On the eve of August you may be wondering what to do with all the incredible stone fruits and berries arriving fast and furious at your local farmer's market. The following recipe for crisp topping, easy to assemble and substitution friendly, is baking at it's most streamlined, straightforward and "I can't bake"-proof.

I don't normally take requests, but after my Pie II Crust Revisited post on Eggbeater where I went through making pie dough point by point, a reader asked that I write about crisp topping as her own recipe was not quite up to snuff. My delicious crisp topping stems from working with Claudia Fleming at Gramercy Tavern. We served an exceptional apple and cranberry crisp that, although it was created to serve two, was one of our most popular desserts on chilly fall nights.

If you've had a chance to pick up the Spring 2006 issue of Edible San Francisco, you know that the crisp recipe resides in there as well. But for the requester, who lives in Australia, and those of you unable to pick up this new local mag, here's the recipe again.

CRISP TOPPING

3 C All Purpose Flour
1/2 C Sugar
1/2 C Dark Brown Sugar
1/2-3/4 C Nuts, lightly toasted and rough chopped
1/2 teaspoon Ground Cinnamon
1 teaspoon Ground or Crushed Cardamon
3/4 teaspoon Kosher Salt

8 oz. Unsalted Butter, melted

1. Put all ingredients, except butter, in a large bowl.
2. Stir with hands to mix, breaking apart clumps of brown sugar with fingers.
3. Melt butter.
4. Make "well" in center of bowl and pour butter in while it's still hot.
5. Stir in butter with wooden spoon or spatula.
6. Finish incorporating butter into all of the drys with hands.
7. On a baking sheet covered with parchment paper, lay out raw crisp topping and chill in refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.
8. When you are ready to make the crisp, preheat oven to 400F.
9. Assemble filling, sprinkle on as much or as little crisp topping as you like, set baking dish on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper (your "dish-washer" will thank you later!)
10. Bake until topping has browned and filling is bubbling up. If you are making a large crisp I suggest you check in on it about 15-20 minutes into the baking time. If you're topping is gaining more color than you'd prefer, turn the pan around and turn the heat down to 350F.

Crisp topping can be kept in a tightly covered container for upwards of a month refrigerated. (I have even kept it longer.) This recipe can be doubled, tripled or more.

The filling is completely up to you! I picked up rhubarb, plums, nectarines, blackberries and raspberries at the market Friday and whipped up a fabulous filling. I add the sugar to taste, as it depends on the sweet or puckeriness of the fruits on hand, and sometimes a dash of lemon zest shavings. I tend to like my fruit to taste like itself, not like the sweetener, so I err on the bright side. I rely on the topping to carry in the sweet crispy layer.

I'm a big fan of walnuts in the crisp topping and I pre-toast them so as to add an extra dimension to the crisp topping besides texture. If you have them, hazelnuts would be gorgeous, especially with stone fruits, and I've not tried peanuts or pecans, but I can only imagine what great choices they would make.

Sometimes I brown my butter slightly, toss in a bit of mace for deepened spiciness, or omit the ubiquitous cinnamon altogether in favor of secret ground toasted coriander. Suffice to say light brown sugar could be substituted for the dark and the sugar in the filling could be any sort you desired as well. I don't much use whole wheat flour but it might be a new take, and I always love me some flavorful corn meal!

The signature difference in this recipe is that the butter is melted. What this means is that the crisp topping actually crisps in the oven because the fat source has permeated every grain of flour and sugar. The preparation of cutting cold butter into flour, as is the case in many crisp topping recipes, creates a topping that melts into the fruit juices, therefore producing a gooey, unbaked layer of flour-butter-sugar lumps between hot fruit and still tender topping.

In this recipe you bake the crisp is a fairly hot oven because all you are really baking is the topping. In a crisp or cobbler there's no need for a starch thickener as one eats these desserts in a bowl, hence no pressure for them to stand upright.

Have fun with your seasonal fresh fruit crisp. Make too much topping to always have some on hand. Try it with different spices, intriguing nuts, alternative sweeteners, and please report back and let us all know how it went!

This is one of my all-time favorite pictures of any that I've ever taken. I call it Ave Maria, or the singing bass. The tags say bar de ligne or line-caught sea bass.

My second stage (stazh) or internship in France was cooking on a lobster boat in a military port town in Brittany which is the northwest corner of France that juts out into the Atlantic ocean. The boat was grounded at one end of a beautiful beach, Plage du Moulin Blanc, though I never saw any white windmills, with the marina or Port de la Plaisance on the other side.

