Several months ago, our local bottled water purveyor brought two executives from Pellegrino into our restaurant for dinner. As they sat at the bar digesting their meals with alcohol and animated chatter, I stopped by to say hello.

"Have you seen our new product?" the rep asked as she produced a bottle of water from her bag. "We're very excited about it."

I held the bottle, thought to myself how good it felt in the hand and noted that it was "ribbed for her pleasure", which is what I say to myself whenever I see anything ribbed, thanks to a condom advertisement I saw in an adult magazine I should not have been looking at as a child. What I enjoyed most about the bottle was its name, 420.

Were they serious? I pictured the Pellegrino executives lighting up, ties loosened and calling each other dude in Italian, or whatever the equivalent would be. I said nothing, but started to snigger.

"What's funny?" she asked, puzzled. I wiped the smirk from my face and, as seriously as I could, asked one of the pezzi grossi, "Tell me, what made you decide to name this water '420'?"

"I like the way the numbers look. The '4' looks like an 'h', as in 'h20'," he responded. I could tell he was proud of his Northern Italian sense of design. Oh dear. Did I have the heart to tell him?

Of course I did.

"Do you know what '420' means in American slang?" He did not, so I told him.

For those of you not in the know or pretending not to be, "420" is shorthand for marijuana. The term is believed to have originated in the early 1970's at San Rafael High School, where a group of teenagers would meet after school at 4:20 p.m. around the statue of Louis Pasteur to smoke marijuana. I am assuming they were mindful of Pasteur's Germ Theory and washed their hands prior to their illegal activity. How this tradition became widely accepted is unknown to me apart from the fact that, when stoned, people seem to think just about anything is a good idea. Whatever the case, the tradition spread and today April 20th is a day of much celebration and binge-snacking throughout the nation, though somewhat on the sly.

I explained this to the surprised and unsmiling Pellegrino people. I dug myself a slightly deeper hole by telling them that their product might be perceived as luxury bong water, but that this wasn't necessarily a bad thing, since they would have a built-in sub-culture market.

After explaining to them what a bong was, I thanked them for the bottle and went back to waiting on my tables.

Had I just just come across the liquid equivalent of the Chevy Nova? There are far worse examples, certainly.

Recently, while cleaning my desk (where the bottle has been used as a paperweight/ conversation piece), I noticed a website address printed on the back of the water bottle, www.fineh2o.com...

"Luxury by the liter." I had hoped they might opt for "ounce", but that would be too American.

Clicking for more information about 420, I was informed that this water comes from the Southern Alps of New Zealand and was deposited when my "great, great grandmother was the same age as [me]. Which is a fabulous story to tell someone [I'm] trying to pick up in a bar."

I somehow doubt any of my great, great grandmothers were concerning themselves with luxury water. Unless one considers irrigating crops a luxury. They were too busy occupying themselves with things like losing social status in the aftermath of Italy's unification, crossing over from Spain to marry into Sicilian crime families, and not assimilating well into white culture, preferring to sleep on bearskin rugs with trappers in Montana who were not their husbands.

And if I were to pick up anyone in a bar, I most likely wouldn't be talking about water, let alone drinking it. But that's just me.

Another fascinating brand of water from Fine H2O is Heartsease, from Wales, where the Heartsease Pansy grows. In my mind, heartsease is two letters away from heart disease, so it makes me uncomfortable, no matter how cute the pansies are. I think I'm just a little surprised that these two unfortunately named products come from essentially Anglophone countries.

I admit that I am no water snob. Apart from an extreme loathing of Chicago tap water-- which tastes of exhausted Zebra Mussels, I am happy to drink from the local tap, especially ours. I do, of course, realize that there are differences in the flavors and textures of water from various sources-- rainwater vs. spring water, etc.-- I'm simply too occupied with other things to pay these differences much mind. I left such things to my brother who, on one occasion, spent an entire day at Vichy running around the various fountains excitedly sampling every type of h2o he could find, while the invalids who flocked there to take the waters for their health sat around with graduated beakers waiting to take sips in measured amounts at appointed intervals. He even brought home water from Lourdes in a plastic Virgin Mary-shaped bottle to be enjoyed later. Given current airline restrictions pertaining to liquids, I wonder if the good people at that holy shrine have adapted to the times with a 3 oz. version of Our Lady. Perhaps the local priests might go so far as to bless the clear Ziploc bags in which she must now travel. That would be a nice touch.

