I stupidly made our reservation for 7:15pm, not even considering the fact that we might have wanted to see the magnificent Big Sur sunset from our perch at Nepenthe. (Sunset is currently at 7:27pm). I know, I know, kind of a cliché Big Sur “thing to do” but it was my husband’s very first trip to the magical little coastal town of Big Sur and we were celebrating his 1-year anniversary of moving to the United States.

Upon recommendation from one of his basketball buddies, I had booked a table at the Big Sur Bakery and Restaurant, a little gem that apparently has been around for awhile, but which I’d never noticed or even heard of (even though I’ve been to Big Sur countless times.

It was an unseasonably warm evening and when we arrived the light was dusky and purple across the mountains behind us. The restaurant, even though it has quite a few windows, is cozy and dark and would make an excellent refuge from the typically foggy chilly weather I associate with that part of the coast.

It wasn’t terribly busy, but it did take quite some time for the waitstaff/owner/host to work out where we’d be seated. Don’t get me wrong, everyone was exceedingly friendly the entire evening, but it was a bit of foreshadowing to a night of slightly confused service. (Just to explain before I go on, there were a few instances of forgetfulness, and a general lack of confidence by the waitstaff; the restaurant could benefit from clarifying everyone’s roles and responsibilities.)

Big Sur Bakery and Restaurant has a wood-fire oven which takes center stage on the menu. They base much of their seasonal, organic menu on dishes that can be baked, roasted, or braised in the oven. They also have a wood-fired grill.

The menu–which seems to change monthly–offers a handful of interesting salads and starters, five different pizzas (which looked amazing and which we vowed to try upon our return, and yes we will certainly be returning), a whole smattering of vegetable dishes (vegetarians take note: this place is an excellent choice for anyone who doesn’t eat meat), and a well-thought-out selection of mains. In addition, there were two additional starters and mains on offer.

We started with one of the salad specials, a mound of microgreens grown and harvested just behind the restaurant, tender spring fava beans, baby asparagus, and fresh peas all lightly dressed with carrot-ginger vinaigrette. It was incredibly fresh, springtime on a plate. We also had a gorgeous salad of butter lettuce, microgreens, shaved fennel, pecorino, tarragon and lemon vinaigrette, which was perfectly balanced with fresh, tangy, sweet, and salty flavors.

The star of the evening had to be our main-dish special though: rabbit in the wood-fire oven, cooked two ways: roasted saddle of rabbit wrapped in Serrano ham and braised whole leg in au jus; served with French white beans, pancetta, carrots, and braised greens. It was so good in fact that we couldn’t help but tell the tables next to us that they must order it. We also shared a grilled flatiron steak with red wine gravy and smashed Yukon gold potatoes, carrots, and braised fennel. The steak was tender and deeply flavored, but was a bit on the rare side (we had ordered medium-rare). The potatoes were a good choice, but neither of us loved the fennel and thought that could have been left out of the mix.

The wine list leans toward offerings from the central coast, with additional French and Italian wines. There are a decent number of wines available for under $40, but the prices go up rather quickly from there. We chose a gorgeous medium-bodied earthy Sicilian nero d’avola. Granted it was a abnormally warm evening, but the wine was served slightly on the warm side, a big peeve of mine. But the staff gladly chilled the wine for a minute and then it was perfect.

We finished with a brown butter rhubarb tart with brown butter ice cream and a tangy lemon pudding cake with lemon sorbet and huckleberries, both of which were perfect marriages of winter flavors (brown butter and citrus) meet early springtime fruits (rhubarb and huckleberries). We ordered a light moscato to pair alongside the dessert, but even though we reminded the waiter when the dishes arrived, the wine never did. Well, it did but only after we were long finished.

If you can get past the service not being spot on, which in my opinion you should, and accept some less polished occasional missteps (but always with a smile and an apology!), then Big Sur Bakery and Restaurant has a lot to offer. Romantic, tucked away, local and seasonal, and most of all superbly delicious.