Ma Petite Folie, a lobster boat on Plage du Moulin Blanc

I originally thought I'd be cooking at another restaurant, La Fleur de Sel, a more upscale, fine dining restaurant rather than this beast of a boat. I was initially very disappointed but within a few days I came to love that bateau aptly named Ma Petite Folie - my little madness - and cherished my time there. I learned all about fish and every day I scaled, gutted, filleted, skinned and cleaned fish. I was up to my elbows in fish guts and my hands soon looked like a litter of kittens had used them as scratching posts.

Stingray or skate, raie in French

I didn't start out cutting up fish but rather vegetables. The first week I chopped and chopped and chopped carrots, fennel and leeks, over and over and over. I was dying to gets my hands on the fish but that took some proving to do. I was scrolling through some old emails I sent home when I was working on the lobster boat and came across this entry.

Yours truly cutting up fish! A far cry from my cube in the valley looking out on the Target parking lot.

Bonjour mes amis! A quick story I am dying to share with y'all about my day today. It's just so cool and I want to shout it from the rooftops but that would no doubt arouse the gendarmes (local police) here so sending via email will have to suffice.

Carralet. Their bright orange spots are so vibrant and a dramatic contrast to their stark white bellies.

TODAY WAS A GREAT DAY! Jacques the sous-chef let me cut up fish today! I cut a few up for the first time the other day and as I was cutting (or more like butchering) the first fish, Jacques walked by and said "Mon dieu (my god)!" and not in a good way. So he patiently showed me how to do it and I had to ask him a few more times to show me. I got through it but it was painful for all of us, especially the fish! I figured any career opportunities at Fisherman's Wharf were now out the window, or porthole as the case may be.

Dorade. We used this for carpaccio drizzled with a little lemon olive oil.

So this morning I was once again chopping carrots and Jacques was next to me filleting fish. I asked him if I could help him and he said "maybe tomorrow, we're very busy". I politely replied, "I can't learn it if I never do it. I know I'm slow but I'll never get fast if I never get the opportunity to practice." And he replied, "You're right, you're right. Ok here!" and he dumped about twenty Dorade into the sink and said "Go ahead!" YEAH! I cut them up, packed them in ice and put them in the walk-in. It took me a while but I loved it! It was gross and slimy, as they weren't gutted but I loved it! He scraped the scales off and I filleted them! A very cool day!!!

Lieu, or pollack in English

Tonight we arrived at 6pm and Jacques was in a cranky mood. He barked, "Laura, you cut up the fish tonight." I jumped up, "Merci!" He said, "No merci (Don't thank me!). I need twenety Lieu and four Barbue by 7pm" and he walked away scowling. I asked him where they were and he pointed to the walk-in. I asked him to show me what they look like and he rolled his eyes, stomped over to the walk-in, pulled out the fish, and threw them into the sink with disgust. I'm thinking, "Oh great (not really what I said), he's already annoyed with me and there is no way I'm going to finish all these fish in less than an hour! Damn (not really what I said)!

John Dory, or St Pierre in French.

So I started cutting them one at a time, methodically, patiently, as quickly as possible, not daring to look at my watch. I cut the last fish, cleaned my station, and only then did I look at my watch. 6:55pm! Yann walked by and said, looking very surprised, "Excellent, Laura (ex-say-LONT lo-RAH)!" I WAS SO EXCITED! I DID IT! :-) I couldn't believe it! I cranked through all those fish! Granted, it wasn't the best fillet job ever done but it was passable and I got the job done! I was so proud of myself! I asked Jacques if he didn't think I could do it. He replied very seriously, "No, of course I thought you could do it." I laughed, "Well that's good because I didn't think I could do it!" We had a good chuckle and the rest of the night I walked a few feet off the ground. When I left, Jacques winked, "Laura, tomorrow, you and me, we cut up fish." YEAH! I proved myself! Finally! What a great feeling! I could finally exhale.

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This is another fabulous recipe from my flatmate, John. This is perfect for a hot summer day when you are craving protein but can't bare the thought of eating something hot. I usually make it early in the morning before it gets too hot out, then I can enjoy it for lunch or dinner that evening.

