This Fall saw three dessert books by local chefs, Elizabeth Falkner's Demolition Desserts, Pure Dessert by Alice Medrich and Indulge by Claire Clark. Each of these books are masterful and exacting. When it comes to pastry, exacting is important. I'm often intimidated by the fact that you can't "fix" dessert the way you can fix something savory. You can't add more leavening or salt or sugar or cook the fruit a bit longer once your creation comes out of the oven. What you can do, is rely on recipes that work.

Elizabeth Falkner's Demolition Desserts is the first book by Elizabeth Falkner. Go ahead and skip Fisherman's Wharf, but I consider Citizen Cake a requirement for any out-of-town visitor. Falkner's creations are sophisticated and smart, never sickly sweet. She composes plated desserts the way other chefs compose main courses with multiple elements that complement and play off of each other in both unexpected and whimsical ways. The book has both complicated desserts but also more straight forward ones like chocolate chip cookies, cupcakes and brownies. It's the chapters like The Chocolate Crawl, Fruitscapes and the Construction Zone that are most likely to inspire. Fantastic creations with even more fantastic names are par for the course. The manga style illustrations add the sense of fun and pleasure that comes so naturally with dessert.

Another first time cookbook author is Clarie Clark, the head pastry chef at The French Laundry. Indulge 100 Perfect Desserts is filled with French, English and American desserts, and ingredients are given by weight. The recipes are very well-written and chapters called "The Secrets of Success" share the insider tips that can only come from years in the kitchen. A section on puff pastry has 8 tips to make sure you get it right. A bit like a class in pastry-making, this is a terrific reference book and the photographs will guide your plating and presentation as much as the instructions.

Pure Dessert is written by veteran chocolatier and cookbook author, Alice Medrich. The focus of the book is on "true flavors and inspiring ingredients" and it is a celebration of simplicity. That's not to say the recipes are easy, but certainly easy to love. In an earlier book Medrich revisited chocolate desserts using the higher quality, higher percentage cacao and this book is in some ways very similar. It's about creating desserts that celebrate ingredients. A chapter dedicated to the flavors of grain, nuts and seeds includes recipes like Buckwheat Strawberry Shortcakes, Walnut Sponge Cake and Corn Tuiles with Salt and Pepper. Some of the recipes are classics, others are innovative.

Chocolate² Chip Espresso Cookies
makes about 4 dozen standard cookies or 8 dozen mini cookies

11/2 cups (71/2 ounces) all-purpose flour
3/4 cup (21/4 ounces) unsweetened cocoa powder, preferably natural
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons finely ground espresso-roast coffee beans
1 cup (8 ounces) unsalted butter, softened but still cool
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons (71/4 ounces) firmly packed dark brown sugar
1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon (4 ounces) granulated sugar
1 (11/2 ounces by weight) large egg
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
11/3 cups (8 ounces) semisweet, milk, or white chocolate chips, or a combination

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and ground coffee. In a large bowl, using a wooden spoon, cream together the butter and brown and granulated sugars until smooth but not overmixed. (I do this by hand, but if you use a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment or a handheld mixer, beat on medium speed for 1 to 2 minutes, and then scrape down the sides of the bowl before continuing.) Add the egg, vanilla, and salt and stir just until combined. Add the sifted ingredients to the butter mixture in two additions, stirring gently after each addition just until combined. Add the chocolate chips and stir just until evenly distributed throughout the dough. Cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
Position the racks in the upper third and lower third of the oven and preheat the oven to 350°F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

Scoop up 1-inch balls of dough for full-sized cookies or 1/2-inch balls for mini cookies with a spoon or mini scoop. Set the large scoops 2 inches apart or the small scoops 1 inch apart on the prepared pans.

Bake the mini cookies for about 5 minutes and the full-sized cookies for about 8 minutes, and then rotate the pans and bake both sizes for another 3 minutes, or until they are puffed and still look a little wet in the center. Transfer to racks and let cool. (Okay, you can sneak a couple of warm cookies, but let most of the batch cool.)
These cookies will keep for 2 to 3 days in an airtight container, but they will be at their most tender the day you bake them.

