It's the height of summer. But it's not to late to brush up on your grilling techniques. Come to think of it, it's never too late. From the multitude of grilling books, three are really smokin' hot.

1. Grilling: Exciting International Flavors from the World's Premier Culinary College
Possibly the mother of all grilling books. You'll find more than 175 recipes from all over the world. This is a book that does not skimp on the vegetable recipes either, some tempting examples include Grilled Radicchio Salad and Grilled Shitake Mushrooms with Soy-Sesame Glaze. As one would expect from the Culinary Institute of America, all the instructions are clear and easy to follow. From Beer Can Chicken to Naan, it's likely to be in here. Can't find the manual for your grill? No problem, this book covers just about every type of grill and even has a chart for different kinds of woods to use for grilling. There are gorgeous photos to boot.

2. Asian Grill: Great Recipes, Bold Flavors
If you've spent any time in Asia, there's a good chance you've tried some street food that was grilled. Satays, teriyaki, barbecue chicken, five spice marinated duck, there is plenty to choose from here. But the book has much more than grilling recipes, there are condiments like Thai Basil and Lemon Relish and Fresh Tomato Chutney, in addition to dressings, salads, fruit and vegetable recipes and even some desserts and drinks to cool you down. As author Connie Trang says, "Grilling is the perfect way to cook Asian ingredients, especially if you like to experiment with new flavor combinations". Amen, sister.

3. Killer Ribs: Mouthwatering Recipe from North America's Best Rib Joints
There is always some debate about which foods are truly "American". As much as I enjoy hot dogs and hamburgers, I would suggest considering spareribs as the ultimate American food. Personally I'd chose spareribs over filet mignon ANYDAY. And the quest for the tastiest ones is something of a national obsession. Whether you are a novice or just trying to perfect your recipe, this is a great book. It's filled with dry rubs, spice mixes, glazes, sauces, marinades and tips for how to achieve rib perfection from rib joints all over the US and our friendly neighbors to the North. Consider this your secret playbook. More? It's spiral bound making it even easier to cook from.

Seems that August is the time for Bay Area food bloggers to go on vacation!

Tea went to Cortes Island.
Pim and Brett both went to Spain.
I'm in Massachusetts.
Fatemeh's in Philadelphia (albeit for work).
Jeanne went to the Cape.
Hedonia's in Puerto Vallarta.

For everyone who's still at home, Sam has a great recipe for Amaretti.

A while back I got it into my head that I wanted to make Amaretti. Searching online for information I came across the family Amaretti recipe much treasured by Ivonne of one of my favourite blogs, Cream Puffs in Venice.

So I made a version of Ivonne's mother's cookies, without the nut topping, and I took them to a party, where they were quickly and happily devoured. And I might have left it at that, BUT, it had too much almond extract for my taste and I wasn't quite happy with the regular baker's sugar I had used to roll the cookies in. So I decided to try again.

The Hungry Hedonist has a series covering the Wine Country. Read about Bouchon Bakery, The French Laundry, Redd, Dean & Deluca, CIA, Downtown Bakery, and Pizzeria Pico.

Though the food coma from lunch had yet to kick in, we already felt like passing out. Some of it was due to the rising valley temperatures outside, but we were really dying from laughter. We had just passed for a couple of cougars from the city celebrating a birthday in Napa and harbored no qualms about our geriatric front. We were a couple of fools high on life.

If you have not already jumped on the bandwagon that is the June Taylor conserving class train, may I suggest that you sign up for one of her end of summer classes today? She has recently added three more days: Sunday August 27, Saturday September 23 and Sunday September 24. Get the details by clicking on this link.

Four hours in total, June's classes offer a wealth of information long learned by the intuitive jam maker herself. She asks her students to come with a chef's knife, an apron and a notebook. After a few minutes of introduction to The Still-Room, her immaculate sky lit kitchen, she sets the students to work creating the conserve they will take home at the end of the class.

The Still-Room is home to quiet still lifes of rocks and leaves.

