was nowhere to be found. But my parents were happy to provide a demonstration: load soaked beans here, pour water in there, push the button, and wait…ten minutes. The next thing I know, I can smell that same warm, beany smell that once permeated our house on Sunday mornings. Back then, though, there were big pots to stir, endless batches of blender mush to empty and acres upon acres of cheesecloth to wash. Now, all I had to do was pour out the hot milk and pop a couple of plastic parts into the dishwasher. Welcome to the 21st century!

For those of us who grew up with still-warm soymilk, the walls of colorful, aseptic boxes in grocery stores can be somewhat bewildering. I still prefer the unsweetened jugs that are delivered daily to Asian markets, and fortunately for me, I live in a city where I can find it easily. Its flavor is not for everyone, especially those accustomed to ChocoSoy or Soy Frappucino, as no attempt is made to mask its humble leguminous origin.

If your family uses soymilk or tofu regularly, consider investing in a soymilk machine. Or, if you’re one of those curious cooks who like to try everything once, making soymilk the old-fashioned way will help you appreciate, deeply, the convenience of supermarkets. Stop by your friendly neighborhood Asian market for a bag of whole, dried soybeans, or order organic soybeans online from Purcell Mountain Farms. While you’re at it, purchase some nigiri coagulate in order to have a taste of super-fresh tofu, whose silken texture and delicate flavor have moved devotees to heights of poetry.

TAIWANESE BREAKFAST

Fresh, hot soymilk, sprinkled with a little salt or sweetened massively with spoonfuls of sugar, is a typical breakfast in Northern China and Taiwan. Accompanied with crisp-fried crullers (look for places that fry these fresh right up front in the store-window), it’s the perfect combination of comforting protein and filling starch that fuels the first few hours of the day. Try it, along with some dumplings and Southern-style jook, at any of these Bay Area restaurants that specialize in Taiwanese-style breakfast.

Chef Woo Chinese Restaurant
6154 Bollinger Road
San Jose, CA 95129
(408) 255-7520
Google Map

Taiwan Restaurant
445 Clement Street
San Francisco, CA 94118
(415) 387-1789
Google Map

Shanghai Dumpling Shop
455 Broadway
Millbrae, CA 94030
(650) 697-0682
Google Map

I’ve always loved road trips. When I was a kid, my sister and I would lounge in the back of our parents’ blue Caddy: heads on the leather seat; feet propped up on the door near the open windows. We would nap, read, play the license plate game (where you got to punch your sister if you spotted an out-of-state license plate first), sing American Pie at the top of our lungs, and argue. Between bickering and giggling, we would also enjoy quite a few scrumptious meals.

I realize that many people think “scrumptious” and “road trip” are two terms that should never go in the same sentence, but my parents were smart enough to avoid the trail of McDonalds and Jack In the Boxes that seemed to attract all the other families roaring down the highway at about 70 cents a gallon. My parents overlooked these “restaurants” as others ignore bugs smashed on a windshield. They knew they were there. They were just unappealing and so took no notice of their existence.

Instead of fast food, my mom would make fabulous road trip meals. One of my favorites was the Neopolitan equivalent of the Spanish tortilla (i.e., eggs and potatoes) set inside crunchy Italian bread. After sitting for a few hours in its foil wrapping, the eggs and potatoes would adhere to the squishy inside of the bread and the flavors would meld into one of the best sandwiches around. My mom would also sometimes get leftover meatballs from her Italian gravy and make meatball sandwiches in the same Italian bread she used for the eggs. These, combined with a nice piece of fruit and an orange soda were a full meal.

Years later, my husband, kids and I now take our own road trips, although our excursions are a little different than the ones I took as a kid. First of all, my children are securely strapped (sitting up) in booster seats. We’re also paying far more for gas than my parents ever dreamed was possible way back when. But some things never change. Although the license plate game hasn’t made its way to our kids’ repertoire yet, they love to play Punch Buggy (where you get to punch your sister if you see a VW bug), with no punch-backs (meaning she can’t turn around, see the same VW bug, and punch you back — that would be unfair!). They also giggle and argue, read books, and sing random songs for hours on end.

