I went, I drank, I conquered.

Although the reservation and password hoop-jumping smacks of exclusivity and a certain snobbishness, when you see the neighborhood you see why it might be practical. Right on the corner of O'Farrell and Jones, Bourbon & Branch is firmly in the Tenderloin. I haven't exactly been taking advantage of restaurants, bars, shops, and cafes that are apparently turning this neighborhood into the Trendyloin, and now I know why. Maybe it's my Twin Cities upbringing, but I don't exactly relish walking down blocks that smell of urine and having local denizens spit at me and growl crazily as I try to look like I know where I'm going. Given that sort of thing, I understand why Bourbon & Branch might not want to have their unmarked door thrown wide to the general public.

Davina and I stood under the Anti-Saloon League sign while I grappled for the buzzer and croaked my password. The door swung open to reveal a smiling face and we were welcomed and ushered to our table. Inside, Bourbon & Branch is dark and darling. Spiky frosted glass chandeliers swing and toss their gentle cotton balls of light against mottled mirrors and the hammered copper ceiling. The cute little wooden booths have cute little wooden tables that are just wide enough to hold your drinks and just narrow enough remind you that this is not a restaurant.

After many trips to Absinthe, I have finally drunk myself to a point where I had effectively sampled all the cocktails that interested me and could leave the rest. Faced with Bourbon & Branch's massive cocktail menu, I was back at square one. I'd light on a cocktail that I was definitely going to order and I'd be all, "Check it out, this one has THYME in it!" and then a few pages and a dozen cocktail descriptions later and I'd totally forget what that original cocktail was because, "Ooh, hang on -- THIS one has pimento dram in it. Wait, what's pimento dram? I'm getting that one. No, but hang on..." and so on and so forth. I'll tell you what, I really could have used those shameless shopping stickies Lucky Magazine is so proud of.

For some reason I was expecting all the cocktails to be upwards of fifteen dollars, but there were far more ten-dollar cocktails than anything else, and since that shruggingly seems to be the average price of cocktails in the Bay Area, I wasn't bothered. The drinks are pure and clean and inventive. After the delightful Prosecco-based amuse bouche cocktail they offered us -- a cocktail amuse bouche? I'm loving this idea! -- I started out with a delicious and refreshing Cracked Thumb (gin, lemon oil, elderflower syrup, mint). Given that I'm a gin girl and elderflower really crushes my ice, it was sort of a safe bet for me. What wasn't a safe bet was my order of an Aperol Spritz. Davina, who likes Campari, encouraged me, who does not like Campari, to give it a whirl. I did and I liked. Maybe it's the gentian and rhubarb, but I found the Aperol to be a kinder, gentler version of its bitter, angry spinster aunt.

My one complaint is that when Davina asked our server if the bartender could concoct something using gin and falernum, the server was clearly rattled. Bartenders do this all the time -- hello? It's pretty much their job description -- so this shouldn't have been a big deal. It's not like Davina asked for something bizarre like hot chocolate, benedictine, and Cynar. I don't blame the bartender, who did pour out something delicious, I just don't think the server should have acted as though it was a weird or inconvenient request.

Some out there are already sneering that B&B "ripped off" Milk and Honey's concept. Well, but see, Milk and Honey is in New York, and I'm in San Francisco and B&B is in San Francisco, so I say rip away! I mean really, isn't the country large enough for several of these speakeasies? I would certainly hope so.

Those expecting a brawl got more of a lovefest when Whole Foods CEO John Mackey met with Michael Pollan author of The Omnivore's Dilemma at UC Berkeley last night. The feud, if you can call it that, goes to back to a time shortly after the publication of the book when Mackey took issue with the quality of Pollan's research, his criticism of Whole Foods and what he called "industrial organic". Over the months that passed a series of letters were made public in which each seemed to take the other to task. Those letters can be found here:

Letter 1: Mackey to Pollan
Letter 1 Response: Pollan to Mackey
Letter 2: Mackey to Pollan
Letter 2 Response: Pollan to Mackey

Mackey complained that he wasn't contacted by Pollan before the book was published and tried to argue that all "industrial organic" is not bad. Pollan challenged Mackey on the authenticity of the storytelling present in the store, and on how much produce was truly "local".

The problem is and was, that Pollan and Mackey agree more than they disagree. While Mackey got his chance to explain his philosophy and to announce several new praiseworthy initiatives that deal with fair trade, animal welfare, support for local "food artisans" and loans for farmers and food producers, he admitted that criticism was good, and that it spurred a reexamination of their practices and a rethinking of their approach. Pollan in turn praised Mackey for the new initiatives and for being willing to so thoroughly engage his critics, something few CEO's are willing to do.

It was surprising how unpolished and passionate Mackey was compared to the almost slick and sometimes snide Pollan. Mackey even went so far as to say the backlash against his company and the concept of organic has actually been good in some ways. Still Mackey doesn't like being compared with Wal-Mart, and his philosophy of a more enlightened capitalism and movement towards a post industrial age he calls the "ecological era" puts him on the forefront of progressive businesses.

