In addition to some personal New Year's resolutions, I have a couple that have to do with lowering my impact on the earth and shrinking my carbon "foodprint."

I am pretty proud of my low-impact ways: I eat locally, I car share, I recycle, and I buy bulk from the co-op. In short, I live a lot of my life taking the environment and my impact on the environment into consideration.

But I've known for a while that I could do more, and have tailored a couple of resolutions to that end.

Resolution #1: Cut my food waste.

We've all heard the statistics: one-third to one-half of all food in the United States goes to waste. Now, there's a lot of that waste that happens way before the food gets to me: it spoiled at the farm or factory, or was thrown away during processing, or was otherwise wasted before it ever reaches the consumer. But what I do have control over is what happens to the food once it gets to me. As a single person who loves to cook and shop, I tend to over cook. I would be quite mortified if any of you saw what I throw away some weeks. I know I'm not alone, but it's still quite shameful. Even if I can compost it, I need to get into the habit of not buying this food, or using it all up when it's purchased.

This Sustainablog article has great pointers for other ways to cut down on food waste, and I'll be using their pointers as I go through the year.

Resolution #2: Meatless Mondays

Nearly all studies show that a meatless diet is better for the environment than an omnivore diet due to the amount of energy it takes to raise our cows and pigs and chickens. A 2007 article from Grist suggests that "If every American had one meat-free day per week, it would reduce emissions as much as taking 8 million cars off the roads." I don't eat meat at every meal, but it is novel for me to intentionally go completely meatless one day a week. I'm going to try to keep it up through 2008.

These resolutions mean that I am going to have to more planning of my meals. I don't think I will ever be someone who plans my meals for the week like I am planning an international trip. If I can even plan on a notecard like you see above and stick to the plan, I will have succeeded in working toward my resolution goals, I believe. I'd love to hear any menu planning tips that have worked for you.

Well, they're all saying that Barack Obama is our first president in a long time to be just a "regular guy." And what do "regular guys" do, just like you and me? They go out to eat, and then they go on Check, Please! and they talk about it!

No, I'm totally serious. Barack Obama will be on Chicago's Check, Please! (the original incarnation of the show, by the way) on January 16th, 18th, and 20th, according to the Dixie Kitchen & Bait Shop website.

We at Check, Please! Bay Area are already hard at work behind the scenes to deliver more to you than just this clip, which has the TEMERITY to cut the President-elect off in mid-sentence, so stay tuned!

This particular episode of Check, Please! was taped back in 2001 -- way before the President-elect was even a glint in the White House eye -- when series creator and executive producer David Manilow called upon State Senator Obama (a friend of Manilow's) to appear on the show.

Obama's restaurant of choice was Dixie Kitchen & Bait Shop in Hyde Park, Illinois, and according to the Chicago Tribune article, the episode was shelved because Obama was "too good -- too thoughtful, too articulate, not enough of an amateur. He ended up dominating the conversation." Yikes! Good thing Hillary didn't have that fodder in her hopper during the primary!

Given the country's documented obsession with everything the Obamas do -- from detailed accounts of workout routines to Paparazzi invading private memorial moments to Harlequin Romance descriptions of Obama's glinting pectorals (coming out of the Washington Post of all places!) -- Dixie's better start thinking about expanding because they're about to become a stop on the Obama pilgrimage.

Hm, I wonder if Howard Kurtz and other scrappy pundits will haul various food experts on their shows to chew over just what Obama's Check, Please! restaurant means to us as a nation and an American people.

If so, it will be Alton Brown's chance to finally become a pundit.

It's that time between the holidays of the sun and the holidays of the moon, between the piles of toffee and the platters of spring rolls, when I try to take a breather. As the décor shifts slowly from red and green to red and gold, my table overflows with refreshing escarole, shaved fennel, crinkly frisée, crisp breakfast radishes and nuggets of ruddy, roasted beets. Bowls of tangerines stand ready in nearly every room, while a very large, extended family of apples takes up residence in my kitchen.

But, truth be told, surrounded by all that wintery goodness, I still crave buttery richness. The cookies are all consumed. The last of the rum balls disappeared days ago. Even the emergency chocolate tin is empty.

No need to shock my system by going cold turkey. With one final, brave stick of butter and lots of booze still in the house, I turn to an old favorite for winding down slowly.

For those trying to watch their cholesterol intake, you can stop reading right now. Ditto for the vegetarians and the hard-core dieters. Teetolers might also want to move along.