Our excursions usually take us down I-5 to San Diego and LA (where our families live). Anyone who has ever driven down this populated, but seemingly desolate, asphalt line knows there are few non-fast food choices to be had, other than a Split Pea Andersen’s and the Harris Ranch Restaurant, which I have never been able to set foot in after seeing those sad cows wallowing in manure for miles upon miles. So, just like my mom, I’m making our own road trip feasts.

I have kept the tradition of making car picnics for each journey and have been known to bring along my mother’s menu of freshly made potato and egg sandwiches and fruit. I additionally like to stash some homemade banana nut muffins, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, dried apricots, and popcorn. Hidden away in my purse are chocolate treats, ginger chews in case anyone feels nauseous, and licorice.

Now that the price of gas is almost $5 a gallon, I wonder if the tradition of the summer road trip is going the way of the dinosaur. Should you take one, however, I’d love to hear what meals, if any, you’re carrying along. Finally, if you’re looking for a good sandwich recipe, feel free to make my mom’s potato and egg on Italian bread.

Mama Mella’s Egg and Potato Sandwiches

Serves: 4

Ingredients:
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 large potato chopped into small cubes
6 eggs
Salt and pepper to taste
1 large loaf of Italian bread

Preparation:
1. Heat olive oil in a large pan
2. When the pan is hot, add the potatoes and heat until they’re cooked through and golden brown on the outside.
3. Season potatoes with salt and paper to taste
4. Scramble the eggs in a bowl.
5. Lower the heat on the stove to low and then add the eggs.
6. Stir as if making scrambled eggs and cook until done (I like to take mine off the stove when they’re still soft)
7. Insert into cut bread to make individual sandwiches.

Note: I sometimes add parsley and pancetta to this recipe, which is something my mom never did, but I think tastes great. To do this, just add the pancetta to the pan with the potatoes and then add the parsley while scrambling the eggs.

Summer is a tricky thing in San Francisco. A morning in July here often feels like a morning in February, much to the consternation of shivering tourist. We grab what sun we can two days here, three days there, until the fog rolls in and we’re grabbing our sweaters and pashminas instead, shrugging our pasty shoulders all the while. If one never leaves the City, one has but few clues as to what life is like on the hot, sticky Outside. And I like that just fine.

I always know it’s summer when I see berries flooding the markets. I grab baskets of them– strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, snozberries– and challenge myself to eat them all before they rot in my fridge, which happened last year, much to my shame. I decorate my cereal with them, never quite looking as well-placed as on the cereal boxes I never buy. I pretend I’m putting them in the wood chipper as I drop them into my blender to make smoothies. I sprinkle them over ice cream. I eat them out of hand.

If I want to put a little effort (and I do mean little) into doing something with berries, this year, I’m making berry pudding, one of the easiest and reasonably healthiest desserts around. If I were forced to give this dish human form, I would vote for Betty White. Rose Nyland-sweet, Sue Ann Nivens-tart, and just about as quick and clever as all Miss White’s snappy answers on The Match Game. Put a little whipped cream on her and she’s good to go. She’s always good to go.

This is a recipe that is wonderfully simple in both preparation and outlook. Berries in, berries out. I was going to say it was easy- breezy but, unless eating raw fruits has a certain effect on your G.I. tract, it is merely easy. The only real time involved is the time the berries and bread must spend in the refrigerator, getting to know each other.

Berry Pudding

Many of the recipes I’ve read for Berry Pudding call for the berries to be cooked with sugar. I strongly object. Not to the sugar, mind you, but to cooking the berries. One might as well be using frozen fruit, and that, my friends, is a capital “C” crime in my book– at least in high season.

I might suggest letting your berries ripen a bit before making them into pudding. They will thank you for it.