There's nothing like taking a class from a person who is an expert in their field. Suffice to say not every expert is a good teacher, but June is both a patient instructor and a magnificent example of her craft in the modern world. Still "cooking off" in small batches, June relies on the fruit to tell her what the sugar content should be. The "recipe" she gives is about as exact as a suggestion. Because the concept of a recipe being no more than a guide is often lost in the age of cookbooks, cooking shows and the myriad of appliances people are filling their kitchens with, the conserve class gives you the unforgettable opportunity of standing in the commercial kitchen of the business woman herself.

Ever wondered why June Taylor's conserves, fruit cheeses and marmalades taste more like the fruit than the fruits often taste of themselves? June will show you these finesses. Ever wondered why a small jar costs more than you have ever spent on toast-schmears? Go to the class, take part in the prep, walk away with your jar, and look at the thousands of pounds of seasonal fruit stacked nearby. No only can I practically guarantee that you will never challenge the cost of her jars again, but you will happily pay it.

No one I have ever seen or met is conserving fruit (for commercial sale) the way June Taylor is.

The very small batches of fruit to be cooked-off.

The fruit is lucky to have her. And we are immeasurably privileged to be able to taste every single one of her illustrious creations throughout the year as tastes are freely given at her booth in the Ferry Plaza Farmer's Market on Saturdays. I always say June Taylor is located next to the preserves' best friends: cheese and bread.

"Home-made" pectin on June's hand for naturally setting her marmalades.

For years people have been begging June to teach. Although I worked with her in the beginning years of her business, I have found the classes to be delightful and inspiring. I've appreciated that there is more than enough room for all of the students to have a cutting board and really get into the rhythm of the fruit prep. Everyone stirs the pots, watches the mixtures change with heat, discuss the endless possibilities of ratios and flavor compositions, and gets to know why each other is taking the class. We are all encouraged to taste, smell, touch and listen, all very important elements in cooking and baking which have been lost in some of the more "corporative" cooking school classes or vague instructions in mass produced cookbooks.

Some students have been preserving fruit for years and want to experience a different approach. Some have never taken a class; others fly in from faraway cities when they've learned of her classes. Many took the marmalade class and wanted to see what summer fruit would be all about.

June's jars are hand-filled, right to the top!

I can't say enough about these classes. June is literally preserving a preserving tradition that may very well become extinct in the modern industrial age if more people do not possess the skills to put-up their own fruits and vegetables. How far we've come from tins of strawberry jam to fend off scurvy, to rosemary scented Meyer lemon marmalade and barely set apricot conserves, or the jar of secret Damson plum jam we're loathe to share, even with loved ones.

Don't delay; take a class from June today!

I first washed up on the shores of France almost two and a half years ago to cook at the Cannes Film Festival. It was the start of a six month tour cooking my way around the country. Six months turning into eight which turned into a year which has miraculously morphed into two and a half. Don't ask me how... The moral of this story - careful what you wish for! It might actually come true. Anyways, before we fired up our panini machines and hot plates (more on that another time), all the cooks in the group - about 24 of us - were treated to a whirlwind of excursions around Cannes and Nice.

the cooks and managers with the American Pavilion

Our second day in Cannes began with a visit to Moulin de Mougins (which means Windmill of Mougins, Mougins being the town), a restaurant renowned throughout the continent. It was run for decades by the legendary chef Roger Vergé who maintained his 3-Michelin star rating the entire time. I believe he still owns it but has turned over his whisks to a French-trained and muy caliente Spaniard, Alain Llorca who was previously the chef at Le Negresco in Nice. He received two stars but is determined to regain that elusive third star. The restaurant, and the entire property for that matter, is a beautiful old stone building from centuries ago with an antique stone olive press in the entrance.

chef Alain Llorca on the right, with his sous chef

carte de fromage

The garden dining room has glass walls etched with celebrity autographs. The great French artist and a good friend of the chef, César, finally relented after repeated requests and signed his name on a glass panel under the condition that no one else could sign on his panel. Along came Elizabeth Taylor and she of course signed on his panel. The next time César came to the restaurant he had a fit! Chef Vergé simply shrugged "It was Elizabeth Taylor...what was I to do?"