Reprinted from Elizabeth Falkner’s Demolition Desserts, Copyright 2007 Tenspeed Press

The restaurant list for the 7th Annual Dine About Town has been announced. Dine About Town (DAT) was designed seven years ago to allow customers to try out new restaurants around the city at a reasonable deal. Modeled after restaurant weeks in cities such as New York, DAT features a fixed price lunch and dinner at over 100 restaurants throughout San Francisco. This year, DAT will take place from January 15 - 31.

For a three-course, preset meal, you will pay $21.95 for lunch and $31.95 for dinner at any of the participating restaurants.

Food enthusiasts around the city make a sport out of trying to find the best deals and the best meals that can be had during Dine About Town. While restaurants will continue to be added to the DAT list until opening day on January 15, the current restaurant list features some participants that seem to be good deals or to have interesting menus:

Absinthe (lunch)
Aziza (dinner)
Bacar (dinner)
Big 4 (lunch/dinner)
One Market (lunch/dinner)
Sens (lunch/dinner)

Chowhounds warn of spending more on a DAT meal than you would normally spend at a restaurant for a comparable meal. Examples of this are Chou Chou, Scott Howard, 1550 Hyde and Le Charm -- many of which have year-round prix fixe meals for slightly less than the DAT price. An additional tip: when finding DAT deals, check out the actual prix fixe menu. Some restaurants relegate their most boring, pedestrian dishes to the DAT menu, unfortunately.

The rules of Dine About Town:

* You must pay with Visa.
* You must tell the server that you'd like the Dine About Town deal when you arrive.
* The best DAT deals fill up quickly so make a reservation.
* All meals are preset and three courses.

Back when my plans for Christmas Eve crab were threatened by some dumb-ass humans, I decided to resurrect a Christmas Eve tradition from my childhood: snails. That's right, people, I grew up a picky eater in Minnesota where I gagged on string beans, yet I ate snails.

There's no explanation, but where my mom failed with wild rice, succatash, and scalloped potatoes, she succeeded with hot, buttery, garlicky gastropods. As much as my sister and I loved escargots, we never asked for it any time of the year other than Christmas Eve. It was tradition and we loved our Christmas Eve traditions.

We sat on the floor in front of the fire and ate our Christmas Eve dinner from the coffee table. We felt elegant, grown up, and quite worldly as we carefully applied the escargots pincers to the natural shells and pulled out the butter-soaked meats with tiny forks. Small and soft rounds of baguette were used to wipe the plates clean and stuffed into the shells to soak up every possible spot of garlic butter.

The Vander Weide Family's Christmas Eve Escargots

1 can large snails
Natural shells (you can also use frozen pastry or phyllo shells)
1/4 lb. unsalted butter, softened
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 scallions, chopped
Salt, to taste

Preheat oven to 375°

1. Pour off liquid from snails, rinse under cold, running water.

2. Combine butter with garlic, scallions, and salt. Smudge a small amount of butter inside each shell, stuff the snail in, and pack it in with more butter. Let snails chill overnight.

3. Put snails upright in a baking dish and bake on lower rack for about 25 minutes. Serve with baguette.

Last year, I revived the family escargots tradition and brought the sumptuous snails to a Christmas Eve party. However, instead of my mother's traditional recipe, I used the one I discovered in my 1963 copy of Samuel Chamberlain's Bouquet de France.

The squeamish didn't partake, but those who did came back for seconds until there were no seconds left. The highest compliment I received came from a French guest who told me my escargots tasted exactly like the escargots she enjoys in Paris.

Escargots Maison from Bouquet de France

2 cans large snails
1 cup butter, softened
8 tablespoons parsley, finely chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 shallot, minced
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Large pinch of grated nutmeg
6-8 blanched almonds, chopped and finely pounded

Preheat oven to 375°

1. Pour off liquid from snails, rinse under cold, running water.

2. Combine the butter, parsley, garlic, shallot, salt, pepper, nutmeg, and almonds. Smudge a small amount of butter inside each shell, stuff the snail in, and pack it in with more butter. Let snails chill overnight.

3. Put snails upright in a baking dish and bake on lower rack for about 25 minutes. Serve with baguette.

Serve either recipe with Champagne or a red wine from Burgundy.

The documentary film, Chez Schwartz, enjoyed a quiet if savory U.S. premier at the Berkeley Richmond Jewish Community Center earlier this week. It has yet to be picked up for wider distribution, but keep an eye out for it. Or, if you can't wait, order a DVD and see for yourself why this little "Charcuterie Hebraique" is the place to eat in Montréal.

