Today is, as I have been informed, Halloween.

Well, okay then. Boo.

Life can be rather ghoulish-- especially now what with Presidential elections, hunger, global warming, terrorism, people who think that inserting discriminatory amendments into the California constitution is a good idea, home foreclosures, and Dancing with the Stars filling our mental goody bags with more tricks than treats. You get the picture. I suppose we might as well have a holiday to celebrate.

In contrast to all this unpleasant scariness, I have decided to dedicate my post to one of the nicest desserts to ever cross my path-- The Baked Alaska. It's cake and ice cream wrapped up in fluffy white meringue. Like a child's birthday party all rolled up into one dessert. With a Party Clown. Nothing could be so wholesome as that.

A little background check:

According to foodreference.com, the Baked Alaska was originally a dessert consisting of ice cream on sponge cake encased in a piping hot pastry crust. Thomas Jefferson served it at the White House before it was even white, causing a guest to comment, "Ice-cream very good, crust wholly dried, crumbled into thin flakes."

Many people have claimed creation of the later, meringue-encased version. Most notable among them was American-born Benjamin Thompson, later styled as Count Rumford (namesake, but not inventor of the baking powder). This Traitor to the Republican Spirit claimed to have invented the dish in 1804 after investigating the heat resistance of beaten egg whites. He called it "omelette surprise" or omelette à la norvégienne. God struck Rumford dead at the tender age of 61 for his sins, but not before he invented the wax candle, Rumford Soup, and established potato cultivation in Bavaria-- saving many poor Germans from starvation.

It wasn't until 1876, when Delmonico's Restaurant in New York (think Hello, Dolly!) placed it on their menu to celebrate the newly-(13 years prior-- newish for the mid-19th Century) acquired territory of Alaska that the dessert got it's modern American name.

The dessert didn't gain true popularity until the 1950's, a time when America abandoned its big, unclean cities in order to breathe the fresh air of the newly-paved-over and sub-urbanized farmlands, fought Communism by digging enormous holes in their neatly manicured back yards, and connected with neighbors and families through the uniting, thought-provoking medium of television. The territory of Alaska itself was welcomed as a full member-state of our American union in 1959. Its eponymous dessert was, in my opinion, a true symbol of a great American era-- cool on the inside, white on the outside, and sweet all over. It is impossible to imagine anything as pure and wholesome coming out of that other state admitted to the Union that year, Hawai'i.

It is high time for this dessert to make a comeback.

I hadn't given the Baked Alaska much thought until a Canadian friend sent me a charming article on the subject by a little American housewife named Eve Ensler. Perhaps, as a British Columbian, he has Alaska on his mind, owing to the fact that Alaska is his next door neighbor and he can, therefore, actually see it from his own front door. Whatever prompted his sending me the link, I'm glad he did, and I think it's delightful that Mrs. Ensler bothered to take the time to write down her little recipe and share it with her friends and neighbors.

Baked Alaska

This dessert is all about appearances. Try it out at your next dinner party. It will dazzle your guests with its fancy meringue get up. They'll think you've put a lot of effort and know-how into its creation, but we know better. A pretty confection of fluff that wraps itself around a heart frozen at its core. Delicious.

Serves 4

Ingredients:

4 3/4 inch slices of old cake, be it a genoise, sponge, or pound cake. I prefer old pound cake because I can buy it in the store cheaply and not have to sully my hands with the unpleasantness that is baking anything.

4 egg whites

1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar

1/8 teaspoon salt of the earth

1/2 cup superfine sugar

1 quart of ice cream. Your choice. Jesus told me to opt for something less vanilla this go-around, so I am, like many people I know, voting for chocolate.

Soaking the cake with a little brandy is purely optional, but I think we could all use a little more alcohol in our diets right now.

Preparation:

1. Mold the ice cream, which has been softened just enough that you can shape it, into any form you please on top of your sliced cakes. I chose to make individual cakes, but please, by all means, do your own thing. Place ice cream-topped cakes onto a parchment-lined baking sheet. Put into freezer.

2. In a stand mixer, whisk egg whites until almost stiff, then add cream of tartar and salt. Beat in sugar one tablespoon at a time. Beat until stiff peaks that resemble the snow-capped (for the moment) top of Denali form.

