I'm a white girl writing about the scariest foods I could find at Ranch 99, the Asian supermarket in Richmond. Prepare yourself: what follows is not politically correct.

But before we get into the nitty gritty, let me make myself clear: I think of myself as an equal opportunity eater, someone whose palate is endlessly expandable--I took on sushi at age 20 and haven't since met a piece of unagi I didn't like, and kimchee and I became fast friends in my thirties. And as for what other people eat, well, I tell myself that given the opportunity to develop a taste for it, I'm sure I too would develop a hankering for buffalo placenta soup when it's in season, as do a few of my Thai friends, or the crunch and instant protein fix of deep fried bugs, as does a British friend of mine who has lived in southeast Asia for twenty years.

And I'm conscious that my distaste for unfamiliar food is a luxury, in part the birthmark of someone who has grown up in a society that can afford to throw away guts and organs, tongues, ears and snouts.

The irrational wincing of the tongue, the squinching of the brow when faced with threatening food must surely be conquerable. In the context of food, "scary" is just another word for "unfamiliar."

I've long been a fan of Ranch 99, purveyor of fine pea shoots, crustaceans, galangal, kecap manis (a thick Indonesian soy sauce), and pastel-colored rice flour pastries that I grew so fond of when I lived in Thailand, and I delight in even seeing the packaging for "chicken paws" (feet), "free run chicken" and Confucious Family Liquor.

But this visit, the Sunday before Halloween, I was shopping differently: I was on a hunt for the six scariest food items I could find. And dammit, I was going to face my fears and eat them. And so was my friend Tristan who was visiting, who brought with him his usual penchant for talking about disgusting things he'd eaten and how disgusting the gas was that they gave him. We thought we were sooooooo sturdy. Nothing could possibly be as disgusting as our worst imaginings made them, right?

And so, dear reader, here you are, in reverse order, the top six scariest foods to be had at Ranch 99, including reasons for deeming them scary and taste-based assessments:

Number 6: Vermont Curry

Reasoning: As a native Vermonter, I've long wondered about the absurd pairing of the words "Vermont" and "curry" every time I see this ubiquitous item in an Asian market. But I've been willing to keep an open mind about it given that Vermont is actually known for some surprisingly tasty weird combinations, like the tuna sandwiches dipped in egg, fried like French toast, and topped with maple syrup, that I scarfed up as a child. So it made it into my shopping basket in the spirit of supporting Vermont quirkiness in all its permutations.

Verdict: Vermont Curry surprised me by emerging from the box in dung-colored blocks, sort of like a large chocolate bar. I broke off a few and tossed them in with carrots and onions, as directed by the package. After I cooked it, I let it cool for a few minutes, and a dark brown sludge had gathered across the top--far thicker and more ominous looking than the skin the develops on hot Jello chocolate pudding. ("It's okay," Tristan said with hope in his voice, "My mom's gravy does that, too.")

But by the time Tristan and I sampled the pleasures of Vermont Curry, I was already in high gag mode from a few other items listed below. My tongue was contorted in anguish, and poor Vermont Curry got the short end of the stick. Were I offered a plate of Vermont Curry under different circumstances--like after release from a concentration camp or tempted with the reward of a million dollars--I would eat it.

Number 5: Smoked Veggie Goose

Reasoning: I found this in the deli section, and while it did look a bit like goose, complete with goose-pimpled skin, it looked like goose that had spent a few centuries in a catacomb and then been rehydrated with pond water.

Verdict: One would think that mere wheat and soy sauce pattied to resemble meat would be innocent of culinary crime. Tristan noted, "It's a shame when you recreate meat you have to include the skin" and then took a bite. Then I took a bite. After a few minutes of debate, we arrived at an apt description: smoked veggie goose tasted like rotten chalk with a hint of imported barnyard.

Number 4: Fried Gluten with Peanuts in Soy Sauce, from Taiwan

Reasoning: There's nothing in the name to indicate that this would be offensive (aside from the word gluten), but a mere glance at the scrambled-egg like globs floating in dishwater-colored salt water with peanuts that looked like they'd suffered from elephantiasis was enough to earn them a place in my shopping basket.

Verdict: Like Vermont Curry, fried gluten with peanuts in soy sauce was a victim of lineup--the smell of Scariest Food Number 1 (keep reading, you're almost there) was wafting through the kitchen, and had the gluten been chunks of perfectly ripe honeydew decked with proscuitto, I probably would have gagged. I took a bite, gagged, and staggered toward the garbage, only to remember that that was exactly where Scariest Food Number 1 was lurking, so my gag volcanoed into a hefty spit into my palm. I closed my eyes and tossed the gluten in the direction of the garbage pail and Scariest Food Number 1.

Poor little gluten. It probably isn't so bad.

Number 3: Pig Ears in Soy Sauce

Reasoning: Like the smoked veggie goose, I found pig ears in the deli aisle, but thinly sliced and looking quite harmless in a clear plastic deli container. "It could be brown chewy ginger/soy/wine-infused coleslaw," I thought. I've eaten cracklings, and I love scrapple and hot dogs, both of which surely have fragments of pig ear. Dogs highly recommend pig ears. Maybe I'm missing something.

Tristan tried it first. "I just thought about what it is," he said as a swallow turned into a gulp and look around for grapefruit soda. A slice of pig ear--I looked for a bite that looked like it was more meat than cartilage--made it into my gullet.

I discovered there's a reason I don't like dogs. Dogs like pig ears.