Garry Beitel, a Montréal-based documentary filmmaker, recorded the day-to-day rhythms of Schwartz's Deli over the course of an entire year. He managed to whittle his footage down to a poetic study of its workers. As one season melts into another, Beitel teases out the stories of the diverse men — from the dishwasher in the back of the house to the waiters in the front, from the general manager down to the gentlemanly panhandlers. They each describe their unique role in the extended family anchored by this tiny, 75-year-old restaurant. Through their stories, we see how years slip into decades and how one long-lived business adapts to a changing world.

Unusual in a film about ethnic food, there's an "overcast" feel throughout the documentary. In the end we wonder what happens to individuals such as newly promoted Alex or sweet, ailing Ryan. (Anyone interested in degrees of separation and ground-breaking animation should watch this award-winning short about Ryan.) The power of Chez Schwartz lies in Beitel's understated directing, Marc Gadoury's intimate camera, André Boisvert's amazingly natural sound, Robert Marcel Lepage's music and — ultimately — the simple, direct oral history of the workers themselves.

At the head of the line, hungry pilgrims can catch glimpses of smoked meat, freshly sliced by hand and ready to go at the sandwich counter. Joao (Johnny) Gonçalves, meat cutter, prepares some without the usual bright yellow mustard.

I remember the first time I bit into smoked meat at Schwartz's. Everyone does. In the film, two women gasp in rapture while sharing their first sandwich right there at the counter, and another diner is struck speechless while remembering his own first taste as a teenager. It may seem strange, perhaps even laughable to the uninitiated. But like any religion, only the converted truly understand.

During my year of exile in Vermont, I drove across the border every month to eat in Montréal. While dinner restaurants varied — rilettes at l'Express with my own jar of cornichons or maybe noodles in Chinatown — I always started with an early lunch at Schwartz's.

The neighborhood surrounding the deli draws immigrants from around the world. Historically the heart of Montréal's Jewish community, the road on which the deli sits has also been the symbolic division between the city's east and west streets, its French and English languages.

After five years as the busboy, Alexandre "007" Lebel gets promoted to waiter. To help with the stress of a fast-paced deli, he composes poems on clean paper place mats during precious down time.

If you arrive at 3895 Boulevard St. Laurent anywhere near the middle of the day, you'll stand in line on the sidewalk with a couple of dozen other meat lovers, separated by mere glass from stacks and stacks of brisket still warm from the massive steamer. You'll be able to smell the smoky, salt-tinged meat and listen to the same order over and over again in two different languages: a "medium" with fries, cole slaw, fresh pickle and black cherry soda. Around 400 to 500 other diners a day will order a steak from Peter at the grill; it arrives accompanied by a slice of calf liver and two diminutive sausages. The grill is a relic of the past: open flame right in the dining room, arm's length from innocent diners.

Grill man Peter Christianis (left) has been searing steaks and calf livers at the same station for 40 years, while waiter Mike Nelli has been a member of the Chez Schwartz family going on 7 years now.

Upstairs in the marinating bins and inside the smoker in the back are where the magic happens. The very secret recipe results in über-meat that's juicy and tender, savory and smoky, fatty and flavorful. It's not quite pastrami (there's a dry rather than wet cure) and it's way beyond corned beef (behold that spice-flocked, smoke-lacquered exterior). So everyone just calls it for what it is: smoked meat.

Frank Silva, general manager, knows the business inside and out. He's hefted and sliced so many briskets during his twenty years at the deli that his arm is starting to give out.

Schwartz's sandwiches have no need to rise to Carnegie heights nor does the owner, Hy Diamond, feel pressure to expand the menu beyond one type of meat sandwich, a steak and a few sides. As Peter Levitt and Karen Adelman, co-owners of Saul's Deli in Berkeley know well, this is a rare and precious thing.

After the film's screening on Thursday night, the two moderated an enlightening discussion about the future of Jewish delicatessens in the U.S. How does a meat-centered restaurant survive in a health-conscious, politically aware, option-filled world? How does Saul's modest amount of Niman Ranch beef compete with super-stacked, industrially raised pastrami from tourist-driven, New York delis? And how does a younger generation begin transforming a cuisine frozen in time into a meaningful, relevant, profitable business?