window panels with etched autographs

the restaurant gardens

César, the artist, a self-sculpture

more art in the garden

tent for amfAR gala

Moulin de Mougin is also the location for the yearly star-studded fundraiser amfAR (American Foundation for AIDS Research) held during the Cannes Film Festival that draws the likes of Elizabeth Taylor (the founding national chairman), Elton John, Liza Minelli, Sharon Stone, Natalie Cole, et al. Liza sang a song for the first time that Judy Garland had written decades ago that had never been released. Five hundred stars and a separate tent for the nearly three hundred drivers and security staff! Six cooks from our group were picked randomly to help work this event. I wasn't picked and was so very disappointed. The people in the group that worked the event came back raving. One of the cooks shook Sharon Stone's hand and said he could now die a happy man. Indeed!

the amuse-bouche du jour

the sous chef and line cook talking to our group

amuse plated for service

rolls baking in the oven

bread fresh out of the oven

chef Alain Llorca and moi - I could now die a happy woman :-)

-----------------
Moulin de Mougins
Notre Dame de Vie
06250 Mougins, France
Tel: +33(0)4 93 75 78 24
Fax:+33(0)4 93 90 18 55
reservation@moulindemougins.com
http://www.moulindemougins.com/

My noshing life could be illustrated by a colorful parade of individually packaged ice cream treats. First there was the Bomb Pop. For us, it was a delicacy that could only be found in the ice crystalled depths of the ice cream truck, and with three complete flavors in one (count 'em: red cherry, white lemon, blue raspberry) it was a child's way of bucking the system, because not only did you get those three flavors in one sticky-running-down-your-hand treat, you also got that bonus gumball at the very top. Plus, those things were ginormous and turned your mouth fancy colors. All good things.

Next came the Kempswich, which was Minnesota's answer to the ice cream sandwich. Huge chocolate chip cookies, a sweet slab of Kemps vanilla ice cream, and those awesomely tiny chocolate chips rolled around the sides. First, you'd delicately eat the chips off, being oh-so-careful not to let any fall, but if they did, the five second rule definitely applied. Once the ice cream was fully exposed, you'd lick around the cookie sandwich, meticulously carving out a path in the ice cream. Eventually you'd be left with two cookies, a small disk of ice cream that your tongue couldn't reach, and a powerful thirst that could only be slaked with tap water. Years later, I dug a Kempswich out of a convenience store freezer case and got a bit depressed. I remembered it being so much bigger -- something I could barely get my mouth around. Now, I could finish it in about two bites. I guess you have to grow up some time.

In college I discovered the Choco Taco and became entranced by the way the sugar cone taco shell was never, ever crisp. It was damp and chewy and pinched the Choco Taco together with each bite -- it was trashy ice cream at it's very best.

Behold, I've just entered my next phase of ice cream treatdom: It's It. While on break from a shoot, Wendy dragged me up and down Polk Street, intent on running this historic San Francisco treat to ground and gavageing it down my gullet. We finally found one, shared it, and I instantly fell for this eighth wonder of the frozen world. (1. Soft serve ice cream; 2. Soft serve ice cream magically dipped UPSIDE DOWN in chocolate; 3. Magic Shell; 4. Waffle cones; 5. The chocolate stopper in the bottom of a Drumstick; 6. Mitchell's; 7. The semi-hard ganache topping on Dove ice cream pints.)

Invented in 1928 by George Whitney, It's Its were enjoyed by San Franciscans at the city's Playland-at-the-Beach. In fact, for forty long years, Playland-at-the-Beach was the only place you could find It's It. By the 1970s, Playland-at-the-Beach was gone, and It's Its started being handmade and sold to mom and pop stores. Even though you can now find It's It in fifteen states, I had never stumbled before upon this genius of chocolate, cookie, and ice cream. It's It ice cream sandwiches can be chocolate, mint, capuccino, or the original, perfect vanilla.