Number 2: Preserved mudfish fish sauce, from Vietnam.

Reasoning: I'm a fan of fish sauce in general--a tablespoon or two adds a lovely piquant je ne sais quoi to spaghetti sauce, and of course it's a staple in sanitized western-style Thai and Vietnamese cuisine. But this, with its tightly packed filets of clearly aptly named mudfish, intrigued me. In comparison, it made the pigs ears look like a pulled pork sandwich from Everett and Jones.

Verdict: We opened the jar to be mystified by a plastic strainer installed on top of the fish. At first I thought that it might be so that cooks would use the liquid that drained from the fish, not the fish itself. But no, that didn't make sense because only about a tablespoon of liquid dribbled out, and the jar said it contained a whopping 22 servings.

I pried off the plastic strainer, holding my face as far away as possible for fear of flying fermented fish juice. I stuck a fork in and pried up one filet and took a sniff. This was beyond piquant: was this mudfish fermented in a public toilet?

"Please don't make me eat this," Tristan pleaded. "I don't want to be yacking up mudfish."

And mudfish is where we both drew the line. They say smell is an integral part of taste, in which case both of us were surely off the hook.

And now...

Number 1 Scariest Food to be had at Ranch 99:

Pig's Uterus.

Reasoning: Pig's uterus faced some stiff competition from the pre-packaged meat section from the likes of black-skinned chickens with the heads on, pork bung (intestine), pork snout, pork brain, and liquid or solid pork blood, but if my mission was to find the scariest items I could find in Ranch 99, pig's uterus could hardly be overlooked. It lay pinky grey behind the shiny plastic wrap, and I was drawn by its uneven, scalloped, might I even say Baroque tubes.

Verdict: I looked on line for pigs uterus recipes, to no avail, so I decided that maybe stir frying it, with oyster sauce, might work. The oil heated in the wok and I peered at the package. The oil just started to smoke, and I plunged my fingers into the pink labyrinth and dumped it in the oil.

And it began to cook.

And it began to smell.

"Jesus Christ, there is NO WAY, I'm tasting that," Tristan shouted. The smell got worse, perhaps mixing with eau de fermented mudfish. "It smells just the way a cooked [uterus] probably should smell," he cried above the hiss of the oil and the mass of sizzling pink-grey tubes.

It was already unspoken that the uterus was going to bypass oyster sauce and go directly into the trash. I dumped it in and thought, good God, I'm taking that trash out this instant.

But I stupidly waited, thinking I'd wait until the end of this dreadful experiment. And before long, Elizabeth, one of my two cats, was sniffing with determination around the garbage. Bear in mind that she has never shown any interest thus far in either the garbage or anything other than kibble, but apparently pig uterus lightly seared in peanut oil was enough to drive her wild. I slapped her away and went to enjoy the tangy splash of a beer and an escape from the stench in a better-ventilated living room.

And then I heard a rustle from the kitchen and slid back my chair to see Geraldine, my other cat--who has also never been interested in garbage or anything other than kibble--lapping delicately at a chunky string of uterus she'd lugged out of the garbage onto the linoleum.

I'll tell you I have never, ever been so happy to take out the garbage, an everything-must-go excursion that won't even spare the not-so-scary things. It's all ruined, contaminated by association with pig uterus and my own defeat--a girl who likes tuna sandwiches fried with maple syrup on top, foie gras, uni, and lima beans but isn't necessarily an open-minded eater.

Bonjour de Paris. I find myself in a bit of a chocolate conundrum. Perhaps it's because I bought a 7 POUND bag of Valrhona chocolate?!?! What was I thinking?! I wasn't obviously... which is usually the case when I walk in to food specialty or culinary supply stores such as G Detou or Dehillerin. G Detou (pronounced: zhay duh too)is a play on words for "j'ai de tout" which means "I have everything (or all)". Clever, non? The French can be very whimsical...

Upon entering, my head starts spinning trying to take it all in. In G Detou, one shelf is literally floor to ceiling dragées (dra-zhay), those things they give away at weddings that we all throw out the window as soon as we drive away, er I mean, place in the proper receptacle. I guess they are très (pronounced: tray; means: very) popular here... There is chocolate everywhere you look, rows of purées, bins of beans, and the most expensive prunes in the world, Pruneaux d'Agen.

Dehillerin is the ultimate cooking supply store with the downstairs simply floor to ceiling copper pots. It's a cooks' version of Nirvana. I start shaking as I approach, anticipating the cubby holes of various sized whisks, stacks of frying pans, enough rings to start a circus strung from the ceiling, and gadgets that would give even the most sophisticated of restaurateurs heart palpitations

I of course had to buy a few of these rings...just in case I felt the urge to bake a few little tarts...pigs will fly before that happens but I digress... so back to the 7 pound bag of chocolate. Completely irrational purchase but the damage is done and now I must use this behemouth bag o'love. My friend Katherine from Kentucky is having a Halloween party tonight and is insisting that we dress up. Halloween is celebrated in France only since the invasion of EuroDisney. Their Halloween Night at EuroDisney posters are plastered over half of Paris, the other half being the opening of the new Nike store on the Champs-Elysées, but that's another story...

So her French friends think it is très strange but she is insisting so if the French are dressing up, then the Americans have no excuse. I am not a fan of Halloween, more specifically creating a costume, thanks to latent childhood trauma from my mother dressing me like Pippi Longstocking one too many times. It didn't help that I had long and very red hair that when braided around a bent hangar stuck straight out. Hello, Oprah...? I think I will don my chef's jacket and my paper toque that I saved from my internship at the George V and call it a day. Not original but about as much effort as I can muster at this point.

