There are so many great food events going on in the next few weeks, it's hard to choose. Here are three that particularly caught my eye and whet my appetite.

Next Thursday March 27th, 2008 is the Wine Enthusiast Toast of the Town. Attending will be 70 domestic and international wine producers including Trinchero, Mumm Napa, Champagne Piper-Heidsiek, Rodney Strong Vineyards and J. Lohr Vineyards. A complete list of invited wine vendors is available here. The event will be held at the War Memorial Opera House.

I spoke to one of the organizers and got a sneak peek at just a few of the dishes that participating restaurants will be serving.

Bar Tartine
Blood Orange-cured Sardines with Asparagus & Soft-boiled Egg Vinaigrette

Bistro Jeanty
Crème de Tomate en Croûte - Tomato Soup in Puff Pastry

Café Gibraltar
• Moroccan Lamb & Beef Tagine – Savory Mélange of Beef and Lamb Shoulder, with Seasonal Vegetables, Chickpeas and Fingerling Potatoes in a Savory Date-mild Chile-Harissa Glaze

• Algerian Vegetable Couscous – Seasonal Vegetables, Chickpeas and Currants in a Roasted Sweet Pepper-Saffron broth, Served Atop House-Rolled Couscous

Campton Place
Spot Prawn Sashimi on Watermelon Carpaccio Chutnied Mango Chili Fizz with Apple & Wild Rocket Gazpacho Air

Étoile at Domaine Chandon
Braised Veal Cheek, Morel Mushrooms, English Pea Purée and Preserved Meyer Lemon

Go Fish Restaurant
Scallop and Shrimp Ceviche

PlumpJack Cafe
Ramp Panna Cotta with Langoustine and Pickled Cloud

Poleng Lounge
Walu Kinilaw – Hawaiian Butterfish, Toybox Tomatoes, Shallots, Cilantro, Coconut Milk, hand-harvested Philippine Sea Salt

Postrio
Tuna en Ponzu Gelée with Wasabi Tobiko, Lemon and Shiso

Pres a Vi
Hamachi Two Ways –
• Teradito with Anju Pepper Aioli, Siracha, Blood Orange Oil and Micro Cilantro
• Poke with Inamona, Soy, Lemon Zest and Wasabi Tobiko

Rivoli Restaurant
Rivoli Smoked Beef on a Cheddar Biscuit with Horseradish Cream and Pickled Onion Relish

The Grand Tasting is from 7-10 pm and tickets are $95. A silent auction at the event will benefit America's Second Harvest The Nation's Food Bank.

Share our Strength's Taste of the Nation is also a benefit for America's Second Harvest with a focus on ending childhood hunger. It will be held April 6th, 2008 at Acme Chophouse.

From 6:30-7:30pm you'll enjoy appetizers from top local restaurants before a sit-down dinner prepared by the Next Iron Chef contenders and wine pairings from top sommeliers and live and silent auctions. The chefs for the dinner will be:

Michael Symon of Cleveland's Lola and Lolita

Traci Des Jardins of Acme Chophouse, Jardiniere and Mijita

Chris Cosentino of Incanto

Gavin Kaysen of NYC's Café Boulud

Elizabeth Falkner of Citizen Cake and Orson (dessert)

Tickets are $250 and 100% of your ticket purchase goes directly to Share Our Strength.

If you are still waiting for your economic stimulus check, here's a bargain opportunity to enjoy a taste of Spain.

Tonight, March 19th, 2008, at 6 pm Gerald Hirigoyen of Bocadillos and Piperade will create Basque-inspired small plates at Macy's Union Square as part of A Mosaic of Spain, Macy's Annual Flower Show. Jon Bonne, wine editor at the SF Chronicle and Andy Booth, owner of the Spanish Table will be on hand to discuss wine pairings.

In addition to food and wine samples, you'll receive a 60-day subscrition to Zagat.com and VIP card from City Dish.

Tickets are $10 and benefit the Espanola de California.

When Catherine of Food Musings announced her engagement to Mr. Food Musings last week, she told us all what she ate for lunch right after the engagement. "... I said yes. Then we went and ate lunch. He had a chicken taco and a veggie taco Nick's way and I had a taco salad with grilled fish. One day I might want to know that, so I'm writing it down."

Which got me to thinking: What about my other food blog friends? Having a predilection toward eating great food, did their engagements involve any special foods or meals?

The answers were wide ranging. Some didn't remember what they ate. One anonymous blogger who we all know and love said "This is embarrassing but we can't remember what we ate after getting engaged. My strong guess is pizza but it is foggy."

In addition to being a great food and wine blogger, a wine instructor, and a writer, Derrick Schneider at An Obsession with Food is also a puzzle designer. So it's no surprise that The French Laundry and puzzles figure into his engagement story.

I proposed to Melissa at The French Laundry, using a puzzle box from Japan to hold the ring. Of course, the way I tell it is that I made the reservations and thought, "Huh. That would be a good place to propose." And, of course, I had two months to plan.

She didn't know I was proposing, though she always assumed she would. Just as we were heading out the door on March 2, I said, "Oh, I almost forgot. I have a late Valentine's Day gift." I ran back and grabbed the box, which, being a wrapped puzzle box was not obviously ring-sized. She asked if she could open it; I suggested we wait until we were at dinner. We arrived in Yountville, and she asked if she could open it; I suggested that we wait until we were seated.