Serves: 4

Ingredients:

1/2 cup strawberries, chopped
1/2 cup blueberries, whole
1/2 cup raspberries, whole
1/2 cup blackberries, whole
2 tablespoons sugar, taste the berries to determine their sweetness before adding sugar. Adjust accordingly.
8 one half-inch slices of white bread, brioche, or other neutral starchy vehicle, cut to the shape of whatever molds one is using.
A splash of complementary booze (blackberry brandy, Cointreau, etc.) Complementary as in “will complement the flavor of the berries”, not complimentary, as in “free”. Of course, if your alcohol is both complementary and complimentary, I say bravo to you.
A pinch of salt

Preparation:

1. Wash berries well, but gently. Chop strawberries to the approximate size of the other berries. Place all berries into large bowl and sprinkle with sugar, salt, and booze. Let sit for five or so minutes.

2. After the berries have macerated a bit, lightly crush them. I feel I was a bit too excited when it came time to inflict harm upon mine. Stir.

3. Cover the bottoms of your molds with your most attractive bits of berry, since this will be the top of the dessert when it is unmolded. Place one piece of bread on top. Add more berries, a second layer of bread, then more berries.

4. Cover tightly with plastic wrap, pressing gently down upon the filled molds to remove any major air gaps.

5. Refrigerate for at least four hours or overnight.

6. To unmold, gently run the tip of a sharp knife between the outer edge of the filling and the inner edge of the mold. Hopefully, you have been clever enough to have removed the plastic wrap before doing so. Place serving plate over the top of the mold, invert, and gently giggle the pudding free of its form. Repeat with the remaining puddings, if you are serving them all at once.

7. Top with whipped cream, ice cream, or bacon. Whatever makes you happy.

Sigh. Mammoth. I’ve been hearing about the wonders of this little tucked away part of California for probably 10 years. And for the past 6 years I’ve had an annual invitation to join a group of friends on their yearly trek to The Cabins. But for this reason or that, I’ve never managed to make it out there. Well this year, I was told. I must go. Seriously, Kim, you just have to make the time. So I did.

The Cabins, which are cozy and rustic, have no electricity or running water, but they do have two ovens with stoves run off propane. The night we arrived my friend Andrew excitedly described the delicious veggie lasagne he was preparing, and as the time drew near for the lasagne to bake, we found out the hard way that both ovens were, indeed, out of order. Always determined, especially when it comes to eating, we had a brilliant brainstorm and decided to transform the bbq firepit into a makeshift oven.

The firepit is built in a sort of U-shape out of cinder blocks and even has a stovepipe. It has multiple levels for a variety of grills and grates (lest you think this is fancy, one of the “grills” is a former metal refrigerator shelf), and there happened to be two large heavy pieces of metal nearby that fit perfectly over the top and in the front. So into the oven the lasagne went, and after a bit of trial and error, and at least 1 or 2 hours and many bottles of wine later, we had a gorgeous and delicious lasagne.

This got us to thinking. What else could we bake in our little wood-fire oven? We’d all been gorging on fruit, and all it took was the mention of cobbler, and I was on it. Our next to last night in Mammoth we managed to find a bag full of local, organic apricots, and, after scavenging through everyone’s coolers, I came up with about 8 cups of mixed fruit. The recipe for the cobbler biscuits was another story. I had no internet access or cookbooks available, so I went on instinct and tried to vaguely remember a biscuit recipe and the ratios of flour to butter to baking soda/powder to buttermilk.

What I came up with was the recipe below. And it was delicious. The fruit was bubbling hot and caramelized on the bottom and edges from the heat of the fire, the cobbler biscuit was fluffy and tender.

There are certainly other campfire cobbler recipes out there, and most of them have you put it over coals or a campfire and place some of the coals on the top of the Dutch oven. Whatever you do, just be sure you you use a heavy cast-iron Dutch oven, which is what I call for in the recipe.

Campfire Cobbler

Ingredients:

About 6 to 8 cups mixed fruit (we used sliced apricots, sliced white nectarines, and blueberries)
About 1/4 to 1/2 cup sugar, depending upon the sweetness of the fruit

For the cobbler biscuits:
3 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 Tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
12 Tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
2 cups buttermilk

Preparation:
1. Have ready a heavy, cast-iron 5-quart Dutch oven. Cut up the fruit into chunks and add it to the Dutch oven along with the sugar. Toss well.

