A few minutes in the Check, Please! Bay Area greenroom, and I came to the conclusion that Gillian was a woman after my own heart. Here she is, a designer of cocktail ware and here I am, a recently published author of a cocktail game.

Gillian's company, Chase & Co., creates high-end cocktail glasses and accessories, and I went nuts when I heard they had a specially-designed cocktail muddler. A muddler, as any mixologist worth his Kosher salt would know, is a tool -- usually wooden -- used to crush herbs, spices, and other ingredients in the bottom of a glass. A muddler is necessary for making such cocktails as a Mint Julep (grinding together the sugar and mint leaves) or an Old Fashioned.

Last Christmas my husband took me to a restaurant supply store where I shopped to my hungry heart's content. One of my most treasured purchases was a wooden cocktail muddler. Sadly, a few cocktails later and the finish is starting to wear off the end. Kind of creeps me out to think I've probably drunk that finish or, at the very least, served it to my guests as a toxic garnish. Gillian nodded knowledgeably when I told her of this situation and mentioned that there are a lot of crappy muddlers out there. Of course, Chase & Co's muddler is not one of them. It's made of eco-friendly bamboo and its smooth shape looks as though it would rest quite comfortably in the hand. Bamboo is one of the hardest woods you can find, which is why there's been a relatively recent explosion of bamboo cutting boards on the culinary market.

Ever since I registered for my wedding, I have been obsessed with glassware. Even though my tiny apartment protests quite loudly at any more glass additions (and my husband worries about earthquakes taking out the lot), I keep wanting to supplement my eclectic cocktail collection with new finds and fancies. When I visited Chase & Co.'s website, I fell completely in love with their mojito glasses. Their classy design recalls Hemingway, cigars, and lime-riddled drinks under a Cuban sun.

A few months after we taped this episode of Check, Please! Bay Area, Gillian emailed me with the news that two of Food Network's shows (Food Network Challenge: Bartender Battle and Throwdown with Bobby Flay) recently featured a bartender by the name of Tobin Ellis who used Chase & Co.'s signature mojito glasses in both battles. Nice placement!

You can find Chase & Co's cocktail ware at Gump's, Sur La Table, Tommy Bahama, and Z Gallery. I think they'd make great Christmas presents. I know they're going on my list.

I haven't gotten very far into it yet, but I am really enjoying David Kamp's latest book, United States of Arugula which is subtitled, How We Became a Gourmet Nation. Is that the best title, or what? Several local food bloggers have read the whole thing, so check out the book reviews over at Obsession with Food, <a href="http://jalapeno.typepad.com/my_weblog/2006/11/book_review_the.html
" target="_blank">Jalapeno Girl and Food Notebook.

Tomorrow Kamp will be speaking at the Book Passage Ferry Building store. It will actually be a conversation with restaurant consultant and industry veteran Clark Wolf. And while I've never heard Kamp speak, I would go listen to Clark recite his grocery list. He is smart, funny and thoroughly entertaining. Kamp calls him a "bicoastal foodie yenta". I can't say I disagree with that assessment! Clark moderated a discussion at the San Francisco Professional Food Society earlier this year and it was a sell-out.

The event benefits CUESA and admission includes a copy of the book AND a reception with Charles Krug wines and nibbles from Mijita. Call it a win win win win win. Admission is $35 and if I wasn't already committed to going to another event (a panel discussion on sustainability) I would definitely be there. Go! You'll have a great time. I promise. More details are available <a href="http://www.bookpassage.com/event_detailed.php?id=238
" target="_blank">here. Or go ahead and order tickets before they disappear faster than nibbles at a book reception...

Every holiday season, I work at finding fun treats from small companies that I am happy to support with my hard-earned dollars. Here are some gifts that are on my list to give this year. Any of these could be considered for Christmas gifts, hostess gifts, or just fun treats for the time of year.

The Sweets

Bissinger's English Toffee. I have given this as a gift for several years, and everyone who's received it has been thrilled. Bissinger's is a company based in St. Louis that's over 100 years old.

John and Kira's. John and Kira's is the type of company I'd love to own if I owned a candy company. They make fantastic confections, and source each of their ingredients carefully. The mint that's in their mint chocolates, for instance, is student-grown at public schools in Philadelphia. I have tasted both their chocolate assortment and their fruit squares, both of which are going on my giving list this year.

Poco Dolce. I picked up a beautiful box of Poco Dolce chocolates at Cheese Plus recently. Each chocolate is individually wrapped and in great flavors such as burnt caramel, Aztec chile, ginger, and almond. I highly recommend them as a hostess gift.

The Sips

San Francisco has some really fantastic, locally produced alcohols. I love giving them as gifts because they are delicious and people love getting something specific to San Francisco. I love when my gifts have a story, and all of these liquors do.