Big Sur Bakery and Restaurant
Highway One
Big Sur, CA 93920
831.667.0520
map

Last year I dined at Acme Chophouse in support of Dining Out for Life, a fundraiser for the STOP AIDS Project and it was a blast. There were lots of people I knew in the restaurant and the atmosphere was festive and fun. This year is the 7th year in the row for this event where restaurants donate 25% of their sales for the day to HIV prevention efforts of the STOP AIDS Project. The event takes place on April 24th, 2008 at restaurants all over town.

One of the things I love about this fundraiser is there are lots of ways to get involved. You can eat out at a high end restaurant like Masa’s or Rubicon or somewhere more casual like Amici’s or Pomodoro. You can check out all the participating restaurants online. You can also reserve online for many of the restaurants at OpenTable. You can also get involved by being an Ambassador.

Dining Out for Life recruits over 100 volunteers to act as ‘Ambassadors’ to each of the participating restaurants. These Ambassadors act as liaisons between the STOP AIDS Project and their respective restaurants. Ambassadors can also promote their respective restaurants between now and the night of the event, inviting friends, family and co-workers to dine at their restaurant on April 24th, 2008.

Find out which restaurants need Ambassadors and sign up.

“You have to spend more money, because you have to live in this way … We cannot say, ‘OK, the price of pork rises and we won’t eat it,’ because that’s impossible, because we need that for daily life. So the only thing is we have to make more money to cover the expense. That’s why we work hard and we come back home late.”
– publishing house editor in China.

If you’ve turned on the news in the past couple of weeks, chances are you’ve heard numerous reports of the rising costs of food worldwide. For example, prices of food in Haiti and Egypt have doubled in the past two years, and last week rioting over the food crisis occurred in both countries. Also, the poor in Yemen are now spending more than a quarter of their incomes on bread alone.

Worldwide high prices are coming from a zeitgeist of factors:

• Oil and energy costs are rising.
• Climate changes such as droughts affect crops.
• Farmers are moving their crops from food to potentially more lucrative biofuel crops.
• As citizens of countries such as China and India become more successful, their diets are changing and they are buying more food. They are eating more meat, which requires a much larger amount of grains.

Domestically, food prices are climbing as well. Food prices in March rose 1.2%, and the price base ingredients such as milk and eggs are increasing quickly.

NPR is covering the issue with a series of stories covering the food crisis. The series is doing a good job of giving me a clear picture of all the aspects involved. Tomorrow, NPR will focus on how the current crisis is revitalizing agriculture in some European communities.

April 11, 2008
World Bank Chief: Biofuels Boasting Food Prices

April 12, 2008
Rising Food Prices Spark Growing Concern

April 13, 2008
Food, Fuel Demand Raise Corn, Soybean Prices

April 14, 2008
Aid Groups Target Poor Nations as Food Prices Soar

April 15, 2008
China’s Food Prices Rise as Population, Wealth Grow

NEXT WEEK: Good news on Food Prices? Some say yes.

Breaking two cardinal rules in my kitchen–versatility and real-world functionality–my favorite new toy is silly, beautiful, and fun. It can only do one thing: make cookies in the shape of an obscure cut of lamb. A while back, while checking out the display cases at the excellent little butcher shop, Avendano’s, my friends spotted a batch of hand-crafted, limited-edition, copper cookie cutters. For some reason, they thought of me.

The packaging was gorgeous. Each form is hand-stitched to a card painted with a watercolor depiction of the actual cut of meat. I am now blessed with a “Middle Cut Rib” of lamb, which, to be honest, does not resemble any overly trimmed product that I’ve seen at most meat counters. My favorite part is the tiny tag, hanging off the cookie cutter like some exclusive designer label and engraved–by hand, of course–with the maker’s phone number.

This past weekend, I finally had a chance to give it a try. Since royal icing is one of my least favorite foods, depicting meat with only cookie dough became the challenge. An old recipe (adapted from Vanilla Refrigerator Cookies in the 1976 edition of the Joy of Cooking) and a bit of red food coloring leftover from making velvet cake came to rescue. I debated incorporating demi-glace or bouillon for meaty flavor, but decided to stay simple for the test run. Next time.

Here are some photos and notes from my first stab at meat cookies:

The red-colored dough, with a bits of white dough aka fat marbling left from the mixing. The color will lighten with baking, so make it darker than the final shade you want.