I also need to bring something to nibble which adds to the stress as people expect fabulous things from a "culinary professional" which means I burn water less frequently. So this brings me back to my 7 pound bag of chocolate. I spied my container of dried apricots and candied orange peels procured along with the above mentioned 7 pound bag of chocolate and thought pourquoi pas (why not)? So in honor of the orange and black, Halloween not the San Francisco Giants, I decided to melt some chocolate and dip the apricots and orange peels. And why not add some grated ginger to one batch and maybe some chili powder to another for a bit of a kick? And soak some raisins in Sauterne? And those candied ginger chunks...?! Hmmm...

A Chocolate Conundrum

• 300 grams chocolate (buy the best quality possible, mine is 70% Guanaja made by Valrhona, but not necessarily 7 pounds of it! )
• 1 package dried apricots
• 1 package candied orange peels (much easier to buy than make :-) )
• 1 tablespoon ginger root, grated
• ¼ cup candied ginger
• 1 cup raisins -- soaked in Sauterne or other spirit
• 2 teaspoons chili powder

1. melt the chocolate in a double boiler (a non reactive bowl set over a simmering pot of water)

note: I used 200 grams for plain chocolate and 50 grams each for the ginger-chocolate and the chili-chocolate

2. add ginger or chili to chocolate and combine thoroughly(optional)

3. dip the fruit and set on parchment paper on a tray

4. chill to set et voila!

It's très easy and fun, great for a hostess gift especially with the upcoming holidays, and also an easy way to get kids excited to be in the kitchen. Though if you're like me, you want them out of the kitchen. Anyways... bon appetit and Happy Halloween!

__________________________

G Detou
58 rue Tiquetonne
75002 Paris, France
+33 (0)1 42 36 54 67

E. Dehillerin
18 rue Coquillière
75001 Paris, France
+33 (0)1 42 36 53 13
http://www.dehillerin.com

Valrhona Chocolate
http://www.valrhona.com

Okay, you're clearly going to have to check your Freudian slips, double-entendres, and latent whatever fantasies at the door here, because I photographed sausages, I ate sausages, and, well, I LOVED the sausages.

Last Monday I got an email invite to Toronado's Oktoberfest and, since I well remembered my chagrin over missing last year's beer and sausage bash, this event was a seriously oh-holy-jesus-in-a-jury-box-there's-no-freaking-way-I'm-missing-this type of thing. I mean, hello? Beer! Sausages! Beer! Meat stuffed into suspicious skin films by even more suspicious means! I kid. Though I have had my fair share of food phobias and even still harbor a few (I mean, what is it that makes tofu so squidgy, really?), I have never been afraid of hot dogs, bratwurst, sausages, or anything else you might want to stick in a bun. I'm really trying hard not to make this post dirty -- honestly!

After two years of living in San Francisco, I had never managed to eat at the fair Rosamunde Sausage Grill on Lower Haight. This wasn't because I hadn't tried, because I did! Several times, while sipping the good Aventinus brew at Toronado, did I mention my hankering for a good, hot sausage, but it was always met with derisive catcalls and thoroughly ungentlemanly and, frankly, unsanitary remarks. So, finally, it's again Oktoberfest and, since I need to gird my loins to deal with Hateful Jim on The Apprentice: Martha Stewart, I rang up a few friends and told them we were supping on Rosamunde sausages and Toronado beer that night.

We got to Rosamunde right around six-ish and stared ravenously at all their offering ($4.00 gets you a sausage in a French roll with your choice of two free condiments: sauerkraut, grilled onions, sweet or spicy peppers, or spicy beef chili). What to choose! I mean, there was lamb, beef, pork, duck, and veal! Not only that, but there was figs, peppers, onion, leek, peppers, cherries, and beer! (Those were the delicious complements that were ground right into the various meats. Ooh, beer...) Did I want the Merquez with spicy lamb AND beef? Two succulent meats for the price of one? No, I liked the duck with figs. Wait, did you see the Cajun-smoked spicy pork? Sorry, no -- better make it the smoked lamb with sun-dried tomato and potato. Wait, wait -- hold that idea, because here comes a better one: the beer sausage with spicy pork and beef topped with grilled onions and dabbed with German mustard. Yeah, that's the plum order. Clearly.

After grabbing our plastic baskets, promising to return said plastic baskets, and hustling to our table next door at Toronado, I finally got to bite into the firm, juicy, spicy sausage of my dreams. There was sufficient heat ground into the meat to make my newly-stuffed nose run a bit, and so much flavor that I had to be by myself in a corner and not talk to anyone for awhile. It was SAUSAGE HEAVEN!

I first washed it down with a Hofbrau Oktoberfest, but found that brew to be somewhat lacking in the honeyed notes I had experienced in a recently-quaffed Oktoberfest at Suppenküche. Next, as I sampled the Spaten Oktoberfest, Mathra wandered off and discovered steam tables full of complimentary sausages, saurkraut, potato salad, sweet buns, and pickles in the next room. Score! Still, I was happy to have paid for my beer sausage, grilled onions, and ginormous dill pickle at Rosamunde because it opened up a whole new world for me. Next time, I'm totally scoring the Weisswurst (you get two!) made with veal, onion, and leek. Or the wild boar with apple and spice. Or the chicken with smoked cherries.