It's not about the size: Saul's uses "clean meat" from Niman Ranch in its pastrami sandwiches.

Anyone who hangs around chefs knows that, generally, they survive on the razor's edge of profit margins and see the cloud behind every silver lining. Peter and Karen were refreshingly honest about the challenges of running the deli, from the need to cater to the economics of not smoking your own meat to the impossibility of guaranteeing a kosher establishment. (People want milk with their coffee, after all, and don't even think about getting rid of the Reuben!)

They named their own favorite delis: Langer's in LA, Katz's in NYC, and Manny's in Chicago all made the short list. Most intriguing, though, were hints of a possible "Jewish bistro" in their future. The two hope to reinterpret and reinvent the vernacular of Jewish food with dishes from around the world using local, seasonal, organic ingredients.

For the time being, I'll continue enjoying my favorites at Saul's. From personal experience, I can vouch for the chopped liver (on both rye and matzo with plenty of mustard), the chicken soup and the pastrami sandwich. I also enjoyed more than my fair share of half-sour pickles and, of course, a bottle of Cel-Ray to wash everything down.

SAUL'S RESTAURANT & DELICATESSEN
1475 Shattuck Ave
Berkeley, CA 94709
(510) 848-3354

It seems to be Cookbook Week here on Bay Area Bites, so I thought I'd throw in my two cents...

I think there are entirely too many cookbooks in this world. Okay, in my world. Too many have been choking up my bookshelves collecting dust rather than grease stains, so I thought I would give my kitchen a little purge.

Before you start thinking that I'm just being a bit cranky this morning, I should state that I love cookbooks. Collecting them used to be one of my little fetishes. Fortunately, I've grown out of that little phase. Perhaps it's because I've been involved in the production of more than a few of them, catching authors' mistakes and even adding a few of my own to the mix, sometimes on purpose, just to leave my mark.

Lately, however, I've been wondering just how many cookbooks one actually needs? I don't think I need the one hundred or so in my collection. Some I shall keep for their kitsch value, like my Jell-o cookbook, others I'll let hang around because they're such a damned good read. Do I really need a book devoted exclusively to the baked potato? I don't think so. I don't even know how that one snuck onto my shelves. Out it goes. 100 Recetas Dulces by Sister Bernarda of Argentina? I don't even speak Spanish, but I'll keep the book because I think Sister Bernarda looks like a man. There is no clearly-defined criteria for this weeding-out process.

What I have come to understand about my collection of cookbooks is that there are only a few that I return to over and over again. These are the books I would take with me to my hypothetical desert island. Even if the island lacked a fully functional kitchen or access to a grocery store, these books are just plain great reading. Everyone has their own favorites and, since everyone seems to like lists, I thought I'd post my own list of favorites.

I'd like to know yours, too.

Five Cookbooks I'll Never Throw Away:

The Moosewood Cookbook by Molly Katzen

This was the first cookbook I owned. Actually, I just realized that I didn't own it originally-- it was my college roommate Craig's book. I am not a vegetarian by any stretch of the imagination, but this is the book that hooked our attention as neophyte cooklings in college. The recipes are simple, the ingredients are inexpensive and the handwritten copy is homey and non-threatening, just the ticket for those who might be intimidated by the cooking process(es). I return to this book when I am feeling broke, nostalgic, or both.

This book holds a permanent space on my shelf for another reason: Ten years after my introduction to this book, it was Molly Katzen (and very specifically, a lovely producer-woman named Tina Salter) who gave me my first job in food media on her show Vegetable Heaven. Thank you.

The Way to Cook by Julia Child

This is my go to for "how to". Full of no nonsense photos populated by Mrs. Child's skillful old hands and informative sidebars, this is the book I bought when I decided to get "serious" about cooking. I've never abandoned it and, more importantly, it has never abandoned me. It walked me through the first Thanksgiving dinner prepared my by own soft, lily white, hairy-knuckled little hands. Fool (me)-proof choux pastry? It's in here.

The Best Recipe by the editors of Cook's Illustrated

This is the book I read for "how not to". Any group of people who takes the time to find out and report what not to do when, say grilling a steak, is okay in my book. Walk-throughs of tricky or intimidating techniques like lattice-topping a pie are well-illustrated and, of course, the examination of how one might best avoid tearing up when cutting onions is priceless. This is one of my best-stained and highest-functioning volumes.

