I'm not a vegetarian. It's not that I have anything against it really, I'm just far too hedonistic to limit myself. So with a healthy dose of hedonism—and summer's wares peaking—I find myself gorging on more and more vegetables and fruits fresh from the market. Meat has taken a backseat. I'd rather bite into a big juicy tomato than a big juicy steak.

And, as in my last post on market suppers, I'm constantly looking for new and delectable ways to eat them—even though currently it seems to be raw, out of hand, and with little or no embellishment. When I'm feeling a bit more inspired, and have a little extra pastry dough on hand (which is actually quite often as I make way more than I need and store extra disks in my freezer), I love tucking whatever leftover vegetables that need to be eaten into a quiche or tart, like this one. It is deliciously simple and gooey with three different kinds of cheese.

The recipe below is for a zucchini tart, because I can't seem to stop loading up on them each week at the market. But to make this an any-kind-of-vegetable tart, replace the zucchini with about 1/2 cup sautéed leeks; blanched asparagus, green beans or chopped broccoli or cauliflower; freshly cooked chopped spinach or other greens; fresh, chopped tomatoes; fresh corn kernels; or a mixture of any of these. You can also add a sprinkle of fresh herbs, like basil, marjoram, oregano, chives, or swap out the cheeses for your favorite.

The point is, this is an extremely versatile way to make your own seasonal specialty. Or just find something new to do with that bounty of fresh veggies you have in your fridge.

Zucchini (Or Any Veggie) Tart

Makes: One 10-inch tart

Ingredients:
One 10-inch tart pan lined with flaky pie dough (see recipe below or use your favorite recipe)
3 zucchini, trimmed
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
1/4 cup cubed fresh mozzarella
3 eggs
1/4 cup crème fraiche or sour cream
1/4 cup milk
1/3 cup shredded fontina cheese
3 tablespoons grated Parmesan

Preparation:
1. Preheat the oven to 400F. Line the tart pan with the dough, then line the dough with foil. Fill with ceramic pie weights or beans or rice. Place the tart shell on a baking sheet and bake until it starts to dry out, about 15 minutes. Remove the foil and weights and continue to bake until very light golden brown. Remove from the oven and set aside.

2. While the tart shell is baking, shred the zucchini on the large holes of a box grater-shredder onto paper towels. Spread evenly and sprinkle with salt. Let sit for about 20 minutes. Using paper towels, blot the zucchini dry (try to get it as dry as possible).

3. Sprinkle the zucchini and mozzarella evenly in the lined tart pan. In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, crème fraiche, and milk. Season with salt and pepper. Pour evenly over the zucchini. Sprinkle the fontina and Parmesan evenly over the top.

4. Bake until the filling is set and the top is golden brown, about 25 minutes. If you want to get the cheese extra bubbly and brown, place under the broiler for a minute. Let sit for a few minutes before cutting into wedges and serving.

Flaky Pie Dough

Makes: Enough for two 10-inch tarts

Ingredients:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
12 tablespoons very cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1/3 cup ice water + 1 tablespoon

Preparation:
1. To make the crust, in the bowl of a food processor, stir together the flour, and salt. Sprinkle the butter over the top and process for a few seconds, or just until the butter is slightly broken up into the flour but still in visible pieces. Sprinkle the water over the flour mixture evenly, then process until the mixture just starts to come together.

2. Dump the mixture out of the bowl onto 2 large sheets of plastic wrap. Press the dough together into a mound and then wrap with plastic and press into a flat disk. Refrigerate the dough until chilled, about 30 minutes or up to 1 day, or freeze for up to 1 month.

It's heirloom tomato season! The folks over at Visa and the chefs of the Golden Gate Restaurant Association wisely recognized that's reason enough to celebrate. Beginning next week over 52 restaurants and chefs are putting together special themed tasting menus including Chris Cosentino of Incanto, Bruce Hill of Bix, Traci des Jardins of Jardinière and Acme Chop House, and Craig Stoll of Delfina. Pay for your meal with a Visa Signature card you will also receive a tomato commemorative book, including special recipes from the chefs and restaurants involved in the event.


What: Heirloom Tomato Week

When: August 14-24 plus a tasting event August 7-9 at Union Square.

Where: Selected San Francisco restaurants

How: Dine at any of the participating restaurants, by booking at OpenTable

Why: Let's put that nasty salmonella outbreak behind us once and for all, and enjoy the pure pleasure of tomatoes again.

Here's an example of an heirloom tasting menu with wine pairing, from one of the participating restaurants, Plumpjack Cafe :

Heirloom tomato salad
Tarragon Aioli, Banyuls Vinegar, Onion Marmalade

Cambiata Albarino 2007 Monterey

Seared day boat scallops
Golden Tomato Vinaigrette, Savoy Spinach

Dom. de la Chapelle Macon Soultre Pouilly 2007 France

Tomato braised kurobuta pork shoulder
Pimenton de Padron, Summer Squash, Moroccan Black Olives

Lagerla Rosso di Montalcino 2004 Italy

Selection of cheeses
Heirloom Tomato Condiments, Toasted Peasant Bread

Lustau “Emilin” Moscatel Sherry Spain

Tasting menu is $45 and optional wine pairing $21

Want to enjoy the best Summer produce at home? Here's a recipe adapted from Barilla Pasta.

