Until a few years ago, I always preferred the pizza from my native state of New York to anything I found in California. The pizza in North County San Diego, where I grew up, was inedible as far as my family was concerned, so we always made our pizza at home. My mother's pizzas were unparalleled by anything we could get at a local pizzeria -- thick crust with a tangy tomato sauce laced with anchovies and black olives. When I moved to San Francisco years ago, I loved that I could finally buy a decent pizza. Right now, Oliveto, Pizzaiolo, and Dopo are my East Bay neighborhood favorites, with Pizzeria Delifina taking the gold medal for my all-around favorite local pie. Yet although these restaurants and many others offer wonderful Roma and Neopolitan-style pizzas, I still often make my own pies at home, especially now that I've discovered grilled pizza.

Yes, I am now grilling my pizzas. This may sound odd, but using your grill actually makes more sense than baking your pizza in an oven. Although people will disagree about toppings -- sauce or fresh tomatoes? Anchovies or plain cheese? -- it is universally known that you need a very hot oven to make a great crust. A home oven only reaches a max of 500 or, if you're lucky, 550 degrees, while most grills get up to 600 degrees or hotter (mine gets up to 650 degrees). You'll never replicate the intense radiant heat from a professional pizzeria oven at home, but using a barbecue grill will get you pretty close. Used with a pizza stone, your backyard grill becomes the perfect home pizza oven.

I also have a new dough recipe which is worth mentioning. I used to make my pizza dough the old fashioned way, kneading it by hand and then letting it rise in a bowl. But I recently tried a recipe from the New York Times Sunday Magazine and loved it. This recipe lets the paddle on your mixer do all the kneading, so it's quick to make and pretty mess free. If you don't have a stand mixer, you can still knead the dough, but if you do have one, this recipe is so easy there's no reason to ever buy pre-made dough again. Best of all, the final result is a moist pizza dough that crusts beautifully.

My new homemade pizza of choice is one made with wilted arugula, prosciutto, and Brie cheese. I love how the earthy and slightly peppery arugula tastes with the salty pork and oozy puddles of buttery cheese. It's truly a match made in pizza heaven.

Why make your own pizza?
1. Homemade pizza is much less expensive than restaurant pizza, especially for a family of four. When I buy two pies at a local restaurant, I often spend over $40, but making two larger pizzas at home usually runs under $20 (and if I use only cheese, basil and tomatoes, I spend less than $10).

2. Making pizza is a great way to get your kids involved in the cooking process. My kids love to make and stretch dough, and slather toppings on their own pizzas. They take great pride in their finished pies and usually lick the plate clean.

3. Pizza night is just way more fun when everyone gets sticky dough on their hands.

Tips for baking a pizza on a grill:
1. Preheat the grill with the door closed at the highest possible setting.

2. Place the pizza stone on the grill before you turn on the heat or the stone will crack.

3. If you don't have a peel, buy one. Pizza peels are a necessary investment if you don't want to burn yourself.

4. Make sure your pizza peel is nicely floured before laying down the dough as you want the pizza to easily slide off. If the dough sticks to the peel, your toppings will fall onto the stone while your pizza stays on the peel. Before you try to slide the pizza onto your hot stone, give the peel a jiggle. If the pizza moves, you're in good shape. If it seems stuck, carefully lift the edges of the dough and flick some flour underneath until you get some movement.

5. If you accidentally slide the pizza halfway off the stone, you can let it cook for a couple minutes and then the dough will be hard enough for you to pull it all back onto the stone without any permanent damage.

6. Your pizza will bake in 5-7 minutes on the grill, so be careful not to leave it on too long.

7. Always keep the grill closed when baking your pies

8. When checking for doneness, lift the pizza off the stone a bit to see if the bottom is getting too crisp. On a grill, the hot air doesn't circulate but instead radiates upward so you can easily burn your crust if you're not careful.

9. If using a gas grill, you may need to turn the heat down after cooking more than a couple of pizzas to avoid burning the dough.