Melissa unwrapped the box and I said, "Well, it's probably not what you think." The puzzle box was a heart in two pieces, and Melissa turned it over and over and admired its beauty. At which point, I said, "Maybe you should try to open it." The solution was to put the two halves of the heart together (aw). So she did that, started to slide the top panel, and I said, "So the next question is going to be..." at which point she got it open and shouted out, "Oh my God! Yes!" The waiter brought us champagne, and we both had the full tasting menu, though Melissa says she doesn't remember it all that well.

This story from Bonnie Powell at The Ethicurean made me laugh out loud.

I do remember quite well. I proposed to Bart in a roundabout way on our fifth anniversary, which we celebrated by having dinner at the Ritz-Carlton in Half Moon Bay, staying nearby. When he made sure I was asking him to marry me, I took a deep breath and confirmed that I was. I was so relieved when he said yes that I ordered a dozen raw oysters to celebrate and ate them all -- he doesn't even like them. I'm slightly embarrassed to admit I then ordered and ate another dozen. And no I was not sick. I think we also had a bottle of champagne.

I heard some answers from our own Bay Area Bites authors. The first is from Kim Laidlaw.

He took me out on a boat then to dinner at Piperade then a stroll on the pier next to the Ferry Building, where he popped the question. We stayed across the street at the Hotel Griffon, and just after we got engaged we returned to the hotel and drank my absolute favorite whisky: Glenkinchie Distiller's Edition. I think he'd also brought some Cowgirl Creamery Mt. Tam and probably some Bi-Rite ginger cookies too. But it's the whisky that stands out in my mind.

Fellow BAB author Stephanie Lucianovic were engaged in Boston.

I don't remember what we ate the night we got engaged. I remember walking through Beacon Hill in Boston, and I remember the actual proposal, but the food itself eludes me. I know we went for a ridiculously expensive glass of champagne at the Four Seasons, because we had it in our naive heads that if we told them we just got engaged, they would, like, comp us or something. I think we looked at the menu and decided that all the bar bites were too pricey, so we headed over to the Ritz Carlton where my roommate was a club level concierge and ate whatever free bites she had sent up from the kitchens. It's possible she snagged plates of cheese, chocolate-dipped strawberries, truffles, and maybe some caviar.

Way more memorable for us was the celebratory engagement dinner my soon-to-be-in-laws sent us to at L'Auberge Chez Francois in the rolling green hills of Great Falls, Virginia. It was our first experience with the storied and elusive (we're talking almost nine years ago) amuse-bouche.

Virginia from The Perfect Spot, and her husband Dan, chose Foreign Cinema as their perfect spot.

If only I could recall what I ate... that is the state of engagement, I guess. We went to Foreign Cinema (it was our second year of living in SF) and though I do not remember our entrees, I do recall an excellent sweetbreads appetizer they used to have. And we had what was at the time my favorite Dark Chocolate Pot de Creme dessert. I also remember how they gave us free champagne and lots of congrats and attention.

Sean Timberlake from Hedonia wraps up our stories.

Fifteen years ago (!), DPaul and I went up to Tuolumne Meadows Yosemite for a weekend. We had discussed taking the relationship to the next level, but this was the weekend we made the decision.

That we were able to go to Tuolumne at all was thanks to a friend of ours who was the chef at the lodge up there that year. He was able to bump us up to the top of the wait list, and we luckily were able to land a cabin. The lodge has only 8-tops, so you sit with complete strangers. The night of our "engagement," we were seated with some blue-bloods from Kensington, who happily gabbed our ears off. David, our chef friend, kept sending us tasters of every dish on the menu above and beyond what we ordered. I don't remember exactly what we ate, but I do remember the society lady to my right reaching across me and plucking tastes of things off our extra plates.

What about you? Do you remember what you ate when you were engaged?

With SFIAAF 2008 in full swing, I've managed to munch popcorn with yeast for dinner more times than I care to admit during the past few days. And with another week of films ahead, it looks like I'm going to need to restock my supply of dental floss.

Fortunately, it's been worth it. Over the weekend, two titles that food and film lovers should add to their list were screened to sold-out crowds.

THE KILLING OF A CHINESE COOKIE

Who among us can resist opening a fortune cookie? No matter how jaded or snobby, no matter how much you may hate that dry, tasteless joke of a dessert that sits on your bill after a meal at the Golden Imperial Jade Wok Garden, I dare you to leave behind, unopened and unread, that little strip of paper and its peek into your future.

Like many things we touch in daily life, the beginnings of the humble fortune cookie are murky, but in his documentary, The Killing of a Chinese Cookie, director Derek Shimoda doggedly follows the complex maze of historic claims and counterclaims. Best of all, he collects the amazing stories of thoroughly lovable individuals. Third-generation confectioners and visual artists, judges and lawyers, historians and entrepreneurs, master chefs and hack writers--everyone has an opinion about the fortune cookie. Among the highlights are recollections of the mock trial held in 1983 at the San Francisco Court of Historical Review. Instead of settling the dispute, though, the arguments seemed to have only stirred up the controversy even more.

More recently, The New York Times covered the long-standing debate in a feature about the origins of the ubiquitous cookie. Among the many representing Northern California's interests are the descendants of Suyeichi Okamura, who in 1906 opened the Benkyodo Company, a confectionary in San Francisco Japantown where you can still buy handmade moochi, sembei and other traditional sweets.

One of the Suyeichi Okamura's grandsons shows how hot cookies were once slipped into this wooden rack to cool slightly before a fortune was hidden within its crisp folds.