I have not seen the Pellegrino representative in our restaurant since that evening. I would like to assume that she was allowed to keep her job, since she wasn't the one responsible for naming the water. Of course, the Pellegrino people evidently don't care about the alternative meaning behind their water's branding. Not enough to change it, anyway. I'm rather glad. I was so disappointed when Coors abandoned their Spanish translated slogan of "Turn It Loose" once it was learned that the phrase was read as "Suffer From Diarrhea".

To purchase a case of 420 for your next social event, call 1-888-24-WATER or email them at info@fineh2o.com. Just please don't tell them I sent you.

A provocative question, especially for a food-loving town in a beef-righteous nation. It's a question that I can't even answer, really, not having sampled every burger in the Bay Area, or even the smaller list of San Francisco cult favorites.

But one thing I can tell you is that the burger at the newly opened Spruce is absolutely, unequivocally, utterly delicious.

photo by Jen Maiser

I met a friend there on a recent Monday night about two weeks after it opened. (Was this the most highly anticipated restaurant opening in recent memory or what?) We snagged two seats at the bar and settled in for drinks, I with my bourbon stone sour ($8) and Jen with her Clover Club ($8), a sweet-tart blend of gin, lemon juice, and Hangar One Aqua Perfecta framboise eau de vie. (The former: eh; the latter: double-yum.)

Even though we were splitting a burger at the bar, our meal started with an amuse bouche, a small gift of the world's best beet chips, vivid vermilion and perfectly salted, with a side of horseradish cream. They hit the spot.

We were in a nibbly mood so we shared two orders ($7 each) of housemade charcuterie -- which is surely now the most oft-typed phrase in my restaurant write-up vocabulary -- and enjoyed noshing our way through coins of soft smoked chorizo and glossy slivers of spicy coppa. I devoured the onion relish compulsively, and liked the sprinkling of smoked pimenton. We drank, we talked, we admired the view (chocolate mohair walls, soaring steel trusses, a glittering skylight) and took in the crowd, mostly couples and friends hungrily eyeing their food rather than one another.

When the burger ($12) arrived, it was draped, on request, with a melted slice of cheddar but otherwise unadorned, save for a small garden of lettuce, tomatoes, pickled red onions, and thin sheets of dill pickle on the side. Many regulars of the Village Pub, also owned by the trio behind Spruce, liken the "bun" to an English muffin, and that seems as apt a description as any for the thin, textured, somewhat porous bread. My only complaint is that they really overdid it brushing the bun with butter. Other than that, the burger was perfect -- hefty enough to feel good in the hand, satisfying, well-seasoned (an area where the kitchen clearly excels), juicy, and flavorful. Every bite was delightful and I would have eaten every last pickle if my mother hadn't taught me to share.

The fries that came with it were served in a silver cup, and assuming they are the same ones that accompany the bavette steak on the dinner menu, fried in duck fat. Holy Deliciousness, Batman! Crisp, just the right side of greasy, and perfectly salted; odd, however, that we had to ask for ketchup (and mustard). Is it really so rare to want these condiments when ordering a burger and fries? They should just slap them on the side and be done with it.

The service throughout the meal was spot on, though the lamp on the corner of the bar made it hard for our bartender to tell when Jen's drink had run dry. We passed on dessert, even though they were created by Bay Area wunderkind William Werner, formerly of the Ritz-Carlton Half Moon Bay; a girl has to save a little something for the next time.

I perused the dinner menu while I was there and, despite being written by a devoted minimalist, a few things on it popped out at me -- watermelon and arugula with cured sardines, for instance, and crudo with vegetables escabeche (did I call this new trend or did I call this new trend?).

I'm looking forward to my next visit.

Spruce
3640 Sacramento Street
(415) 931-5100
San Francisco
Open 7 days a week for dinner, M-F for lunch

I'm fascinated with food and wine pairings. But I have to admit, I never really considered food and coffee pairings. I love the flavor of coffee, but I'm not a coffee drinker. Somehow the idea of pairing food with coffee sounds like something your grandmother would do when she eats at a diner. But maybe that's precisely the reason Starbucks is working to bring the two concepts, food and coffee, closer together.

In fact, Starbucks has just launched a collaboration between their master blender, Andrew Linnemann and chef Marcus Samuelsson. They are on tour now, showing off coffee and food pairings. Samuelsson is an interesting choice of partner because he was born in Ethiopia (land of coffee) and yet grew up and learned to cook in Sweden (land of coffeecake?). His influences are far-reaching and his style is very unique often pairing unexpected flavors.