Arugula, Prosciutto, and Brie Cheese Pizza

Makes: 1 pizza

Ingredients:
1 pound pizza dough (half of the NY Times Magazine recipe) already risen and then refrigerated for at least a half hour
2 cups fresh arugula
2 cloves of garlic smashed and chopped
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup chopped prosciutto
6 oz Brie (about a half-wedge) cut into ½ slices

Preparation:
1. Heat your grill with your pizza stone inside. For gas grills, heat on high for about 10 minutes. For charcoal grills, heat coals until white hot

2. While grill is warming, heat a large pan on medium-high on your stove top. When pan is hot, add 2 Tbsp olive oil, garlic and arugula and mix. Turn off heat and cover for 3-5 minutes, or until arugula is wilted.

3. Flour a solid surface, such as a stone or wooden counter top or large cutting board, and shape your pizza. You can stretch the dough or use a rolling pin to shape it into a 12 to 14-inch round.

4. Place dough on a floured pizza peel and drizzle the dough with remaining olive oil. Evenly sprinkle the arugula and prosciutto on top and then add the Brie slices. Dust the top with a dash of sea salt.

5. Jiggle the dough on the pizza peel to make sure it's mobile and then place on top of the now hot pizza stone. Cover your grill and cook for 5-7 minutes or until the bottom of the crust is crisp and the top is lightly browned.

6. Slice and serve.

After the bug arrives, I'm fully expecting a dining-out lockdown for awhile. We'll be tired, anxious, and way more comfortable staying at home and noshing on take-out or leftovers than juggling a new baby and a menu. I know others will say that it's the best time to go out, but for me personally? Not so much.

We're not major restaurant rovers anyway, so it's not a huge sacrifice. However, I have been musing over a list of "last ditch dines" for us. Some are brand new and potential favorites-to-be, others are old friends.

Realistically, I don't know how many we'll get to but it's always good to have goals, especially ones as tasty as these, so here you go, 12 Bay Area restaurants we want to hit before our late-June due date.

1. Contigo: Friend and fellow food blogger Brett Emerson opened his anxiously-anticipated Spanish/Catalan restaurant a few months ago. Unfortunately, while the press and other friends have already been lucky enough to partake and swoon over his pork belly bocadillo and homemade potato chips, I haven't made it to the table.

2. Ubuntu: I was already jonesing to try out the Napa restaurant that celebrates the purest flavors of vegetables, but after meeting pastry chef Deanie at a mutual friends' wedding, I was even more excited to make reservations. Among everything else on their menu, the cast-iron cauliflower and anything they think to do with artichokes beckons.

3. Duarte's Tavern: Speaking of artichokes, I've heard that Duarte's is the aritchoke lover's idea of heaven. I've already sampled their ollalieberry pie (purchased from The Milk Pail) and was seduced by a berry I had never tasted before in my life, so things can only go up with a visit to Pescadero and a calamari steak sandwich. Plus, this artichoke lover has to get to heaven somehow. Bonus: "Pescadero" never fails to make me think of Pinky Tuscadero and Happy Days.

4. Lavanda (old favorite): Well, technically we've only been here once for lunch and it was a few years ago, but we were really impressed by the menu. It's pricey, so it would normally be on our "special occasion" list, but I'm keeping it on this pre-baby list. Since we last visited, they've made a bigger deal about their organic and local provisions, and I'm looking forward to trying: grilled skirt steak with Salinas asparagus and spring garlic butter, stuffed risotto fritters, and potato gnocchi with black chanterelles, Hen of the Wood mushrooms, and nepitella.

5. Bar Jules (old favorite): Hands-down, Bar Jules is my favorite lunch spot in San Francisco. The atmosphere is so sunny and chill, it's the perfect place to meet girlfriends for a good, nourishing gabfest. However, their dinners are nothing to sneeze at, either. I especially love their flank steak and la quercia prosciutto with long cooked favas on toast and pecorino sardo.

6. Delfina (old favorite): Since my mother-in-law will be in town, we already have reservations for Mother's Day here, so I am this close to my stomach checking off Delfina's homemade pasta and grilled calamari with impossibly tiny warm beans.

7. SPQR (old favorite): Last time I was here, I was still in the nauseous stage of my pregnancy and couldn't enjoy my fried Brussels sprouts, cacio e pepe, and fried chicken to the fullest. That's a travesty that MUST be corrected! Also, a new travesty that must be avoided: not tasting their griddled Heritage pork spareribs with rosemary and fennel. I do think "griddled" is one of the most sumptuous words in the English language.