Damn. Is it 11:30 yet?

Rosamunde Sausage Grill
545 Haight Street
San Francisco, CA 94117

Monday-Sunday: 11:30 AM-10:00 PM

Toronado Pub
547 Haight Street
San Francisco, CA 94117

Monday-Sunday: 11:30 AM-2:00 AM

This is the second best meal I have ever had. In my whole life. Ever. Period.

Believe it or not, this meal occurred the same weekend as the l’Ambroisie gastronomic extravaganza. When my friends came to town, they requested that I make reservations at the best restaurants I could get us in to for as many meals as I could–not a problem! Happy to oblige :-)

The weekend was a veritable food frenzy that would have made Bacchus himself jealous. Each restaurant was an event, a destination, an unveiling of the most spectacular, stunningly brilliant, visually breathtaking, sensually aromatic, sinfully decadent, lavish meals I have ever had and perhaps ever will have. They fall in the once-in-a-lifetime, all-the-planets-are-in-alignment, the-sea-has-parted-where-is-Moses category of meals.

So we concluded the celebration of my pals’ victory in a landmark case against the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, INTERVENOR (as the Court’s Order read) at the 3-Michelin starred Le Cinq (pronounced: le sank; meaning: five) in the Four Seasons George V Hotel. It was an especially exhilarating meal as I had just finished my internship at Le Cinq two days earlier and had made many of the dishes we were about to be served.

One can’t talk about dining at Le Cinq without talking about the hotel itself, voted the #1 hotel in the world (!) in 2004, and after a two year, $125 million renovation, it is luxury and grandeur at its finest. To enter the George V, you whirl through the revolving doors at into the marble lobby and are greeting by the most dramatic floral display imaginable. Artistic director Jeff Leatham, voted best florist in Europe in 2003 and 2004, creates visually stunning arrangements that defy any tradition or norm. Flocks of visitors trek to the George V simply to see the latest floral displays which Jeff changes weekly with over 10,000 flowers flown in twice-weekly from Amsterdam.

Entering the dining room is a humbling experience as the splendor and beauty take your breath away. It’s impossible to take it all in at once. You must savor a corner here, a painting there, bit by bit. Sixty people each evening put themselves into the hands of the inimitable Chef Legendre and come away dazzled by the experience. We certainly were.

According to the New York Times, Le Cinq is “...a fitting stage set for chef Philippe Legendre. Formerly a legend at Taillevent, he is clearly thriving in these kitchens. Occasionally, the luxe menu (line-caught turbot with pumpkin-and-grapefruit marmalade, a licorice-infused pear cube with Szechuan pepper ice cream) is brought back down to earth by such selections as grouse and haggis in an aged Scotch whiskey sauce...”

Not only were we not brought down to earth, we thought we’d been beamed up to the far reaches of heaven so magical that to speak of it would be to desecrate it. So please join me as I try to share, though words and pictures sadly fall far short, this galactic gastronomic journey on the first day of their autumn menu.... Bon appetit!

* Champagne Billecart–Salmon Collection Millésime

Amuse-bouches ~ A duo of small starters; the first a cube of the freshest sashimi tuna sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds resting on a perfect mâche leaf, the second a savory “strudel” of sorts filled with a chestnut puree

* Chassagne Montrachet 1er Cru «Clos St Jean » 2000 Domaine Niellon ~ a white wine made from the Chardonnay grape in the Côte de Beaune region of Burgundy, France

Tartare de coquilles St Jacques avec caviar Osciètre ~ A perfect scallop topped with Osetra caviar on three perfect mâche leaves and a dollop of a light horseradish crème fraîche

«Tarialini a la fonduta » et à la truffe d’Alba ~ Fresh housemade angelhair pasta with shaved truffles from Alba, Italy

Poireau cuit à la ficelle aux saveurs d’automne et à la truffe ~ Leeks cooked with the flavors of automn and truffles

Homard Breton en coque fumé et rôti aux châtaignes de Corrèze ~ Brittany lobster smoked and roasted with a puree of chestnuts from Corrèze

Dos de Turbot rôti aux topinambours et au lard de Toscane à la crème truffée ~ Filet of Turbo roasted with Jerusalem artichokes and Tuscan bacon with a truffle cream sauce

Lucy doesn’t eat meat so the chef sent out another fish plate: Ligne de Bar (line caught sea bass) with a confetti of diced sautéed vegetables

* Chateauneuf du Pape Domaine du Vieux Donjon 1999 ~ a red wine from the premier appellation of the Southern Rhône Valley as decanted by our enchanting sommeliers...

Noisette de chevreuil de Sologne au chocolat, sauce poivrade ~ Venison from Sologne with a chocolate pepper sauce (Editors’ note: This was my favorite dish. I’d never had venison -- that I was aware of -- and this knocked my socks off...and I wasn’t wearing socks. The venison was encrusted with crushed chocolate-nougat in a chocolate pepper sauce that sent my taste buds dancing the two-step.)

La sélection de nos Paîtres fromagers ~ Cheese selection from the Master Fromagiers

Our charming, delightful, handsome waiters. Christophe, on the right, attended school for SIX years to prepare for this job. He had two years of culinary training, two years of hotel training and – get this! – two years of fine cutlery service! Oooh la la!

* Klein Constancia 1998 Sauvignon Blanc ~ a dessert wine from South Africa

Croquant aux agrumes et épices douces ~ A merignue cup of citrus segments with a soft spice sauce

Du chocolate exclusivement... ~ Exclusively chocolate...

and because I had just finished my internship in these hallowed kitchens 2 days earlier...