The pairs listed on the Starbucks web site that match coffee blends with a caramelized apple pecan coffee cake or a chocolate cinnamon bread seem somewhat mundane, but the recipes featured in by Samuelsson are a bit more surprising such as Mango Couscous, Beef Stir-Fry and Pineapple Cashew Salad.

Attend a free tasting event with Marcus Samuelsson and Andrew Linnemann

Wednesday, August 29th - - TODAY!
1 - 2:30 pm @ Starbucks
2727 Mariposa St
San Francisco

The event should be eye opening, to say the least!

Note: I know it's late notice but I only heard about this yesterday. If you end up going, please do share your impressions in the comment section!

Kadota figs from Hamada Farm, San Francisco, August 2007

Eating locally, and teaching others about the importance of eating locally, is a topic that is near and dear to my heart. I am a founder of the Locavores (the group who originally invented the word "Locavore" in May 2005), and began the Eat Local Challenge site. The site is a place where bloggers and other Eat Local Challenge participants can write about their experiences with eating locally. I'm proud that we have authors from all corners of the nation, and are adding new authors to represent even more geographic areas.

While the Eat Local Challenge was born out of the Bay Area, it has moved across the country and has been adopted by thousands of people nationwide. I often feel like a proud aunt watching the movement gather more and more momentum and gain recognition in traditional media and among the general public.

Each year, we host a month-long challenge focused on eating locally. The challenge has changed months yearly, as we want to try eating locally in different parts of the calendar. In 2005, the challenge was in August. In 2006, May. And this year, the challenge is in September. Much of the focus of the Eat Local Challenge site during September will be on canning, preserving, and putting food up for the winter. I am excited about this because I have never canned anything at home in my life. Already, several of us are talking about getting together for a canning party so that I can learn from some masters.

There are many ways that you can get involved in this year's Eat Local Challenge. You can participate in the traditional, month-long challenge via the Locavores website, you can commit to buying food from the farmers' market each week during September, or you can host a local foods potluck with your friends. Anything that will help you focus on where your food is coming from is a step in the right direction.

Here are some links to get you started:

16 Ways to Participate in the September 2007 Challenge.
10 Reasons to Eat Local.
Local Harvest will help you find local foods as will The Eatwell Guide.
Finally, follow the Eat Local Challenge site throughout September to read about the progress of participants around the nation.

Opening a restaurant in San Francisco is not easy, especially right now, but not for the reasons why it was so difficult in the 90's or five years ago. It can be said, opening a restaurant at all, in any city, is difficult. But because I have cooked professionally in other American cities, have seen a number of my colleagues open restaurants, and have recently begun working for a soon-to-open San Francisco restaurant, I can say that opening a restaurant here is a difficult proposition, even if you have a lot of factors on your side.

Labor: In SF Magazine last month, food editor Jan Newberry spoke to new local labor laws San Francisco is imposing, in an inciting article titled, Is San Francisco Killing Its Restaurants? Although the new labor laws sounds fantastic on paper, they have the capacity to hurt many restaurant employees, mainly back of house employees. For full transparency I will state here that I am, and have maintained, a pro-union status for most of my adult life. The issues are confusing, in part because restaurants are not a necessary establishment the way, let's say, hospitals are. And because I worked for minimum wage for much of my career, I do agree that it should be a living wage.

Culture: It could be said that although restaurants are a luxury business, they do play a major part in distinguishing the landscape of one city from another. As a person who loves to eat out, I can easily name five restaurants in each city I love and they make visiting there far more appealing.

A16 Restaurant. The Line.

Risks: The restaurant business, and the business of opening a restaurant is only for the crazy and the passionate. Who else would open an establishment considered to have the highest risk factor by banks? Who else would pour their life savings into a business that may or may not be liked by the public, or be sunk by one review in the local newspaper? Who else would open a business even if the glass ceiling on profits is less that 7% yearly? {The margins are extremely slim in the restaurant business.}

It can be said that a restaurant owner is a rebel with a cause; opening a business against all odds. Attempting the impossible, confident in the face of harsh realities. A dreamer, in short. Like many other gambles, a restaurant's statistics change city to city, and after New York City, San Francisco has the highest fail-rate in the shortest span of time, than any other city in the United States. What makes a restaurant stick is as much about the fickle public, concerned with hipness above all else, as it is about the actual food being served and by whom, or what neighborhood it's located in and what month of the year it swung open its doors.