3. Remove cakes from freezer. Enrobe them with at least a 3/4 inch thickness of meringue for insulation and put back into freezer. They'll need to be as icy as possible to stand up to the withering heat of your oven, the Liberal Media, or what-have-you.

4. A few minutes before serving, remove cakes from the freezer and pop under a very, very hot broiler for about three minutes, watching carefully all the while. If you are among those who do not believe that Man is responsible for rapidly increasing temperatures, that Global warming is God's Will, the wait time may be considerably longer.

5. When sufficiently browned, remove from broiler, plate, and serve immediately, because this particular dish doesn't have much of a shelf-life.

These photos are from a frighteningly delicious Halloween Food group on Flickr.com. If you are already a member of Flickr you can easily join the group and contribute your scary food photos!

In the Bay Area we pride ourselves on our knowledge of wine, chocolate and cheese. We have wonderful producers as well as experts. When it comes to American cheese, one of our local aficionados is Laura Werlin. She's the author of a number of books on the subject and has a thorough knowledge of producers and retailers. Her most recent excellent book on the subject, Laura Werlin's Cheese Essentials is a combination cookbook and buying guide with great descriptions, explanations of styles, and tasting notes.

Restaurant Parcel 104, a restaurant specializing in seasonal, farm-fresh American fare will be holding a Cheese and Wine Dinner, featuring local artisan cheeses from around California on November 8th. Renowned Bay Area chefs Chris Schloss of Cin-Cin Wine Bar in Los Gatos, and Mark Dommen from One Market in San Francisco, and Arthur Wall of The Restaurant at Wente Vineyards will each develop a course inspired by a specific cheese.    

Parcel 104 executive chef Robert Sapirman will be working with noted cheesemonger John Raymond of Raymond & Co. and cheesemongers will personally select which cheeses will be used. Laura Werlin will coordinate the appetizers for the cocktail hour using recipes from her books.  Werlin will also be on hand to talk to guests about cheese, and sign cookbooks.

What: 6th Annual Cheese & Wine Dinner
When: Saturday, November 8, 2008
Where: Parcel 104 at the Santa Clara Marriott, 2700 Mission College Boulevard, Santa Clara
How: $145 plus tax and gratuity. Book online via OpenTable or call 408-970-6104.
 

Here's a recipe is adapted from Laura Werlin's Cheese Essentials that is just right for cold Fall and Winter nights.

Reblochon and Potato Tartiflette

4 slices, thick sliced bacon, cut crosswise into 1/4 inch pieces or use 1/4 pound pancetta 1 medium onion sliced 1/4 inch thick 1 pound Yukon Gold or other waxy potatoes, peeled and sliced crosswise 1/4 inch thick Salt Freshly ground pepper 5 ounces Reblochon cheese, cut into 1/4 inch slices 1/2 cup cream

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees in a medium saute pan cook the bacon until brown and crisp. Drain on paper towel lined plate. Remove all but 1 tablespoon fat saute the onions in bacon fat until soft but not brown, about 5 minutes. Place half the potato slices in a 9-inch pie plate or shallow oval pan. Sprinkle with a touch of salt and pepper (remember that the cheese and bacon are both salty). Sprinkle half the onions over the potato slices followed by half the bacon, and half the cheese. Repeat with remaining potatoes, onions bacon and cheese. Pour cream over the top and around the edges.

Cover with foil and bake for 30 minutes. Remove foil and cook for 20 minutes or until the potatoes are soft and the tartiflette is brown and bubbly. Let sit 15 minutes before servicing. This allows the cream and potatoes to set up (otherwise, it's too runny).

Serves 8 to 10

Thanksgiving is a huge business in this country. The U.S. Department of Agriculture reports that 45 million turkeys are purchased for Thanksgiving alone. Most of those turkeys are raised in confinement, on large factory farms, and are types which are raised for their large, white breasts. In the Bay Area, we have access to many types of sustainably-grown, free-range, and heritage variety turkeys that you may be interested in considering for your dinner table.

A heritage turkey is an old variety of turkey that is not the typical broadbreasted white variety. Organizations and individuals are working to bring these turkeys back into the mainstream -- their flavor is usually more complex and interesting than typical turkeys. To read an excellent summary of sustainable turkey types, check out the Sustainable Table turkey guide.