While still warm and soft, shape the dough into a thick piece that roughly follows the contour of the cutter. Basically, you’re making a lamb loin, or the meat before the butcher saws it into steaks or chops. Make it slightly smaller than the outline of the cutter, though, to allow for the fat layer…

…with some reserved, uncolored dough, build up a thin (or thick—your preference) layer of “fat” around the lamb loin. I started off with an offset spatula, and then figured out it’s much easier just to flatten pieces of white dough between my palms and press then right into the red dough. Press down firmly on the dough to avoid air pockets, which will later become cracks and gaps. Any breaks later are easy to fix, though, with extra dough.

After chilling for a few hours, I sliced the loin thinly with a chef’s knife and transferred the cookies to a parchment lined sheet pan. Final shaping with the cutter happens right on the pan. (The two front cookies have been cut).

Sweet meat trimmings. I mushed them together into a log, chilled again, and then sliced into pretty, round, marbled cookies.

Be sure to cool the cookies completely on a wire rack before storing them in an airtight container.

Layered between parchment, the cookies traveled very well to a weekend picnic in the park. If there’s a meat-lover in your life who happens to like baking or who deserves a batch of meat cookies…well, I think there’s a gift out there waiting to be made.

Red Meat Refrigerator Cookies
Makes 12 large cookies, plus trimmings.

Ingredients

• 1 cup butter, room temperature
• 2 cups sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 teaspoons lemon zest or 1/2 teaspoon lemon oil
• 1 teaspoon almond extract (optional)
• 3 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 2 – 4 teaspoons red food coloring

Preparation
1. Beat butter until creamy. Add sugar gradually and beat until pale and fluffy.
2. In a separate small bowl, lightly beat together the eggs, vanilla, lemon, and almond. Drizzle into the butter-sugar mixture and beat until smooth.
3. Sift together the flour, salt, and baking powder. Stir into the butter mixture.
4. Remove 1/4 of the dough to a separate bowl. Adding gradually, blend the red food coloring into the remaining dough. Leave the coloring slightly streaking, to keep the cookies tender and to mimic marbled meat.
5. Shape into logs or lamb loins. Chill thoroughly, or at least four hours.
6. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Working quickly, cut into 1/4-inch thick slices. Re-chill dough, if needed, to keep it firm. Arrange on parchment paper and bake just until lightly golden around edges, or 8-10 minutes. Transfer to a rack and let cool completely.

Because I was such a picky eater as a kid and gagged over nearly everything, I can always recall precisely when my feelings toward certain foods took a turn for the better. Not only that, but I clearly remember how the food was prepared, and I know exactly what I read that piqued my interest in the hated food in the first place. Yes, reading makes me hungry for food I wouldn’t otherwise touch with a ten-foot fork.*

I’m not talking about such usual suspects as Calvin Trillin, M.F.K. Fisher, or Eat Pray Love, either. No, my inspirations were much weirder. For instance, Bread and Jam for Frances got me eating soft-boiled eggs when all I used to endure was scrambled; Gerald Durrell had me craving grilled tomatoes on toast; Dickens made me try plum pudding; and perhaps most importantly of all, Sweet Valley High got me into asparagus.

It was in Power Play. Wealthy and spoiled Lila Fowler is caught shoplifting to get her father’s attention. The angelic, nosy, and — as of this year — “perfect size 4″ Elizabeth Wakefield manages to come to Lila’s rescue. Because of this, Mr. and Lila Fowler take Elizabeth out to a fancy restaurant to thank her for being nosy and angelic and having a gold lavaliere. Never mind that Lila eventually went back to her rich-bitchy ways. Never mind that the main story is all about “chubby” Robin Wilson losing weight, gaining lip gloss, and making Bruce Patman walk into a door — all I took away from that book was that Elizabeth had asparagus tips at the fancy restaurant.

Asparagus tips. I kept turning the words over and over in my head. I wanted asparagus tips. Except that I didn’t really, did I? My older sister and I used to go around giggle-whispering, “Asparag-ASS” whenever that vegetable came up in polite conversation. (We thought we were so clever.) I remember wishing longingly that “asparagus tips” weren’t a vegetable. That it meant something else entirely, preferably having to do with meat, Doritos, or cream cheese.