...pastry sous-chef Francois (above with Lucy and Steve) sent us out *every* dessert on the menu! Oh. My. God.

Parfait des framboises ~ Raspberry parfait

Tiramisu Le Cinq ~ Le Cinq’s version of a tiramisu that won first prize in a national pastry competition. To get the effect of the chocolate on bottom left corner of the plate, they freeze the plates then literally, with a high powered paint gun, spray paint the plate with chocolate to give it a velvet texture! C'est incroyable!

Chocolate soufflé ~ no explanation needed!

Fruits d’automne ~ Roasted autumn fruit with a nougat tuile

Pâte à fruits et nougatine ~ Passionfruit and raspberry fruit jellies and nougat

Truffes du chocolat et guimauves ~ Chocolate truffles and fresh marshmallows (“guimauve”, pronounced gwee-mov, is one of my favorite French words, I love saying it. gwee-mov. gwee-mov. gwee-mov.)

And so I hope you enjoyed our brief culinary journey through dinner at a 3 Michelin star restaurant in one of, if not the best, hotel in the world. Anyone hungry? ;-)
_________________________________

Le Cinq
Hotel Four Seasons George V
31, avenue George V
75008 Paris
+33 1 49 52 70 00

Philippe Legendre, Chef des Cuisines, Meilleur Ouvrier de France
Eric Beaumard, Directeur de Restaurant
Enrico Bernardo, Chef Sommelier, Meilleur Sommelier du Monde
Jeffrey Leatham, Artistic Director

Lucy and Christophe

How did I start my day this morning? With a glass of tea. A glass of bagged tea. A glass of Earl Grey bagged tea. See, I love bag tea. I've dabbled in loose tea a few times -- mostly when I was working a college job at Crabtree & Evelyn -- and it's fine, but it's just so messy and complicated and then there's the pot that is always drippy down the spout and gets scalding hot water everywhere including on my bare feet and it's all just so...ugh. Pretty much, I like to start the kettle, plunk the bag in a pint glass, and just add water. Sina, you're cringing, aren't you? You can't wait to show me the One True Way, can you?

Okay, bags aside, tea drinking hasn't always been such a slap-dash, impersonal thing for me. Back in 1992, my mother and I toured the English countryside and we drank a lot of tea. In fact, every single one of the B&Bs we stayed in had a preciously personal tea set-up in our room. There would be a polished tin tray set with an electric kettle, two floral china cups and saucers, a teapot, and usually some cookies. However, my absolute favorite part of the set-up was the jug of cream. All the jugs were draped with crocheted doilies edged with tiny beads. The beads weighed the doilies down, and, as I understand it, the point of these delicately worked doilies was to keep bugs and dust and stuff out of the cream -- it's really quite ingenious!

My mother and I would get to our room, critically examine the tea and cookie choices, and then my mother would always, ALWAYS make me pose next to the tea things. I swear, we have about ten photos of me sitting next to a pile of cups and saucers.

Instead of drinking our tea at the proper English hour, we'd save it for bedtime. That's also when we'd discuss which houses and castles we had visited that day, and where certain kings or queens fell into the historical timeline. We'd get confused by some of the early royalty -- like Ethelred the Unwashed and Elgifups of Northampton -- but luckily we had Antonia Fraser's The Kings and Queens of England as a handy reference tool. The thing was, drinking tea that late at night had some interesting effects. Not that. God. No, see the tea was so stimulating that we ended up having very vivid dreams about all the kings, queens, murders, coups, and royal affairs we had been gossiping about before bed.

So, that was a tea ritual of sorts. In another ritual, my older sister and I instituted "Afternoon Tea" in our household when we were about eight and eleven. It was brought on by an obsession with Russell Hoban's Frances books. We had all the books, Bread and Jam for Frances, Best Friends for Frances, A Bargain for Frances, etc. We liked these books so much that my mom gave us a record with Gynnis Johns (the suffragette mother from Mary Poppins) reading the story aloud. I think it was the record that put the bug in our ear to create our own Afternoon Tea because on it was the story A Bargain for Frances in which Frances' calculating friend, Thelma, tricks Frances into buying Thelma's old red-flowered plastic tea set off of her when she really wants "a real china tea set with pictures on it in blue." My sister and I searched and searched but couldn't find the elusive tea set "with pictures on it in blue," so instead we settled for sets with blue flowers.

We'd put the Frances record on the player in the shag-carpeted den, set up the TV trays, and arrange our cups and saucers while my mother made the tea for us. Bigelow was the sole sponsor of our tea parties, and we drank either Lemon Lift or Constant Comment. As a kid, I thought that "Constant Comment" was a really weird name for a tea. I still think it's a over-anxious marketing ploy gone awry, but I do love the spicy clove and orange rind-infused tea. On one little china plate, we placed slices of lemons for squeezing, filled a tiny pitcher with milk for pouring, and dipped a baby food spoon into a sugar-filled bowl for sweetening. Always looking for new ways to stuff sugar into our mouths, we'd take a spoonful of sugar and suspended it briefly in our tea cup before quickly pulling it out. It was a delicate balance. We immersed the spoon just long enough for the sugar to get wet without allowing it to swirl away into the brew. Then we ate the spoonful of tea-dampened sugar.