Press: In July I spoke on a panel of food bloggers in Chicago as part of BlogHer 07. As the sole professional cook-blogger I had the difficult honor of answering a question from the audience concerning Mario Batali's latest vitrolic comments concerning food bloggers. The funny thing was that, as yet, I had not read his comments on our kind. As Stephanie V.W. Lucianovic has recently pointed out in her site Grub Report, food bloggers are made out to be the villians by my profession.

What, or who, Mario Batali is railing against, is those writing for the Internet with no concern for the business they are admiring or panning. Many food bloggers want to have their slice of the famous pie without taking responsibility for the power of their words-- or taking the first slice. And, something many web-savvy people know, their power to have their words found first is all to often used to threaten and destroy restaurants, chefs and owners. Google is an interesting animal indeed, and being a blogger means catching a ride on its gigantic sweeping monster tail, if even for 15 minutes of fame.

In Chicago I asked everyone to please know and remember that their words were far more powerful than many food and restaurant bloggers have been willing to take responsibility for until recently. I reminded the audience that there are few professions skewered by non-colleague critics publicly.

Chefs and chef-owners pour everything they have into new businesses. They know dozens, if not hundreds, of people's lives are being supported, or not, based on the thousands of decisions they make about opening a restaurant. So when a food blogger, whose credentials they know nothing of, representing an individually promoted news source, like a single-authored blog (as opposed to a newspaper or magazine), comes in on the very first night, or within the first few weeks (a time period we know that newspaper critics are going to, yes, visit, but not base their official review on that sole meal) and reports on the experience, good or awful, the restaurant owner is cornered. She/he knows that, (or maybe they don't because few restaurant people are Internet-smart), those blogger's words are going to be the ones their other prospective diners are going to find first.

Issues: Why is this relevant and/or important to why opening a restaurant in San Francisco is so difficult? Because blogging and the Internet's speed, as an opinion gatherer and reporter, has leveled and expanded a press playing-field, giving chefs and owners one more thing to reckon with in an already seemingly futile battle of pushing a boulder uphill.

I realize I straddle a fence now, and my perspective as a chef and also a blogger has been inexorably altered by having five toes in each grassy knoll. I have made, as I've dubbed it, my Sinead O'Connor mistakes concerning words and quotes and media, self made and not. I know that now I am an easier target for both good and awful press as a pastry chef, becuase I am a presence on the web.

I, like many people before me, am learning the hard way how to open a restaurant in San Francisco, and I am far from being the owner. This piece, as well as the series I'm doing on Eggbeater, is an attempt at reporting the process from the inside. The issues are multi-faceted, dichotomous and oftentimes confusing. While writing I am attempting to sort some of them out, and also speak from and to a perspective rarely found in major press sources.

And, as this is a blog, where comments are welcome and part of creating a place for discussion and public opinion, what are your thoughts on these matters?

------------------------

Other pertinent links speaking to these political and personal issues on the subject of opening and operating restaurants in San Francisco:

Brett Emerson, local chef and food blogger, whose site is the much loved In Praise of Sardines, has been extremely candid in reporting the process of opening his own restaurant, Ollalie.

Michael Bauer, restaurant critic for the SF Chronicle, on his blog, Between Meals, reported on the cost of doing business in San Francisco called, Is San Francisco Killing Restaurants?
{And Brett's commentary on this important article.}

At the end of the year in, "Is The Public Ready For A Transparent Restaurant Industry?" here on Bay Area Bites, I asked difficult questions after a horrific accident took the life of a young waiter and put the sous chef of Bar Crudo in the hospital.

Last November SF Business Times reported on an enigmatic lawsuit the Golden Gate Restaurant Association filed against San Francisco about the newly imposed labor laws.

So many fried doughs, so little time....

I wish I'd thought of that little tag line, but I didn't.

Sometimes, I think I spend far too much time sitting in front of my computer. Instead of doing something beneficial to myself, like exercising or cleaning my refrigerator, I troll sites like neatorama and thesuperficial.com. I've wasted hours online staring at folks making shadow puppets, shuddering over videos of people with unspeakable deformities, and chiding myself for trying to understand someone as crazy as that former Mouseketeer, Brittany Spears. You never saw Annette getting into that kind of trouble. No way.