Below, you will find a list of some Bay Area stores that will be selling sustainably-grown turkeys. Because of the demand of sustainable and small-production turkeys, all turkeys listed below should be pre-ordered from the store. Call the stores directly, and soon, to discuss an order.

GUIDE TO ATTRIBUTES:
L = Local (generally 150 miles from the Bay Area)
H = Heritage
FR = Free Range
O = Certified organic

PRATHER RANCH MEAT
(H, FR) Good Shepherd Ranch Heritage Turkeys. Good Shepherd turkeys come from Lindsborg, Kansas from a co-op of growers who all raise less than 1500 birds. The Good Shepherd Ranch has worked with Heritage Foods USA to provide heritage breeds of turkeys, and the ranch's turkeys are certified under the Animal Welfare Approved label. $6.99/lb.

AVEDANO'S
(L, FR) Branigan's Turkey from Woodland, California. These turkeys are raised longer than standard in order to develop flavor.
(FR, H) Mary's Heritage Turkeys from the Fresno area. This is a turkey project which is a joint effort of Slow Food and small farmers.
(L, O, FR) Willie Bird Turkeys. Willie Bird is from Sonoma County, and has been providing turkeys since 1948. While not all Willie Birds are organic, Avedano's will be providing organic turkeys.

BI-RITE
(H, FR) Good Shepherd Ranch Heritage Turkeys. Size will be 8-24 pounds. Price is $6.99/lb.
(L, FR, H) Bill Niman Heritage Turkeys. Mr. Niman is the founder of Niman Ranch, but stepped away from that nationwide operation last year. He's back to ranching on a small scale on his ranch in Bolinas, and this year's turkeys are his first flock. Edible San Francisco has a great article about his turkeys. If I were cooking Thanksgiving dinner this year, this would be my first choice of bird.

FATTED CALF
(L, H, FR) Hudson Ranch Heritage Turkeys. Turkeys raised in Napa's Carneros Region. Size will be 22-30 pounds. Price is $7.75/lb.
(H, FR) Good Shepherd Ranch Heritage Turkeys. Size will be 8-24 pounds. Price is $6.50/lb.
To order from Fatted Calf, call (707) 256-3684 before November 2. Pick-up from the Napa store Thanksgiving week or from the Berkeley Farmers Market on Tuesday, November 25.

DIRECT PURCHASE FROM LOCAL SOURCES
(L, H, FR) Wind Dancer Ranch. [SOLD OUT 10/29/08]
(L, O, FR) Willie Bird Turkeys.
(L, H, FR) Slow Food Russian River (PDF) runs a program with local 4H and FFA clubs. You can order turkeys direct from them. While not certified organic, the turkeys are being fed an organic diet and are available for pick-up in Petaluma.

Life's little intersections can reveal deep connections, and sharing a meal is one of the most common ways that happens. A friend visiting from the east coast, John "Taiko Man" Ko introduced me to his drumming friend who invited us to dinner and then, the next thing, I'm learning all about my local community's history and eating amazing food.

Hideaki Nishikura, a baker at Wild Flour Bread, took our intrepid New Yorker and me, along with a doting grandmother and a giggling son, on a personal tour of his hometown, Sebastopol. I feel privileged to have this insider's peek into a little known community and hope to inspire a few of you to take the trek north to visit the town during this time when autumn's colors and flavors are at their peak.

Sebastopol was named after a battle site in Ukraine, during a time when our young nation sympathized a bit more with the Russians than the English. From the mid-19th to mid-20th century, the surrounding farms and orchards depended on the town for all their needs, and to this day, the area is known as the leading producer of the world's supply of Gravenstein apples. Tourism and art play increasingly important roles as small towns learn to survive in the big-box era, but fortunately, a strong sense of place and community make Sebastopol a wonderful place to live for young families.

First, we enjoyed a leisurely lunch in one of the generously curved yet warmly enfolding wooden booths in Peter Lowell's back patio. My favorites were the sweet-salty pizza pera with Point Reyes blue cheese and Asian pears from Gabriel Farms and the toothsome orecchiette with mushrooms and bright kernels of corn.