Nevertheless, I finally tried it. I tried it roasted. I wallowed in the crispy, olive oil-saturated tips. I got primal and ate with my hands. I sucked the salt and pepper of my asparagussed fingertips. My longing was requited, and I was crushing hard. Asparagus is back in season and tonight I’m having my spring crush over for dinner. He needn’t dress, it’s nothing fancy.

Simply Roasted Asparagus

Serves 4 as a side dish

Ingredients

1 lb asparagus, tough ends snapped off
2-3 tablespoons olive oil
Salt, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1/4 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Preparation

Preheat oven to 400°

1. Toss the asparagus with the olive oil, salt, and pepper. Roast for 8-10 minutes.
2. Serve cold with Parmigiano-Reggiano.
*(Conversely, Ramona Quimby made me despise tongue and Fig Newtons even to this day.)

When I spent time in Morocco a couple of years ago, I found harira on nearly every menu. Traditionally, it is the food that breaks the month-long, daylight fasting of Ramadan, but I was told by more than one old geezer that it was also referred to as “Smoker’s Soup” because it helped purify the lungs. From what I saw, these men most likely ate spoonfuls of the stuff between long drags on their Marlboros.

Owing to the fact that I was not only riding, eating, and wearing camels, but smoking a hell of a lot of them, too, I decided to join them in their health regimen. My lungs didn’t necessarily feel any better, but my stomach did. And maybe my soul, too.

Two years later, as I struggle to leave the Camels back in the Sahara where they belong, I have returned to harira in my latest and most successful attempt at purification. Nowhere on the internet could I find any mention of this being a smoker’s soup. Of course, the old men who imparted this wisdom looked as though they’d never heard of a gmail account. God bless them and I pray that they never do.

It comforts me to know that you can’t find everything by Goggle search.

Harira

There are probably as many harira recipes as there are families who make it. No two recipes I’ve seen are alike. This is one I happen to think is really good. Some people like to add pasta, some people prefer a bit of egg. And some people can get a thrill knitting sweaters and sitting still.

This soup can be made meatless by simply omitting one of the ingredients. If I have to tell you which one, you are a very bad vegetarian.

Serves 6

Ingredients:

1/2 pound lamb. Not fancy cuts, just stew meat. Cut into 1 inch pieces. Throw in a few bones, too.
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
1/2 cup lentils. Not French lentils. Some Moroccans still take issue with the French.
3/4 cup tomato paste
1 bunch parsley stems, tied together like some sort of Morticia Addams bouquet.
1 bunch cilantro stems treated as the parsley has been treated, leaves reserved for garnish.
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 cinnamon stick, three to four inches in length
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1/2 teaspoon powdered ginger
A pinch of saffron
1 cup (for this recipe) canned chickpeas, drained
1 tablespoon flour
The juice of one lemon
Water
Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation:

1. Heat oil and butter in a large Dutch oven. Add lamb bones and meat to brown nicely.

2. Add onion and cook until translucent. Then add spices, tomato paste, lentils, parsley, and cilantro stems. Cover with 8 cups of water, stir, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 30 minutes. After 30 minutes, add the canned chickpeas.

3. Make a slurry of flour with 1/2 cup of cold water and add to the soup, stirring well. Simmer for another 15 minutes.

4. When finished, remove lamb bones and the parsley and cilantro stems. Add as much salt and pepper as you deem necessary. Be generous with the salt, if you don’t think it will kill you.

5. Ladle into warm bowls. Garnish with a scant fistful of cilantro leaves and wedges of lemon. Have at it with a loaf of very crusty bread and a spoon.

6. Repeat as needed.

Now how do you feel? Has the tar from 20 years of passionate cigarette smoking suddenly found the urge to leave your body? Oh. Well, I hope your soul is satisfied. Or, if you lack one of those, then at least your stomach.

I’ve been having deep thoughts about pudding lately. It all started when I was watching Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix with my daughters. Twice in the movie, Luna Lovegood refers to eating pudding at a Hogwart’s feast. Every time I heard the word “pudding,” my mouth watered and I knew I had to make some soon.

