Bay Area Bites bloggers, Michael Procopio and Stephanie Rosenbaum join Leslie Sbrocco, host of Check, Please! Bay Area in a new local food and wine segment on This Week in Northern California. This week, the conversation is about restaurants and the recession and underground food markets.

WATCH THE EPISODE:

Posts related to this segment:

• Underground Farmers' Market
• Cutting Corners: Tipping in a Down Economy

Related Twitter feeds:

• Leslie Sbrocco
• Michael Procopio
• Stephanie Rosenbaum
• Iso Rabins at ForageSF

Six o'clock on Friday night, and the line outside the door at 17th and Capp was snaking down past the motorcycle repair shop and around the corner. Clutching brown paper bags of Sam Adams and Tecate, the crowd was a typical Mission mix: young guys in goatees with bike locks slung through their messenger bags, cool dads with baby strapped to their chests in slings, women staying warm in hand-knitted scarves and stripey fingerless gloves, even a few used-bookstore-looking folks with wild gray hair and heavy glasses.

What was the scene? An iPad giveaway? Lifetime free coffee at Four Barrel? A Radiohead jam session?

No, no, and no...instead, it was the second Underground Farmers' Market, organized by ForageSF's Iso Rabins. Essentially, an extra-groovy bake sale, held for no reason except to showcase the fun stuff being made by your friends and neighbors. What was on the table? All kinds of delights: kombucha by the jug, bags of peanut brittle and beef jerky, bergamot marmalade, white-grapefruit vanilla jelly, onion-bacon relish, lemonade, butternut-squash lasagna, little bowls of rice and mung-bean stew scooped out of Mason jars, acorn fudge, made-while-you-wait Indian chaat, corned-beef sandwiches, pumpkin pie by the slice, raw chocolate truffles, cupcakes, cucumber marmalade, kale, fresh chanterelles, granola, chipotle popcorn.

Photos by Wendy Goodfriend

Well, awesome, you may say. But this is San Francisco, hardly a place starving for access to raw-chocolate truffles and artisanal chicharrones. Between our dozens of farmers' markets, our thousands of restaurants, and our many, many gourmet stores, why would anyone need to stand in line on Capp Street to score good food?

Because walking into a store and handing over money is easy. Anyone can do it. To get to the Underground Farmers Market, you had to know about it—through Rabins' own 1000+ person email list, through a re-tweet from a street-food cart, or from one of the many blog or media mentions that had been buzzing around the concept since the first market, held last December. Just like at a show by a new band, though, a lot of the attendees seemed to have gotten there the old-fashioned way: they had a friend selling stuff, or knew somebody who knew somebody who told them to check out this cool scene.

So there was the buzz factor, and the undeniable urban urge to be in at the beginning of the next new thing. And, like a warehouse show, there was a little of the Permits? We don't need no stinkin' permits feeling, too. After all, this was outlaw food, made by artisans canning on the far side of the law—in other words, brewing the 'buch or popping the corn in their home kitchens, uninspected by the health department.

Few of the vendors make their product professionally in commercial kitchens; for most, it's a fun side gig, something they were doing anyway for friends and family, a way to make a little extra money from a particular passion for chocolate or kimchee. (Of course, the continued stream of layoffs have made more and more people seek profit in their passion; at a recent SPUR panel discussion on the economics of street food, Imelda Reyes from the Department of Public Health said she gets 12 to 16 calls a day now from would-be street-food entrepreneurs curious about the permitting process, up from 2 or 3 a week a year ago.)

Is this how twentysomethings are rebelling now? As outlaw onion-bacon relish-makers, flaunting the law with their organic flax-seed crackers or park-foraged miners' lettuce? Whatever the reasoning, the scene was amazingly cheerful. This was a church social of a different stripe, bringing together like-minded urbanites eager not just to shop and nibble (although shop they did) but to to put a face on their food, talking pickling, swapping project ideas, sharing chicken coop innovations and enthusing about the excellence of Fatted Calf's butchery classes. That bunch of mustard greens? Grown and bunched by Patricia on an eighth-of-an-acre vacant lot in Berkeley, thanks to a friendly landlord happy to see vegetables sprouting instead of weeds and trash. That lemonade? Made by Robin from lemons picked in her friend's backyard, and served up with peanut brittle "made from stuff I just had in my kitchen."

Selling my own hot-from-the-oven homemade bread, apricot jam and vanilla pear butter from a card table in the corner, it was easy to feel like instant friends with everyone to whom I handed a warm loaf. After all, I'd kneaded and shaped each bread just a few hours before, peeled every single pear after it was picked at an orchard I knew.