For those remaining -- those of us who still manage to reward ourselves during these darkest days of January -- it's time to whip up some chicken liver paté.

As buttery treats go, liver is dense with protein, vitamins and minerals. A few crackers spread thinly with this paté will make the bitterest salad sweeter. Accompanied with a thinly sliced apple and a glass of wine, it becomes a very adult way to enjoy a movie at home. And little ramekins set out for guests never fails to impress.

My first secret? As it very often happens to be: lots of booze.

After all the holiday baking and entertaining, there's usually an inch or two of bourbon or cognac handy. If not, I use the dry sherry in the pantry. Even plain-jane vodka would work. I've decreased the amount of butter in traditional recipes (2 sticks of butter!) by upping the amount of cognac. The extra liquid helps maintain a light emulsion, lending a sense of richness with significantly less butter. You can skip the liquor, but then you'd need to use more butter. Your choice.

My second secret? Lots of herbs.

Fresh thyme and marjoram specifically, but the dried stuff is fine. This is also a great way to use up that very cute but seemingly endless little crock of herbes de Provence.

My third secret? Puree the begeezes out of it.

Chicken liver paté is one of those super simple recipes that adapts to whatever you have in your kitchen and doesn't require measuring cups. I recommend dividing up the batch into little ramekins or lidded containers (vintage Pyrex refrigerator bowls are perfect for this) to stretch out the supply. A quarter inch layer of clarified butter poured over the top, and then a piece of parchment paper cut to size will extend the life of the paté by weeks. After it hardens in the refrigerator, the butter cap can be lifted out to reveal a patiently dormant treat.

Finally, please take the trouble to hunt down organic chicken livers. As one of the cleaning organs of the body, livers absorb toxins. So even if you don't regularly buy organic meat, it's certainly in keeping with eating healthfully to use the livers of chickens who have enjoyed a cleaner diet themselves. Call ahead, as not all butchers stock livers let alone organic ones, and be prepared to thaw out frozen ones. Before cooking them, be sure to trim them of all those white membranes that connect each pair. That's the final secret to a smooth, light texture.

It's best to let the paté rest in the fridge one or two days after making, to let all the flavors meld and mellow. Serve at your next dinner party with cornichons, radishes, crusty bread and a good, robust mustard. Or just spread a small amount on some still-warm toast for a late-night snack to soften the landing into 2009.

Chicken Liver Paté

Makes: About 1 1/2 cups

Ingredients:
1 pound of chicken livers, trimmed of membranes
1/4 cup cognac, bourbon or dry sherry, plus 2 tablespoons
3 tablespoons fresh thyme and marjoram leaves, or 2 teaspoons dried
Generous amounts of salt and white pepper
1/4 to 1/2 cup unsalted butter
1 small onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced

Preparation:
1. Combine the livers, 1/4 cup liquor, herbs, salt and pepper. Stir well, and then let stand for 30 minutes.

2. Melt butter in a wide skillet over medium low heat. Add the onion and cook until soft and translucent, 5 to 7 minutes. Stir in the garlic and continuing cooking for 2 more minutes, taking care not to brown the onion or garlic.

3. Add the livers and cook, turning them occasionally, until the largest lobes are just slightly pink at their center, about 10 minutes.

4. Transfer to the bowl of food processor and let cool slightly. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons cognac, then puree until very smooth and light, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed. It will seem overly thin, but keep in mind that it will thicken and set once chilled. If needed, season to taste with additional salt and pepper. Adding more liquor is perfectly fine, too. Transfer the paté to ramekins, smooth the tops flat, press plastic or parchment against the surface, and refrigerate.

It's funny how things come full circle. My mother grew up in Glendale, CA, and when she went halfway across the country for college, my grandmother started sending her California-grown pomegranates in the mail. For four years, the U.S. Post Office carried round, ruby-skinned exotic fruits from California's sunny climes directly to the frozen tundra of Michigan.

Although I grew up in Minnesota with easy access to pomegranates (not entirely sure how that happened, since it was the 80s, but I'm pretty sure that my mother's persistence, combined with Byerly's superb produce stock, had something to do with it), my mother continued the Pomegranate Mail tradition when I was away at college in Michigan. The bulky brown boxes containing nothing but pomegranates confused my roommates and delighted me.

Now my husband and I are the Californians, so we carry on the family tradition and send pomegranates to Minnesota every Christmas.