For his part, Pollan kept the conversation to a discussion more about the future than the present or the past in the discussion part of the program which was entitled "The Past, The Present, The Future of Food". Pollan even envisioned a kiosk in a grocery store that would allow shoppers to scan items and see what was happening back on the farm for a kind of nanny-cam meets corporate transparency, a vision that Mackey seemed to embrace. Perhaps both Mackey and Pollan are ready to put down the gloves and make peace with the past and present (in addition to each other) and to make more room for a focus on the future.

Between my vacation and a work trip to Southern California, my time in the Bay Area lately has been sporadic. The first thing I try and do when I return home to San Francisco is to visit a farmers' market. Farmers' markets ground me. Seeing the fruits and vegetables that are in season reminds where I am in the year, how much time has passed, and how the farmers are doing. The main thing that I took away from this week's trip to the Sunday San Rafael Farmers' Market is that SPRING IS COMING.

Though our produce is still heavily into kale, butternut squash, and root vegetables, the turning of the season has begun. Look hard and you will see tiny little green onions and green garlic. Green garlic looks a little like green onion with a small garlic nub at the end that gradually gets larger and harder as the season goes on. I use green garlic for everything that you'd use garlic for, but you'll learn your own favorite ways to try out this subtle, delicious vegetable.

Asparagus has started to make an appearance, foreshadowing our wonderful asparagus months of March and April. This week, I only saw asparagus at the Zuckerman's Farm booth, but it will soon be available through other vendors as well. Get your risotto recipes ready! If you look hard, you will also start to see glimpses of strawberries at different markets throughout the area.

The young greens throughout the market at the moment are stunning. Just perusing the market on Sunday, I noticed nettles, spring mix, baby chard, baby arugula, rapini and other greens. As we move further along in the year, these greens will be in even more abundance.

I was gone during much of the citrus freeze last month, and expected when I returned that I would not find any citrus products in the market. The opposite is true. While many farmers lost a lot of their crop, citrus is still widely available. According to Julie Cummins, the Director of Education at CUESA, many of the citrus growers were able to pick in advance of the freeze and are now selling their pre-picked fruit. Because the farms who attend our Bay Area markets are fairly small, they were able to mobilize enough workers on very short notice to save a lot of their crop, where the large farms were left with worker shortages and seemed to lose a larger percentage of their crop. This week I could choose from mandarins, pomelos, kumquats, Buddha's hand, blood oranges, and lemons.

Will Brokaw from Brokaw Nursery says that they lost a small percentage of their avocado crop due to this year's weather. Where we'll really notice the lack of avocados, says Brokaw, is next year in the late fall and winter. While we normally could expect Gwen avocados at that time from the nursery's northernmost orchard in Soledad, all those avocados "are toast" and we'll have several months without avocados and will have to wait until January or February 2008 when we can see the Haas avocado crop. Brokaw's guavas and cherimoyas from the Soldedad farm also were harmed, but we can look foward to kumquats, other citrus, and many more months of avocados from Brokaw Nursery.

I was surprised this week to see that Dave Little still has some potatoes from the fall crop. He has a couple weeks more of potatoes to sell, and then will take some time off to plant, returning in the late spring with a new crop. Be sure to check out Dave's cooking demonstration this Saturday at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market, where he will demonstrate that even sprouted potatoes are good for cooking and taste delicious.

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Mariquita Farm is a popular vendor at the Saturday Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market. Julia and Andy, the farmers, put out a fantastic newsletter each week with essays by Andy and farm news. Mariquita has taken a big step technologically and Julia and Andy are now publishing a blog: The Ladybug Letter. If you are an RSS-geek like me, then The Ladybug Letter is going to be a worthwhile addition to your feeds.

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The hottest ticket in town tonight is the John Mackey and Michael Pollan event at UC Berkeley's Graduate School of Journalism. Those of us who follow food politics watched with interest last summer as The Omnivore's Dilemma kicked off a series of letters between the author, Michael Pollan, and John Mackey -- the CEO of Whole Foods. The event is sold out, but you can watch the live webcast courtesy of UC Berkeley. With the number of bloggers who are planning to attend, you will surely be reading posts about the event this week.

Letter 1: Mackey to Pollan
Letter 1 Response: Pollan to Mackey
Letter 2: Mackey to Pollan
Letter 2 Response: Pollan to Mackey

There appears to be no end to the amount of emails through Eggbeater I get on this subject. The irony is not lost on me. I am a self-taught chef. Trained on-the-job, my resume is my only certificate. It's rare I meet other people like me in my age range. More rare still that I work in a kitchen with anyone who has not gone through a culinary program at all.

And yet, I have been training culinary students for almost 15 years. Whether it's side-by-side training to get them familiar with my station and the kitchen at large, or as their supervisor through an extern/internship (culinary schools use either nomenclature for the same thing: sending students out into the field for work experience before they graduate) or as their direct boss after they've graduated.

The specific, name-brand culinary school students I've worked with and trained have depended on the geographical location of the businesses or their respective fame. Because of this, I have strong opinions on specific schools. I've come to learn their strengths as well as their gross weaknesses. I have become opinionated about a form of education I myself could not afford, time or money-wise. I have been working since I was 14, and have not since had the luxury of learning without pay.