The recession may be fueling a renewed interest in home cooking and small-scale entrepreneurship, but money was definitely being spent. By 10pm, Becky of Urban Preserves estimated that she'd sold over half of the 150 jars she'd brought; Kitty of Kitty's Creations, who makes her products in her church's kitchen in the Sunset, had maybe 5 dozen left of the 14 dozen jars of jam, chutney, and relish she'd walked in with. Slow Jams, on the verge of going pro, charged $10 and up for their sleek jars of sweet and savory jams and relishes; by 9pm, they were sold out and packed up.

By 10:30pm, organizer Iso Rabins looked equally exhausted and thrilled, if a little stunned by the turnout. A lot of advance press and a savvy use of social media, combined with a particular young-urbanite quest for authenticity, had made the night's market popular beyond anything he'd imagined. For the next one, a bigger venue will clearly be necessary. How big can it go and still feel underground? How many of the novelty seekers will come back? How much jam and jerky does the city need? For the moment, it seems, that if you make it, they will come.

Watch This Week in Northern California tonight, Friday January 29 at 8pm to see Leslie Sbrocco, host of Check, Please! Bay Area in a new segment on local food and wine trends. This week, a conversation about restaurants and the recession and underground food markets with Bay Area Bites bloggers, Michael Procopio and Stephanie Rosenbaum.

2009 was a rough year for restaurants in San Francisco and (if January is any indicator) 2010 isn't going to be a bed of truffles and lollipops either. As a 20-year veteran of the restaurant industry, I cringe.

Have you taken a look at the list of restaurants that closed their doors in the past year? It isn't pretty. Browsing through SF Weekly's SFoodie blog and looking at all of the fallen eateries the other day, I felt like Scarlett O'Hara listening to a long roster of Civil War dead, hoping that none of the old soldiers I truly loved in this city were among the dead or wounded.

Some of the casualties were no big surprise. For example, my reaction to finding out that The Carnelian Room (sorry, Dad) atop the Bank of America tower had closed was like hearing that Abe Vigoda was really, really dead this time. My only surprise was that it had held on for so long.

I am, however, wearing my widow's weeds for some of the other, smaller restaurants that have left us, like Old Krakow, The Palace Steakhouse , and Clementine, just to name a few.

Many restaurants that have survived the 21st century economy thus far have resorted to luring guests into their dining rooms with 2-for-1 specials, happy hours, and (sigh) coupons. Even the once-mighty Aqua and The Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton are offering 1,000 Open Table points if you would just pretty-please come for a visit. That's pretty much the online equivalent of begging.

In terms of restaurant workers, I'm one of the lucky ones. I work in a place that is still (author makes a hurried sigh of the cross) going strong. And there are fortunately several other venues in this city which are doing the same. That doesn't mean, however, that my fellow waiters and I are not feeling the pinch like everybody else. Like maybe you, for example.

These days, a lot of diners are cutting corners where they can. Some of those who do come into our places of business are either coming less often than they used to or are simply spending less. Often, I see couples either sharing one main course or foregoing them altogether and sticking to appetizers. If wine enters the picture, people are drinking more wines-by-the-glass than they are bottles. On the weekends, I see almost as many guests bring in their own wine as order from our wine list. And, of course, those wines aren't usually the ones listed on the reserve menu. As a result, our sales our down. Just like everyone else's, with the possible exception of pharmaceutical companies, undertakers, and bank executives.

Yesterday, for example, I overheard a very well-dressed business woman who works for a high-profile company mention to her lunch partners, "I don't go out much anymore. I've started brown-bagging it at work. I even stopped getting my Starbucks every morning, for God's sake, so today's a real treat!" It's a sensible, Depression Era mindset and I can't say that I blame her one bit.

What I do blame her for is leaving me a 12% tip. And I blame the business guy sitting ten feet away from her discussing how his children don't appreciate how expensive their ski weekend in Aspen really was who gave me even less. And, no, I wasn't having an off day. I was clean, neat, welcoming, informative, prompt, and all the dozen-or-so other good things I have to be to each and every table I take care of. I happen to see it as a trend-- and an ugly one at that.

Don't worry, you won't be hearing violins and I promise not to go all Sally Struthers on you today (though we do share the same birthday, Sally and I). But it is a bit of a rant.