But what type of pudding? Although Harry Potter takes place in the United Kingdom, land of the bread pudding and baked pudding, I imagined Luna sitting down to a lovely bowl of rich chocolate pudding. I mean, what kid dreams of bread pudding? Well, forget about Luna — I have pudding dreams of my own and they are all creamy and chocolaty.

Once I decided to make pudding, I had a lot of questions. Whole milk or heavy cream? Eggs or no eggs? Nonfat or super fat? The options are endless and I began to feel a little like a puddin’ head thinking about it all. The one thing I knew for sure was that I was going to make it from scratch.

Now before you scoff and say that you don’t have time to make pudding from scratch, let me wag my digital finger at you. Making homemade pudding takes only about five minutes longer than mixing together a box of the instant stuff. Years of watching Jell-O commercials may have convinced you otherwise, but it’s true. Not one of the three recipes I made took more than twelve minutes to cook. Honest. Plus, unlike the boxed variety, you can pronounce all the ingredients, which is always a plus.

Nonfat Pudding

I started my pudding adventure wondering if I could make a pudding with nonfat milk that tasted creamy and rich. I made one from the Cooking Light web site and was sadly disappointed. The pudding was flat in both texture and taste. The wonderful creaminess you get from milk fat was missing and although I used a nice bittersweet chocolate, its nuances were drowned out. After a few bites, my husband and I agreed it wasn’t worth eating so we threw the whole thing out and made ice cream sundaes. If you’re interested in trying this nonfat milk pudding, here’s the recipe, and I wish you better luck.

Whole Milk Pudding Made with Cornstarch

The next night I made a chocolate pudding using a recipe on the New York Times web site by Mark Bittman. I am quite a fan of Mr. Bittman’s and so wanted to try his version. The recipe called for whole milk, sugar, cornstarch, chocolate, and not much else. I used a nice Michel Cluizel Mangaro Lait milk chocolate, because I thought my daughters would like it. When I make this pudding again, however, I will use a bittersweet chocolate instead as the milk chocolate lost its character once it was added to milk and sugar. Don’t get me wrong; it was still lovely with a nice caramel undertone. It just wasn’t chocolaty enough for my tastes. The recipe itself was smooth and rich, although with the occasional gelatinous blob of cornstarch even though I tried to thoroughly whisk it into the cold milk. Here’s the recipe. If you’d like to make a first-rate pudding and don’t want to deal with eggs, this is the one for you.

Custard Pudding

The final pudding would actually be considered a custard by some, although for me it had the best flavor of the bunch and seemed the most pudding-like. I used egg yolks, whole milk, cornstarch, bittersweet chocolate, and a few other minor ingredients. After looking at about fifteen custard and pudding recipes, I ended up cobbling this one together on my own as the others seemed to use either too many egg yolks or called for heavy cream, while I wanted to use milk. Others required a double boiler, which seemed like a lot of work for what is supposed to be a simple dessert. This pudding was the most time intensive, but it still took under 12 minutes to make from start to finish. The texture was velvety; the taste complex yet balanced. I used a combination of cocoa powder and bittersweet chocolate, melting them in at different times to give the pudding a fuller chocolaty flavor. I used a nice cocoa powder along with some Grenada Organic Dark Chocolate. This one definitely hit the spot.

I asked some friends over for a blind taste test and all agreed that although the New York Times recipe was quite good, the custard pudding was superior. We felt the Times recipe was a great choice for parents who wanted to make good and fast pudding for kids, but that the custard pudding had better consistency and flavor. One of my friends called it a pudding for grownups, which seemed to sum it up nicely.

So, please, get rid of the Jell-O box and try some homemade pudding. You’ll be pleasantly surprised at how easy and fast it is to make, and much happier with the results.