2. Get your fire ready. You want to have some nice steady coals and be pretty hot but not blazing. Set up a grill about 4 inches above the fire.

3. In a large bowl, stir together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, and salt. Sprinkle the butter pieces over the flour, and using 2 table knives, cut the butter into the flour mixture until the butter is the size of small peas.

4. Stir the buttermilk into the flour mixture just until it comes together. Don’t overmix!

5. Cover the top of the fruit with an even layer of the cobbler dough.

6. Cover the Dutch oven and put the cobbler on the grill. Cook until the cobbler biscuits are cooked all the way through, about 30 to 45 minutes. We uncovered the cobbler for the last 5 minutes or so of cooking to see if we could brown the top a bit.

7. Serve the cobbler on its own or with cream or yogurt or whatever you might have in your cooler.

Do you know umami? It’s considered the 5th taste, the others being sweet, bitter, sour and salty. Umami is best described as savory. It’s that kind of meaty flavor you find in even non-meat foods like parmesan cheese, tomatoes, mushrooms and soy sauce.

A hundred years ago Japanese scientist Dr. Kikunae Ikeda first discovered that glutamic acid, an amino acid, was responsible for the umami taste of konbu, a type of kelp used in Japanese cooking. Today there is an Umami Information Center dedicated to all things umami and to helping scientists, chefs and consumers learn about it.

Next month the Umami Information Center will be sponsoring an Umami Symposium in San Francisco. Culinary experts and scientists will discuss the impact of the fifth taste in a casual panel conversation. The panelists include: Gary Beauchamp, Ph.D. Director, Monell Chemical Senses Center, Harold McGee, Ph.D. food writer and molecular gastronomist, Kunio Tokuoka Executive Chef, Kyoto Kitcho & Tim Hanni Master of wine and wine educator. The Master of Ceremony, Kathy Sykes, Professor of Sciences and Society, University of Bristol, will mediate by engaging the panel of experts and the audience in a discussion about the importance of umami and its influence on the culinary industry.

Following the discussion, world-accredited chefs will serve a multi-course umami-inspired lunch. Highlights of the menu include Seared Japanese Spiny Lobster, Ginger-Poached Georgia Shrimp and Watermelon Salad, and lamb dish Salle d’Agneau Cuite sous Vide. Tim Hanni will introduce a number of wines at the luncheon to explain and show how they can successfully be paired with umami-rich foods.

What: New Frontiers of Taste Umami Symposium
Where: Hyatt Regency San Francisco, 5 Embarcadero Center, San Francisco
When: 11:30 - 4:30 pm, Monday, July 21, 2008
How: Tickets are $100 or $50 for students. Register and buy tickets Registration closes July 7th and there is no onsite registration.
Why: Hear experts discuss and debate the science of food and the sense of taste. Explore cutting-edge food, wine and umami pairing ideas and enjoy a sit-down luncheon featuring a variety of umami-rich dishes from some of the world’s leading culinary chefs including Thomas Keller, Hiro Sone and Kunio Tokuoka from Japan.

Can’t make the symposium? You can try chef Hiro Sone’s Umami Celebration Tasting Menu at Ame between July 14th and August 3rd, 2008. Contact Ame for restaurant information and reservations.

AME Umami Celebration Tasting Menu

Ame Raw Three ways;
Ceviche with Garum Lime Sauce
Sea bass sashimi with Ume Plum Vinaigrette
Kampachi Carpaccio with Nuka Pickles and ponzu

Corn Bisque with Lobster Tortelloni and Pesto sauce

Broiled Sake Marinated Black Cod in Shiso Broth

Grilled Berkshire Pork on Carolina Gold rice and Tomato “Risotto”
with Vadouvan Sauce

Nectarine “Panzanella” with Caramel Ice Cream and Dried Shoyu

Or try this recipe at home:
Ginger Shrimp and Water Melon Salad with Lemongrass Vinaigrette
Serves 4

For the Vinaigrette:
4 Tbsp. Freshly squeezed Lime Juice (about two limes)
1 tsp. minced Lemongrass
1 tsp. smashed and minced dry shrimp
2 tsp. fish sauce
½ tsp. minced Ginger
Pinch minced Thai chili
½ tsp. sugar

In a small mixing bowl, whisk all ingredients together. Set aside.