I can't remember the last time I laughed so much during a documentary while learning about the secrets of the past. With great affection, Shimoda tracks the cookie's influence from Japan's sembei treats to Golden Gate Park's Japanese Tea Garden, though World War II and the rise of Chinatown restaurants, to erotic art and lucky lottery numbers. I won't reveal any more about the film or the cookie's history, since I highly recommend this film. The fun of it will be in watching the story unfold for yourself.

A manager at a Los Angeles factory showing an old tin of fortune cookies that he's resisted opening for posterity's sake.

The Killing of a Chinese Cookie
Directed by Derek Shimoda
Sunday, March 23
12:00 Noon
Camera Cinemas 12 Downtown
201 South Second Street
San Jose, CA 95113
(408) 998-3300

You can still buy tickets for this weekend's screening of the film at San Jose's Camera Cinemas 12. Until then, you can read the memorable fortunes submitted by NTY readers.

I'M A CYBORG, BUT THAT'S OKAY

Many of us have been waiting to see Park Chan-Wook's latest film on the big screen. If you've survived his infamous films, Oldboy and Sympathy for Lady Vengeance, then you'll already know that Park's work is not for everyone. But those who love his intense, over-the-top vision or who can't get enough of Korea's boundary-breaking films, his latest should not be missed.

I'm a Cyborg, But That's Okay reveals a new tack in his filmmaking: romantic comedy. In Park's world, though, this means telling the story of how two psychotics in an insane asylum find love across the distance of alternative realities, group therapy and padded rooms.

Im Su-jeong plays Young-goon, a pale and skittish young woman who refuses to swallow even a single grain of rice, since cyborgs like her cannot digest food. She licks batteries to help recharge her energy, talks to vending machines and flickering lights, and mourns the loss of her daikon-nibbling grandmother. Superstar singer Rain plays a scruffy kleptomaniac, Il-sun, who invents and (in one of my favorite scenes in the film) installs a tiny machine called the Rice Megatron--with lifetime service guaranteed--inside Young-goon to help her survive the rigors of reality.

Any further attempt to explain the plot or introduce the cast of characters will fail miserably.

Viewers who nearly died from cuteness overdose during Jean-Pierre Jeunet's Le Fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain or Michel Gondry's La Science des Rêves might think twice about seeing this film. You'll find a bit of relief from romantic sweetness during a few crazed killer-bot scenes, but don't expect the endless blood or deep anger of Park's earlier films.

I'm a Cyborg is the ultimate film, however, for fans of surrealism on the screen, well-intentioned massacres, hope flickering in a chaotic world, and uncertain non-endings.

My friend Mark, who knows about everything before I do, has been wanting to go to Brenda's French Soul Food for months. He planned to take some people to brunch there a few Sundays ago. It was, however, closed. They don't do Sunday brunch. Who can blame them? Unless drag queens are somehow involved, the thought of Sunday brunch makes me cringe. The two of us hoped to have dinner at Brenda's last week. The only glitch in that little plan was this: Brenda's doesn't serve dinner. Rather than being miffed, I found that news heartwarming.

When I was a young and foolish California Culinary Academy student, one of my courses called for creating a restaurant business plan. My teammates and I decided that a breakfast and lunch-only venue would suit our tastes just fine, since you can really mark up egg dishes. We'd be doing what we loved-- serving up great food, but we'd have our evenings free-- enabling us to have a relatively normal social life. We could have our pancake, as it were, and eat it, too.

Brenda's, then, is a place after my own heart. It's exactly what I'd want to do if I were crazy enough to run a restaurant.

Located at 652 Polk Street between Eddy and Turk, Brenda's shares a stretch of road with two other food venues. On its right is Kentucky Fried Chicken-- a place of no culinary pretensions whatsoever. To its left and across the street is the California Culinary Academy-- a sad, musty diploma mill that churns out nothing but culinary pretension every few weeks. Hovering somewhere pleasantly in the middle, Brenda's has not disturbed that delicate balance of the block in the least. What it has done, thankfully, is bring great food to the neighborhood.

When I arrived at Brenda's on Wednesday morning, I was told I might sit wherever I liked by a tall, thin gentleman with a scruffy beard who was, it would seem, the sole server on the floor. I took a small table near the door, where I could have a clear view of the customers around me.

The restaurant is small. Two white-clothed tables for four in the center of the room, one small table in the window, and five small tables along the left wall.Counter stools populate the right wall, just below a bank of mirrors which runs the entire length of the place.

I ordered a coffee and dug into my portable Sherlock Holmes, which I placed on top of my little notebook. To my left was a man about my age with a scruffy beard, also reading, but near the end of his meal. Looking at my notebook and camera, he asked me if I was going to do a write up on the place. I cringed at my obviousness. That and the fact that every man in the place, including myself, was wearing a scruffy beard. I lied to him and took another sip of coffee.

There were two men sitting in the window. One was a handsome fifty-something Frenchman . His non-French breakfast companion was rattling on loudly about Napa wineries, San Francisco restaurants and who he knew just about everywhere else. Fortunately, he made his great show of saying goodbye to Brenda before I started eating.

I asked my server which beignets he thought were best. He suggested I try the beignet flight ($8.00) and decide for myself. I did.