Looking back, I wonder if Frances was the only inspiration for our tea parties. After all, my mother had already introduced us to the world of murder mysteries through books, movies, and Masterpiece Theatre, and we noted that a lot of tea drinking went on in them. That probably had something to do with the fact that we read and watched chiefly British sleuths: Patricia Wentworth's Miss Silver, Agatha Christie's Miss Marple, even Hercule Poirot with his tisanes (which we learned were herbal teas) -- they all drank vats of tea in each book. The influence was strong. Come to think if it, sherry was another British mystery thing -- heroines were constantly sipping on glasses of sherry and dabbing eau de cologne on their temples in order to recover from the shock of discovering a dead body. Or in order to recover from the shock of disposing of a dead body. My parents had a dust-encrusted bottle of sherry that we dipped into once. And promptly spit it out. We weren't curious about it after that. We stuck to tea.

Sometimes my sister and I had food to accompany our tea. Nothing fancy like cucumber sandwiches or scones with clotted cream and preserves, though. We were perfectly happy with our stacks of the Very Thin Pepperidge Farm bread, which was lightly toasted, buttered, and dusted with cinnamon and sugar.

Tea has also been a cure-all for me. Come headache, sore throat, or upset stomach, I've always turned to tea. In fact, when I had all four of my severely impacted wisdom teeth out and had an ugly reaction to my codeine -- which took the oral surgeon, like, DAYS to figure out even though about 70% the population has that same ugly reaction to codeine, but don't mind me sleeping on the bathroom floor in 90° MINNESOTA SUMMER HEAT WITH MY HEAD IN THE TOILET! -- all I could keep down was Stouffer's Macaroni and Cheese and weak tea.

There you go, I do have a history of my own tea rituals, but maybe it's now time for me to branch out and experience some new ones. Jeez -- I think I still have that tin of Orange Pekoe from Crabtree & Evelyn. I should probably get rid of that.

lavender ice cream made with lavender infused crème anglaise

Laura: "Hi Mom."
Mom: "Hi Laura."
Laura: "Quick question. I'm making dinner and the recipe says to simmer. What's simmer?"
Mom: "Huh?"
Laura: "What does simmer mean?"
Mom: "You're telling me you don't know what simmer means?!?!"
Laura: "If I knew what it meant, I wouldn't be calling you!"

....an actual conversation with my mother sometime in 1986 and I'm sorry to say things on the culinary front didn't improve much until I started taking cooking classes in 1997. Also if a recipe had more than 5 ingredients and 6 steps I started hyperventilating and quickly made reservations.

Fast forward 6 years to cooking school. One of the most important things I was taught in cooking school was "techniques" as opposed to recipes and in the first 6 weeks we learned 200 and something techniques that form the foundation of French cuisine or really modern cooking. Braising, roasting, searing, emulsions, sauces, stock, soups, etc... Once you know a "technique" you can really make anything.

For example, my "Fast Coq au Vin, My Way" was basically a recipe for a stew that requires a protein (chicken), vegetable (peppers), and a liquid (red wine) and the technique is braising which is cooking something in a covered pot with some liquid at a low temperature for a long time. Simply replace chicken with beef, lamb, rabbit, etc..., substitute peppers with mushrooms, potatoes, carrots, etc...and swap red wine with white wine, chicken broth, beef broth, orange juice, any flavored liquid really, cook slowly over/in low heat and voila, stew!

So in future 'technique' posts, I will try to demystify and simplify some of these techniques and give you a basis from which to cook so that when you are at the market and see a beautiful crate of bespeckled cranberry beans or free range Bresse chickens (with heads & feet intact), you will instantly have a knowledge base from which to draw and many options or techniques to choose from. I bought a darling potimarron the other day and am still trying to decide what to do with it. Do I make soup? Roast it, puree it, or what I really want to do is make ice cream with it!

Which segues nicely to today's "technique" which is a stirred custard called Crème Anglaise. Crème Anglaise is a light (in viscosity, not caloric content!) dessert sauce that is also the base for ice cream. Make a batch, throw it in an ice cream machine, and in 30 minutes you have vanilla ice cream! Crème Anglaise is also a lovely sauce for spooning over or around various cakes, pastries, tarts, etc. Even if you bought a tart at Safeway and spooned a bit of crème anglaise infused with some aromatic, you'd have an elegant, delicious dessert. In France, it is traditionally served with a Genoise cake.

The base can be flavored with any number of ingredients, let your imagination run wild here. I've used ginger, lavender, chocolate-chili, fig, basil, earl gray tea, cardamom....you get the idea. Some other ideas include: lemon or orange zest, cinnamon, coffee, toasted nuts, liqueurs, coconut, dried fruits, flavorful fruits such as raspberries or peaches, the ideas are limitless! One of the techniques within this technique is "tempering" which means combining a hot and cold item without them separating or "curdling", in this case the egg yolks turning into scrambled eggs! I hope this helps!

an example of crème anglaise "nappant"

Crème Anglaise

If you are making ice cream, let the mixture cool to room temperature (ideally chill it), add it to the ice cream machine and let'er rip. Or you can serve it warm on top of a souffle! That, my friends, is downright decadent!

• 500 ml (approx 18 oz) milk (regular milk please, not non- or low- or 2% milk! if you are worried about calories, just have one spoonful, no need to drink it though you will want to!)
• 4-5 egg yolks (depending on size)
• 100 g (approx 3.5 oz) sugar
• ½ vanilla bean, cut in half lengthwise, insides scraped out and all put into pot

1. Put milk and vanilla bean into a cold pot and place it on the stove.
NOTE: This is where you would add what ever flavoring element you choose such as lavender or chocolate, etc...