Fortunately, there is an occasional payoff to my time investment. Enter Brini Maxwell.

I have no idea how she got onto my computer screen, but I am very glad she did. Full of chat, recipes and household tips, Maxwell calls upon the spirits of domestic icons past like Donna Reed and Florence Henderson yet manages to steer clear of mere caricature. As graceful as Dina Merrill (whose delicious strawberry pancakes seem like a slap in the face to her Post cereal heiress mother) and more helpful than Josephine the Plumber, I think she defies comparison, which might suit Maxwell just fine, especially when the occasional attempt has been made to label her the "new" Martha Stewart. As she told The Advocate in 2004:

"I don't consider myself the next Martha Stewart, I consider myself the next Sue Ann Nivens! I just think it's like comparing apples and oranges. We talk to different types of people--my audience tends to be very urban, and I think that Martha's audience is more suburban."

I don't see how anyone with such an impressive collection of vintage cookware (not to mention her inexhaustible wardrobe) could be accused of being a "new" anything. And anyone who uses Sue Ann Nivens as a role model is aces in my book.

Here's a teaser for the episode Meatloaf a la Janet Leigh...

Swedish meatballs, deviled eggs and bridge sandwiches? You'll find out how to make them along with advice on how to maximize your urban living (and entertaining) potential-- on a budget. It's a "how to" show delivered by a "can do" gal-- fortunately one with more than a teaspoon of wit and a hell of a lot of style. I can't wait to try out her recipe for Crown Roast of Cheese.

Brini Maxwell (created by actor Ben Sander, by the way) has been wildly popular for years in New York-- I've never claimed cutting edge. I just feel that, given the appalling social skills I've witnessed among certain communities in this city, San Francisco needs a good dose of her-- like, immediately. Think of this as a public service announcement.

I just subscribed to her NPR video podcast, so I won't miss a thing. I suggest some of you do, too. And I mean now. You know who you are.

Now why didn't you think of that?

Earlier this year, I read about a jam made by two guys from an apricot tree in their backyard. It was seriously small-batch -- think 100 jars a year -- and the only way to get it was to sign up for the waiting list. "A waiting list, for jam?" I thought to myself. "That's nuts!" But I figured what the hell, and signed up.

Fast forward to the summer, when I got an email from Eric and Phineas at We Love Jam telling me their apricot jam was almost ready, and I could buy up to four 8-ounce jars. I bought the maximum, and sat back to wait.

When it arrived, it took a few days for me to try it. One morning I nonchalantly asked my jam-loving boyfriend if he'd tried it yet. "It's good," came the reply.

So I was in no way prepared for the unsurpassably delicious, unconscionably good, irresistably perfect taste sensation that hit my tongue when I finally tried it. I swear, I nearly fainted. It tasted like apricots, honey, and gold. It was so smooth, it glided over my tongue like a silk cloth over polished wood. I tossed manners to the wind and started eating it straight from the jar.

As I licked pure happiness off my spoon, I wondered about the guys who made this amazing stuff. I'd already been in touch with them a few times and I liked their sense of humor, hiding jars of jam in the San Francisco main library for people to find. So I decided to interview them and learn more about the operation. What I found out is that they are totally devoted -- to their jam, to small farmers, and to saving the Blenheim apricot. They are also a total hoot.

Who is Eric?
The son of crazy art collectors. My dad is Swiss, from the French region, so I grew up on French cuisine and desserts. My mom is an amazing cook and I grew up helping my mom in the kitchen where she spent lots of time experimenting. Our jam, and the food products we will be offering are all the result of relaxing and having fun in the kitchen.

Who is Phineas?
Former educator, barista, part-time writer, amateur baker. Up until the jam-making started, I always lived in places with a non-functional kitchen. It wasn't until being in a full working kitchen that I started to do anything other than microwave popcorn. Go figure, but I'm pretty good with food. One day it would be nice to open up a small bakery/cafe.

When did you first make your apricot jam?
We met in March of 2002 and took a trip throughout Europe shortly thereafter -- a true test of our relationship! Anyhow, [at] a tiny, deserted restaurant in Grasse, a mind-blowing white peach dessert Eric ordered lingered in our minds. When we returned from Europe, Eric ventured into Phineas' Santa Clara backyard and saw a fruit tree. "What is that?" he asked. "An apricot tree," Phineas responded. "What do you do with the fruit?" Eric asked. "Nothing. My mom eats it -- the rest falls on the ground and rots," Phineas said. "Let's make jam!" said Eric.