From fore-to-background in the photo above: plain, Granny Smith apple with cinnamon honey butter, molten Ghiradelli chocolate, and crawfish with cayenne, scallions, and cheddar. It is the order in which I ate them. My server stated that people normally consumed the crawfish first. I am delighted that I didn't, because it was by far my favorite-- the chewy sweetness of the crawfish popping every so often through the ooze of the cheese, the heat of the cayenne, and the sharpness of the scallion. I am already planning my return to have a full meal of them.

They were all quite good, really. The apple beignets weren't overly sweet. They had a subtle saltiness to them I found appealing. I'm not an expert on these pastries, per se, and I've heard some people (Yelpers) whine that beignets in New Orleans are normally much bigger and cheaper. I would hardly call the portions here small. Or over priced. In fact, nothing at Brenda's is more than $10.00.

Wondering what to order next, I asked my server's opinion on the matter. Mentioning that I was intrigued by the Pineapple Upside Down Pancakes with Vanilla Bean Cream and Ginger Butter, he said that, while they were great, I might not want them after so much beignet. He was right, of course. When I asked about the Hangtown Fry special I noticed written in white grease pen on the mirror across the way, he smiled. That's all I needed. It doesn't take much arm-twisting to get me to order a Hangtown Fry. "Grits or potatoes?" he asked. "I'm kind of a potato guy," I said. I saw his smile fade a little. "But, I suppose I'd better have the grits, right?" His face brightened. I was grateful for my ability to read social cues. I told him I'd keep the menu, in case I wanted to order anything more.

It is obvious from the above photo where I placed the most of my gustatory enthusiasm. The grits. Buttery, lightly peppery, and just salty enough. The pat of butter I was given may have been intended for the biscuit, but mine ended up on the grits. I did not ask for instructions.

I never knew I liked grits. In fact, my two or three previous experiences with the dish had left me rather bored. In my thoughts, grits were an unseen province of salty, beehived situation comedy diner waitresses and they were meant to be kissed in some kind of submissive fashion. Well, I kissed Brenda's grits, and I'll kiss them again, happily.

While I was tucking into the fry, a man and woman dressed in chef whites wandered into Brenda's from the Culinary Academy. I thought how sad it was that they couldn't find anything worth eating over there. The man, I noticed, had one bright blue eye and one of milky hazel. I got caught looking, so I initiated a brief conversation with them about the school. I admitted my status as an alumnus and warned them to keep a wary eye out for people who do not understand the etiquette involved in walking around a busy kitchen with 10" chef knives. Their reaction to the pitying look on my face when I was told that tuition at the school had nearly tripled since my graduation eleven years ago indicated to me that our little interview should end as quickly as possible. I went back to reading The Adventure of the Copper Beeches and stuffing my face.

As I sat eating and reading, another man of my approximate age and scruffiness sat at the table beside mine. I really must shave. Unlike his predecessor, he seemed uneasy in his status as a single diner. He tapped is fingers and wagged his foot as though it had fallen asleep within the first ninety seconds of his being in a seated position. When his eyes weren't darting about the place, they were fixed upon his iPhone. I didn't know whether to laugh (on the inside) or cry. Few people seem really at ease with dining alone. It made me mildly depressed, but it did give me an idea for another blog post, which made me mildly cheerful.

The Hangtown fry itself was good, loaded as it was with salty, smoked bacon and fresh, fried oysters. But my delicate, hummingbird frame was challenged by the enormous portions of both dishes tried. Delicate, too, was the biscuit-- the flavor of fresh butter melted in my mouth as is the way with the good ones and it had a flakiness that, had the biscuit taken a human form, might be diagnosed as Brittle Bone Disease by medical students. I mean that in a good way.

I was unable to finish my meal, being as well-stuffed as one of those beignets from earlier in the meal. I took my remaining victuals home and had them for lunch. The grits were good even then, served cold.

My server returned, looked at the menu still placed on the table, and said, smiling, "Are you still planning on ordering more?" My brain said yes, but my stomach disagreed. I looked out the window at the Eastern Park Apartments, a retirement home that is neither in the East nor anywhere near a park. I thought to myself that, if I kept eating like this, I might not live to an age which might necessitate my inhabiting such a place. I sided with my stomach and asked, instead, for the check.

Now, I do not know Brenda Buenviaje, namesake of the restaurant. I chose not to introduce myself nor ask questions during my first visit. My photo-taking and journal entries made me look idiotic enough. When I took a closer look at Brenda's website, I read her profile and had a better clue as to why the food made me happy-- she is a former head chef of Sumi (the only good restaurant in the Castro, as far as I'm concerned) and of Cafe Claude (my I'm- hungry-and-tired-of-watching-other-people-shop/ I-need-a-drink place of choice). She looks like someone I might like to sit down with over a glass of wine. I only hope, should that occur, that I can stifle my desire to blurt out grits-kissing remarks.

I'll be back to Brenda's, and soon. There's a lot there that I still need to try, like the Grillades and Grits, the Egg and Bacon Tartine, and those Pineapple Upside Down Pancakes. But really, it's that crawdaddy beignet. Second only to relieving my bladder, it was the first thing I thought about this morning. Really, I swear.

Brenda's French Soul Food is located at:

652 Polk Street (at Eddy)
San Francisco, CA 94102

Telephone: (415) 345-8100

Hours of Operation:

Breakfast is served Monday through Friday from 8 am to 3 pm.
Lunch is served Monday through Friday from 11(ish) to 3 pm.
Brunch is served on Saturdays from 8 am to 3 pm.
Closed, for now, on Sundays.