The Art of Eating by M.F.K. Fisher

This is not exactly a cookbook, but it has enough recipes within it to make this list. Her opinions on and recipe for oyster stew in the section entitled, simply enough, Consider the Oyster, made me get up off my ass and learn to shuck when I was younger. I've read it cover to cover at least five times and I return to it whenever I need to remind myself to stop eating Chinese food over the sink and take better care of my inner and outer self, when I am feeling sad or alone or both. Fisher's writing is thoughtful, self-obsessed and some of the best writing about food ever. Amen. My copy is quite literally falling apart, but I hesitate buying a new copy. I'd hate to get rid of this old friend.

Lunches and Brunches by the editors of Better Homes and Gardens (1963)

This book is a jewel. A gaudy paste-diamond perhaps, but a jewel, nonetheless. It satisfies all of my kitsch needs: garish, color-saturated photography, what-were-they-thinking? recipes, etc. And everything seems to have gelatin in it, like some sort of Mormon family picnic. It's a peek into the past-- a time when cream sauces were "fancy" and people drank coffee with every meal. Confetti Relish Mold? Yes, lemon-flavored Jell-o, scallions, radishes, beef bouillon, and sour cream sounds like a heavenly combination. You will have to rip this book from my cold, dead aristocratic hands..

Well, those are mine. What are yours?

Three Indian-inspired cookbooks tantalized my tastebuds this year. Each presents a new way of experiencing Indian flavors and food.

Madhur Jaffrey's Quick & Easy Indian Cooking is actually a reprint of a book first published about ten years ago, but you-know-who made the whole "quick and easy" thing in fashion again so I can see why it was reprinted. What's interesting about the recipes, is that Jaffrey is not trying to dumb down the cuisine or simplify it. There actually are plenty of Indian recipes that don't take days to make or long shopping lists. The notes with each recipe tell you if it is a one-pot dish, how to serve it and sometimes the history of the dish. Many of the recipes are ones I had not seen before such as Chickpeas Cooked in Tea, Gently Stewed Beets, and Stir Fried Green Cabbage with Fennel Seeds.

The next book called Modern Indian Cooking, is still firmly more Indian than American but presents contemporary interpretations of classic Indian dishes. The merging of traditional Indian flavors with ingredients or techniques more likely to be found in the West, makes the dishes seem fresh and exciting. Lamb Chops with Rosemary and Lime is a perfect example of the unexpected, of a combination of India and European cuisines. Curry Corn Chowder with Roasted Poblanos sounds enticing and Paneer Picatta (sic) is a great vegetarian version of the classic Italian dish. Slices of paneer cheese are sauteed then the pan is deglazed with sherry, onions, capers and ginger are added and finally lemon juice, butter and cilantro.

American Masala is in some ways the least Indian. These are the recipes from the home kitchen of restaurant chef Suvir Saran. Masala is the Hindi word for a spice blend, and also refers to excitement and vibrancy, says Saran. While there are plenty of Indian recipes, there are also plenty of recipes with nary an Indian hint of spice such as Three Cheese Spinach Dip, Asparagus Salad with Lemon Vinaigrette, Lemon Raspberry Cream Cake or Honey Glazed Pork Roast with Vegetable Confit. Still, the use of garam masala changes the nature of some dishes such as Fried Chicken Masala, Spiced Meatballs with Tomato Chile Sauce or Scallops with Roasted Red Pepper Chutney. I guess if the concept is vibrant dishes, it certainly achieves it.

Curry Corn Chowder with Roasted Poblanos
makes 4 servings

2 poblano chiles
1 pound potatoes, peeled and diced into (1- inch) cubes
4 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 medium onion, chopped
1/4 cup celery, diced
1/2 cup green pepper, diced
Salt to taste
3 cups fresh corn kernels or frozen corn, thawed
2 cups vegetable stock or water
1 cup cream
1 tablespoon curry powder
3 tablespoons cilantro, chopped

PREPARATION
Pre heat the grill or a broiler. Grill or broil the chilies until the skin begins to blacken, 5 to 7 minutes. Transfer to a bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let steam until the skin loosens, about 10 minutes. Peel the chiles and chop coarsely, Set aside In a small sauce pan, add the potatoes and enough water to cover and cook until tender. Drain and set aside. In a large sauce pan, heat the oil, cumin, onion, celery and pepper and saute until the vegetables are softened, about 5 minutes. Add salt and corn and cook for 3 to 4 minutes longer. Stir in the roasted chiles, potatoes, stock, cream, curry powder and 1 tablespoon of cilantro and simmer until the soup thickens, 20 to 25 minutes.