After sniffing around various grocery stores and farmers' markets, we found that Sigona's Farmers Market in the Stanford Shopping Center carried the biggest poms with shiny, unblemished skin.

As a kid, the thing that fascinated me most about pomegranates came from Greek mythology. I thought it was cool that we got our seasonal divisions because Persephone absent-mindedly ate some seeds while taking an off-book vacation in the Underworld. I also thought it was beyond stupid that Persephone was dumb enough to eat the food of the dead, thus sentencing herself to spend half her life as goddess of the Underworld. However, in some versions, Hades is said to have tricked Persephone into eating said seeds, which isn't hard to imagine given his bald-faced abduction of her. I also liked how Persephone's enraged mother, Demeter, reacted to the vile kidnapping by shutting down the world in her own personal Amber Alert until Zeus finally got off his Olympic duff and intervened.

(Yes, in various analyses, the pomegranates seeds are really seeds of another sort in which Persephone was partaking, but I was a kid and not interested in that side of things.)

Pomegranates are included on the list of super-foods for their numerous health benefits and their seeds can be enjoyed in so many ways.

(Well, as long as you can get the little suckers out of their papery prisons -- and there are a ton of online videos out there showing you just how to do it. Pom Wonderful also offers grocery store containers of pomegranate seeds with the work already done, but I've noticed they can taste a bit fermented.)

You can add pomegranate seeds to salads, cocktails, meat sauces, and baked goods. Additionally, Jen Maiser rounded up the pomegranate recipes she found on various blogs last year.

Aside from my Lady in Red cocktail, my preferred pomegranate recipe is simply to toss juicy handfuls in my mouth and crunch down.

Enjoy delicious health!

Or perhaps that should read: "a head."

One of my resolutions for the new year is to eat more vegetables, especially greens. Hardy leaves like chard, kale, and mustard greens are all well and good, but I've been going steady with escarole as of late.

I think I'm in love.

If you're wondering why on earth I have a photo of a smiling, gap-toothed 1970's sitcom star thrown up here, you are entirely too young for me to be talking to you.

It's Esther Rolle, of course-- the actress who gained fame as Florida Evans, the no-nonsense maid/foil to Bea Arthur's Maude and was soon rewarded with her own show, Good Times. The sad fact of the matter is that I have never been able to think of escarole without seeing her face, thanks to my own selective hearing and memory-aiding word associations.

It's not so surprising, really, given the fact that she starred as a mother struggling to make a good life for her three children: a goofy elder son with a strong creative bent, a daughter who spouts forth episode-related data, and a youngest child named Michael who was, well, just adorable. It was my family, but black and urban.

Perhaps one of my other resolutions should be to stop wandering off on tangents.

Back to Escarole.

Escarole, for those of you unaware, belongs to the Asteraceae family and is, therefore, closely related to asters and daisies, which naturally reminds me of another popular sitcom, which I promise not to go into today. It is less bitter than its cousins radicchio and chicory (née frisée), depending upon which part of the head you eat-- the outer leaves develop the bitter edge of its endive forebearers as they turn green, while the inner, paler leaves are mild and tender.

Escarole is high in fiber, folic acid, vitamin A and Vitamin K, making its consumption ideal for pregnant women with poor night vision, recessive hemophilia genes, and gastro-intestinal issues.

It's a wonderfully versatile green, equally serviceable eaten cold and torn to pieces in a salad, or served warm, nearly any way you like.

One good, hearty, and surprisingly easy way to serve up escarole in the cold months is braised. Here's just one example. One I made for lunch the other day in, oh, about 15 minutes:

Braised Escarole with Soppressata

This is a recipe heavily borrowed from Andrew Carmellini over at Food & Wine, but streamlined. It is, like I said, a relatively quick dish to make. Its southern Italian roots are made obvious by the use of ingredients such as bread crumbs and soppressata. It will feed one person as a full, one-dish meal, or service four people as a side dish, depending upon one's current level of popularity.