2. Slowly bring this mixture to a boil and remove from heat. (You don't want to scald the milk or it will have a burnt taste. Set aside and let cool.

3. Whisk the egg yolks and sugar in a non-reactive (glass or stainless steel) bowl until it is pale yellow. This is called "blanchir" or to whiten as the eggs will lighten in color.

4. Very slowly "temper" or pour the hot milk into the yolks/sugar mixture, whisking vigorously constantly. Remember, you want to 'cook' the eggs in the hot liquid without turning them into scrambled eggs! If your bowl is sliding all over the counter, put a damp towel on the counter and set the bowl on that.

5. Pour this mixture back into the pot and return to the stove top. Cook over medium heat while stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, making sure you scrape the inside corners of the pot as that is where the cream thickens and clumps.

6. The cream is ready when it is "nappant" or coats the back of the spoon. Run your finger down the back of a spoon and if the mixture doesn't fill in and leaves a line, it is ready. The picture above is an example of "nappant".

7. Strain the mixture through a chinois (fine strainer) into an ice bath or a bowl set on top of another bowl of ice. Stir the mixture -- this will cool it down quickly.

Bon appetit!

*NOTE: This is the same technique for (Crème Patisserie) Pastry Cream (a starch-bound custard) which is a much thicker version of Crème Anglaise and is used in Napoleans, filling for éclairs and profiteroles, and the base for fruit tarts, to name a few...

Sina Carrol (right) with Angela Justice at Celadon

Continuing from last week, Sina Carrol tells me more about what she loves so much about tea.

What is the tea you can't live without?

Presently: White Peony King, Luu Shan Clouds and Mist, Honey Dan Chong, and my secret stash of 30 Year Pu-erh, but if you must nail me down to only one...it's probably a Taiwanese oolong. Taiwanese oolongs tend to have more floral tones than Chinese mainland oolongs, which are more honey-like. The oolong I prefer is charcoal fire-roasted -- it's really not as smokey as you might imagine. This is a complex oolong that is slow-roasted over bamboo charcoal, which imparts a subtle sweet grassiness to the it and brings out the soft and velvety sugar tones. It is a sophisticated tea that has many layers, is easily palateable, and simple to enjoy. This is a great tea for a Yixing teapot. This particular teapot manages to lend back the flavor of the tea each time you brew it.

Also, I want to say a little more about why should people drink more tea: the reason I have found my passion with tea is that I see it, and the time that surrounds making and drinking, it as the gateway into the last respite of ritual, peace and civility. Tea is a chance for you to take charge of the first few minutes of your day and talk with the inside of yourself. To remember your body, to remind yourself of all your senses, to look down into your cup and focus, feel, be present in the moment. Remember that this ritual is available regardless of class or status, without high ceremony or circumstance -- it is an opportunity every day to remind ourselves who we are as individuals, as human beings.

With company, tea is a celebration. It is a means with which to include old friends, break the ice with new acquaintences, to talk with a lover, make dealings with business partners. It is an important part of creating the Atmosphere of your Life! At this point, I can't see myself not making time for tea in my day. Every time I make tea I offer it to the people around me. It has helped me make friends, keep my sanity, persevere, enjoy the good days and put up with the bad ones. You know you love what you're doing when you wish you could do it seven days a week -- if only my legs didn't ache from nine hours of standing, if only I didn't need to take a break to eat, if only I didn't need to sleep... I'd be making tea for you instead of writing this, wouldn't I? Would you like some tea?

Celadon Fine Teas
1111 Solano Avenue
Albany, CA 94706

Hours: Tuesday-Thursday & Sunday 11:30 AM to 7:00 PM
Friday & Saturday 11:30 AM to 10:00 PM

Title: Bar manager, Myth
Home town: Anaheim, CA

1. What makes someone good at working the bar?
You have to be a people person. You have to be able to listen. You have to be something of a chameleon and an actor. You never know what's going to come up or what people will want to talk about. I came to San Francisco on a theater scholarship at San Francisco State. But I've always bar-tended nights. Everyday is a character study.

People who come to the bar are looking for interaction and I really like that part of it. I pretty much always want to keep one night a week working the bar for as long as I can possibly stand up. It's good stories, good interaction you just get to meet so many people.

Experimenting is important. To be able to recreate a memory, something sensory.

2. How did you learn to work the bar?
I used to be a cocktail server. An old school bar man took me under his wing and taught me all the classics. When I turned 21 I could get behind the bar legally and I fell into it naturally.

3. What's your favorite fresh ingredient available right now?
I'm really liking peaches. I muddle them up and make an Old Fashioned with them instead of cherries. You get all the sweetness but it's different.

Over the Summer I also used cilantro. I especially like savory flavors, like tomatoes.

4. What's your favorite drink on the menu right now?
Well it's not on the menu but it will be soon. Green Tea Ice Cream--we used the Charbay green tea infused vodka, with a little bit of Vermeer, vanilla, rum and it tastes just like green tea ice cream.

5. If you could take one drink off every bar menu, what would it be?
The Mojito, by far! It's so labor intensive and they are never right, everyone wants theirs slightly different.

Here's the amazing thing about farmers' markets: most of the farmers have such an intriguing story when you get to talk to them. Small farms are a rare thing in this country, and making a living farming involves such deliberate decisions that there are not many people who farm without a lot of soul-searching along the way. It can be an addiction ... finding out these stories.