For these reasons, when I receive email missives all over the world on the subject of culinary school advice, I dole out well thought out and experiential words. I have lost count of the people who wish they'd listened to me when I attempted to talk them out of culinary school.

It is not that I think all culinary education outside of the workplace is a waste of time. But I think one should know all their options before signing a check for upwards of $60,000 for two years of education, or less.

I know for a fact that few, if any, culinary schools, lay out all the facts and possibilities for prospective students making bright eyed inquiries on their shiny doorsteps. It used to be that culinary schools required their future students to have at least some experience in the field before even being able to apply. Now the only skill a future cook needs to possess is the ability to sign a check.

When I receive an email the first thing I do is ask the person a number of questions. I realize each person coming to me has a different agenda, various hopes, specific goals and has bravely put forth an inquiry to a complete stranger. It's vulnerable to ask for help, but an amazing resource the www offers anyone trusting enough to think there's someone out there who can answer seemingly impossible or overwhelming questions.

I began my career from a similar place. A friend of a friend of a friend was a chef in New York City. Soon after she graduated from CCAC I took a trip there and contacted her. She did not hesitate to say yes and within hours of arriving I was sitting across from an accomplished chef taking notes on what she was saying. After thanking her profusely for making the time to see me she said something I hope to never forget. I have said it myself more than once and always credit her.

"I always say yes to helping other women in the field because professional cooking is a Men's Club. What we are doing here is the only network for female cooks. If I don't pass it on to other women, no one else will."

Almost a year later, the late Barbara Tropp spoke strikingly similar words at a fundraising dinner announcing what would be the first women's culinary professional organization, Women Chefs and Restaurateurs.

I've written a fair amount on the subject of culinary school advice. My most "Googled" piece is "What is a Chef's Responsibility?" Recently I wrote a piece, so transparent I'm practically naked, about the pastry chef glass ceiling I've hit, especially in the Bay Area since both the Dot Com Bust and September 11th.

It's not easy these days to be excited about my profession, my specific field and the industry I love. But I believe deeply "we keep what we have by giving it away," and I honor those who apprenticed, mentored and educated before me when I answer these missives. As well, I've recently fallen in love with teaching culinary classes myself.

Here are some excerpts of emails I've sent to various people who have asked me for culinary school advice:

"Know why it is you want to go to culinary school, what specific needs and desires you have, and then the education you go after will fill these. The other option is to go after a specific restaurant for on-the-job training.

Some important attitude hints: Be humble. Start at The Bottom-- peeling apples, doing prep, learning to butcher, tempering chocolate by hand, etc. Do not take a job where you're considered "the pastry chef" for at least 5 years. Employers love to give titles to people to entice them, but it only works out for the business in the end-- because you're a lot cheaper than me and it's easier to stroke your ego with a title than the learning that you need to do along the way. Bad habits are formed in those cooks with little or no direction.

It takes more time to unlearn than it does to start off training under the best people you can find. Not every chef is a great teacher. Most chefs do not have the time to teach. A lot of the learning is on you. Supplement your hours in the kitchen with articles, books, library visits, magazines, and eating out whenever you can afford to. Develop your taste memory by using all of your senses when you eat and go to farmers' markets.

You're not going to make very much money in this field, but most especially at the beginning. So it's of utmost importance you work with the (pastry) chef you want to. In the kitchen/restaurant you want to. Whose desserts/food do you love? Do you love the classical or modern stuff? Do you like big kitchens or the small ones? Asian food, French, North African... think about this.

Do a little research: collect (dessert) menus from a bunch of local restaurants. When you go in and ask for the menu, have a pen and write down the (pastry) chef's full name. Then take your resume into each place whose (dessert) menu calls out to you and (make sure to find out when is the best time to go to the restaurant: if they serve lunch visit betw 3-4:30, if they only serve dinner, visit @ noon) go to each place asking for the (pastry) chef by name and ask if they have any positions open. They don't? Would they be willing to have you come in one or two days a week for free? Tell them how much their (dessert) menu interested you and say you are coming there to work for them specifically.

INTENTIONALLY CHOOSE YOUR EDUCATION, YOUR TEACHERS, YOUR MENTORS.

If you are going to make $10 hour working anywhere, work at the place you want to learn the most. Just like school, just like life: your education is up to you! You will learn a lot from someone who knows a lot. From someone who has a lot of suggestions, can brainstorm, knows the history of food and food science. Is able to teach, to mentor, and to be patient enough to grow a person from seed to sprout, at least.

Don't stay at a job unless you're learning. But don't put any job that you haven't been at for at least 6 months on your resume. Buy and read the SF Chronicle (or your local paper) and the NY Times Every Wednesday. This is the cheapest way to start your regional restaurant education."

But patience on your side is necessary. Chefs who think you're in a hurry will most likely view that attitude as disrespectful. Not a single craft is learned overnight. Few chefs I've worked for have taught me by saying, "Here let me show you a better way." Or, "Take all the time you need to get this right."

Learning on the job has often meant that I learned under fire. It meant I had to pay close attention when chefs and sous chefs didn't teach in an empathetic way.

Learning how to cook professionally is about doing it. It's repetition, teaching all five senses memory. It's about deference and humility, respecting those who have been cooking/baking longer. It's stamina, and a passion so deep and strong it can feel delusional. Professional cooks are best when they are a precarious mix of humble and cocky, and knowing the balance is important. Something besides external validators like money, the public's gratitude or a normal life must drive you.