I've said it before and I will say it again, if you leave a (expletive) tip to a server, there had better be a good reason for it. If she is rude or hostile, don't leave one at all. If he screws up your order and blames everyone else, then disappears for a cigarette when you need to pay the check so you can get to the airport like you said you needed to at the beginning of the meal... stiff him-- he deserves it.

But leaving $20 on a $500 bill to a waiter who has orchestrated your meal, told you when you are ordering too much, selected a wine for you that you absolutely rave about, and who makes you look good because your guests are all raving about their experience is an outrage. All the more so because that waiter can't say or do anything about it without losing his job. There is a special dining circle in hell reserved for just this kind of diner.

Not that I feel very strongly about it one way or the other, of course.

Nearly a year ago, I explained in detail exactly what happens in such an extreme case of (undeserved) bad tipping. I mention it again because I've just witnessed another co-worker be treated in the same manner on a similarly-sized check.

Granted, the above is an extreme case, but people are leaving $3 less here, $5 less there. It's alarming to those of us who earn our living depending upon the unreliable tipping habits of strangers. $3 might not sound like very much, but it is. If a server waits upon ten tables in a night and they all sought to save a little money by leaving $3 less, that's $30 out of a server's take home pay per shift. If a server works five shifts per week, that's $150 less. Per month? Around $600. Per year? I think you get the picture. I'm being conservative in my estimates. And remember, sales are typically down all over town, so a server's losses are frequently more when you consider that tips are based on sales.

If you do need to cut down your dining expenses, don't take it out on the good servers. Of course, if you come into my restaurant and want to spend a lot of money, make no mistake-- I'll help you spend it. You'll have a great time doing it, too. But if you come and don't want to blow your whole pay check, I will go out of my way make sure you don't. I'm not going to make you feel like a cheapskate and you'll have just as good a time as the Fat Cats sitting next to you (if not better because, hey, you're more relaxed since you haven't just spent your rent money trying to impress your date).

When the bill comes, be kind. Remember that I found you that beautiful bottle of wine from a region you've never tried before that was $20 less (and much better) than the one you were asking about. It made you look adventurous. Do keep in mind that I suggested our rib eye steak was big enough to feed the both of you. That made your dinner a little more intimate, didn't it? And when I served it all out table side? Ah, that was a nice touch, wasn't it? And when I sent you that dessert for no other reason than "just because," well... perhaps you might bear in mind that I just cut about $50 off of your tab when you are leaving me a tip. Great waiters are worth their weight in gold.

My assumption here is that most of you reading this are savvy enough diners to not make your servers take one in the shorts. You are more than likely sophisticated enough to know good service when you experience it. Why do I know this? Because you're reading a food blog, that's why. I'm not saying it's you. Really. Except those of you who are invariably going to comment that I am being whiney or that I should "get a real job" (I've heard that one before). I'm saying it might just be your mother, or your husband, or your best friend, in which case I hope that you might pass this post along to them after you've given them a nice big hug and told them you love them, even though they are embarrassingly cheap.

The next time you go out to dinner and you've had a great meal and and even greater server, make sure he or she is taken care of. In the words of the mortal Canadian (and you know how Americans make fun of their tipping habits) pundit Nicholas Demeda, "If you can afford to dine out, you can afford to tip well."

Tipping for good service is the one place you should never cut corners.

Watch This Week in Northern California tonight, Friday January 29 at 8pm to see Leslie Sbrocco, host of Check, Please! Bay Area in a new segment on local food and wine trends. This week, a conversation about restaurants and the recession and underground food markets with Bay Area Bites bloggers, Michael Procopio and Stephanie Rosenbaum.

The casserole is undergoing a resurgence in popularity. After years of being maligned as a tasteless and gloppy suburban dish made with Campbell's cream of mushroom soup, it is finally coming into its own. Blame it on the economy and the rising cost of food, but high-end cuts of meat seared faultlessly and served with the perfect wine are passé in this environment: extravagant and unseemly amidst layoffs and foreclosures. Comfort foods are the new at-home gourmet chic, and there's nothing more heartening and reassuring than a chicken casserole.

Now if you're someone who still thinks a casserole is a jumble of congealed leftovers, than think again. This may have been the case a decade or two (or three) ago, back in the day when Campbell's soup had a best-selling cookbook featuring dishes like Green Bean Bake and Vegetable Beef and Biscuit Casserole. But although they have a new book called Campbell's Casseroles, One-Dish Meals and more (Plastic Comb) -- okay, what the hell is "(Plastic Comb)"? -- I'm happy to see that it's ranked # 416,157 on Amazon. No. Modern casseroles are not your mama's 1970s dinner.