Recipe courtesy of Modern Indian Cooking, Copyright 2007, Silverback Books

One of the annual highlights in the food blog community is Menu for Hope - a fundraising event that raises money for the World Food Programme, a United Nations Food Aid Agency. Annually, the event is hosted by Pim Techamuanvivit from Chez Pim. Last year, Menu for Hope raised an astonishing $60,000.

The funds this year will be going to a school lunch program in Lesotho, Africa. According to Pim, the Lesotho program is focusing on "buying food locally to support local farmers and the local economy". (Do I have to tell you how excited I am about this program?)

Food bloggers around the world offer prizes -- everything from cookbooks to fully cooked meals -- that are bid on by donors who donate $10 per virtual raffle ticket. A full list of prizes can be found on the Chez Pim site. As of this morning, over $7,000 has already been donated to this year's event.

Each year, the Bay Area boasts some prizes that can only be claimed if you live in the area or if you travel here to get your prize. Here are some of my favorites so far (along with the prize code in parenthesis):

(UW08) Custom Mixology Service
Anita and Cameron from Married with Dinner often feature amazing drinks and spirits on their blog. Win their prize and they will work with you and come to your home to create delightful cocktails for you and 12 guests.

(UW32) English Afternoon Tea
This year, Sam from Becks and Posh is offering a tiered prize. If the total amount donated to her prize is over $2,500 and you live in or can travel to the Bay Area, she and June Taylor will host an English Afternoon Tea for you and your friends.

(UW10) Dinner for 2 with wine pairing and a private tour of Manresa's biodynamic garden with chef David Kinch.
Pim is offering this prize with her partner, David Kinch and it involves dinner at one of the most lauded restaurants in the country.

(UW04) Boccalone Boar Sacchetto of artisan salumi
Boccalone is a new entrant on the local salami scene, and the Bunrabs are offering this gift courtesy of Boccalone. Prize must be picked up at the Oakland or San Francisco Salumi Society gathering.

(UW17) Dinner for 8 prepared by Brett Emerson
Brett Emerson, owner of the soon to be opened Contigo, is offering dinner made for 8 people in his new Noe Valley home.

(UW18) Bento Box and Tour of SF Japantown with Lunch in a Box.
Biggie, the blogger at Lunch in a Box, is a person who I'd like to explore Japantown with. She's fluent in Japanese and could probably explain many of unidentifiable Japanese foods to me.

You can find other gifts donated by West Coast bloggers (including our own Amy Sherman) at Rasa Malaysia.

Nuts and Bolts of participating:

- Donating started yesterday and continues through December 21.
- To donate, go to First Giving. To specify a specific prize, follow the instructions on the Chez Pim website (scroll down to the instructions and screenshots).
- Check back on January 9 to see if you've won!

This pages of this week's Entertainment Weekly are sprinkled with their holiday gift ideas. (Dear Amazon: No matter how many mags, blogs, or reps flog your new Kindle, I'm never going to use it. While I don't love the space my biblio excesses take up, I love the smell, touch, and heft of real books way too much. Another thing I love too much? Spending $399 in far more worthy places. Love, Stephanie) As a television obsessive, a few EW foodie gifts stood out for me. There's the old-new hamburger phone from the new It-Movie, Juno $19.99 (wards.com), the Hung knife that will allow you to "chop like the champ" $210 (korin.com), and the wine, 2002 Conti Sertoli Salis Sforzato, that might make you feel dirty, sexy, and monied for $55 (vinositeshop.com).

That's all fine and dandy, but if you want to spread some San Francisco love across the country, try dousing your loved ones with these local gift ideas.