Hangar One. By now, chances are that you have heard of Hangar One, and know that we at Bay Area Bites love our Hangar One. This Alameda based company is the local rockstar of vodkas, earning nationwide recognition for good reason. The straight vodka is delicious, and the flavored vodkas are compelling.

Junipero Gin. This gin is produced by our local distillery, Anchor Steam. I have had this gin around the house for the past year or two, and the most common comment I hear is "I don't usually like gin, but I really love this one." It's a delicate gin that's great on its' own or in cocktails.

No 209 Gin. This gin is a newcomer to the San Francisco liquor scene, and is quickly gaining recognition for being an "adult gin with an adventurous attitude." I've had it, and love the herbal flavor. It also has a great story: No. 209 Gin is the only gin which is distilled over water -- on Pier 50 here in San Francisco. Distillery 209 is owned by Leslie Rudd, the owner of Rudd Vineyards and Winery in Oakville.

The Spices

This year, my stocking stuffers will include fun spices from our local growers and companies.

Tierra Vegetables. Lee James and her brother Wayne are farmers in Healdsburg. You may know Lee as the "pepper lady" who is at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market. Wooden crates full of fresh peppers don her booth in the fall, during the height of the pepper season. They also produce some delicious spice packets which are always a hit in my family. My favorite is the harissa mix and the smoked onions, which are a great stocking stuffer for vegetarians.

Happy Quail. Happy Quail Farms is the brightly adorned pepper stand that can be found at several Bay Area farmers' markets. They create some very reasonably priced hot dried pepper mixes. I use the smoked pimento pepper throughout the year, and am looking forward to giving them as gifts this year.

The Occasional Gourmet. These small spice packets can be found at some local area stores, and combined together into a set would make a nice stocking stuffer for friends who cook. I love the tagine mix and the taco mix. You can read more about the Occasional Gourmet here.

In lieu of the holidays, or holidaze, depending on how you see it, I have a recipe for you, which is simple but takes a lot of time. I wonder, when someone created this food group, did they make one at a time or build a fire for the specific purpose of standing there for hours to create enough crepes for the whole village?

Like many of my dessert making experiences, the first time I learned how to make crepes I made about 500. I stood at Lulu's 6 burner stovetop, laid out six different pans, plopped a pastry crush into a bowl of melted butter, had a two ounce ladle submerged in about a gallon of opaque liquid, and began.

Learning how to make crepes is a great beginning lesson in baking. One learns very quickly the role each ingredient plays in the end result, there being so few ingredients.

The milk is the conveyor. Without it your crepes would not be thin.

The flour is the binder. It gives the crepe toothsome ness. Too much and your crepe is heavy, too little and it's too delicate. How nimble you are clasping the crisp edge of the crepe, in order to flip it over, will most likely determine how much or little flour you want present.

The eggs are a two part affair.

The white is the strength, literally the protein. It is also the binder. The white gives the crepe bounce. So it looks happy and well conditioned, even on a humid day.

The yolk is the fat sack. It adds richness that emulsifies seamlessly with the protein of the egg white and milk. It adds flavor and toothsome ness at the same time.

The sugar softens the pancake a bit, and of course adds sweet flavor. It also attracts color; the way fat does, helping to create a lacy pattern we associate with crepes' pretty lacy pattern.

Salt enhances, backs up the yummy fat flavors from the butter and egg yolk, and balances. Without it your beautiful crepe will fall flat in someone's mouth like the wafers one swallows in Catholic churches.

And the butter, ahh lovely butter, adds smoothness, rich deliciousness, and a fat to help keep the crepe lift up from the pan when it's done. Very Important. Unlike the yolk, the liquid butterfat in the butter does not emulsify completely into the batter. This is so that it can keep the crepe from sticking. There's only so much butter the batter can take. Extra yolks, on the other hand, are what you would add if you wanted a heartier, richer crepe.

Crepes are fabulous for breakfast. But only if you really love the people you're making them for, or you love watching the sunrise. I had a crepe party once. With three pans going I spent five hours in the kitchen, watched my friends interact with each other, and ten minutes after sitting down to let everyone begin eating, the crepe plate was empty.

But crepes are also a great vehicle for fillings. Feeling productive? Make a lovely sweet or savory filling, plop it in the middle of your finished crepe, bring up the ends and tie your "purse" with a strand of chive or ribbon, and there you have a precious little food for a party or your own amusement.

Want something more complicated to keep you occupied on a rainy Sunday? Make ganache, when it has thickened, dollop onto crepe in straight line, but leave a little bit of a border, as if you were making ravioli. Roll crepe around ganache, leaving it to lie on its seam. Freeze absolutely solid. Deftly cut into "coins" with a sharp, non-serrated knife. When ready for dessert, scoop little balls of ice cream on top of coins. Voila! Something impressive for the person who's eaten everything.