Ingredients:

3 tablespoons olive oil, extra-virgin
2 1/4-inch-thick slices of soppressata (any salami will do, really)
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 heads of escarole, dark outer leaves removed (about one pound), coarsely chopped
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/4 cup bread crumbs
2 tablespoons (or more, depending upon how cheesy you like things) grated Parmesan

Preparation:

In a large, heavy-bottomed stock pot, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Add soppressata, and cook over high heat for about two minutes. Add pepper flakes and garlic and cook, stirring contantly, until garlic is golden and all perfumy and stuff. Add escarole (which you have washed, hopefully) , one handful at a time, turning with a wooden spoon or tongs to coat with the olive oil andgarlicky meat secretions. Season with salt and pepper, if desired (the salami and Parmesan are, of course, salty, so do what you will). Cover, turning the leaves occasionally, and cook over a lowish-to-medium flame, about 10 minutes.

As the escarole is cooking, heat the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a skillet. Add the breadcrumbs and stir over a moderate heat until golden and the breadcrumbs smell, well, toasty.

Place the braised escarole in the serving dish of your choosing, top with breadcrumbs and sprinkle with parmesan, which I know isn't southern Italian, but I am willing to overlook it, if you are.

Serve, eat, and let the good times roll. Or Rolle, depending.

We've all heard horror stories about rock-hard fruitcakes. They're supposedly the favored gift to "re-gift," can last for years, and are hockey-puck textured. According to the late Johnny Carson, "The worst gift is a fruitcake. There is only one fruitcake in the entire world, and people keep sending it to each other."

I thought this all more legend than reality, however, as I had never actually tasted one in person until recently. This could be because I'm Italian and my people don't make traditional fruitcakes (we instead eat the divine panetone), or maybe people just don't give each other fruitcakes anymore. Whatever the case, I was out of the loop until I purchased one in Scotland a couple of months ago.

While visiting the gift shop at Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh -- I spied some traditional British fruitcakes and thought it would be fun to bring one home to share with my mom over the holidays. When I asked the cashier if it would last until December, he laughed and said "Definitely." Thinking his droll response had more to do with the reputation fruitcake has than the actual merit of the one I sat on the counter, I spent 5 pounds on it (that's $10 US bucks) and packed it up in my suitcase. When we got home, I stuck it in the fridge, all bundled up in its shrink wrap niceties, until the holiday season arrived. Then, on Christmas Eve, my mom and I made a hot pot of tea while it stormed outside, and sat down to our plate of authentic English fruitcake.

After one bite, our eyes met as we mutually realized the obvious: if this fruitcake was an authentic representation, the stories weren't rumors. With a texture both brittle and brick-like, it was difficult to chew even the smallest bite without choking. I read the list of ingredients on the wrapper and realized that this sad example of a holiday cake didn't have any alcohol in it.

Fruitcakes are traditionally aged in a cloth wrapping of alcohol for at least five weeks. The alcohol preserves the cakes, fruits, and nuts within, and keeps everything moist. I wondered what the chefs at Holyrood Palace Gift Shop were thinking when they stuck this sad use of flour, fruit and nuts in cellophane without a little brandy. Maybe it was an attempt to get more people to purchase one, although I was reminded of the old adage that when you try to please everyone, you end up making absolutely nobody happy. I began to wonder how many of these confections were made -- and aged -- without alcohol or some type of moistening agent. It seemed that in an attempt to gain a wider audience through omitting the alcohol, cooks had turned what had once been a yearly treat into an inedible burden.

My mom and I love a culinary challenge, so we jumped into action. With just a little bit of work, and about a half cup of brandy, the fruitcake became more than edible. Yes, I am here to say that a hard-as-nails, dry-as-the-desert dessert can be revived in, amazingly, less than ten minutes. Not only revived, but made moist and delicious. After "fixing" the cake, mom and I enjoyed our nice hot cup of tea and gobbled up our treat quite happily.

So if you find yourself a recipient of a fruitcake this year, please know that your only recourse is not to pass it on to another unsuspecting dupe. In just a few short minutes you can bring new life to your confection, and spend an afternoon happily nibbling away with a hot cup of tea.

How to Revive a Fruitcake
1. Place a 1/2 cup of alcohol in a sauce pan along with the zest from an orange. I used brandy, but you could also use cognac, rum, Grand Marnier, or whatever else you like.
2. With a skewer, poke numerous holes into your cake, making sure the holes go all the way through.
3. Set your cake into the sauce pan and heat it until the alcohol starts to simmer.
4. Cover and steam for a few minutes and then start spooning the sauce over the cake so it runs through the many holes you created.
5. Cover the cake in the pan for another minute and then spoon the remaining alcohol over the cake. Continue this process until most of the alcohol is absorbed.
6. Turn off the heat, cover the cake and let it sit for another five minutes.
7. Set the cake on a plate to cool and then serve with your favorite pot of tea.