Summer Spaghetti

1 lb whole grain spaghetti
2 Tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 clove garlic
1 small white onion, finely chopped
1 yellow bell pepper, julienned
2 cups zucchini, diced
2 cups yellow squash, diced
1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes, halved
Salt and black pepper, to taste
4 fresh basil leaves, torn

Cook pasta according to package directions.

Meanwhile, heat olive oil in a large skillet. Using the side of a knife, gently press and peel the garlic and sauté in skillet for 1 minute, or until slightly brown. Add onion and sauté for 5 minutes, or until translucent. Add bell pepper, zucchini, yellow squash and sauté until heated but not completely cooked. Add tomatoes, season with salt and pepper and sauté for 2 additional minutes.

Drain pasta, add to skillet and toss with basil before serving.

As I sat at my desk this morning and noshed on delicious potato chips from La Palma Mexicatessen, I realized that I've taken it for granted that every San Franciscan foodie knows about these delightful treats. Were YOU aware that La Palma sells, arguably, the best potato chips in the city?

Walk into La Palma Mexicatessen, and the impulse is to walk straight to the back. It's where the action is. There, you can purchase hot foods, freshly made tortillas, and party-sized amounts of rice and beans to go. I have often used La Palma for dinner parties and days when I don't want to cook. Their chile relleno is great, doused in a red chile sauce, and I dream about La Palma's carnitas.

The three small aisles of La Palma carry Mexican staples -- everything from queso fresco to paletas to cans of salsa to tortilla presses.

But, the best thing about La Palma is their patatas fritas, or potato chips. They are tucked into the middle of the aisle across from the coolers in a bin full of bags of chips. Each bag has a packet of Tapatio hot sauce (click through to hear their catchy tune) to dress your chips.

Jim Leff, founder of Chowhound, did an extensive potato chip survey of the United States a few years back and has said about La Palma, "They make the best potato chips anywhere in the continental U.S.--fried up in yummy corn oil." And Sara Deseran of 7x7 Magazine declared them "perfect with a martini." Personally, I love their perfect thickness and satisfying crunch. At home, I sometimes add some lime to my Tapatio topping.

So next time you're on 24th Street in the Mission, make sure you pop into La Palma and pick up a bag of these tasty chips. They make a magnificent breakfast.

La Palma Mexicatessen
2884 24th Street (at Florida)
415.647.1500
map

(Photo by brandondesigns)

As summer reaches its August peak (yes, it's foggy this morning in San Francisco) and as families get desperately creative with their staycations, I've been reminiscing about those old car trips of my youth: my mom hopelessly lost somewhere between Denver and St. Louis, my sister and I -- oblivious in the backseat -- singing "Popeye, the Sailor Man!" over and over and over and over, and our many stops at Church's Chicken and Taco Bell, the two places we were guaranteed to find spicy food.

Remember those days, long before Chowhound and Yelp, Google and Mapquest, when forays into new culinary terrain were truly crapshoots? (Cue up the old-timey nostalgia music...) To find good food in an unfamiliar town, you had to depend on three important tricks: Identifying well-fed locals with a keen sense of direction. Quickly judging a restaurant by the number and types of vehicles parked out front (or be strong enough to enter, scope out the menu and dining room, and then opt to leave a restaurant with absolutely no shame at all). And, most crucial of all, befriending taxi drivers and policemen.

Mom's Mad Skillz

Twenty-five years ago my mom, still shy and still learning English, had her own bag of tricks. She'd stop at a phone booth (OMG--remember those!), heft up the dangling white pages from its metallic tether, and scan the family names for Trans, Nguyens, Lams, Les and Dos. Then she'd invest the quarter or two needed to call up fellow exiles, introduce herself as some stranger rolling through town, and then quickly get to the point: where can I find some good food in these parts?

She recently visited me here in California, and I was reminded of her treasure hunting skills. As one of the last people in this country who still don't have an email account, she depends on the old ways. After we picked her up from the Oakland airport, she wanted to stop for a bowl of pho. We scrambled, with our iPhones and our keyword searches, to come up with a place that would hold up to her standards. While we were still trying to locate a good signal, she pointed us over to a group of people who looked suspiciously Vietnamese standing on a corner of International Boulevard. She rolled down the window and asked them where to eat. They gestured to two pho houses nearby. She asked them point-blank: Which one is better? Without hesitating, they pointed to…Pho Ao Sen.

And to the best bowl of pho I've enjoyed in a very long time. Yes, it's a dirty secret that San Francisco is severely lacking in this department. I've accepted mediocre noodles and, worse, lackluster broths as my penance for choosing not to live an hour south of here.

The Whole Chicken

Since pho bo has entered the general lexicon, I won't waste space talking about the beef version. However, I would very much like to encourage you to try pho ga long trung non. Roughly translated, that means chicken and rice noodle soup with innards and young eggs. (Queasy eaters might want to skip the next paragraph.)