And lastly:

"There should be thousands of things YOU should look for in a professional cooking job! Is the kitchen clean? How are the Spanish-speaking workers treated? Are the sous chefs helpful? Is the chef absent? The food delicious? Is there a staff meal and is it edible? Are the appliances clean and working properly? Are people caring for themselves and their surroundings? The cooks tasting their food? How many cooks have been there longer than 6 months, a year? Is the sous chef a person who has been promoted, and if so, from what position? Are the cooks happy to be there? Are they learning? Is the pastry chef experienced? How long has the kitchen management been baking/cooking professionally? What's the style of the management team?

School gives you a foot in the door. But that's all. Now the real work is ahead of you."

I am currently mentoring a few people, some of whom have chosen culinary school, some who are going alternate routes. It's thoroughly inspiring and rewarding. No matter what a person chooses, my hope is that my industry will continue to thrive and expand the envelopes and glass ceilings I've been straining against for the last 15 years.

And if more people begin learning a craft that takes a lifetime plus to master, the more wonderful food there will be to appreciate.

Yesterday, I attended the best cookbook event ever. Book signings are now more a professional obligation than a fun diversion, but I'm very glad I stopped in at the Bayanihan Community Center to see Amy Besa and Romy Dorotan. This wasn't your usual book event. Grandparents brought their grandkids, and Tagalog was spoken unabashedly. The tastings were generous--I enjoyed thirds on those adobo ribs--and there was much laughter in the air. Their discussion and demonstration were a powerful reminder of the way sharing recipes, memories, and food keep a community together over time and distance.

Amy and Romy's book, Memories of Philippine Kitchens, has been years in the making, and once you open the covers, you undertand immediately the amount of time and effort that went into gathering the stories. It's a rare example of a cookbook that encompasses geography, politics, culture, oral history, and excellent recipes in a book that is as beautiful as it is generous and loving. Publishers Stewart, Tabori & Chang did an excellent job with it; they allowed Amy to include the region's complex history, a multitude of photos, and a voice centered in her own community's experience rather than bent toward explaining her cuisine to non-Filipinos.

The book has sold out in nearly every store around the world, from Manila to London to San Francisco. Managers tell of readers standing in their store aisles, crying over the book. Its deep resonance with the Filipino diaspora speaks of the need for this book. Long overdue, Memories of Philippine Kitchens is the harbinger of a wider appreciation of a much misunderstood cuisine.

The husband and wife team opened their restaurant, Cendrillon, in Manhattan in 1995. Amy had fled Manila just weeks before martial law was declared in 1972, and in their youth, they were activists in the international Phillipines political movement. Romy's passion for food, however, led him to work in restaurants. It wasn't long before they decided to open their own restaurant highlighting Southeast Asian cuisines and then, of course, to begin writing this book.

If you're not familiar with Filipino food, then you're in for a treat. The fresh seafood; the fruity sour flavors that assert themselves again and again; and the amazing variety of noodles, soups and desserts--Filipino cuisine is one of the most fun to explore. Generosity at the table is a hallmark, and the laughing, singing and joking that accompany any gathering adds their own unique flavor to the food. Three dishes that any serious food lover must experience: a piquant peppery adobo, a kinilaw made with the day's catch, and a communal pot of sinigang.

Kilawing Tangigue: Generous amounts of ginger and scallion spike this fresh-from-the-sea kinilaw, one of the native dishes of the Philippines. (Photo by Bing Ramos)

The islands--over 7,000 of them--are home to centuries of intertwined communities. Native hunters, Chinese and Arab merchants, Malay empires with Muslim rulers, Indian laborers, and Spanish colonists followed by American soldiers have all left their mark on the country's culture. Revealing history in the kitchen, the cuisine itself reflects this pastiche of influences.

Northern and Southern California are home to the largest concentrations of Filipinos outside of Manila. From the first sailors who landed in Alta California to the Central Valley's agricultural workers, including Philip Vera Cruz, co-founder of the United Farm Workers, their history is integral to the successes of this state.

To learn more about the history, culture and cuisine of the Filipino community, visit:

Arkipelago Books
1010 Mission Street, San Francisco
(415) 553-8185
One of the city's gem of an indpendent bookstore, this packed space stocks any book ever written about the Philippines or Filipino Americans. I visit regularly to check in on their wonderful cooking and food section, which has hard-to-find books such as Beyond Rice, a stunningly beautiful book on the traditional cultivation of this important crop, and Kinilaw: A Philippine Cuisine of Freshness, an essential cookbook for any seafood lover. Another great find is the CD collection of Bay Area classical guitarist, Florante Aguilar, playing harana, traditional Filipino courtship serenades.

Bistro Luneta
615 Third Avenue, San Mateo
(650) 344-0041
A modern setting for Filipino cuisine, Bistro Luneta blends traditional flavors with contemporary techniques. While other Southeast Asian cuisines also appear on the menu, this is the place in the Bay Area to taste Filipino cuisine at its most vibrant.