Casseroles can take many shapes and forms. And while some may use leftovers, this doesn't mean they should be avoided. After all, chicken enchiladas -- which are often made with leftover chicken -- is a type of casserole. And don't forget about ooey gooey macaroni and cheese (which often uses leftover pasta) and cassoulets (which can be made out of leftover duck, sausage and beans with stellar results). Fresh ingredients that are baked together in a sauce are some of the most satisfying and affordable types of dishes you can make for a family dinner.

My Creamy Chicken and Rice Casserole is a good example for how this type of dish can really stretch your food dollar. Whether you use leftovers from a previous night's dinner or start from scratch, you only need to use about half the meat you would normally serve your family because the rice adds substantially to the dish. And, with some local onions and mushrooms added into the mix, it is ample enough to feed a family of 4-6 people while costing less than $15 to make. Truly the perfect savory mid-winter meal.

Following is my recipe. Made with a rich onion and mushroom gravy that undergoes a velvety transformation when sour cream is added, I like to think of it as a type of chicken stroganoff. But no matter how you classify it, when it comes out of the oven all bubbly and creamy and warm, it is the ultimate in comfort food.

Creamy Chicken and Rice Casserole

Makes: 1 large casserole

This is a great dish to make if you have leftover baked chicken (and be sure to use the juices from the baking process). But if you are starting from scratch with uncooked chicken, just poach it in some water. This keeps the meat moist and also provides a nice broth that you will use to help develop the gravy. I'll provide steps for both methods below.

Ingredients with Pre-Baked Chicken:

2 cups already-cooked chicken plus pan drippings
1 1/2 - 2 cups chicken broth
2 cups cooked white or brown rice
1 large onion halved and then sliced thinly
1 cup chopped mushrooms
1/2 cup sour cream
1 Tbsp olive or vegetable oil
2 Tbsp butter
1 Tbsp flour
1 tsp dried thyme
1 tsp paprika
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup fresh bread crumbs (I like to just chop up the ends of some sliced bread in a cuisinart).

Preparation with Pre-Baked Chicken:

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
2. Shred leftover chicken and set aside in a bowl.
3. Add oil to a hot pan and add the onions. Cook on medium heat for two minutes.
4. Add the shredded chicken along with the pan drippings from the previous night's baking of said chicken (including about a tablespoon of that glorious chicken fat if you have some).
5. When drippings are incorporated into the chicken and onions, add the butter, flour, thyme, paprika and salt and pepper to taste. Stir until everything is fully incorporated.
6. Add chicken stock and mushrooms and mix thoroughly.
7. Simmer for 5-10 minutes on low heat with the cover on.
8. Incorporate sour cream and then add the rice, mixing fully. If the mixture seems thick, add in another 1/2 cup chicken stock.
9. If baking in a separate dish, this is the time to butter the inside and then set the mixture inside, topping with the breadcrumbs. If baking in the same pan you used to cook the ingredients, (which is my preference) then just top with the bread crumbs and set in the oven.
10. Bake for 20 minutes and then serve with a nice salad or steamed vegetable.

Ingredients Using Fresh Chicken:

2 chicken breasts or 4 thighs raw and on the bone
1 cup water
1/2 - 1 cup chicken broth
2 cups cooked white or brown rice
1 large onion halved and then sliced thinly
1 cup chopped mushrooms
1/2 cup sour cream
1 Tbsp olive or vegetable oil
2 Tbsp butter
1 Tbsp flour
1 tsp dried thyme
1 tsp paprika
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup fresh bread crumbs (I like to just chop up the ends of some sliced bread in a cuisinart).

Preparation Using Fresh Chicken:

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
2. Place oil in a hot pan and then lay the chicken inside. Season with a smattering of salt and pepper.
3. When chicken is slightly browned on the outside, add in the water and cover so everything steams. Cook for five minutes on medium heat.
4. Remove chicken and broth from the pan and then add in the onions. Add in a little more oil and then cook on medium heat for two minutes.
5. While the onions cook, strip the chicken from the bone and chop into 1/2-inch pieces. It's okay if the chicken isn't fully cooked.
6. Mix the chicken into the onions and add in the butter, flour, thyme, paprika, salt and pepper. Stir until everything is fully incorporated.
7. Add chicken broth you just created while steaming the chicken plus 1/2 cup chicken stock plus the mushrooms and mix thoroughly.
8. Simmer for 5-10 minutes on low heat with the cover on.
9. Incorporate sour cream and then add the rice, mixing fully. If the mixture seems thick, add in another 1/2 cup chicken stock.
10. If baking in a separate dish, this is the time to butter the inside and then set the mixture inside, topping with the breadcrumbs. If baking in the same pan you used to cook the ingredients, (which is my preference) then just top with the bread crumbs and set in the oven.
11. Bake for 20 minutes and then serve with a nice salad or steamed vegetable.