Ah… smoothies. What's not to love about those frosty fruity drinks? Ever since I was a kid, I've been a lover of all smoothies. It all started with my childhood addiction to Orange Juliuses, which were all the rage (at least in my childhood Southern California bedroom community) when I was a kid. I think they started to become really popular after they were the official drink of the World's Fair in 1964. By this time, the health food craze was catching on in the United States and smoothies were the drink of choice for that burgeoning market. Plus, on a warm day, an icy beverage really hit the spot.

For those of you who haven't experienced a smoothie, it's a general term for an icy fruit drink that is blended. They almost always include some sort of fruit and then after that, the sky's the limit. You can add yogurt, juice, ice, protein powder, dairy creamer, frozen yogurt, soy milk, regular milk, or whatever you like (within reason).

In college, I sort of forgot about smoothies, preferring frozen margaritas and daiquiris instead for my frosty fruit fix. It wasn't until a few years ago, when my daughters started asking to go to Jamba Juice, that I rediscovered the smoothie. Whenever we're in the vicinity of one of these shops, my daughters beg to go. This was okay for a while, but after spending almost $20 every time we walked into one of these franchises -- and wondering how three smoothies could cost so much -- I decided to break out my blender and start making them at home.

After many rounds with the blender, I've found that there are a few keys to making a great home smoothie:

1. Use frozen fruit: Although it's tempting to use fresh fruit, especially when it's in season, frozen fruit will give your smoothie a natural frosty texture. This is usually better than the consistency you will achieve if you use ice, which has a tendency to break into inconsistent pieces, sometimes leaving larger chunks behind. Also, frozen fruit creates a creamier texture than blended ice.

2. Use Small Pieces of Ice: Some recipes simply need ice. When this is the case, try to use small pieces, or, even better, crushed ice if possible.

3. Sweeten with honey: Sometimes berries can be a little tart. If your smoothie has too much zing, just plop it back into the blender and add a tablespoon of honey to sweeten it up.

4. Add more liquid to fix a clogged blender: Sometimes when making a smoothie, the blades on the blender will fruitlessly (excuse the pun) whirl around, without actually mixing the smoothie. This happens when the smoothie doesn't have enough liquid. Just add small amounts of juice until the smoothie mixes properly.

Here are a few smoothie recipes that I've come up with. The first is for one that my daughters and I love. Plain yogurt provides the creaminess, along with an extra dose of calcium into our daily diets. In this recipe, I almost always use frozen berries. With each sip providing a burst of berry flavor as well as a load of antioxidants, the berries are the real star here.

I have also recently come to enjoy dairy-free smoothies. One of my favorites is the ultimate in simplicity. Made only with frozen mango chunks, a half a banana to add body, and orange juice to help it blend, the taste is all about the mango. What's remarkable about this smoothie is how creamy it is, even without any dairy.

My new favorite smoothie, however, is a lactose-free chocolate and almond smoothie. Yes, I do realize that this one doesn't include a lot of fruit, but the combination of the banana with the soy vanilla ice cream, along with almond butter, chocolate syrup, and either Almond Dream or soy milk is truly lip smacking.

Finally, I've recreated a version of the Orange Julius drink from my childhood. I really have no idea what they put in those drinks when I was a kid, although some web sites claim it had orange juice, powdered sugar and dairy creamer. In my version, I used two seedless tangerines, nonfat milk, orange juice, honey and ice. I made the drink and it definitely reminded me of the Orange Juliuses I drank as a kid, although I have to say that it has lost most of its appeal.

Smoothies are fast to make. Even better, they're portable: just pour them into a plastic cup or bottle and have breakfast or lunch on the go.

Berry and Yogurt Smoothie
Serves 2 medium smoothies

1/2 cup yogurt
1 cup frozen berries (cherries, blueberries, raspberries, strawberries)
1 cup orange juice
1 whole medium banana
1 Tbsp honey

1. Place all ingredients in a blender.
2. Mix on high for one to two minutes, or until everything is smooth and you don't have any large ice chunks.
3. Serve.

Mango Infusion
Serves 2 medium smoothies

1 heaping cup of frozen mango chunks
½ medium banana (frozen or room temperature)
1 cup orange juice

1. Place all ingredients in a blender.
2. Mix on high for one or two minutes, or until everything is smooth.
3. Serve.

Vegan Almond, Banana, and Chocolate Smoothie
Serves 2 medium smoothies

2 large scoops Soy Vanilla Ice Cream
1 medium Banana (preferably frozen)
1 cup Almond Dream, Soy Milk, or Rice Milk
2 Tbsp unsalted almond butter (crunchy or smooth)
2 Tbsp chocolate syrup

1. Place all ingredients in a blender.
2. Mix on high for one to two minutes, or until everything is smooth and you don't have any large ice chunks.
3. Serve.

Orange Smoothie of my Childhood
Serves 2 medium smoothies

2 seedless tangeines
½ cup nonfat milk
½ cup orange juice
1 Tbsp honey

1. Place all ingredients in a blender.
2. Mix on high for one to two minutes, or until everything is smooth and you don't have any large ice chunks.
3. Serve.

I couldn't have been more pleased when STUDIO Gallery opened up on Polk street a few years ago. The gallery is unlike any other I know. First of all, it's not airy and industrial, it's a tiny and cozy storefront, and it showcases the work of only Bay Area artists. Art shows are accessible, sometimes provocative and more often than not, fun. Most of the artwork is very affordable and there is just about something for everyone and every budget. In addition to folk art you will also find fine art, but I've yet to see anything stuffy or terribly intimidating.