Anyone can smack ice cream between chocolate wafers or chocolate chip cookies -- it takes a real Icestein to go for oatmeal cookies. Look for It's It ice cream sandwiches in select stores or order it by the case (BY THE CASE!) from the Burlingame office.

Anyone who has ever been seduced by the exotic visions of Bali and the Spice Islands or has travelled to a foreign country and returned profoundly changed will appreciate the cookbook Cradle of Flavor: Home Cooking from the Spice Islands of Indonesia, Malaysia and Singapore (W.W.Norton, 2006). Author James Oseland's life was similarly changed during art school, when a summer vacation to Indonesia marked the beginning of more than twenty years exploring the culture, languages and food of the region. Cradle of Flavor is his homage to those countries and a fine introduction to their cuisine. In the book you'll learn the differences in the food of various regions such as West Sumatra, East Java, and Malacca as well as how they are connected.

The cookbook includes 100 authentic recipes from Dutch-influenced buttery spice cake and cookie recipes, to Malaysian satays, stir-frys, creamy coconut curries and crunchy vegetable salads. Because the cuisine is still unfamiliar to most Americans, Oseland introduces readers to unusual ingredients such as palm vinegar, lemon basil and sweet soybean paste with descriptions and photos. He also explains key cooking techniques such as making flavoring pastes, slow-braised rendangs and piquant sambals. The recipes have been adapted to take into account the limitations of American kitchens and Oseland shows how to accomplish dishes from the region at home using common appliances such as a food processor and a typical range of pots and pans from non-stick to dutch ovens. While the focus is on easy to manage recipes, resources are provided for finding exotic ingredients and even substitutions for some of the more hard-to-find ones.

This is not a book for a beginning cook, but someone who perhaps has taken on Chinese or Thai cooking at home and is ready to branch out. The recipe instructions are meticulously detailed to help ensure success, although I would have appreciated a few more illustrations in addition to the photographs. The whole book is thoroughly researched and detailed and sections dedicated to where and how to shop are expanded into what to look for when buying produce and how to best store spices. The book inspired me to seek out ingredients I had never used before such as candlenuts, though I will heed his advice not to eat them raw.

Ultimately Cradle of Flavor is much more than a cookbook, it's a beautifully written and sensual memoir from someone who has embraced the culture of the Spice Islands wholeheartedly. You will be encouraged to use all of your senses in shopping, cooking and eating your way through this book. Be an armchair traveller and join Oseland on shopping excursions, ocean voyages and cooking lessons with his adopted Indonesian family and friends.

Lemongrass and Shallot Sambal
Sambal Serai
(Bali, Indonesia)

Makes about 1/3 cup
1 thick stalk fresh lemongrass
2 fresh red or green Thai chiles, stemmed and very finely chopped
2 shallots (about 1 1/2 ounces total) finely chopped
1 tablespoon peanut oil
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1. Cut off the hard, brown bottom end and the bristly, greenish top of the lemongrass stalk, which will leave you with a pale white-and-lilac piece about 5 inches long. Discard the 2 or 3 tough outer layers. Slice the lemongrass very thinly crosswise, then chop the slices as finely as you can--it should be the consistency of sand. Using a very sharp knife will help you enormously. Transfer the lemongrass to a bowl. Make sure that the chiles and shallots are chopped just as finely. Add the chiles, shallots, oil, lime juice, and salt to the bowl. Stir well to combine. Taste for salt, and add a pinch more if needed.

2. Transfer the sambal to a small bowl for guests to spoon from directly, or place in small individual bowls. Let rest for 10 minutes before eating to allow the flavors to meld.

Note: A sambal is a condiment to be served with other dishes, Oseland suggests pairing this sambal with dishes that have lemongrass in them, and with dishes such as Green Beans with Coconut Milk, Pan-Seared Tamarind Tuna, various chicken dishes or a tofu and vegetable stew.

In a city where we have one of the world's renowned farmers' markets, it is easy to overlook neighborhood markets. But the truth is that often we don't have the time or the will to elbow through the crowds at the Ferry Building. On the weeks when you'd like to avoid the weekend farmers' market crush, or you'd simply like some drama-free shopping at markets that will provide you with many of your necessities, consider one of the Bay Area's neighborhood markets.