For the Salad:
1 Tbsp.thinly sliced Red onion
1 Japanese Cucumber, thinly sliced
½ small Seedless water melon, skinned and cut into 1 ½” x 1 ½” x 1½” cubes
2 small Heirloom Tomatoes, slice to ½” thick
12 ea. ginger Shrimp, recipe follow
4 cilantro sprigs
2 tsp. chopped toasted peanuts

In a small mixing bowl, season the onions and cucumber with little salt, set aside for five minutes. Pat dry. In a medium size mixing bowl, combine the watermelon, tomatoes, onions, cucumber, shrimp and the vinaigrette together. Divide onto 4chilled serving dishes. Arrange the cilantro sprig on the top and sprinkle the peanuts. Serve.

For the Ginger Shrimp:
8 cups water
1 small onions (about 6oz.), thinly sliced
1/3 cup thinly sliced ginger (about 1 ¼ oz.)
1 clove garlic, smashed
3 Tbsp. rice vinegar
5 Tbsp. kosher salt
12 fresh shrimp tails in their shell, about 1oz./ea., veins are removed

Combine everything except the shrimp in a stainless sauce pot and simmer for about 10 minutes, add the shrimp tails and bring back to a boil over high heat and simmer 10 seconds, then drain. Transfer the shrimp to a sheet pan and let them cool. After the shrimp are completely cooled, carefully peel the shell. Discard the shell. Cover the shrimp with plastic wrap until use.

COPYRIGHT © Hiro Sone 2002

In a world of small plates and share plates, it’s typical that meals are ordered in a way that is atypical of traditional dining. I frankly can’t remember the last time that I was with a group who each ordered a salad, an entree and a dessert without sharing or splitting plates. More typical these days is a meal that I had Monday night at A16: two of us shared an appetizer, a pizza, a small pasta and three sides.

“How would you like that to come out?” most servers ask me. My typical answer? “However you’d like, just not all at once.” I say this last point with emphasis and look them straight in the eye. A quick way to get me in a bad mood is to deliver so many plates to my table that we are juggling plates and stressed to get plates off the table to make room.

I find that most places I go to are very good at asking the question about coursing. But whether it’s followed is a gamble. The successfully coursed meal at A16 came out in three rounds — the appetizer and a side, the pizza, and then the pasta and two sides.

One night at a Valencia street restaurant known for great cocktails and excellent food, we ordered a similarly random meal. That night, I was looking forward to a leisurely paced meal and we had some ideas of how the meal should come out due to wine pairings with different dishes. We talked to the server about it and he even went so far as to tell us when he would have the kitchen “fire” certain courses, and spent a couple of minutes confirming the order with us.

The meal started to come out immediately and too quickly. The courses were completely confused, and the server was notably absent. The food was delicious. The meal pacing left us agitated and annoyed. What could have been a really stellar experience was made only above average due to the way that our food was presented to us.

The worst example of coursing recently was at a newly three-star restaurant in SOMA where the plates were too large for a two-top and came out all at once. We had to move some plates to an adjacent table just to make room to eat. It would have been comical if I wasn’t so annoyed. When we mentioned the problem to the server, she just said “Oh, that’s the way the kitchen does it sometimes.”

It’s time for San Franciscans to stop letting this sloppy coursing slide. Gone are the days of an entree with a choice of soup or salad, baked potato or fries. At least in San Francisco, we’ve been seeing nontraditional menus for several years now. And managers need to be training servers and kitchens on how to handle orders in order to make the experience comfortable for the diner. Restaurants must evaluate every order and consider it on its own for the best pacing and coursing. This may sound like nitpicking, but we are lucky to live in a city where we have numerous choices for excellent food — it affords us the leisure of making coursing and pacing a deciding factor when choosing a restaurant.