I'm inaugurating a wine blog today on Bay Area Bites. It's a labor of love for me. I worked for a decade in the wine trade in the seventies and eighties, in New York City, San Francisco, and the Napa Valley. I've kept a toehold in the industry since then, while working as a news editor, reporter and anchor at KQED Public Radio. I still get a thrill from tasting great wine, or decent wine that's a great value; and my cup runneth over with suggestions. People look at me strangely ("Is this nut coming on to me?") when I make recommendations in the liquor aisle at Safeway. So this blog will provide a more acceptable outlet for my tasting notes. I'll try to avoid numbers, and talk about how these wines behave on the lunch or dinner table, where they belong.

I promise to taste a lot of cheap stuff, and warn readers off the plonk. To give you an idea of my palate, I'm a locavore, deeply chauvinistic about California wines. I'd rather keep Californians at work than ship my dollars overseas.

But I promise to be fair: my first love was for French Burgundy-- red and white, and I've toured Champagne, Burgundy, Beaujolais, and the Rhone Valley in France. I just wish that Premier Crus from the Cote D'Or weren't $50 and up.

Enough of that... Let's drink!

I did a bubbly tasting not long ago; and with New Year Eve upon us, I wanted to share my thoughts, and those of my guests, on what we liked.

I should note that my wife says Champagne makes her feel 21 again, ready for romance. (She's still very young of course.) And I think Champagne imbues even awkward people with elegance, and makes awkward moments fizzle away. Both qualities seem like essential components to a happy New Year's celebration.

At the tasting we started out with Non-Vintage Bugey-Cerdon ($22) from Patrick Bottex in the French Savoie. It sure ain't Champagne, but it's a lovely, low alcohol, deep pink bubbly. It smells of strawberries, and marries sweet raspberry and crisp apple flavors in the mouth. It could be the perfect wine for drinking while making out when the balloons drop.

We moved on to some California sparklers. We all loved the J Cuvee 20 ($32), smelling of toast, golden apples, and lemon. Just lovely, and our favorite of the tasting. We also tried the Gloria Ferrer Royal Cuvee 2001 ($35). The 2001 just won best of class in the San Francisco Chronicle Wine Judging, and seemed very complex from its long aging, with a bouquet of almonds, lemon, and black currants. It tasted crisp and appley in the mouth with a creamy finish.

We also tried two sparkling rosés, made with blends favoring Pinot Noir. The Schramsberg 2005 Brut Rosé ($40) smelled like strawberry shortcake, and lasted and lasted in the mouth. The J Brut Rosé ($41) showed nice appley notes in the nose, and raspberries and pink grapefruit in the mouth.

Everyone liked these two rosés, but the women at the tasting preferred the steelier qualities in the white bubblies.

We only drank one true Champagne, a Veuve Clicquot Brut Non-Vintage ($40). It smelled of toast and mushroom, but it disappointed in the mouth, tasting a bit tired. "The Old Widow" is now among the top selling Champagnes in the world. It tastes like they make a lot of it -- decent but not worth the price, especially in today’s economy.

At my recent Hanukkah party I poured a few bottles of Domaine Chandon Riche NV. Domaine Chandon (in Napa and owned by France’s Moet and Chandon) adds a touch of Muscat to Chardonnay and Pinot Noir to get a slightly sweet sparkling wine with flowers and peach in the nose, and a lovely finish. Great with latkes. The best part-- I paid $13 at Safeway and I see it’s selling for $22/bttl in Washington D.C.

I haven’t tasted it recently, but I’ve also enjoyed bubblies by Roederer in Mendocino's Anderson Valley. And Iron Horse makes some extraordinary, if pricey, California sparklers in Green Valley in Sonoma.

So happy New Year. I'm looking forward to more posts in 2009.

I'm going to make just one prediction for 2009:

Urban gardens will become as de rigueur as weekly trips to the farmer's market.

Of course, I'm not the first to notice the idea of urban food production coming into the forefront. Last year saw the launch of San Francisco's Victory Garden pilot project and Wired magazine had an article on Urban Farming as well. Most likely you saw Slow Food Nation's Victory Garden at City Hall or you may have even heard about Graze the Roof, a Summer rooftop edible garden at Glide Memorial. While those projects are over, the idea of producing food in an urban setting has only just begun.