If you've ever butchered a chicken, you'll know that along the ovary duct one or two diminutive yolks are awaiting nature's application of egg whites and eggshells. And if you grew up with my mom, you'll also know that gizzards, livers and hearts are delicacies worth fighting over at the dinner table. Even more than a well-executed bowl of beef soup, I admire a restaurant that can create a deeply flavored chicken broth, poach high-quality firm yet tender chicken meat, and present the hallmarks of a freshly butchered chicken: a plate of organ meats and young eggs. Nothing goes to waste, and all the flavors and textures are richly balanced.

At Ao Sen, along with an excellent bowl of pho bo, they've also perfected pho ga. If a plate of innards is not high on your list, order the plain bowl that comes simply with a plate of chicken meat on the bone. Both come with a ginger dipping sauce, whose secret ingredient is obviously chicken fat, so lovely that I ended up slurping it straight from my spoon.

Another wonderful thing about this Oakland outpost is that it opens at 8am every single day of the week. Since pho is a breakfast food, I've always been annoyed by the late opening times in the US. Ao Sen fills a long empty, much mourned gap in my comfort food lineup. Even its airy dining room reminded me of Vietnam, and the familiar fragrance of anise-infused broth that greeted us hit home immediately. Weakly brewed iced green tea, fish sauce on the table, and a straightforward menu all boded well, too.

Sharing and Respecting

My husband asked me not to write about this place, as he was afraid of what might happen if the restaurant started attracting people who complained about unfamiliar food culture (someday, I'll write a piece about the unfortunate conflict between Western diners' expectations and Eastern restaurateurs) or who would change the ethnic makeup of the patrons. Call it the Yelp dip. We've seen it happen, and it's always a sad and frustrating thing to accept what success in the US can mean, in the end, for those not centered enough to know their strengths and acknowledge their limits and bravely forge their way between the two.

But I trust that you, dear reader, will enjoy and appreciate and respect this bustling noodle house. I cannot tell you how excited I am that my mother found it, and I look forward to many sated returns. If crossing the Bay Bridge counts now as a road trip, I'm more than happy to start up the car.

PHO AO SEN
200 International Blvd.
Oakland, CA 94606
(510) 839-6821
Map

It appears I can't escape food talk even when yanking out pernicious wild radish and avoiding tramping on (and killing) native plants at Land's End. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, because if we hadn't started talking about food, I wouldn't be able to present you with a new summer cocktail. Fellow volunteer, Al the Aussie, gave me leave to publish his invention: The Ginlati. (Al concedes that it could be "Ginlato," but he likes the sound of "Ginlati," and since it's his recipe, I'm not arguing if you drink multiples.)

The weather hasn't really been warm enough to make us yen for this sort of sousing, although on Thursday Al looked up at the blue sky and lack of fog and mused, "Weather like this would call for it." I looked around at all of us in fleece vests and sweatshirts and think it could stand to get hotted up a bit more.

But enough bitching -- on to the drinking!

Put a scoop of lemon gelato in a glass. ("High grade," Al says. "What kind?" I ask. "Well, it's Australian," he says. Use your favorite, I advise.) Follow the gelato with a nice slosh of gin, about 2-3 ounces. Top off with icy tonic water. (You all remember my favorite tonic water, right?) Finally, throw in a sprig of mint if you're feeling it, take the shades off all the lightbulbs, pull on a few sweaters, and frost yourself.

Oh, and think about making it the way you would a root beer float -- the gelato goes in first and rides up with the liquid, making a nice creamy head. It's damn tasty and pretty much as refreshing as you get. I put my own spin on Al's original recipe by adding a squirt of homemade limoncello, which gets you two drinks for one post, so how happy are you?

Oh, cheer up! The sun will come out...well, maybe not tomorrow but soon and hot.

(And now you have that song in your head, don't you?)

Al's Ginlati

1-2 scoops lemon gelato
2-3 ounces gin
Tonic water
Spring of fresh mint

Stephanie's Land's End

1-2 scoops lemon gelato
3 ounces limoncello
1 ounce gin
Tonic water
Spring of fresh mint

Oh, Golly. Where to start this morning?

I think I’ll just begin as I do every morning-- with fashion, diet, and exercise advice from Brenda Dickson.

There are some people in this world who spend entirely too much time on YouTube. I count myself as one of them. One of my favorite discoveries has been Miss Dickson. She’s been somewhat of a sensation on the website over the past several months, elevating an otherwise forgettable actress to cult star status.

She’s been parodied dozens of times, but her original, self-produced self-help video "Welcome to My Home" (1987) needs no added commentary to be both horrifying and hilarious-- it's so vain, yet so well intentioned that it’s impossible not to love. It is gorgeous, wonderful Camp. If you don't know what I’m talking about, I shall refer you to the late Susan Sontag-- she can explain it all to you.

And then I shall cry.

Here is part two of Miss Dickson’s video. Her diet advice begins at 4:14, but warm up a little with her exercise routine (with her dog, Charles). There is nothing more to be said, there is only to watch.

Enjoy. Just remember: Salt can make your face puffy, and sugar causes wrinkles.