One of the more enjoyable shows they have held every year is Delicious, art inspired by food and drink. The show opens today and runs through April 13th, and there will be a reception this Saturday from 4 until 8 pm. This year there are over 70 artists participating and on display are oil paintings, pastels, prints, photographs, drawings, mixed media and even a paper sculpture from one of my favorite local artisans, Toshiko Kamiyama who makes the most amazing realistic pieces like this one, all made out of paper.

You can see photos from Delicious here. STUDIO Gallery has also recently launched another web site called Really SF that has plenty of local art, from photographs to painting to maps to prints and it is all San Francisco or Bay Area themed. Online is fine, but do check out the Delicious show in person if you are in the area. And don't worry, there are plenty of places to eat in the neighborhood if the show stimulates your appetite.

STUDIO Gallery
718A Polk Street (between Clay & Washington)
San Francisco, CA 94109
415.931.3130

Gallery Hours
Wednesday, Thursday, Friday 11am - 8 pm
Saturday + Sunday 11 am - 6 pm
Monday + Tuesday by appointment

A sure sign of spring at local farmers markets is the appearance of green garlic. It arrives in late winter, but it is a sign of what's to come: spring meals resplendent with fresh green peas, spring lamb, mushrooms, radishes and asparagus.

Hard garlic bulbs come into season in June and July. At that point, the bulbs are dry and look like what we typically use the rest of the year (they are stored in dry, ventilated rooms by the farmers). But to get to that point, garlic begins much earlier in the year as a green stalk that is similar in appearance to a leek or a spring onion. As the year goes on, the end portion becomes more bulbous until it starts to harden and dry out.

While green garlic can be used in any recipe calling for garlic, it has a subtle flavor that is unique from dry garlic. When I particularly want to highlight the flavor of green garlic, I make egg dishes, risottos, or simple meat dishes with gads of the herb.

Fellow bloggers also enjoy green garlic and have published recipes:

• Pim suggests shrimp stir-fry with green garlic
• Brett likes his green garlic in a Spanish tortilla with white beans
• Catherine has a cabbage and green garlic soup recipe for us
• And Laura Rebecca brings us a green garlic pesto

You can find green garlic at most local farmers markets. I have never seen green garlic in a traditional supermarket. Farms I know that carry green garlic include:

Eatwell Farm (Ferry Plaza Farmers Market)
Knoll Farm (Ferry Plaza Farmers Market)
Marin Roots Farm (Ferry Plaza, Marin Farmers Markets)
Phan Farm (Heart of the City Farmers Market)

From Tricycle Press, that little imprint of our very own Berkeley-based Ten Speed Press, comes the World Snack Series, a cheerful set of children's board books about sweet and savory treats enjoyed around the world.

Author and illustrator Amy Wilson Sanger provides both the books' sing-song text and the artful, colorful sculptures that grace their pages. Adults and children alike will love the parade of scrumptious snacks: cha siu bao, bhel puri, tamales, hamentaschen, little polpetini, and even temaki with uni roe. One of my favorite lines, from Yum Yum Dim Sum, sent me straight to the closest teahouse: “Why, oh why, my little sui mai, why do I love you so?”

Sanger's sculptures are exquisitely detailed yet retain magic and imagination. Flour on the handle of the pasta roller? Check. Translucent beads of flying fish roe? Check. Little snips of tree mushrooms in the dumpling filling? Check. Hand-stitched tofu? Of course. Occasional beans and sesame seeds cross the pages to add real-life dimension, but for the most part, Sanger depends on the transformation of paper and cloth to create amazingly mouth-watering renditions of favorite foods.

I have four of the six titles published so far, and though I keep promising myself that I'll hand them off soon to worthy tots, I must confess they're still in my possession. They were supposed to go into the emergency gift box--yes, my friends' kids' birthdays have been accruing at a startling rate--but I have a feeling that these books are heading soon to one of my own shelves. I'm especially looking forward to the seventh in the series, Chaat and Sweets, that will be released later this spring (May 2008).

What appeals to me, as the "California aunt" in my family, is the matter-of-fact approach to such a widely diverse table. There's an emphasis on foods that one might find in take-out and at restaurants, particularly noticeable in First Book of Sushi and Hola Jalapeno. Still, this series as a whole stands head and shoulders above other multi-culti children's books about the world of food. There's no preachy agenda between the lines, and dishes aren't presented as the newly discovered, unfamiliar foods of other families. (Read Everyone Cooks Rice for a well-intentioned, first-generation example of both of these shortcomings.)

The back covers of most of the books in the World Snack Series provide helpful pronunciation glossaries for parents who may not have grown up tying tamales or rolling maki themselves. While some may roll their eyes at the thought of cultivating pint-sized gourmands--with miso in their sippy cups and salsa on their bibs--I for one consider this another wonderful step forward in the long, pot-holed road to incorporating international flavors with neither condescension nor wide-eyed wonder.

Cabbage. This word often brings up images of drippy boiled leaves and pungent smells. In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Charlie Bucket and his family were so poor they had to live off a diet of cabbage soup each day, the idea being that cabbage soup was just one of the miseries Charlie and his family had to endure before they retired to a life of nirvana at Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. Although I wouldn't want to eat cabbage every day, it's unfair to this lovely cruciferous vegetable, full of antioxidants and cancer fighting agents, to have such a bad reputation.