8. Flea Street Cafe: Sadly, Jesse Ziff Cool's other Menlo Park establishment -- JZ Cool Eatery -- recently closed in order to open a new place in East Menlo Park, but luckily Cool Cafe at the Stanford Museum and Flea Street Cafe are both still open. I've done Cool Cafe quite a few times and love their sandwiches, but I'm hankering to do a local, seasonal sit-down dinner at Flea Street very soon.

9. Martin's West Pub: It's a new upscale pub from Michael Dotson and it's coming to Redwood City in May. With items on the menu like Scotch Eggs, peat-smoked fries, and nettle-crowdie ravioli with brown butter consommé, morels, and spring onions, things are definitely looking up in suburbia. Oh, and the fact that they also have my favorite pub grub ever in the form of Ploughman's lunch means they were put on this earth for the sole purpose of feeding me.

10. Humphrey Slocombe: I've been scarfing down my pregnancy pounds in the form of all sorts of ice cream -- Haagen-Dazs Five, Foster's Freeze dipped cones, Blizzards -- so I think it's only fair I give this new place a whirl. If not just to roll my tongue over their oft-Tweeted bourbon-cornflake flavor, then to give major pocket props to fellow Are You Being Served? fans.

11. Piccino (old favorite): My husband has been an angel to scoot up to Piccino from the Peninsula whenever I've had a craving for their pizza, and when we met Mr. and Mrs. Piccino at a friend's dinner party, we made no secret of what fanatics we are for their pizzas. They told me I definitely had come up and eat with them when I was close to delivery. Apparently, their constantly changing pizzas have been known to send women into labor.

12. Pasta Moon (old favorite): Every time we go, I swear I'm going to try something new, and every time we go I don't try something new. I simply cannot resist their butternut squash and mascarpone ravioli with brown butter sage and Amaretti. However, because my husband is more enterprising, I know that their pizzas are awesome, their seasonal fritto misto is outstanding (especially when they include thin slices of Meyer lemons), and their Wild Mushroom Ragú with polenta, Marsala, and Parmigiano-Reggiano is totally bathable.

Listen Live to Michael Pollan on KQED 88.5FM Wed, Apr 29, 2009 -- 10:00 AM.

Listen to the audio archive of Michael Pollan on KQED's Forum. (archive posts 4/29 late eve)

Michael Pollan
Michael Pollan joins KQED Forum to talk food politics. Find out how he views President Obama's first 100 days in office, and how the food industry is reacting to calls for simpler ingredients. Plus, Pollan wants to know, what food rules do you live by? Michael Pollan's most recent book is "In Defense of Food: an Eater's Manifesto."

Host: Michael Krasny

Guest: Michael Pollan, journalism professor at UC Berkeley and author of books including "In Defense of Food" and "The Omnivore's Dilemma"

Explore and buy Michael Pollan's books on amazon.com
Follow Michael Pollan on Twitter @michaelpollan
Michael Pollan's website: www.michaelpollan.com
Michael Pollan's Salon article Obama's 100-day report card

Mushroom 500 Flatbread

Every once in awhile I will dine out and happen upon a dish that is so good I spend the entire evening scheming about how I can recreate it at home.

COCO500's truffled mushroom flatbread with sea salt and chili is one of them. It is the perfect bite of crispy flatbread, earthy, robust mushroom, and salty parmigiano.

I knew it would be hard to fully recreate the experience -- so much of it is in the flatbread -- but I knew I could come close, and while I would love nothing more than to jaunt off to COCO500 every time I had a hankering, this is much easier.

For my take on this, I opted to scale down the fancy factor so it could be an easy and inexpensive snack or party hors d'oeuvre. The beauty of this recipe is in its flexibility. Ambitious? Make your own flatbread. Not so ambitious? Store-bought whole wheat pita works wonderfully. Or, try slicing and toasting up some baguette for a crostini.

Also, feel free to play with the type of mushrooms you use. If the button mushrooms are looking good at the market this week, go for those. My favorite has been baby portabellos lately. And since I came across some spring morel mushrooms, I decided to sautee them up and throw them on top for this last batch.

The recipe below is the basic base for your dish, but the fun is in tweaking it and making it your own.

Mushroom 500 Flatbread
With inspiration from COCO500's truffled mushroom flatbread with sea salt and chili.