June Taylor Foodstuffs: Aside from her usual delectable pots of jams and jellies, at this time of year June Taylor also has port-soaked fruitcake and vegetarian mincemeat. Note to the ex-pats and Anglophiles out there: grab these while the going's good. She also has candied citrus peels (blood orange, Seville orange, Rangpur lime, Meyer lemon), fruit paste, and pears preserved in cassis. (Cake: $30; Mincemeat: $26; Pears: $36/$18; Fruit Paste: $15; Candied Citrus Peel: $14)

Alice Waters' The Art of Simple Food: This new cookbook from the famed Bay Area chef is a must for those of us who collect cookbooks, meals, and menus from Chez Panisse. Far more simple and straightforward than her other cookbooks, The Art of Simple Food, not only takes individual ingredients and breaks them down into uncomplicated, delicious dishes but Waters teaches the salivator about pots and pans, menu planning, and how to stock your pantry and choose your ingredients. ($35)

Anything from Kermit Lynch: The man carries some wines as low as $11.00, okay? I mean, honestly, with Kermit Lynch vetting your wine, can you really go wrong here? I didn't think so. Bonus: you don't need your own globe-trotting Nick George/Darling to know it's going to be good.

Cocoa Bella Chocolates: If you opened a box of chocolates in my grandma's house, chances were good you'd be in for an unpleasant surprise. While she didn't bite into each chocolate to see if she was going to like it, she did jab a fingernail into the bottom, thus allowing the contents to ooze onto the frilled paper. With their custom box builder, Cocoa Bella ensures you never have to poke, prod, or bite a chocolate to determine its stomach worthiness. ($40 for 20 pieces, $75 for 40 pieces)

DeLessio's Chocolate Bubble Wrap: You use bubblewrap to pad your presents, why not eat it? As addictive as popping the bubbles themselves, DeLessio offers six different flavors for $16.50 a pound.

St. George Absinthe Verte: Last week, Lance Winters of St. George's Spirits in Alameda got the news that he could start selling his newly concocted Absinthe Verte. Banned in the U.S. since 1912, cocktailians can finally wrap their lips and brain cells around the anisette-flavored green beverage that reputedly made madmen out of some of history's most celebrated artists and writers. San Francisco's Green Fairy goes on sale December 21st and supplies are limited, so I shouldn't really be telling you about this if I want any left for myself. ($75)

Tamara Keith, reporter for The California Report and KQED Public Radio, recently learned how to cook these potato pancakes the right way...from her mother-in-law. Here's her story.

This may be the ultimate parable of Jewish cooking tradition. Growing up Methodist in a small, central valley town, my first introduction to latkes was through my college boyfriend, Ira, when I went to visit him at his parent's house in L.A. during Hanukkah. The whole house had this distinctive scent of grease and potatoes --and it was sort of fishy. The potato pancakes Ira's mom and sister made were terrific. They were crispy and warm and dunked in apple sauce for that perfect balance of grease and fruit.

So, Ira and I kept dating (for like a decade) and recently got married. Over the years, I've tried making him some traditional Jewish foods -- dishes he remembers from his childhood. But I've basically screwed everything up. I put dill in the matzo ball soup (big mistake), and my matzo balls were fluffy in stark contrast to what his mom makes. And my brisket, while quite tasty, is nothing like his mom's. So several years ago I asked for her latke recipe. She photocopied it from a small paperback cookbook, and I followed the recipe exactly, more than once. But my latkes also were a dud. They were like over crispy little hash browns. I gave up and started using Manischewitz latkes in a box -- which is essentially admitting defeat.

A few weeks ago, my friends at The California Report convinced me that I should do a story about celebrating Hanukkah as a newly converted Jew. For me, Hanukkah is all about latkes, even if I make them using a mix. But with my in-laws coming to town, I decided this little radio story would be a perfect excuse to actually learn how to make the family recipe.

So there we were in my kitchen, my expert latke-making mother-in-law (Andrea) and sister-in-law (Shannon) and me. I pulled out the recipe and put it on the kitchen counter. I might as well have left it hidden away in my recipe binder, because they hardly used it! Instead, they kept referring to what we were making as "Poppy's latkes." Poppy was the patriarch of the family (my mother-in-law's grandfather) who continued making latkes well into his senior years. The secrets of Poppy's latkes are lots of oil in the frying pan and the perfect mixture of shredded potatoes and mushy potatoes.