If you want to become an urban farmer, consider enrolling in Alemany Farm's Apprenticeship in Ecological Horticulture. It's a year long hands-on program that will teach core principals of food production such as soil fertility and composting, propagation and planting, seasonal tree care, water-wise irrigation, plant identification, integrated pest management, and crop planning.

If becoming a farmer is not quite your thing, but you still want in on the conversation, check out OPENrestaurant at Yerba Buena. Join members of Slow Food Nation and the urban farming community for OPENrestaurant, a socially engineered informal dinner created by a collective of restaurant professionals. Share a simple meal while chewing on the question: How can the urban landscape be productive? Buy a meal ticket and enjoy dinner and a glass of wine while learning more about urban farming, foraging and gleaning from people directly involved in these practices or simply show up for the discussion.

What: OPENrestaurant with Slow Food Nation, a discussion and dinner prepared by Jerome Waag and Stacie Pierce of Chez Panisse and Chris Kronner formerly of Serpentine and Slow Club.

Where: Grand Lobby, Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, 701 Mission St, San Francisco

When: January 6th, 2008, 7 pm

How: Buy a meal ticket, $20 or $15 for Yerba Buena members. Or call the box office at 415.978.2787. The discussion is free for those who do not choose to dine with the group.

Why: Get a head start on planting for Spring, receive seed packets and enjoy local beer and wine, white beans and greens from city farms, pork rillettes, bread from Tartine and dessert.

This is the third year in a row that I have published a list of my favorite tastes of the year. My personal rules for the tastes: they have to be something that I first tried in 2008, and they must knock my socks off. I am lucky that every year I am able to taste new dishes that completely change my culinary point-of-view. This year I delved more into Thai food, and spent a lot of time in San Francisco so not many dishes are from out-of-town. The tastes, in no particular order are:

Chicken noodle soup, Thai House Express. I was introduced to this soup in January of this year and have had it many, many times since. I enjoy the light broth of the soup and always order it with thin egg noodles. When chili paste is added from the condiments provided on the table, it makes for the perfect bowl of soup. 901 Larkin Street at Geary, San Francisco.

Burger and duck-fat fries, Spruce. Much to the consternation of the New Yorkers who read Serious Eats, I had the audacity to declare the Spruce hamburger as the best hamburger in San Francisco. New Yorkers could not believe that a great burger could be served on an english muffin. I stand by my decision, and can't think of many places I'd rather spend an evening than the Spruce bar with a burger and a cocktail. 3640 Sacramento Street at Spruce, San Francisco.

Sunchoke salad, SPQR. When a chef shuffle at SPQR occured last January, I was worried. After opening in October 2007, SPQR quickly became a favorite on my restaurant rotation and I didn't want the food to change. I needn't have worried. Chef de cuisine Chris Behr turns out solidly awesome food and I'm never disappointed. One of my favorite bites all year was their sunchoke salad served with tangerine pieces, radicchio and toasted almonds. The combination of flavors makes for a perfect bite. 1911 Fillmore Street at Bush, San Francisco.

Arctic char crudo, Bar Crudo. 2008 will be known as the year that I finally tried Bar Crudo. I was enchanted by the flavors of nearly every dish, but especially enamored of the arctic char with wasabi tobiko. Magic. 503 Bush Street over the Stockton tunnel, San Francisco.

Nam prik noom, Renu Nakorn. My first taste of the delicious nam prik noom -- a chili dip served with crudite -- was at Lotus of Siam this year in Las Vegas. While it was delicious at Lotus, I preferred the dish when I had it at Renu Nakorn in Southern California. Lotus of Siam's roots were born out of Renu Nakorn, so the dishes were very similar with Renu Nakorn's spice level being perfect. I can't wait to eat this again. Renu Nakorn re-opened this year in a lovely space after being closed for several years and is well worth a trip if you're in Southern California. 13019 Rosecrans Ave near Hwy 5, Norwalk.

No-Knead Bread made by me. Until this year, I had never made a loaf of bread by myself. I'm not saying that the bread I made was perfect, and about 15 loaves later it's still not. But I will always remember that first taste of my first loaf of bread.

Kanom krok, San Bruno Thai Temple. Kanom krok -- the popular Thai dessert that is made of sweet coconut cream and batter in the equivalent of an Ebilskiver pan -- was a new taste to me this year. I tried kanom krok at several places, and my favorite bite was the one I tried first at this Sunday Thai temple brunch. 310 Poplar Ave at Crystal Springs Road, San Bruno. Sundays only, best to go around 11.30 or noon.