Patio Filipino
1770 El Camino Real, San Bruno
(650) 872-9888 or (415) 810-9882
The menu at this restaurant highlights the Spanish influence on the country's cuisine. The house specialty is Paella Valenciana, but there's also an impressive list of sinigang soups and dishes with favorite ingredients, including kangkong leaves, milkfish, duck eggs, and pork in all its many yummy incarnations. They have a catering service, definitely worth trying for your next feasting event.

The Filipino American Arts Exposition
Dedicated to preserving and presenting Filipino arts and culture, the FAAE hosts the annual pistahan celebration at Yerba Buena.

Last week I promised more Dorie and her heart-warming stories of life in France and cooking with Pierre Herme, Daniel Boulud and Julia Child. Voila....!

It's hard for me not to gush. I have found this oh so sweet culinary world to be acerbic so when one of the industry luminaries takes a moment to even acknowledge me much less spend time discussing careers, options, and advice, the feeling is near rapture. I'll try to rein it in to profound gratitude though I have no doubt some gushing will seep through the veneer. So enough about me, on with the fabulous Ms. D.

I asked Dorie about her life in New York versus her life in Paris - how she lives the best of both worlds and her favorite aspect of each.

"I love life in Paris, the rhythm of life, the ease of the city. It's simple to get together with friends here. Days seem longer, there's always time for friends. And, unlike when I'm in New York, I always have the urge to be outside here, on the streets, walking, exploring and discovering." 1971 marks her first visit to Paris with her husband, Michael. Her dream was to be here and the moment Dorie arrived in Paris, she knew she was meant to be here. She immediately decided that she would some day live in paris. Dorie never wavered from her goal and has spent the past 10 years living in both Paris and New York City. "New York is about work, but I find it hard to work in Paris. It's easier to write in New York but so many of my ideas and creativity originate in Paris. My head explodes with ideas and creativity here in Paris."

What is it like working with The Greats?

I showed Dorie my sheet of questions where I had listed "What is it like to work with Julia Child, Pierre Herme, Daniel Boulud?" Dorie looked at it, hugged her arms and shook her head saying, "It's hard to believe I worked with these three greats. It's hard to believe I worked with one of them, but three!"

Dorie spoke about Julia, Pierre and Daniel being natural teachers and mused if perhaps that wasn't a trait of all the greatest chefs? Not just a necessity of or part of the job of teaching your sous chef and so on down the brigade, but a higher sense of duty, like the doctors Hippocratic oath, compelling them to teach the next generation to preserve this tradition, this history in order to keep the cuisine alive. "Il faut transmettre le savoir faire" as they say, translating literally as "one must transmit the know-how" or carry on the traditions.

What was it like cooking with Julia Child?

I barely had the question out of my mouth when Dorie replied "extraordinary". "All the cliches are true, she was extraordinary. Her warmth, generosity, incredible intelligence, her curiosity about the world - it was all extraordinary." Like everyone else who worked with Julia, Dorie discovered that the persona on television was exactly the same person live - full of "warmth, generosity, curiosity and humor. Julia loved learning. She was a born teacher and also a shameless flirt."

Before Julia moved to Santa Barbara, Dorie, Michael, and their tall, handsome son Joshua visited Julia in Cambridge. As they were headed out to lunch, Julia's assistant Stephanie Hersh suggested Dorie take Julia's walker warning Dorie that she wouldn't want to be responsible if Julia were to fall. Julia overheard this and replied, "When I'm with a young man, I don't need a walker!" With that she linked her arm around Joshua's and headed for the car.

Dorie lived in Cambridge for 8 weeks while working on the Baking with Julia cookbook to accompany the series. Geoff Drummond, Julia's producer, initially recommended her to Julia and Julia immediately concurred, stating, "I like the way Dorie writes recipes. She writes them just like I do." When Dorie spoke that last sentence, she put her hand over her heart, claiming "What an honor!"

At one point in the tv taping, Julia mentioned that something was wrong with her computer, so Michael and one of the show's tech guys went to look at it, which was upstairs in her room. Julia came in a few minutes later and, at 85 years old (!!), wanted to know exactly what was wrong and exactly how they had fixed it because if it happened again, she wanted to be able to fix it herself. Even at 85 years old, she was still inquisitive, curious and always learning. And as a testament to her whimsical sense of humor, her screen saver read: "Creme Fraiche".

I asked Dorie how she met Julia. Dorie gave a cooking demo at Boston University after the release of her first book, Sweet Times. Her demo followed Julia's demo - "not a place," according to Dorie, "that any new author wants to be." At a dinner that evening that included Jacques Pepin, Dorie sat next to Julia. Julia asked her if she'd seen Dan Ackroyd's Saturday Night Live skit impersonating her. Dorie replied that she was probably the only person in the country who hadn't seen it so Julia stood up and re-enacted the entire routine for her! With a melancholy smile, Dorie reminisced, "I miss her. I really, really miss her."

What is it like working with Pierre Herme?