After all the work a crepe takes, I prefer to eat them, as is, with simple toppings. In cooler weather I'll substitute a portion of the all purpose flour with chestnut or buckwheat flour. Inside these warm flavored crepes I'll spoon on brown sugar sauteed bananas, buttered pears or apples tossed in caramel. In summer I love simply cut strawberries tossed in sugar and whipped cream. And for you salty folks, there are always mushrooms, cheese, eggs, ratatouille and anything meaty.

Whatever your preference: diffident or toilsome, this crepe recipe should surely be kept in the recipe standards file.

CREPE BATTER

1 1/4 CUPS WHOLE MILK
3 EACH LARGE EGGS, room temperature
3/4 CUP ALL PURPOSE FLOUR
3 ounces MELTED UNSALTED BUTTER,
+ more for the making of the crepes
1/2 teaspoon KOSHER SALT
3 TABLESPOONS SUGAR
1 TABLESPOON VANILLA EXTRACT

1. Combine all ingredients except flour and melted butter in a blender.
2. Sift flour.
3. Turn blender on low speed. Uncap lid and, while blender is going, add flour a little at a time.
4. When all flour is added, add butter and turn blender up in speed for 1-3 minutes.
Pour into measuring cup, or pouring vessel. Do not wash blender just yet...

You may use a nonstick pan for crepes, but you may also use any pan. Because my cast iron skillet is in great shape, I can use this. I also like my big, flat saute pan.
Heat pan slightly. "Paint" a small amount of melted butter in pan with paper towel or pastry brush.
Ladle or pour in a small amount of batter to your pan that you are holding up at one end and swirling the batter around in as soon as you have stopped pouring. Swirl until the batter has stopped moving.
When the edges have begun to brown, pull, with both sets of nimble fingers, an edge towards you.
Flip!
The first crepe is the test, so no need to make it perfectly round or completely even.
Taste this crepe.
Do you want it to be sweeter? Add more sugar. More toothsome? Add a touch of flour or another egg yolk. Thinner? A splash more milk or melted butter may do the trick.
Create the crepe you want to eat.
If your pan is not well seasoned, you should be brushing a little butter in before each crepe. The more or less butter you put in will define how crisp and lacy your end result will be.

If your fingertips are sensitive, buy a "baby offset spatula." When working, I keep one in my back pocket at all times. Use the spatula to gently bring the crispy edge of the half done crepe towards you. You'll still need to flip the crepe by hand, but this wonderful little tool means you don't have to put your fingers in the pan itself!

Enjoy! And if you make them, please stop back and say so in the comments section! {Please?}

Every Thanksgiving, my siblings and I were transferred by my father from suburban Orange County to suburban Los Angeles County. He'd pack us into his car and along the way we'd listen to the same four cassette tapes we'd been listening to for years -- the cast album of A Chorus Line, the Lesley Ann Warren version of Rogers and Hammerstein's Cinderella, Annie and/or the original Broadway cast album of Camelot. Sometimes a little Glenn Miller was thrown in, but there was always the treat of Don Ho's "Tiny Bubbles" at the end of each tape to signal to my father that it would soon be time to flip over the cassette and play the other side. Thus entertained, we would make our way to my great aunt Marie's house in Pasadena, Sunday clothed and empty stomached.

My brother , sister and I were greeted in the traditional Sicilian fashion of hugs, kisses and painful cheek-pinching. This typically scared the hell out of me and managed to add an uneven rosiness to my complexion but, even as a child, I understood it was a trade off -- a little pain in exchange for something I'd been looking forward to eating since the previous Easter.

Cannoli.

It would be a long time before I could get to them -- several hours and a few hundred courses of food would be served before I could make myself sick on that mixture of ricotta, sugar and thin fried dough.

After the physical attentions were over, we'd work our way to the breakfast room, where the front half of the table would spill over with various antipasti -- salami, cheeses, olives, roasted peppers. The back half of the table was laid out with booze -- wine, vodka and scotch. I was allowed ginger ale. This was enough to keep the mouths of the men and children of the family busy for the next couple of hours while the four sisters (my grandmother, Aunt Celie, Aunt Theresa and Aunt Marie) finished preparing our dinner, laughing, yelling and coughing up bits of lung as they went. I busied myself playing under the lemon trees, looking out over the terrace at the Rose Bowl in the near distance, occasionally throwing rocks in its general direction and wondering how much it would hurt if I fell off the retaining wall and into the brush and roses below.

Sitting down to dinner, we would first be presented with soup, generally some sort of minestrone. When that was cleared, out would come individual bowls of ravioli and a giant tureen filled with what my family referred to as "the Sauce"-- one of tomato, of course, studded with an alarming amout of meatballs, sausage and spiedini.

That would have been enough for me. It would have been enough for any normal person.