Butterscotch budino, Mozza. It was hard to choose just one bite at Mozza to feature, as it was one of my favorite places in Southern California this year. The budino is a perfect dessert -- a butterscotch pudding topped with salted caramel and served with rosemary pine nut biscotti. I'm not a fan of overly sweet desserts and this dish struck the perfect balance between sweet and salty. 6602 Melrose Ave at Highland, Los Angeles.

Mussel Salad, Bar Jules. Jessica Boncutter opened Bar Jules early this year, and I was lucky to spend many an afternoon there with friends enjoying the fresh, local and delicious food. The mussel salad pictured above is a perfect representation of the food that I loved here in 2008, and I can still remember the perfectly cooked mussels contrasted with aioli and simple boiled potatoes. 609 Hayes Street at Laguna, San Francisco.

Ankimo, Sebo. No taste deserves its own, completely separate, blog post more than the ankimo at Sebo. Thinking of evenings at Sebo this year makes me break into a wide grin. It's the combination of absolutely impeccable sushi, combined with the personality of the chef owners and the company that I enjoyed there. I never really understood the draw of ankimo, which is monkfish liver, until I tasted it at Sebo. While I still typically am drawn to the uni at Sebo over the ankimo, I have ankimo on the list for the sheer fact that it changed my mind and my culinary perspective. My dining partner and I were so exuberant about it one night that we convinced Loretta Keller, owner of Coco500, to re-open her already paid check to have an order of ankimo. She thanked us. 516 Hayes Street at Octavia, San Francisco.

Happy New Year, all. And here's to many, many great tastes in 2009.

Previous taste lists:
Top 10 Tastes 2006
Top 10 Tastes 2007

After the holidays' repeated culinary excesses, my mouth, stomach, and soul are all screeching for something quite simple and healthful. This lentil soup always fits the bill. I'm not sure if it's the folic acid-loaded lentils or the fresh, cleansing flavor of the parsley that does it for me, but whatever it is, I'm hooked.

The recipe is based on one from my favorite cookbook, Alice Waters' Vegetables, and was first introduced to me one winter night in Virginia by my mother-in-law. Judy presented the lentil soup in beautiful earthenware bowls that somehow made it seem that much tastier, and served it up with a fresh green salad, thick slices of olive bread, and a lovely bright Italian red wine.

As soups go, it somehow manages to be both rustic and refined with the tiny French green lentils and the small dice of the carrots and onions. I find it eminently satisfying and always make enough for several days of leftovers.

A word on lentils: the soup calls for a combo of brown and red lentils, but Judy used green Le Puy, and that -- with a few other changes to the original recipe -- is how I've continued to make it. (Sometimes I add the tiny black beluga lentils to the green just to vary colors, sizes, and textures.) In my experience, the very best green Le Puy and black Beluga lentils can be found under the brand name of Cassoulets USA. They come from Twin Falls, Idaho and cook up far more evenly and firmly than any other brand of green Le Puy lentils I've found in high-end grocery stores.

Lentil Soup

Makes: 4-6 main course servings

Ingredients:

1 onion, diced small
1 carrot, diced small
2 tablespoons olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 1/2 cup green lentils, rinsed and picked over to discard small stones
1 small bunch parsley, leaves separated from stems.
1/2 head garlic
1/2 small fresh chili pepper
2 quarts water
1/2 teaspoon cumin seed
1 teaspoon fennel seed
1 teaspoon grains of paradise
2 cloves garlic, minced
Lemon juice
Extra virgin olive oil

Preparation:

1. In a soup pot over medium heat, sauté the onion and carrot in olive oil until the onions are gilded and translucent, about 1-2 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste.

2. Wrap the parsley stems, 1/2 garlic head, and chili in cheesecloth and add it to the pot. Add the lentils and water and bring to a boil. Simmer until the lentils are tender, but not mushy, about 45 minutes.

3. Meanwhile, toast the cumin, fennel, and grains of paradise in a dry skillet over low heat until fragrant. Crush the toasted spiced with a mortar and pestle, or by using the bottom of a heavy skillet. Chop the parsley leaves.

4. When the lentils are done simmering, remove the cheesecloth and add the crushed spices and minced garlic. Taste for seasoning, add lemon juice, chopped parsley, and additional salt and pepper, if necessary.

5. Serve soup in bowls with a dribble of olive oil.