Saumon Froid au Basilic - Chilled Basil Salmon

4 pieces salmon, approx 125 to 150 grams each
4 tbsp butter
1-2 cups dry white wine, depending on size of pan
1 lemon, thinly sliced
4 tbsp dry basil or 1/4 cup chopped fresh basil
1 cup heavy cream

1. Heat the oven to 400F/200C/6.
2. Butter the pan with 1-2 tbsp and coat with a layer of dried or fresh chopped basil
3. Lay out salmon on top of the basil
4. Add wine to 2/3 up the side of the salmon
5. Top with salt and pepper, basil, lemon slices
6. Poach for 10 minutes
7. Remove the salmon to another plate, cover with plastic wrap and chill
8. Save 1/4 cup of the liquid in a small sauce pan
9. Add a lot of basil (1 tbsp/person) and 1-2 tbsp butter
10. Reduce slowly on low heat, stirring occasionally.
11. Increase heat to high, add heavy cream and whisk.
12. Turn down and reduce for 15 minutes.
13. Pour into a bowl and chill.
14. When the salmon and sauce have both chilled completely, plate the salmon. Stir the butter sauce until it's a creamy consistency and spoon a tablespoon over the salmon.

Bon Appetit!

I know it's an occupational hazard, but it's really not fair that at 2:00 this afternoon I was craving ribs, vegan shakes, homemade tortillas, gnocchi, and mazto ball soup. All at once. (Hey, here's a culinary conundrum -- how do you manage to crave both ribs AND vegan at the same time?) I blame it on the fact that I've been hanging around the set of Check, Please! Bay Area this week.

That's right, the second and brand new season of Check, Please! Bay Area is being cooked up even as I type. This year, we're dishing up more episodes featuring a passel of new restaurants to salivate over. There's such a rockin' vibe coming off the set that I can't wait for these babies to hit the airwaves. I can't reveal too much, but I think this is going to be an awesome season.

Also, they are still looking for people to be on the show, so if you like to duke it out over duck, fight about fingerlings, or just generally chew (and swallow) the fat, grab the nearest internet connection and bang out an application.

Bay Area Bites recently got a chance to sit down with Jacques Pepin, one of the most beloved "celebrity chefs". In Interview with Jacques Pepin Part One we talk about food trends, the celebrity chef phenomenon and cookbooks. Next week check back for Part Two to read about Pepin's favorite meal, favorite gadgets and the difference between food in America and France.

You've seen a lot of trends from nouvelle cuisine to low carb, is molecular gastronomy the next food revolution?
People like Ferran Adria at El Bulli in the North of Spain are breaking new ground. When you go there and eat that food you often don't even know what it is. It's a little bit like when I was in China eating Buddhist food. Everything is some type of bean but one dish tastes like duck, another tastes like fish. It's a cuisine of deception to a certain extent. If you gave Adria's food to a Spaniard in the street, he'd have no idea what it is. That being said, he has done stuff that no one has done. I think it is akin to haute couture. When you see the new collection of Gaultier you start laughing. Somehow it trickles down and goes somewhere. That type of cuisine will trickle down. If you look at what we've done with nouvelle cuisine, it was a big revolution but many of the things that were revolutionary at the time are common ground now. It does have to make sense, it's not a question of putting raspberry ice cream on a slice of Roquefort cheese just because no one has ever done it, there's a reason why no one has ever done it. For a young chef, the idea of doing something shocking can be irresistible but I'm much older now and I like something which tastes good whether it is new or not. I tend to take away from the plate much more than I add, which is a normal process I think.

Are we too obsessed with food in this country?
Depends where you live. If you are in Iraq or Biafra (Nigeria) or many other places in the world, all people want is some protein so they are not that concerned about over-carbohydrating themselves, they just want to grab something to eat. We fuss so much about a dish, we torture it so much to make it appealing, to excite your taste buds, when at the same time 2/3 of the world's population is dying of hunger. There's something wrong with that picture. Morally something is wrong. So yes, we can become too obsessed with food here.

If you compare the world of food now to the way it was, I mean there were over 2,000 cookbooks published last year and in the last 15 years, probably 20,000 books specifically about dieting and we are now 1/3 fatter than we were 20 years ago when it started. There's something wrong there. It used to be that you went to the restaurant before going to the theatre. Now the restaurant has become the theatre, people go there to be seen, to experience new trends, and to discover new chefs. It is really an obsession compared to the rest of the world where people usually eat at home and eat in a restaurant maybe once a month. Just look at what's in the supermarket. When I first came here 40 years ago there were two kinds of lettuce, iceberg and romaine. There were no leeks, no shallots, no oriental vegetables, and no fresh herbs. You had to go to a specialty store in New York just to get regular white mushrooms.