After the subsequent salad course was finished, my brother and I would get up from the table and lie on the floor in order to flatten out our stomachs, thinking that such an action might aid in the digestion of what we had just eaten, More importantly to us, it was a dramatic signal of our discomfort in full view of the rest of the family. We knew we had a long way to go.

After our little digestive break, I would reposition myself back at the table, fortify myself with a sip or two of red wine cut with ginger ale and brace myself for what the rest of America was eating at the same time -- Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings. And I do mean all of them.

How these old women ate like this I will never know. My Aunt Celie was tiny, about 4' 11". Where did she put it? It would take weeks of stomach-stretching meals to prepare one's self for such a dinner, but these women all managed to maintain their figures. I don't think I'll ever understand it.

After dinner, we would all repair to various parts of the house to deal with our food comas as we each thought best. The men would watch football, my sister might disappear into a book, the woman would scuttle back into the kitchen to do a few dishes. I would will my stomach to process the week's worth of food intake I had consumed over the last few hours in order to ready myself for that most important, final object of childhood gluttony -- dessert.

Reconvened at the table, coffee and after dinner drinks were served. I think my family would have considered it un-American to leave pumpkin pie off the table, so it sat, largely unattended, between two enormous platters of cannoli -- one tray studded with chocolate, the other with candied citron. I politely ate one with citron to make my aunts happy, then made my way to the chocolate ones. I might have been in pain, but it was sweet.

After dessert, I would lie back down on the floor until I could join my aunts back in the now-cleared breakfast room and watch them play penny poker with coins hoarded in their prescription bottles. It was a morbid touch, reminding me just how old these women were, how frail they were becoming. But they were very much alive on these holidays, showing the rest of us they still had it where it counted -- in the kitchen. Sometimes they would let me play cards with them, occasionally stealing a sip of scotch, trying not to get the cards dirty with my powdered-sugar-and-ricotta-caked fingers.

Cannoli

To make the shells, you will need either cannelli ( little metal cylinders used specifically for cannoli making) or little wooden rods, which can be made by cutting a broomstick into 4 inch lengths.

I have included a recipe that yields a lot of pastries. I figure, if one is going to make cannoli, one might as well make enough to feed the Italian army. If you only plan on feeding the army of, say, San Marino, halve the recipe.

Also, I have abandoned the candied citron and chocolate garnish of my childhood for ingredients that I believe compliment the ricotta rather than overtake it.

Ingredients:

2 pounds ricotta cheese (Use the best you can find. Sheep's milk is my preference)
2 cups superfine sugar
1 cup pistachios, toasted and chopped
zest of either one orange or two tangerines
5 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup dry white wine
8 tablespoons honey
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
2 egg whites
canola oil for deep frying
additional egg white
powdered sugar

Preparation:

1. Mix ricotta with one cup of sugar, 4 tablespoons of honey, vanilla, nuts and citrus zest. This can be done by hand, but I prefer to use a stand mixer with paddle attachment, which blends the ingredients better and incorporates more air, making for a smoother, creamier mixture than I can provide doing manually. Cover and refrigerate.

2. Mound flour on a clean surface, make a well in the center, pour in the wine. Add the honey, the remaining sugar, salt, whole egg and egg white and knead until you have a fairly stiff dough. Or, do what I did after photographing the above -- decide that this step is an unnecessary pain in the ass and throw it all in a stand mixture with dough hook attachment. Shape dough into two disks, wrap in plastic and refrigerate for two hours.

3. Roll dough out as thinly as possible and cut into 4 inch squares. When I say "as thinly as possible," I mean it. Roll it out and then keep rolling. It's a dough as tough as the old Sicilian broads who used to make them. You should be able to read a newspaper through them. Wrap them around oiled cannelli diagonally so that they overlap slightly. Press closed using a little egg white to make them adhere. Heat the oil to 350F. Fry the tubes until golden brown. Drain on paper towels and cool enough to handle safely. Slide pastry off cylinders while still warm.

4. Spoon the ricotta mixture into either a pastry bag with a wide tip or, lacking that, into a gallon-sized zip-lock bag, trimming the corner to the desired width. Fill pastry, sprinkle with powdered sugar and serve. Garnish the exposed ricotta mixture with more pistachio, chopped as finely as you wish, if the mood strikes.

If you plan on preparing this all in advance, as you should, please keep in mind that a crisp pastry shell becomes soggy when allowed to sit filled for an extended period of time. I am most likely insulting your intelligence by suggesting that you fill the shells immediately before serving, but there I go.

Today, I will not be with my family. Most of the old revellers are dead, but I will call and send my love to those who remain. Instead, I will spend the day eating, drinking and playing games with the good friends I now consider my new family here in San Francisco. I may not tell them I love them in so many words, but I will make them cannoli.

It's party time! Actually it's party season. Whether you want to throw a party or give the gift of a party book, these entertaining tomes are just the thing.