Feel free to play with the type of mushrooms you use for your base of duxelles (fancy French for "mushroom spread"). If you want to go all out, by all means, add some shaved truffle, or finish it off with truffle oil or salt. Not necessary though, this is perfectly delicious without the expensive stuff.

Servings: 4

Ingredients:
For the duxelles:
1 pound baby portabello mushrooms, cleaned
¼ cup shallots (or 1/2 medium onion)
4 cloves garlic
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons red wine
Salt and pepper to taste
A few dashes Worcestershire sauce

Parmigiano Reggiano
Flatbread or pita

Preparation:
Preheat oven to 375 F.

Roughly chop mushrooms, shallots (or onion), and garlic, and place in food processor. Process until everything is finely minced.

Heat butter and oil in a pan. Place mushroom mixture in, add the rest of the ingredients, and sautee until it becomes a paste-like consistency.

Spread the duxelles on flatbread. Sprinkle liberally with Parmigiano Reggiano, and bake until cheese is melted and golden (about 8-10 minutes).

A shopper at Duc Loi Supermarket carefully selects large chunks of freshly fried chicharrones, while rendered lard begins solidifying on the counter nearby.

For over twenty years, seven days a week, Howard and Amanda Ngo have sold fresh, affordable produce and a quirky blend of both Latin American and Asian ingredients at the heart of the Mission District.

Looking for purple corn and whole-blossom jamaica in bulk? They have it. Ube yam and cashew fruit and banana leaves in the freezer section? Check. Dried peruvian beans or dried tofu nuggets? Check. Goat ribs and ox tails and whole, fresh pig heads? It's all there at the meat counter. Young, watery coconuts chilled and ready to hack open for sipping on a sunny afternoon? Most definitely yes.

The tart fruit of whole tamarind pods and the smokiness of boiled brown sugar satisfy a range of palates from Malaysia to Mexico.

Landing in the San Francisco in 1987, by way of Saigon and then Georgia, the couple's first store filled a mere 700 square feet. Two months ago, their newly built supermarket stretched its aisles to 4,000 square feet. That's still small for a full-service grocery store (major chain stores might cover 50,000 square feet), but their success in serving their immediate neighborhood's needs in selection and price reflects a commitment that bigger markets rarely have. This past February, the City of San Francisco awarded a certificate of honor to Duc Loi, which just happens to mean "ethical profit" in Cantonese.

"Carne de soya" and a multitude of spices and dried chiles hang along the back wall.

Walk in any day, and you'll see Amanda, wrapped in her puffy down jacket, arranging produce or directing the butchers to bring out more chorizo. They make their own chorizo onsite and every week supply surrounding restaurants with nearly 400 pounds of it. Howard is the man in khakis holding a clipboard and, most probably, rushing to his next meeting with managers, suppliers, community leaders or city officials. The city's bureaucracy is much more difficult to navigate than figuring out which potatoes sell better.

Glistening links of chorizo are tied fresh every morning.

They're still filling out their new shelves. Howard expects to grow their current selection another 1,000 products as they continue to settle into their larger space, sourcing more organic products, building up their clientele, and responding to customer requests. In the coming months, expect to see a deli with Vietnamese sandwiches and other popular takeout food. An underground parking lot will also open soon.

Both Amanda and Howard are open to suggestions and feedback, so introduce yourself if you haven't already. Ask about the ingredients you don't recognize -- I promise you, there will be many of them. We all talk about meeting farmers at our weekend markets, but taking the time to learn from our neighborhood supermarkets is just as important in building a locally based food system that both accessible and cultural appropriate.

Ube yam, young coconut and whole cashew fruit are just a few of the diverse ingredients in the freezers.

More to the point, for those of us who need freshly rendered lard, dried beans, banana leaves and a variety of spices and aromatics for making tamales one day, then Asian sweets the next, there's no better place to shop.

Duc Loi Supermarket
2200 Mission Street
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 551-1772
Map

Light your altar for Jesus or your dead ancestors.

Last week, So You Want to Write a Cookbook: Part 1 offered some insider advice to would-be authors with Julia Child ambitions. Today, with Part 2, a few answers to those questions you didn't know to ask, from what makes a recipe yours to how to get an agent.

How do I create an original recipe?