"With Pierre there is an excitement to his teaching, to making others understand and see things that he sees, tastes, and feels in the cuisine. For Pierre, the word "genius" is so overused but Pierre is truly a genius - you see it in his ideas about perceptions of taste and texture and how he thinks about combinations. Pierre would always refer to the Three Ts - taste, texture, temperature. How he creates around these three is truly remarkable." I would like to humbly add a 4th - visual - because his creations are true works of art and one's mouth begins watering at the mere sight of them. Dorie claims to have graduated from the "School of Working with Pierre Herme" because he changed her whole way of looking at what makes food a pleasure.

Dorie and Pierre met in 1993 while she was working on a story about chestnuts for the New York Times. Dorie wanted to learn about marrons glace (candied chestnuts) so she arranged for a meeting with Pierre. She brought along her husband Michael thinking it would be a quick interview and that they would then go on their way. Two hours later, Pierre and Dorie decided they were separated at birth while Michael claimed they were "meant to meet." They had so much to talk about, the hours flew by. After that initial meeting, Dorie and Pierre stayed in touch and visited when Dorie was in Paris or Pierre was in New York. When Baking with Julia was finished and Dorie was looking for her next project, Michael suggested she talk to Pierre about collaborating on a book. She sent him a fax asking if he'd like to work on a book for the American market and he called her back in minutes saying, "I thought we'd already agreed to do this?!"

When it came time for Dorie and Pierre to start work on that book, Pierre invited her to join him and his wife Frederick on their upcoming vacation. Dorie declined, saying of course she wouldn't dream of interrupting their vacation. Pierre insisted she join them and said it would be the only time he had to work on the project. They drove to the west coast of France, to Arcachon south of Bordeaux, with crates of recipes in the trunk. They set up a very long table, literally on the beach with their toes in the sand, and hooked up a generator behind them to power their laptops. They sat in a row - Dorie, Pierre, Frederick, Michael - looking out on the Atlantic Ocean and the entire book was organized in those few weeks. Every morning they would go to the market then return for coffee. A few hours of work on the book would be followed with lunch. A return trip to the market for dinner would then be followed with Dorie and Pierre working by the light of one lamp until 1:00 am. The delicious results of that "vacation" are Desserts by Pierre Herme.

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I hope you enjoyed this visit with Dorie. She has such a unique and heart-warming way of experiencing Paris, reading her blog is like taking a petite vacation through the cobblestone streets of the Left Bank. Bon appetit!

The other night, I was having dinner at Boulevard with two friends who do not drink. One friend commented, "You know one of the things I regret about not drinking? I missed the mojito."

Missed the mojito. How can anyone miss the mojito? It's everywhere. Everywhere. I examined the tables around us and noticed glasses pasted with the telltale bruised mint on two of them. In February.

As a waiter, I see people ordering them all the time. All the time. I cringe when I order them because I know the bartenders are going to hate me. When one person orders a mojito, invariably, someone else will say, "Oh! I'll have one of those, too." and then the question and following anecdote are generally uttered (well, I have heard this exact exchange twice in the past month-- enough to trip my trendy alarm) to any remaining non-mojito-ordering guests, "Have you ever had a mojito? I discovered them at such-and-such-a-place." Funny, I didn't know sheep could actually discover anything, unless it was a patch of grass uneaten by cows. Or that they secretly thrill at the approach of a Greek man. Discover? My cloven foot.

The fact is (or legend, at least) that mojitos, or some variation thereof, have been with us for a very long time. This is a classic cocktail, drunk in one form or another for since perhaps the late 16th century when the pirate Richard Drake created for himself a beverage of aguardiente (an unrefined rum), lime, sugar and mint. He named it El Draque (The Dragon). Pirates do not typically shy away from self-promotion. This concoction has been drunk for centuries in Cuba and the various other Caribbean lands Drake terrorized.

The other, more likely story is that the mojito originated as a thirst quencher for Cuban sugar cane harvesters in the late 1800's. Apparently, the rum made available to them wasn't of the finest quality, so cane juice, mint and lime were added to make the alcohol more palatable. The mojito became a popular drink among the working class at the Playa de Marianao in Havana by the early 20th century. The upper crust were still drinking daquiris. What is it with Cubans and yummy cocktails? Oh yes. Rum.

By the 1940's a little restaurant called La Bodeguita del Medio had served one or, more likely, twenty to Ernest Hemingway. He liked them so much he wrote about them. Other great writers who popped by La Bodeguita were Pablo Neruda and Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Even Brigitte Bardot is rumored to have let the condensation drip from her glass to cool her ample bosom. Of course, she is not famous for her writing skills, but she does love cats.

After Fidel Castro seized power in 1959, Cubans fleeing to the United States brought their mojito mixers with them making them very, very popular in Miami. I do believe if one watches Miami Vice long enough, one might spy Sonny Crockett sipping one. So, America-wise at least, the mojito might be considered a retro 80's drink. Eew. Yet, somehow not. It's a great drink-- just not one I would chose to drink in 45 degree weather.