Easy Entertaining: Everything You Need To Know About Having Parties at Home
This book is all about taking the fear out of playing host or hostess. The focus is on recipes and there are plenty of good ones. Some of the recipes have a definite Irish slant not surprising since author Darina Allen, (recipient of the IACP Cooking Teacher of the Year award) is from Ireland. But you'll also find Baja-style Fish tacos with Chipotle Mayonnaise and Beef Rendang and everything in between. There really is something for everybody here. Every season, every kind of guest and just about every budget is covered. Even fussy sounding recipes like Meringue Roulade with Pomegranate Seeds and Rosewater come off as surprisingly simple. Party throwing tips are sprinkled throughout.

Party Confidential
If partying in style is your thing, Hollywood party planners Lara Shriftman and Elizabeth Harrison are who you need in your corner. Their book is filled with photos of celebrities at parties and the lowdown on how to recreate their fabulous parties yourself. Not surprisingly every party has a theme. You'll find Jackie Collins' Hollyrich Cheesecake and copycat recipes like California Pizza Kitchens Spinach-Artichoke Dip and of course signature dishes like Nobu Black Cod with Miso and what's a party without Mini Paris Cupcakes? This book is a guilty pleasure along the lines of reading InStyle magazine.

I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence
This book will delight both party lovers and those who avoid them like the plague. Like her brother David Sedaris, Amy Sedaris is a humorist. If only she were writing for Saturday Night Live we would all be watching. Her book is a bit of a scrapbook approach to life. Photos mirror the style of Time-Life entertaining books from the 1970's. Place tongue firmly in cheek. There are plenty of good recipes in here, from potluck pastas to decadent cakes but really you will spend more time cracking up over "hints" on how to iron your hair, pantyhose crafts and the Lumberjack Prayer.

In an area 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.

The Heart of the City Farmers' Market, located in San Francisco's civic center, is a market like no other. With a vividly urban feel, this market is a street performer to the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market ballet. The market celebrated it's 25th anniversary of existence this year, and is one of the oldest farmers' markets in the area.

Where fruits and vegetables at the Ferry Plaza Market are of the utmost quality and are so impeccable they sometimes feel like museum exhibits, the Heart of the City Market's fruits and vegetables are piled high and seem to be combined with seconds and slightly bruised fruit.

The price difference reflects the difference in quality, and bargains at this market abound. The customers who shop the Heart of the City market are the most ethnically diverse that I have seen at any market in San Francisco, and everyone was represented -- from homeless looking for a bargain, to Indian and Asian families, to football fans picking up some peanuts before Sunday's 49ers game.

"Markets breathe, they rest, they laugh, they yell. They absorb all the life around them and multiply it." This is a quote I came across recently in Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet by Jeffrey Alford, and it applies exactly to the feel of the Heart of the City Farmers' Market.

The market takes place on Wednesdays and Sundays, beginning at 7 am and closing at 5.30 pm on Wednesdays and 5.00 pm on Sundays. That's over 20 hours of market time in two days. I would highly recommend a trip to this market.

Because most of the farmers at the Heart of the City market don't display signs, I didn't get many vendor names. When I attended this market on November 19, I counted more than ten vegetable vendors, more than five fruit vendors, three flowers and plant vendors, and egg vendor, a fish vendor, a pistachio vendor, and one prepared food vendor. I did not note any hot, prepared food vendors, though I have been told that there is a tamale vendor on Wednesdays. I also didn't see any cheeses or meats other than fish.

Heart of the City Farmers Market
Market Street
(between Seventh and Eighth streets)
(415) 558-9455
Wednesdays, 7:00 am - 5:30 pm
Sundays, 7:00 am - 5:00 pm

Vendors in attendance that I noted included:

MacDonald's Organic Farm (Sebastopol). Apples.
Phan Farm (Elk Grove). Asian vegetables.
Schletewitz Family Farms (Sanger). Grapes, stone fruit.
Sukhi's. Prepared Indian foods.
Yerena Farms (Watsonville). Berries.

To read about the anniversary of the Heart of the City Market, go to the San Francisco Chronicle article. More photos of this market posted on Life Begins at 30.

This post is one in a series covering Bay Area neighborhood farmers' markets.
Berkeley Farmers' Market (Thursday)
Fairfax Farmers' Market (Wednesday)
Fillmore Farmers' Market (Saturday)
Marina Farmers' Market (Saturday)
Mountain View Farmers' Market (Sunday)
Pt. Reyes Station Farmers' Market (Saturday)
Temescal Farmers' Market (Sunday)

I've had a bit of back and forth with a number of prospective students interested in the Sunday December 3rd Caramel Class. In the ultra specific vernacular of professional baking, I have found myself in the midst of trying to explain that, even though caramel is the name of some candies, it is also the name of an ingredient describing a method.