People in other parts of the world love cabbage. It is a staple across northern and central Europe, where it is the basis for German kraut and Polish bigos (not to mention Russian borscht). The French also use cabbage in a variety of dishes, often braised. Kimchi, a fermented cabbage dish, is a staple in Korean cuisine, and different types of cabbages are standard fare in China and other parts of Asia.

Although many of the international cabbage dishes I list above require cooking the cabbage for lengthy periods of time, these dishes are cooked according to time-tested methods to produce amazing regional cuisines. This is not how the poor cabbage has been treated in America. The simple and sad truth is that many Americans have had a tendency to overcook their vegetables. Most vegetables, even the sturdiest and crispest, lose their appeal (and a load of nutrients) when overcooked. Cabbage, however, just gets plain stinky if you cook it too long, especially if you are boiling or steaming it on its own. Although it can be fine cooked in a nice New England Boiled dinner (i.e., corned beef with cabbage), this hearty winter vegetable really shines when the life isn’t cooked out of it. So, for a home chef, the secret to delicious cabbage may be simply to barely cook it or not cook it at all.

Following are a couple of cabbage recipes my family loves. In both I use Savoy cabbage, but you could just as easily use Napa cabbage or a "standard" cabbage. The first is for a Fresh Kraut with Bratwurst where the cabbage is cooked just long enough to soften, but not any longer. The key to this recipe is to cut the cabbage into thin slices so you end up with small slivers that cook quickly. I first made this dish because my daughters both have an acute sense of smell and I didn't want them to be turned off by a cabbagy aroma. The result was a hit. Sautéed with olive oil, fresh onions, and fennel and then steamed with cider vinegar, it's a wonderful accompaniment to savory sausage.

The second dish is for a crisp cabbage and beet salad. With an Asian-inspired peanut dressing, it has a tangy flavor and a crunchy texture. Tangerine slices add a fresh burst of sweetness and roasted peanuts give it a slightly salty twist. Slicing up the cabbage is a breeze, and if you use the shredding attachment on your food processor, shredding the beets takes only a minute or two. Overall, this dish take less than ten minutes to assemble and is a great alternative to a regular lettuce salad, or a traditional cole slaw. It's a perfect light meal by itself, but would be great with roasted or fried chicken or pork.

There is a wonderful French phrase, "ma petite chou," which is a term of endearment for someone who is much loved. The literal translation is "my little cabbage." It seems perfect that a vegetable so sweet and healthful, yet hardy and reliable, should be the description for one's beloved in France. Maybe one day, once people stop cooking cabbage to death, Americans will come to love it just as much.

Fresh Kraut with Bratwurst

Makes 4-6 servings

Ingredients for Kraut
½ large white onion
1 fennel bulb
½ large Savoy cabbage
2 Tbsp olive oil
¼ cup cider vinegar
½ tsp celery seed
½ tsp salt
Dash of black pepper

Ingredients for Bratwurst
5-6 bratwursts
1 Tbsp olive oil
3 large potatoes sliced into ¼-inch chunks
Salt

1. Place bratwurst and potatoes in a baking dish (I like to use my large cast iron pan)
2. Mix in olive oil and salt so the potatoes and sausages are thorough coated on all sides.
3. Bake at 400 degrees for 10 minutes.
4. Turn bratwurst and stir potatoes, bake for another five minutes.

5. When bratwursts are almost ready, cut onion, fennel, and cabbage into thin slices.
6. Heat a large sauté pan on medium high and add olive oil to the pan once it’s hot.
7. Sauté onion for about five minutes, or until soft.
8. Add fennel and cook for another 3 minutes.
9. Add cabbage, being sure to spread the leaves out so they look shredded.
10. Add celery seed, salt, and pepper and then stir.
11. Add cider vinegar and immediately cover.
12. Lower heat to medium-low and cook cabbage for five minutes or until soft. Stir if heat seems too high as you don’t want to burn or char the vegetables.
13. Taste and add more salt or pepper if desired.
14. Serve alongside bratwurst.

Fresh Cabbage and Beet Slaw with an Asian Peanut Dressing

Makes 2-4 servings

Ingredients for Salad Dressing
Salad dressing
¼ cup rice wine vinegar
¼ cup vegetable oil
2 tsp soy sauce
2 Tbsp peanut butter (crunchy or creamy)
2 tsp honey
½ tsp minced ginger or ¼ tsp powdered ginger
1 tsp chopped mint
1 garlic clove smashed and chopped
Green part of one green onion chopped

Ingredients for Salad
½ cabbage sliced
2 large or 4 small raw beets shredded
2 seedless tangerines divided
½ cup snow peas slivered
¼ cup roasted peanuts

1. Add all the salad dressing ingredients in a bowl and mix well, making sure to incorporate the peanut butter.
2. Slice the cabbage thinly.

3. Peel the beets and then shred them. You can do this in a food processor using the shredding insert, or you can grate them by hand (warning: the latter will make your hands very red).
4. Sliver the snow peas.
5. Peel and divide the tangerines
6. Lay the cabbage on each plate, being sure to separate the leaves so they look shredded.
7. Top the cabbage with the shredded beets and slivered snow peas. (Note: Be sure not to mix the beets with the other vegetables as the beets will stain everything pink.)
8. Lay the tangerine slices on top.
9. Top with the peanuts.
10. Garnish with a sprig of mint.
11. Drizzle enough salad dressing on top to coat the vegetables, without drowning them.
12. Serve.