The Classic Mojito

Ingredients:

For one drink (though, even if you chose to drink alone, rest assured that about 20,000 other people in San Francisco are probably drinking one at the same time)

5 to 6 mint leaves
1 lime, quartered
3 drops Angostura bitters
2 ounces light rum
1 ounce guarapo (sugar cane syrup). If you are too lazy to find guarapo, simple syrup will have to do, but it's not the same. Really.
Ice Crushed ice is ideal, but smallish cubes aren't bad either.
Club soda

Preparation:

1. Muddle mint leaves, bitters and 3 of the lime quarters in the bottom of a tall glass.

2. Fill glass to the top with ice.

3. Add rum.

4. Fill remainder of the glass with guarapo, leaving roughly 1/2 inch at the top. Top off with club soda.

5. Cover glass and shake vigorously for a few seconds. Garnish with remaining lime wedge and a slice of sugar cane flown in from your father's sugar plantation. It has been suggested that one serve this drink with a straw. This might be fine if the person drinking is worried about lipstick smudges on his or her glass. If this is not a particular worry of yours, I would forgo it, since the bruised and battered mint tends to clog the straw at the first hint of suction.

A special little shout out to MojitoCompany.com for their help and information.

I'm not a Rachael Ray fan, but I don't like the way everyone beats up on her. I think what she's trying to do is to give people the confidence to get back into the kitchen and that gets lost in all the fuss about her goofy cheerleader-like demeanor and her growing empire. Her recipes are okay. Mostly she uses fresh ingredients, though sometimes pre-sliced or pre-washed ingredients take a starring role. Her recipes are nothing spectacular, but they aren't horrible either. For that, we have the satanic Sandra Lee and her Semi-Homemade madness.

Sandra Lee might be trying to get people back in the kitchen but if it's with fake processed scary awful-tasting pseudo-food then what's the point? Also she seems to care more about how to make food look good than actually taste good. So where do the Fix-it and Forget-it books that so routinely top the New York Times Bestseller lists fall? Are they more Rachael Ray or more Sandra Lee?

The latest book in the series, Fix-It and Forget-It 5-Ingredient Favorites: Comforting Slow-Cooker Recipes is clearly in the Sandra Lee camp. It demonstrates that clearly, much of America believes the only way to get something tasty on the table, with ease, is to rely on lots of processed, packaged low or no-nutrition foods. I mean things like canned soup, processed cheese, spaghetti sauce mix, frozen hash browns, grape jelly, soft drinks, canned mushrooms and chicken nuggets. These all rank high among the so-called "Five Ingredients" that legions of contributors use in recipes which are to be found in the book.

I have no burgeoning empire like Rachael Ray, but I too want people to go back in the kitchen. I want them to love cooking and eating as much as I do. I don't want them to be intimidated. I want them to be inspired. And there is nothing in Fix-it and Forget-it to inspire, but plenty to make anyone who cares about good food sad.

Apples for Jam is a book that gets under your skin. It beckons you, and seduces you to pick it up. The first time I saw it, I reluctantly put it back down. The over $40 price tag was hefty, and I decided I could live without it. It wasn't 24 hours later that I was back at the store and handing over my credit card.

Feeding a family is about stitching all the bits together on a steady thread -- between the tuck shop, your knowledge of nutrition, your own family's tastes, your capacity and how much you can give -- and still leaving some space for spontaneity and the will of nature. And all this should still have the grace and honesty of a daisy chain.

Tessa Kiros focuses Apples for Jam on food for families. The gorgeously designed book bounces between stories from the author's life, gorgeous photos of her family, and over 200 recipes.

The recipes are arranged in chapters by color which leads to very interesting browsing. Is banana bread brown? It's actually monochrome according to Kiros. What could possibly be in a pink chapter? Beetroot gnocchi, baked ham and cheese bread pudding, penne with prawns, cream and tomato, and tiny cakes with pink icing.

All of Kiros' recipes have a casual, conversational tone, as you'll see from the recipe below. Reading through it, I get the feeling that the recipes aren't as much hard-and-fast rules as they are suggestions for one method.

To the seasoned cook, some of the recipes seem so basic that it's humorous. "Pasta in chicken broth" involves throwing tiny pasta into chicken broth, boiling till cooked, and topping with parmesan cheese. But Kiros entertains as she instructs, and her guidance to "drop pasta into boiling broth while shouting for everyone to get their hands washed and be seated," for instance, keeps me reading through the most basic of recipes.

It's a difficult book to get. I happened upon it at The Cook's Library, a fantastic independent bookstore in Los Angeles. You can get it from Amazon via a third-party seller, but it's not currently widely available in the United States. It's published by Murdoch Books, which is a publisher for Australia and the UK, so it should be available easily there.

Greek Yoghurt with Condensed Milk & Oranges

2 whole oranges or blood oranges
100 ml (3.5 fl oz) sweetened condensed milk
Finely grated rind and juice of 1 small orange
300 g (10.5 oz) Greek-style natural yoghurt

The base of this recipe was given to me -- thank you, Ioanna. I added the oranges, but you might like to add another fruit. I sometimes use blood oranges, sometimes ordinary. Whatever sort you use, make sure they are sweet as sweet. You could actually serve this with any other fruit you like, keeping the orange juice and rind for mixing into the yoghurt, and then draping this over any other cut fruit -- bananas, mangoes, plums would be beautiful ...

Use a small sharp knife to cut away the skin of the oranges, leaving no pith. Slice the oranges into substantial wheels, maybe 5 mm (1/4 inch) thick, and then halve those. Put the cut slices in a bowl to collect their juice. If you don't think they're very sweet, sprinkle a tablespoon or so of sugar over them.