1. Read cookbooks, and travelogues, and biographies and memoirs of interesting people from cultures that intrigue you. New cookbooks are the most seductive, of course, but the 641 section of the library is every food writer's friend. Other people's recipes can be a starting point; after all, you can't create your own pesto recipe without knowing the typical way a pesto is put together. Anything you taste, or even just read about, can be an inspiration for a recipe. The important part? Once you've got your idea, get in the kitchen and mess around. Measure, take notes, taste, take more notes, make it again. This is the part that is messy and time consuming, but the strength of your recipes depends on it.

Once you've got your recipes nailed down, pass them around. Get your mom, your friends (especially the ones who say they can't cook), and your neighbors to make these dishes. No hints, no tips, just what's written down. See if you can taste and take a look at what they produce.

As for the source of your inspiration, when in doubt, attribute. Cookbook author and former Bay Area pastry chef David Lebovitz recently posted a very useful article about copyrighting and fair play around recipes. Remember, even if you found something floating around on the internet with no attribution, it didn't get there by itself. Someone, somewhere created that recipe, and it's not yours until you've shaken it up, changed some ingredients, and re-written the instructions in your own voice.

OK, I've got my recipes. How do I get published?

2. The short answer? You get an agent to do it for you. Why? Because professionals use agents, and that means that submissions that come through agents are considered more seriously by publishers. Agents know what publishers are looking for, and so an agent will work with you to polish your submission into something worth publishing. Having opened a lot of unsolicited submissions during my time working at Chronicle Books, I can say that most un-agented submissions didn't tell us what we needed to know.

Swell. How do I get an agent?

3. You pick up a bunch of cookbooks similar to yours and read the acknowledgments. There aren't that many agencies that represent cookbook authors, so you'll have a short list in no time. You can also ask any friends who've been published who represents them, and if they've had a good experience with their representation.

The way you get an agent interested is the same way you get a publisher interested: with a great proposal. Remember, charming as you may be, you're only useful to an agent if your book sells.

A proposal should include:
• A brief cover letter, explaining your idea, who you are, and why you're the right person to write this book. If you have a connection to any fellow authors represented by that agency, and they've given you the OK to use their name, mention it here.
• A C.V. covering your writing and/or culinary experience, including any awards as well as anything that makes you look promotable and media-savvy, like cooking demos or TV appearances.
• Marketing and trend research, pointing out why this is a hot topic now, acknowledging similar books, and explaining how your book differs from the competition.
• A table of contents
• A recipe list
• The introduction, followed by a sample chapter including 3 or 4 recipes.
• Press clips lauding any of your previous books, or clips of published articles you've written

What if I've never published anything else? Doesn't my blog count?

4. Get published first, before you try to pump out a book. A publisher wants to be sure that you can write on deadline and handle the editorial process. The only way to prove this is to write professionally for a while. A personal blog is a good calling card, but just because you can write to your own satisfaction doesn't mean you can do it as a job. Those bloggers you've heard of getting book deals? Most of them were professionals in the publishing world already, either as writers, designers, or photographers. Get some experience pitching articles and writing for editors, and you'll be much better equipped to produce a book.

My life of late has been lubricated by tap water, sparkling water, tonic water, juice, tea, and the occasional Coke or root beer. Much in the way I once chased the best cocktails around town, I now track down whatever can slake my thirst minus the buzz.

I've tasted alcohol-free wines and beers. I've dabbled -- with some success -- in making mocktails and sipping sparkling teas. But now? I've found the world's most perfect water.

I give you: Pink Grapefruit Perrier!

Grapefruit is my favorite citrus fruit. It's also my favorite juice, favorite Izze, favorite Fizzy Lizzy, and favorite lip balm, so when I found grapefruit La Croix sparkling water in Minneapolis, it started a deep craving. Since I found it on the official site, I knew that grapefruit Perrier existed, but I never saw it in stores.

I must've been babbling about it a helluva lot, because the other night Mathra came home from Safeway and with great triumph and excitement voila'd six bottles of Pink Grapefruit Perrier. (Zee labelle, eet iz so so Franche and calls eet "Pamplemousse Rosé")

"Ooooh!" I cooed, stroking the metallic pink label, "You found it!"

Is it weird to describe sparkling water as having a bouquet? Because this one totally does. Without verging into grandma's perfume territory, it's fresh and floral and not as fake smelling as the lemon or lime Perrier flavors. Ditto for the taste. The stringent grapefruit is refreshing, not at all cloying, and it's simply...Perrier perfection. It's the the ideal antidote to hauling 20 extra pounds around in 102° heat.