Stirring the massive pot

2 pounds of bacon, 4 pounds of sausage, 6 pounds of ground beef...and that's only the beginning.

This recipe may seem excessive, but by the time this massive pot of chili is done cooking, and certainly by the time you've gone through the last of it, you always want just a little bit more.

It really is that good. It's not like some chili which sits in your stomach like a ton of bricks. It's not too beany, or too spicy, or too smoky. It's complex, with a sweet savory tang, and layers of meaty flavor throughout. For me, it's the sweetness that makes this chili special. A multi-dimensional sweetness derived from a number of ingredients: carrots (grated so that they melt into the sauce), ketchup, barbecue sauce, sugar, and baker's chocolate.

That's Secret #1.

Secret #2 is adding a parmesan rind to the pot. This is an old Italian trick I learned for creating rich soups, stocks, tomato sauce, or...chili! Remember it next time you finish off an expensive wedge of parmigiano. After you're done digging away at all the edible parts, pop the rind in a freezer bag and save it for a rainy (or shall I say chili, ha ha ha) day.

Secret #3: let it simmer for a long long time. This is one of those dishes that tastes better the next day, or the day after that. I kid you not, I let this simmer for 6 hours or more. I will usually make it late afternoon on a weekend, let it cook all evening, and then turn off the flame and cover it right before going to bed. The next day, the flavors will have melded together into something amazing.

There may be a few lingering doubts in your mind about why not to make this recipe. One being the long list of ingredients, to which I say, okay, there are a lot of ingredients, and yes, you will need to make a Costco run, but after that it's really easy. You basically just add everything to a big pot and leave it alone. Fool proof. And worth it.

The other question may concern the alarming quantity this recipe makes. Feeds 20+. Yes, it does! But really, you'll be surprised at how quickly this goes, and I mean, if you're going to make all that effort in getting the ingredients, you might as well go the whole nine yards. If you're still on the fence, consider these scenarios where a massive pot of chili makes perfect sense:

• Game Day with lots of men to feed. Isn't the Super Bowl coming up or something?
• Ski weekend. This is the perfect make-ahead meal. All you have to do is heat it up on the stove, which is the maximum effort I usually have in me after a day on the slopes, when my quads have turned to lead.
• Any weekend. Especially when it is relentlessly rainy and cold outside. (You may know what I mean). Extra bonus, this recipe freezes really well. Store away single/double servings of this and have a warm, satisfying, homemade meal ready in minutes any time.

Now that you're ready for chili, the next challenge is to find a pot that is sufficiently massive. You're on your own for that one. Alright, I'll give you a hint: I scored mine off of Craigslist from a restaurant going out of business. For something this size, go commercial.

Chili with Cheese Quesadillas

Massive Pot of Chili

Serves: 20+

Adapted from Steve Conn and Colerain Firefighters Local 3915's "Major Cojone's Chili." I guess it makes sense that the original recipe would come from a fire house :) I doubled the Major's recipe, made some tweaks to the heat source, and added some sweet secret ingredients.

Ingredients:
2 pounds applewood-smoked bacon, diced into 1 inch squares
4 pounds spicy Italian pork sausage, removed from casings
6 pounds ground beef
1 jalapeno pepper, finely chopped
3 red bell peppers, chopped
4 large onions, finely chopped
3 carrots, grated
8 cloves garlic, finely chopped
4 cans (28 oz) chili beans
6 lb 10 oz Costco-sized can crushed tomatoes
6 lb 10 oz Costco-sized can tomato sauce
2 cups ketchup
2 cups sugar
2 cups water
½ cup BBQ sauce
¼ cup Worcestershire sauce
4 tablespoons red chili powder
2 tablespoons Sriracha chili sauce
2 ounces baker's chocolate
1 parmesan rind

Preparation:
1. In a large pan, cook bacon until crispy; drain and add to a 3-gallon pot.