So we picked the fruit and took it up to San Francisco and cooked up a batch. The white peach dessert served as our inspiration and the rest is history.

Tell me about the apricots.
We didn't know what variety it was right away but did some research and discovered it was Blenheim -- the most flavorful but most delicate apricot variety. Most of the Silicon Valley area was Blenheim and cherry orchards. Only a few remain and Slow Food USA classifies the Blenheim as endangered. One of the orchards we called told us they ripped up all their trees and planted a more profitable crop. It was then we knew our jam-making wasn't just about making delicious jam, but saving a way of life. We feel passionately about keeping the Blenheim a viable crop and giving these farmers a reason to continue growing it and not selling their land for housing.

When did you start selling the jam?
We had been making this jam for almost five years from the backyard tree. Each year we made around 100 jars and just gave them away. For some crazy reason we decided to send out a press release to two food magazines about the jam being for sale -- just 100 jars for 2007. In November of 2006 we had a voicemail from Food & Wine saying they loved the jam and wanted to write about it. All of a sudden the idea that this was now a business hit us and we had no idea what to think. They had us ship a jar to be photographed. Several phone interviews took place with lots of questions like how we were going to sell it. We told them it would be online. We built the website in a weekend. They asked since we had so few jars if we had a waiting list. We said yes. When the blurb came out in Food & Wine we were simply deluged with requests. Thousands of people emailed us. It took us by complete surprise.

How much time did you spend making jam this year?
This year, between our tree and the fruit from the other orchard, we processed about 7000 pounds of jam. Completely by hand. Washing individual fruit, hand pitting the fruit, using water bath canning. This is a very labor- and time-consuming method. Our priority this year was to make people happy no matter the expense on our end. So far, we have succeeded with this and that has made all the disasters that happened (there were countless) worth it.

What was the hardest thing about jam-making this year?
The sheer stress and labor. We went from making about 100 jars in a few days to making around 6000 -- in three weeks. The fruit doesn't last very long in the refrigerator, so we had to work basically day and night to make the jam. There was a huge sense of urgency.

You also sell a BBQ sauce. Might you expand your food enterprise any further with more products?
We have a whole lineup of products planned, all based on what we have made for years for friends and family. These include not just jams, but our pickles, biscotti and cookies, a taste bud-shattering preserved Meyer lemon Mediterranean rub that makes any chicken dish an instant cult hit. We also want to sell products from very small farms or from farms that maybe just have a few trees. We want to establish relationships with farmers and get excellent quality stuff that normally would never be available. We also want to work with tiny vineyards selling wine. We know one farmer who grows his own grapes and makes only about 7 cases a year. That is what we are looking for -- extremely small production and extremely high quality. And to always have something new available that you can't get anywhere else.

I know there are still a few jars of jam left online, but how do you get on the mailing list for next year?
Anyone who purchased jam from us this year is on the waiting list for life. [Whoever] wants to be on the list just has to email us. It is all chronological, who emailed on what day. And we work down the list like that. There will always be a waiting list and our website will be the only place to buy it. We deeply value the personal connection with our customers through emails and phone calls and that could never be preserved if someone else sold our product. For example, if a customer says they like a certain variety of plum jam, we will find that fruit and make a small batch and put it up for sale. This very close contact with customers and working with them to make them happy is the greatest joy of this venture.

To join the mailing list, email contact@welovejam.com

While I have only been to the Santa Monica Farmers' Market once, the Santa Monica Farmers' Market Cookbook is a place I will return to time and time again.

The San Francisco Ferry Plaza farmers' market has inspired at least two terrific cookbooks that I know of, Fresh from the Farmers' Market and The San Francisco Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market Cookbook. But even though it's not local, the Santa Monica book is my current new favorite. After a brief history of the market and "day in the life of a market manager" there is a great section on tips for shopping at the market. These tips apply to every possible farmers' market, not just the one in Santa Monica. My favorite tip? "Carpe Diem. If you find something amazing, buy it on the spot and change your cooking plans."

Instead of organizing the book by seasons or type of produce, it is organized by meals. The explanation is that seasons vary from year to year and from place to place, though the likely season for each recipe is marked in the margins. Sprinkled throughout the book are chefs tips, farmers tips and guidance on how to choose the best produce. The recipes themselves are at the same time exciting and approachable. Many of the recipes have an unexpected twist. A baked applesauce uses a bit of thyme, a tomato and bread salad includes olives and cucumber, a cherry and almond salad sounds like something you'd find in a restaurant and a roasted okra side dish also features fresh peanuts.