Velvety Bittersweet Chocolate Pudding
Makes 2 - 4 servings

Ingredients
2 large egg yolks
½ cup sugar
3 Tbsp corn starch
Dash of salt
2 Tbsp good cocoa powder
2 cups whole milk
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 Tbsp butter
3 ounces finely chopped bittersweet chocolate

Preparation

1. Heat the milk on medium-low heat until it starts to steam with small bubbles around the edge. Turn off the heat.
2. Whisk egg yolks with sugar in a bowl until the mixture is a light yellow color.
3. Add the sugar, corn starch, cocoa, and salt to the egg mixture and whisk thoroughly, making sure there are no lumps.
4. Add about a half cup of the warmed milk to the egg mixture, whisking vigorously to temper the eggs.
5. Add the egg mixture to the milk and incorporate thoroughly.
6. Cook on medium-low just until the mixture starts to bubble. Be sure to frequently stir or the pudding will start to burn at the bottom.
7. Lower the heat to simmer and cook for five minutes, stirring often.
8. Once the pudding is thickened, turn off the heat and stir in the butter and vanilla.
9. After the butter has melted, add in the chopped chocolate and stir until it is thoroughly melted and incorporated.
10. Divide into serving bowls, or place in one large bowl.
11. Cover with plastic wrap, being sure to let it sit directly on top of the pudding to avoid a skin forming.
12. Refrigerate for at least two hours.
13.Serve with whipped cream.

A chilly Spring has me longing for a tropical vacation. One way to get a little taste of the islands in our own backyard is to dine at Roy’s. Chef Roy Yamaguchi is one of the most influential and well-respected Hawaiian chefs. His style of fusion cuisine combines Asian, French and Hawaiian ingredients and techniques. He is Hawaii’s first James Beard award-winner and this year his restaurants are celebrating their 20th year with special dinners.

Tomorrow’s 20th anniversary dinner takes place at the San Francisco Roy’s, with Roy at the helm. Local and Hawaiian ingredients will be featured with a particular emphasis on sustainable seafood and a portion of proceeds will go to Grow for Good, a national initiative dedicated to supporting local farms and encouraging sustainable agriculture.

amuse buche
Shiro-Shoyu Marinated Kona Kampachi “Nigiri”–sustainable princess conch, tri-color tobiko & Kumamoto oysters–Perrier Jouet Grand Brut

first course
Kona Lobster Ceviche–California avocado and halibut turtle shell, –organic watermelon radish, Cara Cara oranges
Jacob’s Creek Riesling

second course
Organic Sausalito Springs Watercress & Red Kaiware Sprout Salad
goat cheese, Sparrow Lane Napa walnut vinaigrette –Brancott Sauvignon Blanc

third course
Japanese Wagyu Topped Niman Ranch Top Sirloin–Delta asparagus, red Irish potatoes, Sebastopol mushrooms
Jacob’s Creek Reserve Shiraz

fourth course
Hawaiian Vanilla & Rum Infused “Baba”–Berkeley Farms sweet cream–Sandeman
Tawny 20 Year Port

What: Roy’s 20th Anniversary Dinner
Cost: Tickets are $100 (excludes tax & gratuity)
When: Thursday April 10th, Seating from 5:00 to 9:30 pm
Where: Roy’s is located at 575 Mission Street in San Francisco
More: The evening will also include performance by Hawaiian dancers and Patrick Landeza
How: To make your reservation for this special event, please call 415.777.0277

Another sweet event, literally, is a pairing of wine and chocolate at local chocolate shop, Cocoa Bella.

Head over to Cocoa Bella Chocolates on Union Street for the first Wine and Chocolate Soire. They’ll be offering a six-piece tasting of favorite American and European chocolates paired with a 3-glass selection of sparkling and dessert wines. The staff will be on hand to discuss how to match up your favorite bonbons with port, Madeira, and other after-dinner drinks. Each attendee will go home with a 2-piece box of complimentary chocolates chosen from the evening’s special selection.

Space is limited, so make your reservations now. Reserved tickets can be paid for at the door. Some additional tickets may be available on the night of the event, but advance reservations are encouraged to ensure your space at this entertaining and informative event.

What: Wine & Chocolate Soiree
Cost: $40 per person
When: Thursday, April 10, 2008, 7 PM - 9 PM
Where: Cocoa Bella Chocolates, 2102 Union St at Webster, San Francisco
More: Includes 6-piece chocolate tasting, 3 glasses of selected wines, and complimentary 2-piece chocolate box
How: For reservations, call (415) 931-6213 or email cocoabellachocolates@yahoo.com
Additional tickets may be available at the door

“The chestnut soup was good, but not Bar Jules good,” a friend told me the other day. She was referring to a delicious chestnut and farro soup that we’d eaten at Bar Jules a couple of months back.