As an attempt to lay it all out on the table, I wrote this email over the weekend:
"The class is about learning how to make caramel and what to do with it as an ingredient. Most people are afraid of making caramel at home-- and they should be, as it is very dangerous. I will teach a number of methods on how to make it and teach arecipe or two utilizing different caramels.

Caramel as candy is another subject, as one needs to be comfortable making caramel at home in the first place. Caramel as candy deals with specific candy making temperatures, long cooks, and special equipment. If a person can learn to feel comfortable with making caramel in the first place, they can go on to make more specific items with it.

The classes I am teaching are "foundation classes." They are meant to start people at the beginning, for comfort, knowledge and ease. I may, at some point, teach more advanced classes, but it is my experience that most bakers, even good home bakers, only know the hows and not the whys of baking foundation principles/instructions."

Does this clear things up a bit? I hope so, I did not mean to confuse or lead astray.

When one understands the whys in conjunction with the hows, one develops a more thorough understanding of a subject. Many people can follow a recipe. But what do we do when:
a. we see a blatant error in the text?

b. are going merrily along following a recipe and it does not appear to be producing said results?

c. have made something over and over and this time it doesn't work?

d. want to substitute ingredients, lower sugars or increase volume?

e. are attempting to make a recipe in a new environment/oven/kitchen/geographical location?

f. Any, or all of the above??

Baking is a science, yes. But it is also about courage and intuition and experiment and craft. It's understanding how each ingredient plays a role in a play, or on a team. Why baking soda this time and baking powder the next? Why am I separating the eggs? How come I'm being told, in no uncertain terms, not to over-mix? Why all purpose flour for this cake and cake flour for that cake? Do I really need to sift?

And on and on and on. Right?

Caramel is a really interesting substance and ingredient. Like glass, it goes from solid molecule, to hot liquid, back to solid again. It sweetens in a deep way. It softens, in a mysterious way. It lowers freezing temperatures, smoothes out batters and custards, and makes candy chewy, in the darndest ways. And it's a fantastic cooking vehicle.

It is my goal, with these classes I have set forth, to help you to feel more comfortable with ingredients and methods and principles, so that you can go back into your home kitchen with some Foundation Basics. If a person can conjure the whys of baking, they are more likely to be able to figure out how to make changes immediately or feel confident taking risks.

My cookie classes covered creaming, air incorporation, leaveners and the importance of ingredients in a simple, uncomplicated baked good. The pate a choux class thoroughly explained the hows and whys of eggs, a twice cooked dough and piping. The pie dough class will explain the tenuous relationship between butter, flour/gluten, and what the oven does when it's introduced to these delicate structures. With caramel I set you forth to both be afraid (it's the most dangerous substance in any kitchen, professional or home) and comfortable with melting sugar, mounting it with various fats, and how it changes baked goods/sauces it gets added to. A class on custards will focus on the egg as it can be manipulated when you know exactly the light hand in which to treat it.

Interested in taking one of my Baking Foundation classes?
Follow this link to Eggbeater and send me an email.

Come one, come all, come hungry to learn.

picture from Williams-Sonoma web site

Lately I've received a slew of emails requesting ideas, recipes, and menus for Thanksgiving so I thought it might help if I posted a list of recipes and ideas from some past meals and some of my favorite chefs and resources. This first set is courtesy of Williams-Sonoma who can always be counted on for good, solid recipes and copious amounts of alluring accessories that one simply must have in order to cook that recipe. So if you can resist the lure of that ridiculously overpriced copper pot, I'm sure your stuffing will be just as delicious. Cheers!

Williams-Sonoma 50th Anniversary Thanksgiving Menu

Cream of Mushroom Soup

Herbes de Provence Roast Turkey

Sausage, Corn Bread and Chestnut Dressing

Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Chestnuts

Molded Cranberry Sauce

Classic Pumpkin Pie

Thanksgiving Abondanza

These Thanksgiving recipes are courtesy of one of my favorite Napa Valley chefs, Michael Chiarello. Before I ever dreamed of donning a chef's jacket and clogs, I volunteered to work in the back kitchen of Michael's KQED cooking show Casual Cooking. He immediately made me feel welcome and his ease and confidence in the kitchen was remarkable. His philosophy and approach to food and la dolce vita is nothing short of inspiring. Here are a few of his specialties. One of my favorite pans is his cocorico. This is the coolest thing ever! When I'm in San Francisco, I use it all the time (it's too big to fit in my suitcase) and I've convinced most of my friends to buy one too.  Tutti a tavola e mangia bene!

Roasted Pears with Cinnamon-Spiced Whipped Cream

Whole Roasted Turkey with Fennel Spice Rub

Pumpkin Ravioli with Turkey Scallopini and Cranberry Brown Butter

The Definitive Mashed Potatoes and Variations

Panettone Stuffing (my favorite!)