Put the condensed milk, half of the orange rind and 4 tablespoons of the orange juice in a jug (you can drink the rest of the orange juice). Slowly mix this into the yoghurt, bit by bit. Cover and put in the fridge for a couple of hours until it has set to a very soft and creamy pudding. Serve a few orange slices with a dollop of the yoghurt, some juice dribbled over the top and a tiny hill of left-over ride, just for extra colour.

Serves 4

Recipe from Apples for Jam by Tessa Kiros, published by Murdoch Books.

Other books by Tessa Kiros:

Falling Cloudberries
Twelve: A Tuscan Cook Book

Tessa Kiros in the Blogosphere:

Who Wants Seconds: A Conversation with Tessa Kiros

Every year you have the same holiday dinners. Turkey for this, ham for that. An odd crown roast or duck and maybe cedar plank fish if you have a house in the country. You like the same side dishes to go with these main proteins. With some meals a mixture of sweet and savory gracing the table is important, but sometimes it's all about the salt. Certain holidays are about being American and then there are the ones that remind you of the culture in which you grew up or flavors your grandmother introduced you to.

Each cavity stuffed with a different set of aromatics.

Goose, bound.

You're married or belong to a community or every year you go to a different house for these holidays. Every year is basically the same, except that everyone's a little older, or every other you do what your partner wants. Sometimes you volunteer at your local synagogue or church or soup kitchen and make more food than you thought possible. When you sit down to eat after these days your exhaustion is deeply soul-satisfied with a varied plate of food you let yourself (finally) eat and enjoy.

Elise Bauer makes her famous cranberry-orange relish at the event.

During the year you make dinner parties or bring what the host asks you to make. You shop at the farmers' market differently for these special nights. You pull out your favorite cookbooks and try a new recipe or finesse a favorite from the tried-and-true box. You proudly unfurl your food and wait nervously for people to dig in, hoping beyond hope that what you've made will pass muster and maybe at the end of the night someone asks you for your recipe. You go home feeling warm and full in ways you generally don't after dinner at home.

Basting.

One day you realize you sorely miss a particular holiday dinner you went to year after year. It was German affair complete with goose, red cabbage with chestnuts, a most exquisitely rich pan gravy, lebkuchen and bite-sized marzipan shapes from Berlin. The person who you went with has died, and now every year, at the same time, you miss that goose. Even though you didn't grow up with anyone who ever cooked a goose.

Cookiecrumb and Cranky's bright and tangy sauerkraut crockpot.

Prepping the innards for gravy. (The goose is dense and rich and the gravy begs to be drunk from a glass!)

You have a food blog, or you date someone who has one. You used to cook professionally, or are going to culinary school, or are a professional food writer, or you live in a house the size of a private airplane hanger because you're the most amazing photographer, or you're a meat cooking expert or you have a wine cellar or you're not working right now. You organize a goose making dinner because you realize, in order to satiate this goose-eating-taste-bud appendage you've acquired and now must acknowledge, albeit late in life, you must learn how to cook said animal yourself.

Jessica Wilson taking the temperature of the geese.

You start talking about the possibility of a German Holiday Feast near actual holidays to your food blogging friends. You plant the seed.

A brilliant idea comes to you one night late. February! It's the perfect time for such a dinner. Although you won't get your geese warm from a fresh slaughter as you might near Christmas, you're told all your Bay Area options for goose buying. You're not working much or you're in need of organizing a grand food event. You've recently been to a number of massive community food gathering undertakings for which you only showed up as a guest and now it's your time to kick it into gear. You go to you local meat expert, fellow blogger, someone you refer to sweetly as your personal Meat Angel. You know he's the person to make your first goose with.

You channel the most organized, bossy side of you. You want to eat what you want. You make a list, asking for people to choose from a list and "call" a dish. It reads: "spaetzle, red cabbage with chestnuts, a green salad (for me what constitutes a salad, in, Feb. is head lettuce, cucumbers and radishes), baked potatoes, something sauerkrauty, steamed broccoli or greens or squash something, raw celery root something, something leeky, cranberry sauce/chutney something, chocolate, marzipan tinted dessert and Marc, can you make that Orange Cake?"

Paul Hendry carving with Guy's lucky carving knife.

At the last minute you have to change locations. People you've never met offer their industrial palatial estate. In between dinner and dessert one of the hosts, a distinguished professional photographer, takes portaits of all the guests! The kitchen crew of three gets shot jumping in the air. (All photos from the session will be made public shortly; link will be posted on Eggbeater.)

Molten hazelnut-cocoa nib brittle garnish for pot de creme made on site by Shuna and David Byron.

Marc's orange cakes & caramel sauce plated with David & Shuna's gianduja pot de creme.

"The Kitchen Crew" Jessica Wilson, David Byron, and Shuna Lydon (not pictured) at the head of the table happily eating dessert.

Even though the event tires you out you would do it again. Twenty-four people gather, make the seasonal side dishes you were craving, and bring wine and beverages from all over the map. You make new friends, have a number of inspiring conversations, banter and laugh, navigating a foreign kitchen, and everyone eats the German Holiday Feast of your making, from your heart and imaginings.