Whenever I attend the North Berkeley Farmers' Market, it is a happy experience. Part of this has to do with the fact that if I can get to this market, I am having a pretty manageable work day, but also this is generally a very calm, relaxing market. You can find the market in one row in front of the Longs' Drugstore at the North end of Shattuck street, about a block from Chez Panisse and Gourmet Ghetto (I have always thought that the fruits and veggies at this market are a little more dressed up because of the possibility that Alice may come by). The market is divided by a small green strip that adds to the community aspect of the market -- people gather and snack, kids run around, and massages are offered.

This market is referred to as "all organic" -- all of the vendors at this market are either certified organic or hold to organic pratices. This is not much different than the other Berkeley markets, which are about 80% certified organic, but it's interesting to note.

You could easily do all of your week's shopping at this market. With the exception of cheese, all major food products are covered: vegetables, fruits, meats, eggs, tofu products, and breads.

You can visit the North Berkeley Farmers' Market on Thursdays from 3 pm to 7 pm. It is located at Shattuck Avenue @ Rose Street in Berkeley. You can park in the neighborhoods near the market. This is a year round, rain or shine market.

Happy Boy Farms (Freedom). Greens, corn, melon, tomatoes.
Hudson Fish Company (Berkeley). Fish.
Highland Hills Farm (Vallejo). Grass-finished beef, lamb, eggs, pork.
Kashiwase Farm (Winton). Stone fruit.
Catalan Farm (Hollister). Veggies, tomatoes, squash, herbs, strawberries.
Quetzal Farm (Santa Rosa). Veggies, peppers, flowers.
Bernie's Best (Yorkville). Apple cider.
Flying Disc Ranch (Thermal). Dates.
Blue Heron Farm (Corralitos). Flowers, vegetables.
Vital Vittles (Berkeley). Bread.
Morell's Bread (Sausalito).
Hodo Soy Beanery (Bay Area). Tofu products.
Phoenix Pastificio (Berkeley). Pasta, bread, cookies.
October Feast (Larkspur). Bread.
Flaco's (Berkeley). Prepared vegan Mexican food.
Tip Top Produce (Vacaville). Vegetables.
Lucero Organic (Lodi). Strawberries, tomatoes, squash.
Frog Hollow Farm (Brentwood). Stone fruit, jams, popsicles, pastries.
Riverdog Farm (Yolo County). Vegetables, fruit.
Organic Tummies (San Rafael). Homemade baby food.

The Sour Cherry Frozen Custard at The Shake Shack in NYC

When it gets hot outside, what do you most want to put in your mouth and swallow to cool you down? Do you go out of your way to get that favorite treat? How far will you drive? Is it sweet? Bitter? Icy? Acidic? Does the glass show lazy bobbles of oversized tapioca sitting at the bottom? Do you forgo dinner for salad?

Summer is an emotional memory. For me it was salt water fishing and clamming with my grandfather, all day at the beach on Long Island, hot humid days and the sheer joy of hearing the ice cream truck, Good Humor bars and Italian Ices in little green wax paper cups. Sweet cold things. Salty skin, riding waves until dusk, water fights at camp, deep sleeps and mosquito bites.

Pistachio Soft Serve at Coney Island, NY

I associate going to the beach with French fries and ice cream. Somehow these mundane items tasted more delicious than anything. Even now, after I've swum and lounged all day at the Russian River, what I crave most is salty, crunchy French fries with ketchup, followed by ice cream.

I could make an argument for the fact that ice cream is indeed a food group.

Three Twins Vanilla Ice Cream Samples at The Berkeley Farmer's market

But I'd rather hear from you. If you're reading this, perhaps you could chime in, in our comments section, and tell us where you get your chilly and/or sweet fix in summer?

The Individual Coffee Brewing Station at Blue Bottle Coffee Co.