What do you think about the celebrity chef phenomenon?
It's terrific! I'm a beneficiary so I'm not going to can it but I don't take it too seriously. When I came here in 1960, I was offered a job at the White House to cook for John F. Kennedy and then I was offered a job at Howard Johnson and I went there instead. But it was a decision which made sense at the time. I had been the chef of the president in France (Charles de Gaulle) but I had never been on the radio or in a magazine. The chef was in the kitchen and never came into the dining room. When I was invited to the White House, I had no idea of the potential so it's not a decision which was so difficult to understand at the time. On the other hand, with Howard Johnson I had no idea of the food, no idea of the production, no idea of the chemistry of food, no idea of American eating habits. So I was learning something, and that's why I went.

I don't like to go out to dinner when people are shoving food in my mouth. Sometimes I just like to go out and have a taco and a beer somewhere. 35 years ago, chefs were really at the bottom of the social scale. No good mother would have wanted their child to be a cook, they wanted them to be a lawyer or an architect or a designer or whatever. Now we are geniuses.

Your latest book,"Fast Food My Way" seems to try to dispel the notion that great cooking has to require a lot of time and effort. Has your own style of cooking changed?
The myth is that this is the way Jacques Pepin cooks now. I've always cooked this way. In the span of a week, I could spend five hours in the kitchen doing puff pastry or doing stock and the day after I'm in a hurry and I do something out of the refrigerator. I could put one recipe into slow food, one recipe into normal, and one recipe into fast foo--throughout the year it's what I do. This is not something that is new or that I never cooked this way before. I'm not special, I'm sure you do the same thing, sometimes you have time and sometimes you don't. In the US we tend to always want to categorize things so much--slow food cookery, 8 hours, microwave oven, regular stove.

Do you look at cookbooks for inspiration?
Not for inspiration but I look at the Larousse Gastronomic or Joy of Cooking or an old anthology book like that to check a point. Inspiration comes from eating in a restaurant or you look in a magazine or you talk with friends and it triggers something. I came from the airport and I had a bite to eat at Postrio and he gave me a scallop that was wrapped in a very thin slice of bread and sauteed and that was a good idea. It reminded me of when I was working at the Russian Tea Room in New York and we used to do a breast of chicken that we dipped in eggs and we dipped it into a little cube of bread or brioche and sauteed it. I will probably do something like this, but maybe with fish. So you have an idea like this that you see and it transforms itself, you filter it through your own aesthetic.

Interview continues here.

Can't get enough of Bay Area Bites blogger Stephanie? Read her Top Chef recaps at Television without Pity. Though the show began in March, it's still fun to read the recaps about this Bravo chef competition based in San Francisco.

Next day, it's the Elimination Challenge and -- oh, hello, Golden Gate and Painted Ladies! I totally live across the park from those Full Houses. Ew! Ew! EW! They show two guys in succession riding those stupid Segways down Market Street. As a San Franciscan, I object, because I rarely see those Segweirdoes. Maybe once every three months, but certainly not two riders in a row! Unless you're Gob Bluth with flowing, flappy trousers, it's just not cool. The chefs arrive at Bryan's on California to do a little grocery shopping. Let me tell you something about Bryan's of Laurel Heights. It's not all that. It's overpriced food for bejeweled and benailed women who carry around clutch dogs in their sun-damaged hands.

Brett at In Praise of Sardines has started a great series chronicling his attempt to open a new restaurant in San Francisco. Read the Wild Ride series here.

What is my experience of using online ads to hunt for a restaurant business to buy?

Imagine yourself blindfolded and standing in the middle of an airport hangar. Along one wall is the picture of a donkey upon whose derriere you wish to pin a tail. You spin around 5 times and go. Good luck.

Imagine you are looking for an apartment (or a house for that matter) and all the ads read "apartment in San Francisco, $1,500 - 2,000 per month" with no other details, not the number of bedrooms, not the address, not even the neighborhood. Get the idea?

The Ethicurean is a really wonderful new blog focusing on farms and ethical eating. This week, they talk about a tour of Redwood Hill Dairy. Read their posts in three parts: Part One, Part Two, Part Three.

One of us had the bad manners to ask Scott whether he'd ever eaten goat meat. He was pretty offended. "No way! I couldn't. They're my friends -- I know all their names," he said. However, Redwood Hill also raises some poultry. "I eat those meat chickens. I don't mind that -- they have no personality." By contrast, some of Scott's goat ladies won't get down off the milking platform unless he gives them a kiss. "Those are the ones that we have to find pet homes for.I would never let them go to auction."