In the time since Bar Jules opened in December, it has quickly become a place that I recommend to friends — especially for its lovely weekend brunches. Chef Jessica Bonecutter is known around San Francisco, having chefed at Hog Island Oyster Bar and Zuni Cafe.

Bar Jules has a stated commitment to sustainable practices and is buying most of their ingredients from local farmers and sustainable sources.

Entering Bar Jules, you will find several large chalkboards with the day’s menu instead of paper menus. The small menu changes on a daily basis and is dependent on seasonal availability. As Sam of Becks and Posh stated, “because of the limited options, this is not the place to take a fussy eater.”

If you’re not fussy, however, delights will abound. I seriously mourned the day that Desiree, my favorite breakfast location in the Presidio, closed a couple of years ago — mostly because of their perfectly cooked eggs. The brunch that I had at Bar Jules came close to Desiree’s taste — scrambled eggs with sorrel and parmesan were on the menu the morning I went. While those were delicious, the hit of the table was poached eggs with lamb.

Last week, I returned to Bar Jules for lunch. I loved the “mussels on the grill with paprika, garlic & lemon” ($12). The mussels had a deep roasted flavor. I requested bread to dip into my mussel juices, and was given a perfectly grilled toast which went perfectly with the dish.

Even the drinks at Bar Jules are special. Beer and wine are available, along with a lovely rosebud tea, Blue Bottle Coffee and seasonal juices — last week I had a delicious pomegranate spritzer.

The Bar Jules menu changes daily, but the staff meticulously updates their web page with the most current menu and prices. Bar Jules does not take reservations.

Common Ground on Bar Jules’ sustainability practices

Bar Jules
609 Hayes Street (at Laguna)
San Francisco
415-621-5482

Dinner, Tuesday - Saturday
Lunch, Wednesday - Saturday
Brunch, Sundays
Closed Mondays

Blueberries and oysters? Chocolate and cauliflower? Blue cheese and rhubarb and pineapple?

If taste buds could cringe, then mine were recoiled into a wincing mess when I first learned about these flavor pairings. For those of you who have been eating at El Bulli or The Fat Duck or Alinea, this is all old news. For me, though, it was definitely an invitation to walk on the wild side.

To help wake up my outdated taste buds, my friend, Frankie, linked me up with Food for Design, where chemists and chefs and some overachieving web designers are putting together a provocative, highly entertaining website. With just a few minutes of clicking, creative and courageous cooks can find some very unusual food pairings.

Bernard Lahousse and Lieven De Couvreur in Belgium are the masterminds behind Food for Design. Based on the simple premise that “food combines with each other when they have major flavour components in common,” their postings attempt to pair foods according to their physicochemical properties. If two ingredients share common sequences or similar molecules, the thinking goes, then their overlapping flavor compounds will echo each other.

Even the simplest flavors that we perceive depend on hundreds if not thousands of molecules interacting. Heat, time, acid, oil, sun, salt–any number of things can change the bonds and the resulting shapes of these flavor compounds. Structural shifts lead to flavor changes. (Too much information, you say? Just ask any culinary student to summarize the Maillard Reaction to hear more than you ever wanted to know about the science of bread crust.)

Back to the fun stuff: My favorite pages are those with elegant tree diagrams tracing molecular groupings of common ingredients and the links between them that lead to not-so-common pairings. They’re perfect illustrations of form and flavor, the culinary equivalent of graphic designers’ never-ending debates about form and function. Keep exploring their pages to find such gems as: “Most people and even many engineers would guess that the shape of a raindrop is the familiar teardrop shape. However, the teardrop shape appears only in cartoons and the real shape is closer to the flattened hamburger bun.” Hence, the macaroon.

Later this week, I’m going to try making a cauliflower souffle with dark chocolate shavings, serve it to my guests, and see how long it takes them to figure out that they’re not eating white chocolate. If all goes well, I may have a recipe for you next week. Or not.

In the meantime, you can try a much simpler dish created by organometallic research chemist-slash-gourmand Martin Lersch: Caramelized Cauliflower and Chocolate Jelly.

Please do share your tasting notes!