(For the record, I never found any Perrier flavor to smell or taste fake, but after Pamplemousse Rosé entered the picture, a deep disdain for poor lemon and lime was sadly cultivated.)

Safeway had 750 mL bottles on sale 4 for $10.00, and after downing 6 bottles in two days during the April Hellwave of 2009, we went back and cleaned out the rest of their stock.

I hope they take the hint and reorder.

I have this thing about history books-- especially ones about food history, military history, and the misdoings of European royalty. If its got a lot of useless trivia packed into it, I will read it, digest it, and annoy my friends with the opening line, "Hey did you know...?"

And if what I'm reading includes all of the above, I am one happy nerd.

Thanks to my recent reading, its finally happened. I've met him-- my new historical crush, Stanislaw Leszczynski. He might not have been the handsomest fellow in the world, but he had it going on: he lost the crown of Poland, became the French Duke of Lorraine by marrying off his daughter Maria to Louis XV (after losing Poland a second time), and, most likely by virtue of is own good nature and a heavy dose of pity from Frederick III, was made a count of the Holy Roman Empire. It doesn't matter much that, by the 18th Century, The H.R.E. was neither holy, nor Roman. It wasn't even much of an Empire, but a cluster of bickering Central European states. Still, it was a nice title.

But it really isn't his laundry list of honors that impresses me. I'd still like him if he were merely an viscount or baron or margrave. It's his penchant for popularizing and ascribing names to food that I like. Really, really popular food. King Stanislaw, it seems, was quite a gastronome, as his painting might hint at. Just look at those multiple chins.

According to my latest read, The Food Chronology by James Trager, Stanislaw started a craze in Paris for pigs' feet, tripe, and most importantly, onion soup soon after his daughter became queen of France. According to legend, he was so taken with an onion soup he was served at an inn on his way to Paris that he visited the kitchen in his dressing gown and demanded the chef to show him how to make it. Et voilà, everyone was eating Soupe à l'Oignon.

It is also culinary lore that Stanislaw would drench kugelhupf with rum from the French West Indies to create Baba au Rhum. Though it is more than likely he did not name the dish "Baba au rhum", three points of truth indicate his possible involvement in some ways-- kugelhupf was a well-established dish in the regions of Alsace and Lorraine by the time Stanislaw took up residence, he loved alcohol, and the word "baba" is derived from the Polish word for "good woman" or grandmother. Think "babka."

And finally (unless you want to get into the quiche Lorraine, which I do not), he's got the madeleine-- that tea cake enshrined by the famously self-obsessed shut-in, Marcel Proust. Not everyone will agree that Stanislaw was the man who named it. What is known is that the madeleine originated in the town of Commercy, in Lorraine, where Stanislaw was in residence. Some say he named it after a maid who served them him. Others say they had long been baked by the local nuns of St. Mary Magdelen convent.

Oh, there are lots of theories on the origin of madeleine, but I won't bore you with them.

I think what I'm rather taken with is the fact that this man seems to have had his finger in a number of culinary pots. I am jealous that, because of his stature, he was able to influence the tastes of a country which was then becoming famous for its food-- a country that wasn't even his.

Of course in the 18th Century, anyone of note was aching to have their cooks invent dishes to be named for them. Think Sauce Richelieu or Sue Anne Nivens' favorite, Veal Prince Orloff.

Are people naming dishes today or has everything already been named? It feels as though everything has. Apart from delis with a penchant for naming sandwiches after Borscht Belt comedians, I'm coming up blank. We just don't see elegant dishes like Asparagus Britney Spears or Tournedos à la Brenda Fricker coming into common usage. There is no flourish these days. Everything is so bloody straightforward, a long string of words listing ingredients. Flank Steak with kohlrabi pudding, sunchoke fries, and anchovies. Or whatever. Are we so unsophisticated that we now have to have everything spelled out for us?

I mean really.

Give me the days when an old Polish king could wander into France, have a bit of cake and say, "Oh, let's call this a madeleine." Perhaps his French wasn't good enough to say "I would very much like one of those delicious, buttery cakes with the faint whiff of lemon." It doesn't really matter. One says "madeleine" and one knows exactly what one is getting.