And other quick links from around the Bay: Knife's Edge has great news, Fatemeh reviews Tacubaya, Derrick reviews the new book Kitchen Sense, Jack and Joanne review Manzanita, Biggles makes me hungry, Culinary Muse reviews Big Nates BBQ, and Hungry Hedonist reviews Delfina.

The first time I saw my friend Patrick picking figs was about eight years ago. I was working at Bouchon, just about a mile up the road. We met when he knocked on the kitchen door bearing cherries. The best ones I have eaten to date.

When cherry season ended my chef prodded me to find out what else he might be growing. A handsome, quiet man, Patrick was new to the "farming thing" and after a few invitations to "look and see for myself what else was in the ground," I showed up with an eager extern from garde manger.

My life has never been the same since.

"The farm" is Massa Ranch. A little over 40 acres planted with various wine grapes and a sprinkling of these fruit and nut trees: French prune plums, pears, apples, peaches, English walnuts, Santa Rosa plums, four varietals of cherries, almonds, figs, quince, persimmons, and some wild plums.

The farm is sandwiched between highway 29 and the Napa River. A little one-car bridge is built over Hopper Creek, full of water in the rainy season. Patrick spent two years fulfilling a massive Riparian Restoration grant from the government, upsetting (wine-maker) neighbors who would rather see no trees along the rivers, creeks and streams, but pleasing the many animals in the sky and on the ground who need the waterways' natural habitats. New trees grow in tall summer grasses, and my dogs zig-zag through, catching and eating unlucky ground squirrels, or picking up the scent of coyotes and rabbits. Raptors and owls sometimes startle and awe, dive-bombing for prey.

Before you see the figs you smell them. A wall of perfume that is thousands of leaves pushing out towards the sun, upwards to the undivided attention of skies that drape the intimate valley floor. Thick, oily musk reminiscent of coconut, spicy, intoxicating fig leaf perfume. And then you see the mass that is not one fig tree but six, spaced like a faerie ring. Taller than tall, broad, immense, impossibly dense.

A city of Black Mission figs.

You walk towards this natural structure. Where does it start and end?

You walk around it, find an opening and step inside. Quiet, cool, damp. Speckled light dances through leaves. Stained glass.

You're in the fig church.

The first time I saw Patrick picking figs I heard the activity first. The barn doors were open, a cave of darkness traveled farther than I could see. Fantastically loud opera flew out of its cool lightless mouth. Isaac, Patrick' eldest dog, greeted me with what felt like a mime of barked greeting. All I could hear was the full throat opened singing, lungs vibrating with foreign language.

Directly across from the barn is the "Suddenly Seymour" that is the fig clatch. Patrick's figure barely cut an outline at the top of a very tall orchard ladder.

I tasted my first fresh fig only 14 years ago. It felt revelatory. How could I have been missing this sumptuous fruit my whole life? I cut one in half and placed it on my cutting board in a safe spot. I was working at Lulu, kitchen of many sous chefs and cooks. People tried to eat my fig. "No, it's here so I can look at it. Isn't it beautiful?" "Shuna?" "Yes chef?" "You're crazy." "Yes chef."

Like most extra ordinary fruit, the best specimens reside in the uppermost branches. When I approached the trees today our youngest dog, Abu, came along. Closer to the ground, he sniffs out the ripest fruits tucked invisibly in the folds and layers. Standing at the door it appears that there are no ripe fruits. Just two steps in will reveal a completely different story. Just a few inches in exposes endless numbers of figs nearing the eggplant-purple skin color that announces their ripeness.

This is what it will look like if a bird has found it before you.

The most avid pest a fig farmer has to deal with is the pesky bird. An indiscriminate palate, the bird takes a peck out of this and that, ruining all the figs (for humans) by exposing them to mold and ants and bees.

How can you tell if the fig is ripe? "It should feel like a testicle." Patrick says.

You can also tell by the way it hangs on the branch. Before they ripen they stick straight out, defying gravity. When they fill with honeyed sweetness it's as if the fig begins to dehydrate, concentrating itself and becoming lax.

This fig is not yet ready, but it has just begun to fall and the stem end is bent downwards.