Here are some to get us started:

Strawberry ice cream at Fairfax Scoop, fruit or Strauss yogurt sorbet at Sketch, lychee bubble tea, taro iced beverage at Out The Door, Blue Bottle's ineffable iced coffee, Mitchell's Buko (young coconut) ice cream, dense nutty chestnut ice cream at Marco Polo, the Rizogalo at Evvia: Anson Mills Carolina rice pudding "cannoli" with honey roasted apricots, the thick mango lassi at Vik's Chaat House, honey-sweetened saffron and pistachio ice cream at Zatar.

Strawberry ice cream at Fairfax Scoop

And if you haven't been to Picco yet to try their unbelievably PERFECT frozen custard drizzled with light, buttery olive oil and seasoned with a few pebbles of sea salt, I suggest you get over there before the fog rolls in! It is not to be missed! Gather your friends, get in the carpool lane, and treat yourself to a beautiful bowl of child and adulthood rolled in one.

And what should I jump in my car for? Am I missing an icy drink in a nook and cranny only you know about? Should I taste a new taste? Share with all of us at KQED, what you make a habit of in summer.... We look forward to hearing from you!

Strawberries from the Plougastel farmers market

According to the wildly popular wikipedia (which had an interesting article in yesterdays Wall Street Journal), the strawberry is "an accessory fruit; that is, the fleshy part is derived not from the ovaries (which are the "seeds", actually achenes) but from the peg at the bottom of the hypanthium that held the ovaries." Who knew? And certainly more than I needed to know to make a humble strawberry tarte. But I digress...

As I mentioned last week in my Ode to a Sea Bass, I spent a few months cooking on a lobster boat turned restaurant in Brittany. The town of Brest is a military port that was completely leveled in WW2 and immediately rebuilt so everything is gray and square and built with gray square cinder blocks so we were always on the search for the quintessential Breton fishing village or equally charming outpost.

Plougastel-Daoulas information center

With one week left in my stay before moving to Paris, I hopped the town bus to Plougastel-Daoulas, the strawberry capital of Brittany, and France for that matter. We whizzed by Ma Petite Folie (the lobster boat), La Plage du Moulin-Blanc (the beach of the white windmill - though no windmill to be found), crossed the Pont d'Iroise to the Presqu'ile Plougastel (the Plougastel peninsula) which is known to be one of the most scenic in France with spectacular views. This tiny peninsula is dotted with churches and... strawberry fields.

Saint Peter's Church in the town center of Plougastel

Strawberries are not native to Brittany but were introduced to France in 1714 by a naval officer, Amedee-Francois Frezier, on a return trip from Chile to his home port of Brest. He brought with him a few small berry plants called "Blanche du Chili" (white of chile) that produced small white berries that he hoped to grow in France. Farmers in Plougastel began cultivating them in 1740 and over a few centuries of harvesting and splicing, became the modern day red strawberry.

Musee des Fraises

A quick 20, 30 minute buss ride and I was in the heart of strawberry-ville. I visited the Musee des Fraises (strawberry museum), and purchased a 4 euro (a little more than $5) box of strawberries, strawberry confiture, strawberry postcards and a strawberry t-shirt. I know, huge tourist. I tiptoed into Saint Peter's Church, lit a candle and sat in a pew to say a few prayers. I promptly fell asleep, woke up an hour later, and had to run catch the bus. Story of my life...

Fraises Cirafine

The strawberries are past there peak but there were some precious ones at what's left of my farmers market today. For over $6 a basket, they'd better be precious and darn good. I made a strawberry tarte which is still in the oven as I type so I will post a pic as soon as it is done however I used the same recipe from my Precocious Apricot Pie recipe only I didn't soak the strawberries in a liqueur before baking. Why? No reason, just wasn't in the mood. I used four barquettes (baskets) of Cirafine Strawberries which is the French strawberry equivalent of an heirloom tomato.

And when the life hands you strawberries, make...

Strawberry Martinis

3 baskets strawberries
simple syrup (1/4 c water, 1/4 c sugar), use to your taste
splash cointreau
vodka
ice
martini shaker

1. hull and quarter strawberries

2. puree in a blender or cuisinart

3. add simple syrup to your taste and depending on how sweet the berries are

4. strain through a fine mesh sieve witha metal spoon (never wood!)