And to that I say, "Dziekuje, Stanislaw." Thank you. You've given me an idea. I shall start naming everything I eat. Sadly, the best name I've come up with for anything lately is Chicken Statutory, which is an Americanized version of Chicken Cacciatore, but made with younger, fresher chicken.

I think it needs a little work.

Artichokes are a deceptive vegetable. Their prickly and tough exterior makes them look not only inedible, but a bit dangerous to handle. Underneath those sharp and rough leaves, however, is a sweet and tender treat that is worth excavating. Left alone on the stalk, the artichoke morphs into an elaborate flower that looks a bit like a peacock with purple plumes. I often grow them in my side yard and leave the later harvest to flower because they are so pretty. If you pick them early enough, however, or purchase them at the farmer's market or store (and you can find them everywhere this time of year) you get something that is both earthy and sweet. Such a great way to start spring.

My mother has always made giant stuffed artichokes for Easter dinner. Her large full chokes are truly gorgeous to behold -- like enormous desert flowers filled with bread crumb pollen -- and even more delightful to eat. But because I am lazy, I rarely make this dish. Filling each leaf of an artichoke seems a tedious task. And, although I love to spend long dinners leisurely making my way through a giant artichoke, my children and husband don't have the patience to slowly nibble the meat from the edge of each leaf. I therefore came up with a compromise recipe: keep the stuffing, but ditch the tiresome preparation and elongated eating period. This makes everyone happy.

In my version, I use medium-sized artichokes, trimming off all the hard outer leaves and chopping off the top. I cook them halfway in a pot of water and then finish them off on the grill. Trimmed and halved, you're left with the perfect receptacle for a dollop of stuffing with the added bonus that almost the entire vegetable is now edible.

Like my mother, I use bread crumbs, Parmesan cheese and parsley in my stuffing, but I've also added a few other ingredients. Because the intense heat of the grill caramelizes the natural sugars of the artichoke, I wanted to include a salty component to the stuffing. I have therefore added cooked pancetta to the mix, which really helps highlight the vegetable's natural sweet flavors, along with a little mint to liven things up.

Grilling is the easy part. Just lay the artichokes leaf-side down on indirect heat and cover for about 20 minutes. I tried flipping a few over and the stuffing held in all but one. That said, they turn out wonderfully if you just leave them alone as well.

The final product is something you can eat with normal bites. No more gnawing off edges for impatient kids and husbands, although plenty of sweet artichoke flavor for everyone.

Grilled Stuffed Artichokes

Makes: 16 artichoke halves

Ingredients:
8 medium artichokes
2 lemons
½ cup fresh bread crumbs
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese
¼ cup pancetta or bacon
2 garlic cloves
2 Tbsp chopped Italian parsley
1 Tbsp chopped mint
6 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
2 Tbsp water or white wine
Dash of salt and pepper

Preparation:
1. Wash the artichokes and then trim off the top prickly edges, about 1/2-inch from the top down.

2. Fill a large pot ¾ full with water and squeeze the juice from one lemon into the pot, tossing in the actual squeezed lemon at the end. Add 1 Tbsp salt to the water.

3. Remove the outer leaves of the artichoke until you get to the lighter and more tender underleaves.

4. One by one, slice the artichokes in half and core out the furry part above the heart. Place each one in the pot of water when you are done. Be sure to place each artichoke half in the water as soon as you have finished cutting and trimming it, or else it will start to brown in the air.

5. Once all the chokes are trimmed, halved and defurred, bring the covered pot of water to a boil.

6. Turn off the heat once you gain a rapid boil and then let the artichokes sit in the covered pot for 5-7 minutes.

7. Remove the artichokes from the water and drain. Press a paper towel against them to try to gently press out any excess water.

8. Place the artichokes in a large baking pan, cut side up, and drizzle 3 tablespoons of oil on top along with the zest of your remaining lemon as well as that lemon's juice. Flip the artichokes over, and then cover and refrigerate the pan until ready to use. You can make these up to a day ahead of time.

9. About a half hour before you're ready to grill, cut the pancetta or bacon into small cubes and sauté with the garlic in 1 Tbsp olive oil until crispy.

10. Place your bread crumbs, cooked pancetta and garlic, parsley, mint, remaining 2 tablespoons olive oil, Parmesan cheese, and water or white wine in a food processor along with a dash of salt and pepper. Pulse until everything is thoroughly chopped and combined.