Cranberry Citrus Relish

Roasted Garlic Mashed Potatoes

Yams with Toasted Spice Rub

Lasagna of Roasted Butternut Squash

Whole Roasted Turkey on the Cocorico

Pan Roasted Vegetables with Fennel Spice

Thankgiving Deja Vu

2005 was a year of many things to be thanksful for as well as many Thanksgivings - THREE in fact! Needless to say I haven't been able to look at turkey since then but here are a few killer, cholesteral-inducing, absolutely delicious recipes from last year that left everyone swooning. One involved a hammer....

Salt encrusted Turkey stuffed with Foie Gras and Port

Spiced Pumpkin Soup

Bresse Chicken stuffed with Foie Gras and Spice Bread

and the Thanksgiving Tree...my friends Kendall and Bob put this up and we all added leaves written with things we were most thankful for. A lovely tradition and a wonderful, creative way to remind us just what exactly we were celebrating, though it's not hard to forget when you are 6,000 miles from home...

<!--Thanksgiving a la Martha

And why not go to the diva of divine entertaining, Martha Stewart herself. She is prominently featured on Yahoo! Food but I thought it best to go direct to the source. So without further ado... Martha's Official Thanksgiving Menu 2006. It's a good thing....

Turkey-Tail Rolls

Mushroom Soup

Maple-Glazed Turkey

Chestnut and Apple Stuffing

Cider Gravy

Cranberry Grape Compote

Brussels Sprouts Vinaigrette

Whipped Sweet Potatoes with Caramelized Apples

Cauliflower Gratin with Endive

Pan-Roasted Balsamic Onions

Pecan Pie

Pumpkin Pie

-->
Even the austere, sober Wall Street Journal took a break from wire taping scandals, option-price fixing, boardroom blow-ups and merger mania to get in on the festivites. Clare Ansberry reminisces, "Everyone can have a few dozen cookbooks and a subscription to Gourmet or Southern Living, but it's something else to have a handwritten bourbon-laced pudding recipe from a thrice-married wild great aunt."

Amen and pass the gravy!

Lately, I have found myself jealous of certain food authors recounting their childhoods. A boy's summer spent on his grandfather's farm, ripping corn from its stalk and running in the direction of the nearest pot of boiling water is one example. My summers were spent digging holes in the front yard.

I have also caught myself revising my own history-- substituting myself for a bug-eyed little girl listening to her grandmother as she passed on the secrets of her kitchen, instead of getting kicked out of my own grandmother's space to go play croquet by myself on the lawn so she could watch the stock market reports in peace.

My childhood was, culinarily speaking, as flat and uninspiring as the suburban Orange County landscape it inhabited. No farmer's markets and not much in the way of ethnic food apart from the El Taco down the street.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I am not alone.

It is possible I had a childhood to be envied. Perhaps that little boy with the corn would have found my life fascinating, living in the shadow of Disneyland's Matterhorn as I did. Maybe that girl in the kitchen would have preferred to trade places with me and pretend sand creatures would eat her feet if she let them stray off her towel at cigarette-butt-and-beer-can-littered Huntington Beach. Doubtful, but possible.

When I cut through the film of jealousy that sometimes hazes my own memory, I can accept my own past, though it might be considered bland by some; nothing out of the ordinary at all. We must all make the best out of how and where we have lived, plucking up our own happy memories when and where we can find them. And that is just what I intend to do...

Suburbia is not devoid of culinary pleasure. The occasional trip to the Bob's Big Boy was one such joy for me. My regular meal consisted a hamburger patty on a bun, french fries and a chocolate shake. It never varied. It was as safe and familiar as I wanted my life to be. That's about as much power as a five-year-old can have over his own environment.

The burger was fine, once dressed with sufficient ketchup, but it merely served to satisfy hunger. It was the other two items I cared about. The chocolate shake would arrive in a tall powdered steel cup, the ice cream too thick to suck through a straw and so cold the condensation on the outside of the metal froze. I would clutch the cup with my fingertips, counting off the seconds until the coldness burned, bringing my fingers back to life with a warm french fry. I did not dip the potato into the shake , but dragged it across the top, smoothing the surface, like some starchy Zamboni. Though the crunch and salt and heat of those fries harmonized beautifully with the cold chocolate sweetness of that shake, I doubt I would have cared to articulate it. Entertaining myself with what was readily at hand was, in all likelihood, more important.

It is one of my earliest memories of giving thought not only to what I ate but how I ate it. I know it could not have lasted more than two or three minutes. Fries get cold. Chocolate shakes melt. Children lose interest. Besides, I had the business of stripping a comic book Big Boy of his masculinity with my sister's four-colored Bic pen to attend to.

At least it was a beginning.