San Francisco restaurants are suffering from what Michael Bauer at The San Francisco Chronicle called "another 1-2-3 punch to their already slim wallets." The first hit: a minimum wage increase to $9.36 per hour. The second: a sick leave law which states that employees receive one hour of paid sick leave for every 30 hours worked.

And then came the rabbit punch: The Health Care Security Ordinance, which mandates that businesses employing 20 or more employees to spend a minimum of $1.17 per employee per hour on health care. For businesses employing more than 100, that minimum increases to $1.76.

If one also factors in sharp increases in fuel costs, the doubling of wheat prices, and a public hyperventilating over dismal economic forecasts, the San Francisco restaurant industry isn't looking forward to a rosy-hued 2008.

The cost of business, my friends, is rising like so much expensive dough. How, then, are our local eateries attempting to punch it down?

A few are taking it on the chin, while others are increasing their menu prices to help absorb the costs.

And some are implementing an additional service charge, in the guise of either a percentage of the total bill, or a per person cover charge. With letters of explanation attached.

There are those among us who appreciate the transparency of these explanatory letters, even applaud them. Others find this new trend offensive. I sense that composing such letters and adding these charges was a tough call for those who have added them-- one made under the strain of coming to terms with a well-meaning, but essentially flawed ordinance. The result has become unavoidably political.

Personally, I don't want my dinner to be any more political than it needs to be. I make enough of those choices in my daily life as it is. Even the choice of which restaurant I go to is often a political decision. Once I enter that restaurant, however, I'm done. I want someone to greet me warmly, I want to be fed and watered well, and I want to forget-- for an hour or two-- the problems I purposefully left outside the front door. I want to feel taken care of.

If I want a full explanation of what goes into a Tripe alla Fiorentina, I'll ask my server, thank you. The same goes for any price increases. I don't need an essentially whining, buck-passing letter of explanation slapped in my face. It is the diner's role to whine, not the restaurant's.

If these letter writers were indeed so "proud to do business in a city that has chosen to test a landmark solution to this ongoing and serious national problem," these letters would not have been written in the first place. It is clear that the authors are distressed about the increased financial burden this new ordinance places on their shoulders. Of course, they are. But these letters just smack of insincerity. What's next? "Dear Guests, we are excited to announce that our rent has just been raised! We are proud to live in a city of astronomical real estate values..."

I think not.

For the time being, the health care ordinance is, for better or for worse, part of the cost of doing business in this city. There are many other restaurants here that have chosen to deal with this hit gracefully. And, yes, I think that a discreet increase in menu prices is graceful. It allows customers to make their own choices. Actually, it allows customers to feel more akin to what they should be feeling like-- guests. It offers a choice. It allows them to feel a little more in control of the dining process. If a guest wishes to pay x amount of dollars for a steak, he will. If not, he will opt to pay y amount for something else. Regardless, he is paying for his seat one way or another. Adding an extra math equation in the form of a service charges is anything but guest-friendly.

Great restaurants don't just fill the stomach, no matter how spectacular the food. They must satisfy an emotional need, as well.

Think of all the people who go out to dinner and then think for a moment about how these people have spent their day. Most likely, they have been working at their own jobs, seeing to the needs of others. How many people come into restaurants after hours of taking on the stress of their children, their bosses, or their customers? As a waiter and twenty-year veteran of the restaurant industry, I have to remind myself daily that it is my job to see that the people who walk into my place of work forget their troubles and get happy, even if it's just for the two hours they are under my watch. They've got problems of their own. They don't want to hear about mine. Or yours.

By writing these letters and adding this charges with little notes attached, restaurant owners are chipping away at the fragile-yet-necessary façade that a diner's needs are what matter most. By reading these letters, people of good conscience trade in a part of their much-needed role of the care-given, to that of care giver. It's a subtle shift, but it's important.

As diners, we know that we all have to pay in the end-- the check, I mean. But tacking on an extra percentage or per-person fee to the end of the bill will ultimately cost the restaurant industry far more than the money it hopes to recoup from the sting of this health care ordinance. Like goodwill.

The letters? To me, it's like reading the list of ingredients on the side of a pint of ice cream. I already know the basics of what goes into the mix, but do I want to know everything? Not always. Sometimes, I just want to treat myself to something that is going to make me feel good for a little while. If the machinery involved in the perfect churning of the cream is expensive to maintain, if the vanilla pods are of the best quality, I am quite willing to pay the reflected price for my indulgence. I don't want to read a god damned sob story about it on the side of the package.

What is most irritating to me is that these charges are being implemented by some of the busiest -- and most influential-- restaurants in the city. These chefs and owners have ridden mighty high in the good times. Now that the going has gotten tougher, they're still busy as hell but, rather than deal with their problems gracefully, these darling prime ballerine of the food press are bitching to the audience that their toe shoes are too tight.

If they want to play the Dying Swan, I suppose we should let them. However, to the best of my knowledge, no one ever paid Anna Pavlova to honk and squawk when she first performed it-- it is a role that is most effective when it is played in silence.

Yes, this is a troubling time for the city's restaurants, but if these restaurateurs could stop their complaining and blame-gaming long enough to realize that their integrity is potentially at stake, they might hopefully get back to the business of doing business. If these already-successful places keep providing us with the food and service they're known and respected for, we'll keep supporting them. Should they need to raise prices to offset the costs of a harsh city ordinance, no one in their right mind is going to think they're greedy. I just want them quit their pandering, stick out their grease-encrusted chins, and remember that the show must go on.

Because it will.