And do I have one for you today.

I'm embarrassed to say that I first became truly aware of Ella Bella's produce this year. I have been shopping at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market for about five years, and I have picked up an item or two at Ella Bella from time to time, but this is the first year that they have become a regular stop for me -- one of the reasons I come to the market. The item that made me stop in my tracks was Ella Bella's summer squash. They were full of sweetness and moisture, I did nothing to these beauties except for eat them lightly steamed and unadorned.

The next week I returned for more squash and some dry-farmed Early Girl tomatoes and talked to one of the two elderly people at the booth. I started talking about quality of the produce, and he beamed. It was the beam of a proud parent -- one who is unabashedly sure that his son walks on water.

I later found out that the parents of the farmer -- Brandon Ross -- work at the booth every week, and it was confirmed that it was Brandon's proud dad who I had been talking to all these weeks. But that's not the end of the story.

You see, Brandon's paternal grandfather was a mentor to Cesar Chavez. He helped to lead the grape boycotts of the sixties, and was a founding member of the United Farm Workers union. And his maternal grandfather was a grape farmer. He was one of the farmers who was boycotted by the UFW movement. In other words, sworn enemies.

Brandon's parents -- the ones who are at the booth each week -- met in college and fell in love. Like a modern day Romeo and Juliet, they were members of warring factions who could never be in the same room together.

In this version, however, Romeo and Juliet lived happily ever after and spend their Saturdays working at the booth of their organic-farmer son.

Brandon Ross, after working at organic farms such as Swanton Berry Farm and Cache Creek Organics, decided to start his own farm and enlisted the help of (now wife) Michelle O'Hearn. Michelle is a chef and prior to farming, owned her own restaurant on Kauai.

You know that these farmers are dedicated to the social spirit of small farms when you talk to Michelle: "We want to extend our growing season as long as possible to support our workers through as much of the year as we can," she said on Saturday in a "Meet the Farmer" event hosted by CUESA.

After moving to a new property last year, Brandon and Michelle are farming on a 19 acres near Watsonville. They farm tomatoes (heirloom, romas and dry-farmed early girls), berries, garlic, squash, broccoli, and many other products at their diverse farm. They are also selling some delicious canned products and sauces. Michelle says that we can expect a return of the summer squash in the next couple weeks, as there are some blooming in the fields this week.

You can find Ella Bella on Tuesdays and Saturdays at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market or on Sundays at the Menlo Park Farmers' Market.

To read more about Ella Bella:

Winter at Ella Bella Farm
KQED Farmer of the month
CUESA farm profile

Photo credit: flourphoto

As many Californians know, Los Angeles is often referred to these days as "Tehrangeles", so great is the population of Persians there. So, it's no surprise that there are dozens of Persian restaurants and Chelo Kabab-is to choose from.

Sadly, the same is not particularly true of the Bay Area; good Persian joints are few and far between. Alborz Restaurant is a particular favorite in our family (they even catered part of our wedding feast), but driving to the city each time we crave Chelo Kabab is sub-optimal.

The other night, we happened upon Papa's Restaurant, about which we'd heard quite a lot, and decided to check it out.

Papa's is set along a stretch of University Avenue just west of Shattuck. It's a simple little place, with some Persian artwork on the walls, but otherwise rather sparse decor. There are perhaps 15 tables, and one extremely efficient woman serving all of them.

Despite the fact that most Persian restaurants serve ridiculously large portions, we decided to order a few appetizers since (a) we were starving and (b) it was my in-laws' first visit to a Persian restaurant.

I found our order of Kashk-e Bademjan to be just OK. The eggplants seemed a bit undercooked, and the unique tang of kashk was missing. On the other hand, the mast-o mousir (yogurt with shallots) was perfect--thick, rich strained yogurt with finely chopped shallot and spices.

We also had a sir-torshi (pickled garlic) and panir-o-sabzi (fresh herbs, feta cheese, walnuts, radishes and green onions, to be eaten with pita bread). Both of these were fine, though I was rather surprised that we were only served mint, instead of the traditional mint, basil and sometimes tarragon.

We all four ordered varying chelo-kabab dishes: two orders of Soltani (one skewer each of barg, marinated filet mignon and koobideh, ground beef), one order of Bareh(marinated chunks of boneless lamb) and an order of Joojeh (boneless chicken marinated in yogurt and saffron).

The barg kababs were wonderfully juicy, tender and flavorful. The koobideh skewers were less successful--they were rather dry, and didn't have nearly enough onion. The bareh was delicious and very tender--the best pieces had a bit of char on the edges. Each of these was served with a nice-sized portion of polow and a grilled tomato (which, like the eggplant, was undercooked--it should fall apart easily to be mixed in with the rice).

The joojeh kabab was very tasty and moist, and allowed for a nice option of zereshk polow (rice with glazed barberries) instead of plain rice. This was arguably my favorite dish, and I would be likely to order it next time.

For dessert, we had Persian tea all around, and an order of Bastani, a rosewater-flavored ice cream with chunks of frozen cream folded in. Both were delicious, and a perfect way to end the meal.

Overall, I really like having Papa's nearby for when I need a quick fix, but I don't think it's the best chelo kabab in the area. For novices to Persian food, though, it's a great introduction with a friendly staff and easy-to-decipher menu.

Papa's Restaurant
2026 University Avenue
Berkeley
510-841-0884