Established by a native son, Lowell Peter Sheldon, it's a casual, comfortable gathering spot in a busy stretch of town. In one corner, an older gentleman reads a thick tome, while out back, kids run up and down, up and down, up and down the see-though stairs and dip their hands into the gentle fountains. Parents relax over pizza, pasta and wine. Friends and neighbors chat by the bar. Dedicated to sustainable food and wine, highly aware of the need to foster a thriving community as well as a successful business, Peter Lowell's is part of a new wave of restaurants serving modern dishes in a fully sustainable (note LEED-certified building and locally sourced menu) yet friendly and accessible way.

During the afternoon, we stopped by Wild Flour Bread. The well-tended garden in back is open to the public. While Hideaki's son munched on a candied ginger and almond biscotti and introduced our amazed New Yorker to the origins of food -- "Is that how berries grow?! Is that how tall sunflowers are?!" -- I learned about wood-burning ovens and sourdough starters.

The bakery is open four days a week. Their master baker lives in a one-room log cabin in the woods. Their breads rise only with the power of 100% organic sourdough starter. Their address, on Bohemian Highway, might give away some of their cultural and political sensibilities.

And the simple truth? Their breads are phenomenal.

Anyone visiting the area, say on your way to sip wines in the Russian River Valley, must absolutely stop at this bakery to smell, touch and eat.

If you missed the recent weekends of open studios, there's another upcoming event to inspire you to visit Sebastopol. Wild Flour Bread will be laying down a dance floor and, with the help of Freestone Samba, celebrating the bakery's 10th birthday with lots of music, dance, food and fun. Mark your calendars for the big bash on Saturday, November 22.

It's a tough time for restaurants and other small food businesses -- as it is now for all of us -- so I encourage you to support, whenever you can, the places that help make our neighborhoods, our towns, and our communities so richly meaningful.

Peter Lowell's
7385 Healdsburg Ave.
Sebastopol, CA 94572
(707) 829-1077

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Wild Flour Bread
140 Bohemian Highway
Freestone, CA 95472
(707) 874-2938

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Since I've already admitted that I'm a cocktail snob, it should come as no surprise that I'm also a beer snob, and as a beer snob I've long believed that good American beer doesn't come in cans. (I say "American," because as a beer snob, I adore canned Guinness, Boddingtons, and -- when it was sold here -- Caffrey's.)

But American canned beer? Bah!

Once again, I am so happy to be proven wrong. On every trip home to Minneapolis for the past few years, I have been tempted to tour the Surly Brewing Company in Brooklyn Center, MN. The name of the company alone was enough to intrigue me, but then I got a load of the beer names: Furious, CynicAle, Bitter Brewer, and Bender. Just add Grumpy, Sleepy, and Dopey and they could be the Seven Drunk Dwarfs of beerland.

I figured a company that creative with their names had to produce good stuff, and I was right.

We had our first taste of Furious on tap at Bryant Lake Bowl -- a bowling alley/restaurant known for its bowling, local food, and wide range of beers -- and loved it. It was big and hoppy and reminded us of Racer 5 IPA and is got its name because: "This is the beer that would come to mind while spending the last two years tearing down walls, hanging sheetrock, moving kegs, power washing the ceilings, arguing with various agencies, and cutting the water main."

Next we tried CynicAle, which had been heroically and specially procured for us by my friend's husband in the middle of a dinner party all because my friend knew we were on a Surly hunt.

Described as, "Brewed with Belgian malted barley, this copper hued ale is brewed in the Belgian Saison style. A unique Belgian yeast strain creates the spicy flavor and imported hops lend the apricot/peach aroma...You know summer in Minnesota is here when Cynic is around," CynicAle was another canned winner.

Finally, we grabbed a four-pack of Bender. Bender is made up of five malts -- two of them from Belgium -- which are supplemented by oatmeal "to give it a smooth texture not usually associated with this type of beer." It was lovely; rich, chocolately, Guinness-like but with its own distinctive edge.

Knowing that beer snobs like me might turn up my nose at cans, Surly has a list of reasons why they can it. My two favorites are, "Cans are cool" and "Throwing them at the band will not hurt them."

However, beer and can defense aside, the best Surly quirk -- and something that gives you a glimpse into how these particular beer mavens think -- is how the company got its name:

"In 2005, Omar & his wife Becca headed out to Portland for a weeklong beer drinking trip. On the flight out, Becca came up with the name Surly. The name was a reaction to the question posed: "How do you feel when you go into a bar and there is no good beer?"

Answer - You Get Surly, and say "Let's go to another bar that cares about decent beer."