As a lifetime lover of the french fry and the shake, I understand that they are easier to acquire elsewhere than to make at home. You could get in your car or walk down the street, wait in line, open your wallet and return home with the fries still marginally warm and the shake not completely melted before you've even finished soaking the homemade version's potatoes in cold water, but try it sometime. Just try making them for yourself, if only this once. Have a couple of friends over to enjoy them with you. Or, if you have no friends, stay in your pajamas all day and consume them in a semi-fetal position on your couch while watching a film whose characters relate to each other on both a romantic and socio-economic level you could never even hope achieve. If choosing the latter, I would suggest leaving the alcohol out of the shake recipe for your own good.

French Fried Potatoes at Home
Serves 4

This is a slightly altered version of a recipe found in The Best Recipe by the good people at Cooks Illustrated.

Ingredients:

4 large russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/4 x 1/4-inch-lengths
1 quart peanut oil
1 quart canola oil
4 tablespoons strained bacon grease. (The original authors state that this ingredient is optional. As a true lover of bacon, I am inclined to disagree.)

Preparation:

1. Rinse cut fries in a large bowl under cold running water until water turns from milky colored to clear. Cover with water and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. (this can be refrigerated up to 3 days ahead).

2. In a 5-quart pot or Dutch oven fitted with a clip-on-the-pot candy thermometer (I highly recommend one of these if you plan on deep frying anything ever), heat oil over medium-low heat to 325 degrees. As oil heats, add bacon grease. The oil will bubble up when you add the fries, so be sure you have at least 3 inches of room at the top of the pot.

3. Pour off water, wrap potatoes in a clean towel and thoroughly pat dry. Increase heat to medium-high and add fries, a handful at a time, to the hot oil. Fry, stirring with a skimmer or large-holed slotted spoon, until potatoes are limp and start to turn from white to blond. (I found myself hung up on this step. Blond? French potatoes are identified as female in gender, so I would opt for blonde. But which shade?), 6 to 8 minutes. (Oil temperature will drop 50 to 60 degrees during this frying .) Use skimmer or slotted spoon to transfer fries to paper towels to drain; rest at least 10 minutes. These can stand at room temperature up to two hours.

4. When ready to serve the fries, reheat oil to 350 degrees. Place potatoes into hot oil. Fry potatoes, stirring constantly, until golden brown and puffed, about 1 minute. Transfer to a bowl lined with several layers of paper towels and drain. Season to taste with kosher salt (or whatever salt you feel is necessary, but I wouldn't waste the good stuff. These are french fries, you don't need to show off.)

Serve immediately.

Chocolate Bourbon Shake
Serves 4

This recipe is as fast and easy to make as the ice cream headache you'll get from drinking it too quickly. And before you ask, no, I never added bourbon to my shake at the Big Boy. I have simply updated the recipe to suit my more adult tastes.

Ingredients:

2 cups vanilla ice cream
1/2 cup whole milk
1/2 cup chocolate syrup
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 ounces bourbon whisky. Not that I'm one to tell people what to do, but I would advise against putting any more than this into the mix or it will taste boozy. If your doctor says you need more alcohol in your diet, pour yourself a supplement on the side.

Shaved chocolate for garnish, if the mood strikes.

Preparation:

1. Place all ingredients in some sort of blending machine (My ex broke my blender three years ago and I've never bothered to replace it, so I used my Cuisinart). Combine until smooth.

2. Pour into drinking vessels of your choice and

a. Drink immediately or...

b. Place shakes in your freezer until ready to drink for a thicker consistency. This trick has the added advantage of giving the glasses a frosty look that says "you are not an after-thought" to your guests.

If you are of the mind to serve these two recipes together, I would suggest preparing the shakes ahead of time and placing them in freezer as mentioned above.

One of the most pleasant things about french fries, apart from their palatability, is that they most often show up on one's plate as if out of thin air. They are intended to play a supporting role. Like some crunchy, salted pile of Hattie MacDaniels, they offer a welcome break from the scene-chewing tactics of the burger or hangar steak they have been cast against to make look good.

When preparing fries at home, the air from which they appear is not thin, but thick with the scent of hot grease and, perhaps, your own tears. Making them will not provide you with any sort of instant gratification, unless the thrill of 350 degree oil leaping from the pot and onto your naked flesh is your sort of thing. It is a fairly laborious process, but not without it's rewards. I promise.

Whip up a batch for friends or family or someone you would like to sleep with. Nothing says "I love you" quite like frying up a fistful of starch in hot oil and bacon grease. Nothing I can think of, anyway.

Perhaps the next time you visit your neighborhood diner or burger joint, you might stop and think about those fries lying there on your plate. Go ahead, pick one up and dip it into your chocolate shake. Revel in the commonplace. Pull out your flask and pour in some bourbon, but as discretely as possible. If you get caught, I won't be held responsible.