Fig trees have three pregnancies, bearing fruit well into a Northern California fall if the weather is right. Like camels, fig trees need scant watering if the rainy season gave them a good soaking in their leafless stage. This is why the first crop tends to premier larger, less intensely flavored fruit than the following two. I like the second crop best, or figs from the first crop that have survived on the tree a bit longer.

I eat them out of hand because I rarely have more than I know what to do with. If this situation arrises I like to sear them face down in a bit of olive oil and finish with a caramelizing-deglazing of balsamic vinegar. If turning on the stove feels akin to putting your head in it, like in this 100+F heat, slice some tomatoes, season lightly with great salt, spread fresh bread with murky green olive oil and/or cool chevre, sprinkle sliced figs with balsamic and have an open-faced sandwich.

A number of farmers at Bay Area Farmer's markets grow and sell figs of various color, sizes, textures and sweenesses. I wish you good luck in your own fig hunting!

Click on "Figs" in this link to find out which farms bring them to The Ferry Plaza Farmer's Market.

Did I mention it's been hot here? Like really, REALLY hot. Like high 90s with high humidity hot. Like New York City in August stuck on the 3 express at rush hour hot. You get the picture. One way we try to beat the heat here is to picnic along the banks of the Seine. Not that any rejuvenating cool ocean breezes come off that river, nor would you dare put a foot in (you might end up growing an extra toe!) but it's much more pleasant than sitting in a sweltering apartment or a crowded cafe with smoke lazily curling past your face. Our favorite spot is on the Port de la Tournelle where we are treated to gorgeous sunsets with Notre Dame and Pont de l'Archeveche as the backdrop. I know, pinch me.

I've been subsisting on watermelon and ice cream so I was so excited to receive my friend Gwen Walter's culinary newsletter, Pen and Fork, a week ago with a delicious recipe for Chilled Lemon Ginger Carrot Soup. This I could do! This recipe is from her cookbook, The Great Ranch Cookbook and since Gwen lives in Arizona, I figured she knew a thing or two about HOT.

Cooking the soup nearly killed me as I was loathe to even approach the stove much less turn it on. It was so hot (how hot was it?!) I didn't need to turn the burner on the melt the butter! But I persevered and the results were well worth it - a light, refreshing, lemony, cheerful soup perfect for these sweltering summer days.

Chilled Lemon Ginger Carrot Soup - serves 4

2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 pound carrots, peeled, and chopped into 1/2" pieces
1 generous tablespoon fresh grated ginger
1/8 teaspoon cayenne
zest of 1 lemon
2 (14 oz) cans low sodium chicken broth
water as needed
Juice of 1 lemon
Salt to taste
2 teaspoons minced fresh chives (optional)
2 teaspoons chopped candied ginger (optional)
4 tablespoon tiny shrimp or lump crabmeat (optional)

1. Melt butter in a soup pot over medium heat. Stir in onions and cook, stirring occasionally until soft, about 2 minutes. Stir in carrots, ginger, cayenne and lemon zest.

2. Cook an addition 2 to 3 minutes, stirring frequently to coat carrots with the butter and evenly distribute the ginger, cayenne and zest.

3. Pour in chicken broth and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to a good simmer and cook until carrots are fork tender, about 20 minutes.

4. Puree soup with an immersion blender until smooth. If you don't have one, you can use a blender. (CAUTION: Hot liquid shoots straight up in a blender so do not fill more than half full, unless you have a Vita Mix with variable speed, which can handle the whole amount.) If it is too thick, add water in 1/4 cup increments until you have your desired consistency.

5. Whisk in lemon juice. Taste, and add salt if desired.

6. This step is optional. Here I strained the soup in a mesh strainer. This isn't necessary, but I was just in the mood and it was still a bit too thick for me on such a hot day.

Note: Always use a metal spoon to push the soup through, never a wooden spoon because the mesh will catch on the spoon creating tiny splinters.

7. Chill soup in an ice bath and refrigerate until completely chilled. May be prepared the day before.

8. To serve, ladle about a cup of soup in chilled soup bowls or cups. Garnish with a sprinkling of chives and candied ginger, about a half teaspoon each for each serving. The garnishes are optional but really take it to an explosive flavor level.

Note: If you want to dress it up, top it with some chilled cooked shrimp or lump crabmeat.

Bon Appetit!

I pulled up at Ocean Beach for my daily run and, what ho? There's a cherry stand at the beach! Driving Oregon plates, the California seller welcomed me into her "office" and offered me samples of her shiny, dark red wares from Washington. I begged her to be there in an hour at which time I would definitely be a happy customer.

