Everyone is talking about ramen, and there’s a ramen shop in almost every East Bay neighborhood. But what about all the other delicious Asian soups out there with the same soul-warming potential? Here are ten soups (at eight venues) you might not have thought of.
Archive for July, 2009
Sometimes it’s best not to tell your dinner guests what you are about to serve them.
Sometimes you should just watch their eyes light up as they try that first bite, and then reveal what you’ve prepared.
This is one of those dishes.
The LA Coffee Mill, tres chic in Silverlake, does a very fabulous morning mojito, made with muddled mint and lime in a a base of chilled green tea, topped with a splash of soda water. It’s tangy, refreshing, and very post-Pilates. But what if you want something a little more lush, a little more beignet-friendly? Welcome to your new favorite brunch drink: white peach Meyer lemonade.
If the way to a man’s heart is truly through his stomach, Giulia Melucci has tried every trick in the book.
Or, at least in her book, I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti. As the title might imply, she’s still looking for the right stomach.
In her memoir of loves won and lost, Melucci takes us on a culinary tour of her love life– from the loss of her virginity to the near regaining of it, with several interesting but ultimately wrong-for-her men showing up in between– the notable ones being given their own chapters, as they were, in fact, chapters in the author’s own life.
My daughters love to go to the farmers’ market with me to pick out the vegetables that look the most appealing to them that week (although this is not as much fun as the bounce house they have there). During our visit last week, my kids were intrigued by the small globe squash and eggplant available at one of my favorite stands. They thought they looked like little vegetable planets and started deciding which one was Venus and which was Jupiter. If there’s anything better than “cool” vegetables, it’s vegetables that make my kids think, so obviously I bought two bags. As I handed over my money, I realized that in addition to the minor science lesson, this was the perfect opportunity to make one of my favorite summer dishes: stuffed squash and eggplant.
Paladar’s Cuban Sando: rich, roasted, shredded Niman pork, boiled ham, melty Swiss, an even layer of sweet and tangy pickles, whole grain mustard, creamy mayo, and a buttery, crusty, fresh roll, hot pressed, melding it all together. Ah.MA.zing.
One of my favorite culinary mash-ups of recent years is the Vietnamese-Chinese-Cajun crawfish boil served with rice or garlic noodles. Following the arc of families moving from Vietnam to New Orleans to Southern California to, finally, San Jose and San Francisco, mud bugs have taken a garlicky turn and shown up, of all places, in Little Saigon’s across the country.
If you stepped into Donato Enoteca in Redwood City on opening night, you might have thought you were in Italy. It seemed just about every Italian in the Bay Area was there. Not only that, as a guest of honor, in attendance was the chef’s mother, who flew in from Italy on a whim.
How did we celebrate the 4th of July up in Bernal? We harvested the tater bucket! To be really true red-white-and-blue homesteaders, we could have whisked up some homemade mayonnaise and made all-American potato salad. But the patio potatoes were too few, and too precious, for that.
Where I work, there are a small handful of men who occasionally begin their sentences with the phrase “In my village…”
“In my village, we have a festival.” “In my village, we would never treat an octopus in such a way.”
These men can get away with saying such things as easily as they can get away with calling women “baby” because they are Greek. The have the accent, they have an old world charm about them that clings like the smell of clove and stale cigarette smoke.
And I have always been a little bit jealous. If I were to ever pepper my sentences with the words “In my village…” People would most likely assume it was Greenwich Village. And I can just forget about using the word “baby.” Ever.
So in an attempt to better educate myself about American hot dogs, I have created an unscientific comparison of the major brands. Included in the list are organic, nitrate-free , and standard hot dogs that you can find locally. I am not recommending one frank over another as I did not try all of these hot dogs, and, honestly, I’ve only tasted a few. Rather, I wanted to share the nutritional information and ingredients lists provided by the manufacturers so people can make their own educated decisions.