5. pour into a container

6. put ice cubes in a martini shaker

7. add strawberry puree (we filled it about 1/3)

8. add vodka in an amout that suits your taste (we filled it to about 2/3)

9. add a splash of cointreau

10. cover and shake

11. pour into chilled martini glasses. you can garnish it with a strawberry on the rim to be more festive.

Cheers! A votre sante!

And a few sweet, and one scary, links for more strawberry scoop:

- Strawberry sauce that I used with Jacques Pepin's chocolate cake recipe
- A summertime Strawberry Granita from David Lebovitz
- the California Strawberry Commission (sounds like a conspiracy theory)
- a Strawberry Music Festival (who knew?!)
- the California Strawberry Festival (no surprise)
- a German software company (huh?!)
- and the sinister and twisted Evil Strawberry (yikes!)

Having lived on the East Coast for six years and in the Bay Area for only three, I am still constantly, happily amazed at the quality of service you can find here.

For one thing, on my first visit to our neighborhood Albertsons I was picked up some cream cheese and canned pumpkin to make a Cook's Illustrated Bourbon Spiced Cheesecake. I was used grocery checkouts being silent, surly affairs but not this one. The checkout lady started chatting with me about cheesecakes and how she didn't understand why both the cream cheese and canned pumpkin weren't yet on special and it was just all so very pleasant.

One of our first Bay Area restaurant experiences was likewise transcendent. We sallied forth to Alamo Square Seafood
Grill for the first time and as we left, the owner said, "See you next week!" as though we had been dining there for years. Back in Boston, we lived above a wonderful Cuban-French restaurant where we supped on the matchless pressed Cubanos, mojitos, and conch fritters at least once a week. Did they ever do anything to recognize our devotion? Not a nod, not a "welcome back," nothing. (Of course it didn't stop us going, those Cubanos were thick and crazy.)

On my first visit to the Ferry Building Farmer's Market, I was happily browsing through the mushrooms at Far West Fungi's booth (this was before they were installed inside). I went to pay for my paper bag of Lobster Mushrooms, and Ian threw in a particularly hulking Matsutake. "This is my favorite," he told me, "Just throw it in a pot of rice and see how it flavors the rice." I nearly bronzed that mushroom with a plaque reading, "I Love San Francisco." But I didn't. I ate it. It was delicious. Then there was the complimentary twenty-three-dollar glass of vintage port that the guys at the now sadly dufunct Hayes & Vine presented to us, saying, "Welcome to San Francisco." My jaw couldn't have dropped more if it was a snowman's thermometer.

As the months passed, I started to notice this Bay Area Attitude more and more. I noticed my attitude as well. It changed. No longer did I stalk down teeming streets, eyes to the ground; ready to glare, ready to growl. I looked up, I smiled, I got smiles back. And then I got complacent. Sure people in San Francisco could be generally friendlier than people back east, but so? It became the norm.

UNTIL!

We picked up a take-out order from Abacus. Szechuan eggplant, garlicky peashoots, flakey fish and black bean sauce, and steamed ri -- wait, where was the rice? Where was the rice to soak up all that sweet stickiness from the eggplant? It was a bummer, but we didn't feel like driving back to get it. We were hungry and crabby and wanted to eat immediately. So what happens? Abacus calls, tells us we forgot our rice, and then DRIVES IT OVER TO US. Let me make this clear, Abacus doesn't do deliveries. You can eat in the soothingly lovely boôte of a Cal-Chinese restaurant or you can pick up your food. They don't deliver. But that night? For us? They did. The driver wouldn't accept a tip, but we pressed a few cold bottles of New Belgium Trippel on him and he promised to drink it back at the restaurant.

I think I told that story to anyone who would listen for an entire week. Some were surprised, others shrugged, complacent that service like that was nothing new out here. I, for one, am happy to be shaken out of my complacency to remember what a truly fine city San Francisco is.