Surly: The anger fueled by the inability to find good beer."

We actually had hopes of bringing some warm Surly cans home with us to enjoy in the San Francisco summer months of September and October, but because it's not filtered or pasteurized, Surly must always be kept cold.

I'll tell you this, I'm getting pretty Surly that I can't get me some CynicAle for election night in San Francisco.

This September, KTEH invited local viewers to audition for their chance to be the next cooking show star in their live December special, KTEH Cooks with Garlic.

Thirty-eight people of all walks of local life got up enough nerve to send in their video recipes and on November 1st, you, in all your I-could-have-done-that-so-much-better smugness, are invited to vote for your favorite. Do yourself a favor and watch them.

For those of you who were either too late to submit your own video, or would simply enjoy contributing your own recipe, there is still time and an ounce of hope. Submit to KTEH your favorite original garlic recipe to be considered for their upcoming cookbook. All recipes should include a byline. Please note that any recipe submitted becomes the property of KTEH.

It takes a lot of time to watch all of the video submissions, certainly, but I found them absolutely fascinating. I am impressed by the amount of people out there who have, um, garlic bulbs big enough to let televisionland into their kitchens and, in a sense, into their psyches.

Take a peek. In the mix, you can watch a woman creating a Garlic Dream Sauce with the help of a puppet, teen-aged girls with confident cooking skills preparing soup under the supervision of a doting father, cooks hawking their own cookbooks, even a woman creating a garlic-infused "Toasty Thai Ice Cream" under the menacing gaze of a crazed-looking, apron-wearing pig.

The overall craftsmanship of the videos is non-professional, to be sure. Many of the videos are so dark, it sometimes seems as though some of the contestants were in the care of some sort of culinary witness protection program. Some of the submittors make up for lack of technical know-how with vibrant personalities. Others come off frightfully dull, professorial, repetitive, or even painfully awkward. But here they are, for all the world to see.

I've spent a few hours watching the videos. I've got my favorites and I'm definitely voting. I'm basing my choices not so much on recipe, production value, or even physical hotness. Instead, I'm voting based on kitchen décor. Look for the Marlo Thomas-as-That-Girl kitchen tile.

October is the official start of pumpkin bread season in our house. While other families wait for the December holidays to kick into gear before making this quick bread, our patience is limited. As soon as the pumpkins start appearing on porches for Halloween, everyone in my house knows pumpkin bread isn't far behind. The smell of baking bread with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg wafting through the house is our clarion call for Fall.

Pumpkin bread is one of those recipes that is distinctly American (as is the pumpkin itself). I recently came upon a recipe that was originally published in 1846 and then reprinted in The New York Times in 1914. The recipe, and the article itself, were fascinating. I was surprised that the ingredients list was far different than what is traditionally used today. Instead of making a batter with eggs, sugar and flour, the recipe produces a risen bread and uses corn meal -- or Indian meal -- along with yeast, salt and, of course, pumpkin.

When I found the recipe online, I couldn't stop looking at the little slip of scanned in paper. I was captivated by the idea of women making this bread in their kitchens (and I'm sure they were mostly women) and started pondering how the concept of pumpkin bread could have changed so drastically in the last hundred years.

Recipes are like little time capsules. The ingredients say so much about the era and place in which they were used and published. We use white flour and refined sugar today simply because our current economy makes these "staples" cheap and accessible. But when Alice B. Tregaskis -- the author of the recipe in the Times -- made her pumpkin bread, her staples were different. There was no driving to a local mega mart or Whole Foods to purchase processed white flour and canned pumpkin, even in New York City. Home cooks would create their own pumpkin purees and use corn meal ground locally or at home. These were items that were available on a seasonal and local level only.

I couldn’t help but wonder who Alice B. Tregaskis was and what cookbook she was using for the recipe. The one thing that seemed clear was that if she was writing in recipes to the NY Times in 1914, she was sort of a food blogger in her own time.

So in honor of Alice B. Tragaskis, here’s my own pumpkin bread recipe.