2. Drain off the bacon grease. Brown the sausage in the same pan; drain and add to the pot.

3. Drain off the fat from the pan again. Brown the ground beef; drain and add to the pot with the other meats.

4. Add all of the remaining ingredients and bring to a bubble, stirring periodically. Then, lower heat and simmer on low for at least 6 hours.

5. Serve with chili toppings of you'd like (shredded cheese, sour cream, green onion or chives), Frito scoops, quesadillas, or bread bowl.

What happens when National Pie Day meets Burns Night?

Not a haggis pie, thankfully. But something haggis-inspired, something that could live up to lines like these, from the Scottish poet Robert Burns' immortal Address to a Haggis,

But mark the Rustic, haggis fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.

In other words, not salad. Lamb, the foundation of this "great chieftain o' the puddin'-race," should be involved, perhaps using parts a little more approachable than the lungs, liver, and heart from which haggis is traditionally made. Also present should be neeps and tatties (rutabagas, or what Brits would call swedes, and potatoes), the pearls and pumps to haggis's little black dress. Finally, it should be both celebratory and economical, in honor of that famous Scottish thrift.

And why not make it pie-like while you're at it? Not because I really take a marketing ploy like National Pie Day seriously (yes, inroads may have been made by panna cotta, Oreos, and pineapple upside-down cake, but pie is far from an endangered species here) but because pie makes a party. Cupcakes are cute, cookies are swell, but a pie is Something Special. Not to mention that as a certified Pie Therapist, I feel that no good pie-making opportunity should be ignored.

Taken altogether, then, what better dish for a rainy winter day than a Shepherd's Pie, made with the leftovers of a good lamb stew instead of the usual drab gravel of ground meat. And topped with a thick cloud of mashed potatoes mixed with rutabaga, turnip's earthier cousin, the whole flecked with green bits of leek or scallion. Some rosemary, thyme, and bay leaf could also go into the stew, since this is California and these herbs grow everywhere.

Irish cookbook author Tamasin Day-Lewis suggests lamb neck for stewing, and having spied some at Avedano's recently, I decided to give her advice a try. And she's right: these "thick, bony, fatty chunks" are just right for stewing, falling into thick flavorful shreds after stewing, while the bones add body to the base. You'll need 2 necks for this, each cut up into four or five pieces (ask the butcher to do this for you, as this is requires serious bone-cleaving action that you don't want to attempt without a mallet, a heavy cleaver, solid arm muscles, and a very sturdy wooden countertop).

The stew makes plenty; eat it one day for dinner, then make your shepherd's pie with the leftovers on the following day. Serve, naturally, with a wee dram of your favorite whisky--Caol Ila, perhaps, Laguvulin, a tot of Ardbeg or Laphroaig.

Shepherd's Pie for Scotland
It can be a bit tricky to find rutabagas. Cauliflower, especially the beautiful, usually organic golden variety, makes a fine substitute if you find yourself stranded far from these useful roots. If you're making the stew a day ahead of time, leave the meat on the bones. Remove the meat and discard the bones just before serving.

Ingredients:
3 1/2 lbs (or thereabouts) lamb neck
4 carrots, chopped in rough chunks
3 sticks celery or one head fennel, chopped
2 onions, peeled and sliced
2 leeks, trimmed and chopped
2 sprigs fresh thyme, 2 sprigs fresh rosemary, 4 sprigs parsley, tied together
Salt and pepper

For topping:
3 large potatoes, peeled and roughly chopped
1 large rutabaga, or 1 small head cauliflower
knob of butter (size depends on how buttery you think mashed potatoes should be)
1 cup buttermilk or whole milk, more as needed
green part of 1 leek, finely chopped, or 3 scallions, finally chopped
Salt and pepper

Preparation:
1. Put the lamb in a large pot and cover with cold water. Over medium heat, bring to a boil. Drain off water and scummy froth; rinse both meat and pot.

2. Lay onions, carrots, leeks, celery on bottom of pot. Add lamb and herb bundle. Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper. Cover with water until lamb is just barely covered.

3. Bring to a simmer, reduce heat, cover, and cook slowly until lamb is very tender and can be pushed off the bone with a spoon, 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

4. Let cool slightly, then remove lamb from pot. Set aside until cool enough to handle. While lamb is cooling, mash some of the cooked vegetables roughly to thicken sauce. Taste for seasoning. Remove herb bundle and discard.

5. Using your hands, remove lamb from bones and return meat to pot. Reheat before serving. Refrigerate any leftovers.

6. To make topping, cover potatoes and rutabaga chunks with water, adding a few good pinches of salt. Bring to a boil and simmer gently until potatoes are soft. (If using cauliflower, add when potatoes are just barely tender.)