While the California cherry season burns hot and will end fairly soon for us, the cooler climes of the Pacific Northwest mean a longer, sweeter cherrilicious season. Spending my youthful summers in Traverse City, I was spoiled by turnovers, pies, and ice creams as only tart Michigan cherries can produce. However, I can't easily get those cherries any more and I have come to love the cherry bounty found on the West Coast.

Normally, the only prep I bestow on this provocative fruit is a simple bath and quick rubdown before consuming the naked fruit. This year, I was moved to help along the summer produce by punching up their flavors.

Cherry Poppin' Salad
Serves 1

1/2 cup cherries, pitted and quartered
1 tablespoon crumbled blue cheese
1 cup salad greens
1 tablespoon toasted hazelnuts
Lemon juice from one lemon
2 tablespoons olive oil
Salt
Pepper
2 teaspoons lemon zest

1. Combine the cherries, cheese, salad greens, and hazelnuts together. Toss lightly.

2. Whisk the lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and pepper together. Drizzle the vinaigrette over the salad and toss lightly. Sprinkle the lemon zest over the top of the salad and serve.

Roast chicken is the Holy Grail of cooking. Cooks everywhere are on the eternal quest for that crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside, perfect bird. There are those who swear by Judy Rodgers' Zuni Roast Chicken with Bread Salad, others prefer Thomas Kellers' "Mon Poulet Rôti" or Mark Bittman's method. While I do have a favorite roast chicken recipe, I am always curious to see how others get the job done. So it was the Crispy Roast Chicken recipe in The New California Cook (Chronicle Books, 392 pages, $22.95) that convinced me to give the book a try.

I will admit, upon first glance, this book did not thrill me. Sidebars on appreciating avocados? How to use balsamic vinegar? Risotto tips? Is this 2006 or 1986? Despite claims that this version has been revamped, many of the recipes seem just a bit tired. Broiled Orange Roughy with Salsa Glaze, Rack of Lamb with Mint Crust, Two Mushroom Barley Risotto and Tricolor Vegetable Saute sound frighteningly like what was served at my college cafeteria. So, enough about the book, how was the chicken I hear you asking. First let's check out the recipe:

Crispy Roast Chicken
serves 4

Marinade
2 tablespoons whole-grain Dijon mustard
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons soy sauce
3 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

One 3-1/2 to 4-1/2 pound fryer, rinsed and patted dry
1 onion, sliced
2 carrots, peeled and thinly sliced
2 cups Chicken Stock

1. To make the marinade, whisk together the ingredients in a small mixing bowl. Taste for seasoning. Um what is the marinade supposed to taste like?

2. Place the chicken in a large, nonaluminum mixing bowl. Why? Starting around the main body cavity, carefully slip your hand under the skin, being sure not to tear it. (you may need to use gloves if you have long fingernails.) Pat the marinade under the skin and all over the bird on both sides on top of the skin. Huh? I know what this means but it's poorly written. Cover the chicken and marinate for at least a few minutes and up to 8 hours in the refrigerator. Really? A few minutes? When is that ever enough time to marinate a chicken? Shrimp maybe but not chicken.

3. Preheat the oven to 425 degree. Place the chicken, breast side up, on a rack in a roasting pan or on a vertical roaster. I have a vertical roaster, but assuming most people don't, I used my roasting rack. Sprinkle the onions an carrots in the bottom of the pan and add one cup of stock. Excuse me, but shouldn't the vegetables go in first? Otherwise they sit on top of the rack, not the bottom of the pan. Roast the chicken for about 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until the juices run clear when a thigh is pierced with a knife. I hate this kind of instruction. I want the chicken to be juicy, why pierce it with a knife when I could just use a thermometer? Halfway through the cooking, add the remaining 1 cup of chicken stock to keep the bottom of the pan from scorching. Well that information ought to have come before you are taking the bird out of the oven! Let the chicken rest for 10 minutes before carving. Carve the chicken and arrange on a serving platter. Scrape up the juices and vegetables and pour them over the chicken pieces And ruin the crispy skin? Noooo! Serve immediately.

I followed the instructions as closely as possible. First off, I marinated the bird for about an hour. I can't speak for the chicken, but let me say my hands smelled lovely from the marinade. Surprisingly sweet and delicious. I'm almost positive it had nothing to do with my hand soap. As for the chicken, after about 20 minute the wing tips started getting so dark I covered them in foil to prevent them from burning. Because there are eight grams of sugar in the marinade (from the balsamic vinegar) roasting at 425 degrees is asking for trouble. At 30 minutes the skin was already very brown so I repeated my foil treatment.