Pumpkin Bread

Makes: One loaf or 12 muffins

Ingredients:

2 cups of flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp ground ginger
1/2 cup softened butter
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup pureed pumpkin
2 Tbsp milk
1/2 cup walnuts or pecans

Preparation:

1. Mix all dry ingredients in a large bowl.
2. Beat butter and sugar until creamy.
3. Add in eggs and vanilla and cream thoroughly.
4. Add pumpkin to egg and butter mixture.
5. Incorporate dry ingredients into wet mixture, but don’t overmix.
6. Gently add in nuts.
7. Pour batter into a 9 by 5 by 3-inch loaf pan or a muffin pan that has been buttered or oiled.
8. Bake for 40 minutes if making one loaf, or 20 minutes if making muffins.

"A specter is haunting our cities: barren landscapes with foliage and flowers, but nothing to eat. Fruit can grow almost anywhere, and can be harvested by everyone. Our cities are planted with frivolous and ugly landscaping, sad shrubs and neglected trees, whereas they should burst with ripe produce. Great sums of money are spent on young trees, water and maintenance. While these trees are beautiful, they could be healthy, fruitful and beautiful."

-- From the Fallen Fruit manifesto


Fallen Fruit identifies where you can find free fruit that has fallen and encourages public consumption. The movement began in Los Angeles but public jam making events take place in various locations.

At Yerba Buena Center for the Arts you an will bring your own fresh fruit and clean jars and learn to make jam with the folks from Fallen Fruit. Fallen Fruit will also lead a discussion about the basics of jam and jelly making, pectin and bindings, the aesthetics of sweetness, as well as the communal power of shared food and the liberation of public fruit.

What: Public Jam, a fruit jam and jelly making event

Where: YAAW Lounge, Yerba Buena, 700 Howard St, San Francisco

When: November 1, 2008

How: Free, but tickets required call YBCA box office 415.978.2787

Why: Learn how to make jam, and at the end of the event trade jars with other participants.

One of the most common fruit found in backyards around the Bay Area is plums. Use purple plums for this recipe to make a small batch of fresh jam.

Plum Freezer Jam
3 cups pitted, coarsely chopped plums
1/3 cup sugar
1/3 cup water
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
2 tablespoons honey

Combine all the ingredients except the honey in a medium saucepan. Bring to the boil, reduce heat and simmer. Stir and mash occasionally with back of spoon for about 15 minutes, or until thickened. Remove from heat, stir in honey and taste, adjust seasonings as desired. Allow to cool to room temperature and pour into clean jars. Refrigerate for up to 2 weeks or freeze for up to one year.

As I've mentioned here, October is Eat Local Month around the nation. While I tend to concentrate on local eating throughout the year, October is a fun time to renew my efforts and find new local products.

Toward that end, I shopped at the Sunday San Rafael Farmers Market this weekend. Sporting my new Praise the Lard t-shirt, I hopped in a Zipcar and drove the twenty minutes to the Marin Civic Center.

I really love the San Rafael Markets -- they are held at the Civic Center (a Frank Lloyd Wright creation) on Thursday mornings and Sundays. While the Thursday market is mellow, quiet, and impressive in its produce offerings, the Sunday market is jam-packed, loud, and quite large.

It had been several months since I'd been to this market, and some new vendors were in attendance. The market seems to be really pushing for more local products, and the farms seem to be much more locally-based than ever before.

Devil's Gulch Ranch is in Nicasio and was offering milk-fed pork and rabbit. They are hosting a farm tour and dinner on November 8 which would be a great way to see the farm in person.

My absolute favorite find of the trip was the new organic dim sum booth that is located in the back of the market. The company is called Tru Gourmet and, for the time being, is only available at the Marin Farmers Market. I bought four pieces for $5 from their extensive list of offerings, and was impressed with the bright flavors and excellent taste. You can read more about Tru Gourmet in this article from the Marin Independent Journal.

It's a fun time of year to go to a market. Our California weather means that tomatoes are still available (the tomatoes pictured above being from Costal Fog Organic Farm in Petaluma) along with other typically summer produce alongside with winter squash and winter greens. Marin Roots Farm had absolutely gorgeous red carrots. When cut open, the insides are bright orange and the flavor is sweet. In addition to the carrots, I bought a kabocha squash from Paradise Valley Farm, beautiful braising greens from County Line Farm, and oxtails from Marin Sun Farms. Andante Dairy is attending this market and I picked up some Etude cheese, which I've already completely consumed.

In the coming weeks, I am looking forward to seeing more pomegranates, brussels sprouts, and pumpkin varieties. I hope to see you at a market!