7. Preheat oven to 350F. Drain potatoes and return to pot. Add butter and mash well. Add buttermilk or milk a little at a time, mashing thoroughly as you go, until desired consistency is reached (don't let it get too loose and creamy; it should be on the stiff side).

8. Saute leeks or scallion in a little butter, stirring, until softened. Add to potatoes.

9. Spread leftover stew in a 2-inch-deep baking dish, preferably glass or ceramic. Mound mashed potato over stew. Bake in the oven until stew is heated through and potatoes are just beginning to brown in parts, about 30 minutes. Serve hot.

For those truly dedicated to all things haggis, this report from the BBC claims that the U.S. Dept. of Agriculture is considering lifting a twenty-year-old ban on importing Scottish-made haggis into the U.S. It also notes that a prominent haggis manufacturer has recently branched out into making haggis nachos.

Honorable mention, only because the author of Tea & Cookies splits her time between Seattle and the Bay Area.

Well, after my post on food websites last week I received a surprising response from readers asking why I didn't include more information about blogs, questioning my rationale between blogs and websites, and asking for blog recommendations--specifically local ones. So in a way, this is a continuation of last week's post, a Part 2, blogger-style. And it was surprisingly difficult to put together. I needed to choose some way to narrow down the food blogs I read or the list would get out of control. So after many sleepless nights (I jest), here's the criteria I came up with:

• Must be a Bay Area food blogger
• Must be on my Google Reader (hey, it’s my post after all, right?)
• Must write interesting, creative content that's somehow innovative/unique.
• Cannot be one of the contributors to Bay Area Bites (although some of us have awesome blogs...but I want you to discover someone new this week).
• Must keep current and produces consistent posts.

So here goes. I realize I'm probably leaving out your roller derby buddy or your girlfriend's sister, but hopefully you'll stumble across something new here that's worth a look. Happy reading.

local lemons

Originally from Brooklyn, Alison Arevalo moved to Berkeley for a change of pace. Her blog, local lemons, focuses on original, all-natural recipes. Of the recipes and ingredients she chooses, Alison says:

"I take advantage of as much local produce as I can in my recipes. I shop at farmers’ markets in Berkeley and Oakland, while making stops at Berkeley Bowl and Monterey Market. Using organic, unprocessed ingredients is as important to me as shopping locally. When I was living in Brooklyn, Whole Foods or Fairway was my supermarket of choice. Now, even though I live a few blocks from one, Whole Foods is only an afterthought."

There are a few things that make her blog an absolute pleasure to read. First, those photos. Good lord. Alison has a brilliant eye for composition, color, and light and you can’t help but become enthralled with each recipe after taking a quick glimpse at each post. Second, her recipes are creative and varied. I was blown away by the 'Fast Food Makeover' series she did recently, where she took typical bad-for-us food that so many of us love and revamped them using organic and local ingredients. Who doesn't love a chicken nugget? Or how about a filet of fish sandwich? Yeah, that's what I thought. I remember when I first started blogging and I posted about how I was trying to find the identity/voice of my blog, struggling with how much personal information to include and where to draw the line. Alison wrote in, encouraging me to do what felt right—whatever I wanted. You can tell she follows her own advice. local lemons is the real deal: a genuine, likeable voice in an increasingly glutted food blogging world.
Twitter:@LocalLemons

eating/sf

I'm not totally sure how, but Kasey's blog was one of the first local food blogs I discovered. We have similar taste in recipes and cookbooks and I often notice strange coincidences between what she covers on her blog and what I cover on my own--like how we both made Brussels sprouts the same week or fell in love with the Ad Hoc Cookbook around the same time. But, besides the no-fail recipes and clean site-layout, the concept of Kasey's blog makes this a must-read. She's paired up with her husband, Matt, who does the "Musical Pairings" portion of the site. I love thinking about food as a sensual experience--and obviously music is much the same way. So it makes perfect sense: when you think about the components of a meal, there's the food but there's also the lighting, the music, and the company you're with. So I've always loved the concept over at eating/sf, and I've discovered some great new artists by reading the blog.
Twitter: @kfleisher