Clearly, following the printed recipe all those years was setting me up for failure. The real recipe is in the nuances passed from generation to generation. Here's the recipe as close I can recall it. It contains elements from Sara Kasdan's cookbook "Love and Knishes," but has been modified over the years by Ira's mother and sister working under heavy influence from Poppy's latke-making tradition.

Ingredients
2 cups grated raw potatoes (measure after draining)
2 eggs beaten
1 teaspoon salt
1 heaping tablespoon of flour or matzo meal
1 pinch of baking powder
1 small onion grated (optional)

Preparation
Put potatoes and onions in a food processor (exact quantity is up for interpretation). Ideally your food processor will have both a grate and a chop blade running at the same time. Otherwise grate, then chop until the latkes reach the appropriate mixture of mush and shred. Add a little lemon juice to the mixture so the potatoes won't change colors. Push the mixture into a strainer removing the excess moisture. Add flour and eggs until it looks right. Don't put in too much salt because people are on low sodium diets these days.

Cook the latkes in vegetable oil about a half inch deep in the pan. Really, there's no such thing as too much oil. It is best if the latkes float in the oil just a little but aren't fully submerged. Cook until they are quite crispy. You're aiming for brown, not golden brown.

Sara Kasdan adds in her book: "Note: This recipe should serve 4-6 people, but when some people see potato latkes they act like they haven't eaten for a week. They will want to make from latkes alone a meal. When you have people who enjoy so much, you won't mind grating potatoes all day long."

Post by Tamara Keith, from The California Report.

You can listen to Tamara in the kitchen with her mother-in-law at The California Report's website.

When I was in college, in the dark days before email and Facebook, my roommates and I passed our time with more mundane matters. Like food. From Juli, I learned about Japanese-style curry. Rie taught me how to blanche green beans perfectly, while Ed opened my palate to an entire pantheon of slow-simmered soups. Pierrette's trick with tuna and egg salad--grating onion into the mayonnaise--still perks up my sandwiches.

From Maria, though, I learned the most important lessons: cooking with my senses.

While I watched, Maria made tortillas with handfuls of flour and finger-lengths of shortening. Growing up in Texas, she had to wake up early every morning to make the family's tortillas, forty on an average day and maybe a hundred or so for special Sundays. She grabbed an empty wine bottle whenever she needed to roll out dough, and from only two pans she made incredible feasts for our house. None of us would admit to being homesick, but listening to Maria talk about her food and then eating her meals made all of us feel like we actually belonged in that drafty, tumble-down, New England house.

I don't have any of her recipes, because she never wrote them down, but like stories and memories, I can recite them just as she did.

"In San Antonio, where my family lives, you can find bags of masa dough in the markets. My mother doesn't need to make her own anymore. We use Crisco now, but if you want, you can use lard or butter. Even oil. But I would never use oil. Why make tamales with oil? If you don't have chicken stock, some water from the tap is good. Just remember to add salt then."

"Be sure to open the middle of the husks when you soak them and put a plate on top, so they can get wet equally. Save the biggest ones for wrapping. The smaller ones, just tear like this into ribbons for tying."

"Mix together a six handfuls of masa, two handfuls of Crisco, the same amount of stock and some salt. Blend them together really well. We use a mixer at home. You can tell when you have the right combination when a little ball of the dough floats in water."

"You can fill them with anything really. We use pork that my mother cooks, but here at school I put all kinds of things in them. Today, I took some of the sweet potatoes from the cafeteria." [In the photo, you can see a dollop of chipotle sauce that I now like to add to my sweet potato tamales, plus a sprinkling of kosher salt. After sweet potatoes or yams are roasted whole, their peels slip right off; mash with a fork.]

"Spread a little bit of the dough on the corn leaf, enough to cover a third of it. When you put the filling on, be sure to leave a little of the dough peeking around the edges, so that it will close up well." [In this recent version, I topped the sweet potatoes with some grated pepper jack cheese tossed with sliced scallions.]

"Fold the leaf in thirds, like a letter, then bend up the end. Tie it, if you want. Or, if you are making a lot, you can just put them down close together and they will keep each other closed. You need to steam them for a long time, longer than you really want. Open one and try it to see if it's done. They like it if you put a towel over them while they steam. [Chinese bamboo or metal stackable steamers are perfect for steaming tamales in single layers. Small tamales require 40 minutes and larger ones up to 1 1/2 or 2 hours to cook through.]