I checked the temperature with a thermometer at 45 minutes and it was 143 degrees. Not done. At one hour the temperature was 168 degrees. Still not done. My bird was 3-3/4 pounds, I can only imagine how long a 4-1/2 pound bird would take. After an hour and thirteen minutes the bird was done (180 degrees).The vegetables the author so eagerly wants you to enjoy were both soggy and shriveled. The juice in the pan so sweet from carrots I threw it away.

I think I can usually tell when a recipe is good and when it's a stinker just by reading it, but every so often I follow the instructions to see how it turns out anyway. The verdict?

Instructions: Confusing

Cooking time: Longer than indicated

Appearance: Poor. The chicken was too dark on top, too pale on the bottom.

Taste: Ok. It wasn't the slightest bit crispy nor was it juicy. It was flavorful and moist. But not the best roast chicken I've ever cooked. Not by a long shot. I think I'll stick with Nigella's version, thank you very much.

If a farmer is not more jazzed over happy chickens than he is over the volume, the structure, the profit -- he's not a trustworthy farmer. And yet in our culture's food system, can you find one USDA bulletin, one corporate directive, one industry checkoff bulletin, one Super Bowl advertisement, that dares to ask: 'Did the eggs come from happy chickens? Did the tomatoes come from happy plants?'

As a buyer of honest food, you must determine if your farmer is trustworthy. That is where it all starts.

- Joel Salatin, Holy Cows and Hog Heaven

As we walked around Marin Sun Farms, I saw strong parallels between Dave Evans' farm operation and the operation of Joel Salatin at Polyface Farms. Though I have never been to Salatin's farm in Virginia, I have read plenty about him and seen him speak. Salatin is one of the stars of Michael Pollan's book The Omnivore's Dilemma due to his creative farming methods and his determination to allow animals on his farm to "fully express their physiological distinctiveness." By doing this, he exploits the natural tendencies of the animal to his advantage: the cows fertilize the ground with their manure, the chickens spread that manure around the pasture by hunting through it for food, and the pigs and other animals do their jobs just as well. Salatin's methods are lauded by many as an ideal model of sustainable farming.

The most obvious way that Evans has used Salatin's methods is his use of "Eggmobiles" -- a mobile chicken coop which is moved every couple of days in order to get the chickens to feed off the entire pasture. Chickens tend to stay very close to their coop, so it's up to the farmer to move them around the field. This way, the chickens constantly have new pasture to graze, and pull the nutrients that they need most out of that pasture. The laying hens go into the Eggmobile to lay their eggs, and are also closed into the Eggmobile at night. Each Eggmobile houses a couple hundred chickens, and there are six houses throughout the property.

The chickens play an important part in the life of this farm. "Using these chickens to cycle the dung piles, we grow more grass. Our carrying capacity can be higher for cattle because we're returning the nutrients to the soil faster and harvesting more solar energy," stated Evans.

The rich and varied diet of the Marin Sun Farms chickens results in bright yolks and wonderful tasting eggs. These eggs can be purchased at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' market and the Marin Sun Farms butcher shop in Pt. Reyes Station. Other places to buy the eggs can be found on the Marin Sun Farms site.

In addition to the laying hens, Evans is raising a small number of chickens for eating. These chickens are on a different part of the farm. They grow from a day-old chick to a four to five pound bird in 45 days. They come to the farm as day-old eggs and go into a barn for three weeks during the early part of their lives where they are kept warm and protected. After that, they are turned out to pasture and "eat all day and dung." Similar to the Eggmobiles, the coops are moved on a daily basis in order to make sure the chickens have fresh pasture to feed from. "We are just at the beginning stages of this learning curve," Evans said. The chickens that we saw were only the third batch of roasting chickens that Evans has raised for market.

If you have the opportunity to tour Marin Sun Farms or any farm that you buy from, I would highly recommend it. Farm tours are the best way to allow the farmer to explain his methods and to fully understand the workings of the farm.

This post is part two in a series about Marin Sun Farms. Part One can be found here.

For more information about Marin Sun Farms or happy chickens:

Polyface Farm Chickens
The Ethicurean on the Marin Sun Farms Tour
Marin Sun Farms Website
Holy Cows and Hog Heaven by Joel Salatin