Classic Tomato Soup with a Goat Cheese Swirl
What gives old-fashioned tomato soup its comfort-food super-status is its perfect sweet-acid balance. Sample tomatoes at the market and if they are too acid or too sweet, add a few of another variety to your shopping bag to adjust the flavors (especially important when using low-acid Japanese, orange, yellow, or white tomatoes). Chervil adds a delicate celery-like flavor that complements the tomatoes.

Makes 8 servings
Summer, Autumn

1 leek, white part only (reserve green parts for making stock), finely chopped
1 small carrot, peeled and finely chopped
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 center rib celery with leaves, finely chopped
Kosher or sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
4 pounds ripe tomatoes, peeled and seeded (page 24), and chopped
2 sprigs parsley, 1 sprig thyme, and 1 bay leaf tied together in cheesecloth
5 cups Vegetable Stock (page 52), or 2 1/2 cups canned diluted with 2 1/2 cups water
2 ounces mild goat cheese such as Redwood Hill plain or herbed chevre, at room temperature
Small handful of fresh chervil leaves, coarsely chopped

In a wide pot, cook the leek, carrot, onion, and celery with a little salt in the butter over medium-low heat until the vegetables are tender, 10 to 15 minutes, covering the pot halfway through the cooking time. Uncover, add the tomatoes and herb bundle, season with salt and pepper, and raise the heat to medium-high. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat as needed to maintain a gentle boil, and cook, uncovered, until the tomatoes break down and thicken slightly, about 10 minutes. Add 4 cups of the stock, bring to a boil, and cook for 20 minutes, reducing the heat if the soup becomes too thick.
Puree the soup with an immersion or stand blender. For a refined puree, pass the soup through a fine-mesh sieve into a clean pot to remove any stray seeds or lumps. If the soup is too thick, add the remaining 1 cup stock. If too thin, cook uncovered over medium heat to reduce. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Top each serving with a spoonful of goat cheese and a sprinkling of chervil.

Farmer's Tip: To enjoy good-tasting tomatoes long after the growing season has past, tomato grower Ed Munak recommends freezing whole ripe tomatoes on a baking sheet, and then storing them in re-sealable plastic bags. When you are ready to use them, rinse the frozen tomatoes briefly and the skins will slip right off. Ideal for winter soups and sauces.

Recipe reprinted from THE SANTA MONICA FARMERS' MARKET COOKBOOK:
Seasonal Foods, Simple Recipes, and Stories from the Market and Farm
By Amelia Saltsman (Blenheim Press; August 2007; $22.95/soft cover; ISBN-13: 978-0-9790429-0-4)

Jen's post on the Santa Monica Farmers' Market

Alemany Farm tomatoes

It's been a busy time at my house this week. Between working full time and preparing for this year's Eat Local Challenge*, I haven't had much time to catch up on my favorite blogs. Perusing the sites this morning, I found several compelling posts from some of our Bay Area bloggers.

In the last couple of weeks, Chowhounds have been hunting for an elusive Korean catering truck that travels around SOMA and the Embarcadero during lunchtime. The Bunrabs have found it and reported on it. I think it might be worth tracking down! The photo of the charred chicken bowl that they posted has set my stomach grumbling.

When I went to Vancouver for the first time this past May, I had tried the Canadian snack called poutine. It's an artery-clogging dish and when it's made correctly it can be addictive -- french fries topped with a peppery brown gravy and cheese curds. Food Hoe reports that Salt House is serving a delicious rendition made with Vermont cheddar, short rib gravy, and fresh herbs.

I am not a baker. I rarely make desserts, and when I do they tend to lean toward the simple and minimalist. However, Dessert First's gorgeous desserts often tempt me into wanting to try something a little more fancy. I think at my next dinner party, I'll have to try my hand at her gorgeous Hazelnut Cake with Roasted Glazed Peaches. Wow.

Oh, and join me at the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market this Saturday at 10.30 am when I interview James Freeman from Blue Bottle Coffee Company. I'm doing it as a volunteer for CUESA's "Meet the Producer" program.

* Keep an eye on the Eat Local Challenge blog this week to find out how you can participate, or check this blog next Tuesday for a summary of the September challenge.