11. Turn the artichokes over so they are once again cut-side up and gently press a small mound of stuffing into each cavity. Top with a sprinkle of kosher or sea salt.

12. Grill each artichoke on indirect heat for about 20 minutes, or until ready.

Note: For fresh bread crumbs, just place two slices of bread (I use the ends) in a food processor and pulse about ten times.

Café Claude, San Francisco

Tucked away in a hidden alley amongst financial district lunch spots, Café Claude is a delightful breath of fresh air. I half expected my feet to touch cobblestone as I made my way past the charming red trellis and climbing ivy partitioning this Parisian gem from bustling Kearny Street.

Enjoy the sunshine and dine al fresco, or sit inside in the romantic, pleasantly glowing ambiance. Either option will make for a great date. And if you order well, you will definitely ooh la la your way home.

Paté Plate: Sauternes Mousse, Rillettes du Perigord, Truffle Mousse (from left to right)

Café Claude's selection of patés makes it difficult to choose just one. You can opt to be a glutton like me and go with the Paté Plate of three, or you can be kinder to your cholesterol level (although, what's the fun in that?) and make the hard choice.

Our table's favorite was the Sauternes Mousse, creamy all-natural goose liver marinated in sauternes wine. Light and silky, the texture was ethereal, and the flavor was full-bodied and rich with a touch of sweetness.

Second favorite was the Truffle Mousse, made with all-natural petaluma chicken liver, truffles and cepes (wild mushrooms) marinated in sherry. This is a great choice for paté virgins, with less funk than the other patés made with goose and duck.

The third paté was the Rillettes du Perigord, shredded all-natural duck meat and pork meat, seasoned with duck fat and cooked confit style. Tasty, but not as luxurious of a mouthfeel as the previous two.

Escargots en Croute

For starters we had the Escargots en Croute and Coquilles Saint Jacques.

One of my first memories dining out in a fancy restaurant is of my mom ordering escargots (ewww snails are in there?!). I got over the ew factor quickly as I discovered that escargots meant pools of fragrant garlic, butter, and parsley. Added bonus, they're served in fun dishes with holes perfect for stuffing pieces of crusty French bread in and soaking up all the buttery goodness. The escargots at Café Claude came in an aromatic sauce, but no flavor could be detected from the snails themselves.

I had high hopes for the Coquilles Saint Jacques. With scallops, shrimp, mussels, parmesan, and béchamel sauce on the bill, I had wild visions of creamy seafood decadence. Sadly, my expectations fell short, this was the weak link of the meal. Next time I'll opt to start with the legendary French onion soup, or either of phenomenal sounding tartars (tuna or steak).

Ahi

The standout of the night was the seared Ahi tuna, served on a bed of onion and bacon confit, soy green peppercorn sauce, and plenty of lemon zest. Intriguing, appetizing, perfect. The tuna was cooked just right, pink and rare in the center. The well caramelized onion and smoky bacon infused the dish with a savory sweet bouquet. The green peppercorn gave a little bite and kick, and the shower of lemon zest was the crowning touch. This dish was well-balanced, creative, and executed flawlessly.

I imagine any other entrée would pale in comparison to the phenomenal Ahi, so it may be with prejudice that I judge the Lasagne harshly. In concept it sounded like a lovely spring dish with fresh egg pasta loaded with veggies like roasted eggplant, zucchini, spinach, and tomato. But it was mediocre. Lesson learned, don't order Italian at a French restaurant?

After I nearly licked my plate of Ahi, I couldn't help but notice the Paleron Sauce Poivre Vert being served at the table next to mine. Gorgeous flat-iron steak served in a cognac, green peppercorn sauce, with golden potato gratin on the side. Sorry, dining neighbor, if I was staring.

For dessert, another hit and another miss.

The Moelleux au Chocolat, flourless chocolate cake with crème anglaise, was a little cloying and nothing spectacular. The Tarte Tatin on the other hand, très bon. A superb mix of flakiness soaked in burnt caramel, tender apple, and whipped cream. Worth saving room for.

All in all, Café Claude may be like a fickle love affair -- hot, cold, hot, cold. But this meal did end on a hot note, and there's no question that a second date is in order.

Café Claude
7 Claude Lane
(between Bush St & Sutter St)
San Francisco, CA 94108
415-392-3505