No salad as a meal

Last week, my friend Anthony contacted me to ask if I'd heard about this blog, No salad as a meal. Anthony's flirting with the idea of moving to San Francisco, so he's been checking out our food scene, and apparently this was one of the first hits that came up on his Google search. Of course, I replied with a resounding yes. How could you not appreciate a blogger that doesn't fear lugging the ol' DSLR camera into dark restaurants and getting busy? There's even a post about shooting food in dark restaurants if you're interested in learning the ins and outs of setting up shop at COI. So essentially, No salad as a meal focuses mainly on detailed restaurant reviews featuring exceptional photos. The author also includes a supplementary section entitled "Entremets:" short stories in between meals. Recently one on airplane food caught my eye. This is a great site to explore when your mom's flying into town and you're drawing a blank for dinner ideas. There's a brief "NO SALAD RECOMMENDS" list with such favorites as churros at Contigo and couscous at Aziza. So all in all, it's a fun, visual feast that'll inspire you to try someplace new. The restaurant selection is tastefully culled and the posts are smartly written. What more could you ask for?
Twitter: @nosalad

101 Cookbooks

I can't say enough about 101 Cookbooks, the local food blog where Heidi Swanson writes about "the recipes that intersect my life, travels, and everyday interests." The inspiration behind the site goes a little something like this: Heidi turned around one day and realized she had over 100 cookbooks--it was time to get cooking. Most of the recipes are vegetarian and focus on natural and whole-foods ingredients. From baked doughnuts to pan-fried chickpea salad, I've whipped up some amazing meals from Heidi's site. And in addition to her growing recipe collection, 101 Cookbooks was my original inspiration to learn more about food photography. If you take a look at Heidi's blog posts or her book, Super Natural Cooking (of which she did all of the photos), you'll see why. They photos are actually quite spare without the use of a lot of fancy props, but they're absolutely stunning. She has a way of capturing the essence of each dish with the simplicity of a special bowl, the right light, and the perfect angle. When I'm struggling to think of how to photograph a certain dish for my blog, I often step back and think, what would Heidi do?
Twitter: @101Cookbooks

chez us

Denise Woodward and Laudalino Ferreira created chez us from a 20 square-foot apartment kitchen in the city (which has since changed to 40 square feet). They say: "We wanted to share with everyone how we live small but still eat big." chez us stands out for a few reasons: their rotating thematic organization and great videos. For example, instead of just listing the recipes under categories like "Breakfast" and "Main Entrée," Denise and Laudalino create searchable categories such as "Easy Eating," "French," and "Portuguese." Then there are the videos, where the couple walk their readers through things like making homemade yogurt (I want that yogurt machine!) or hearing Peter Reinhart talking about bread. The blog's easy to navigate, informative, and has great original content. Anyone whose trying to make a small kitchen work in the city will appreciate what Denise and Laudalino pump out (you can see their video on creating a pantry for storage inspiration ideas).
Twitter: @chezus

Trevor Morris is a lot like any other Bay Area foodie. When he tastes something great, he can't wait to use it, share it, and think about how it could become part of his culinary repertoire. But as the co-founder of Gelateria Naia, his first thought upon tasting anything particularly delicious is, Could I make gelato out of this?

As anyone who's watched the original Japanese Iron Chef knows, just about anything can be made into something resembling a frozen dessert. (Tasting the buttered lobster ice cream sold at a popular ice-cream shop in Bar Harbor, Maine remains a low point of my tongue's career.) Even as simple a flavor as coffee can be trickier to perfect than one might assume.

The company's years of dedication have paid off. Naia now has 4 gelato shops around the Bay Area, and freestanding counters in numerous Whole Foods stores throughout Northern California.

But it wasn't until last week's Fancy Food Show in San Francisco that I tasted gelati that transported me from the fluorescent-lit Moscone Center to the arched pergolas of a Bologna side street, to where I spent many a euro (and lazy afternoon) at La Sorbetteria Castiglione, that gastronomic city's best gelateria. And it wasn't in the Italian-food aisle, but California-made at Gelateria Naia.

What set these gelati apart was their purity and depth of flavor. Not too sweet, they were satiny smooth, pillowy and cool on the tongue, nipping right from the tongue straight to the brain's joy button. There was a deep, mellow coffee, rich but unbitter, made with Blue Bottle beans. There was a lovely, perfumey Earl Gray tea gelato steeped with a Numi Organic blend. A St. George Spirits single-malt gelato called out to be drenched with a shot of whiskey like a grown-up affogato. Chocolate was suave and mellow, the raw material provided by Tcho.

What was the one thing all these flavors had in common? They were all locally inspired, featuring some of the best artisanal products from around the Bay Area.

Part of the reasoning is, of course, a dedication to staying local. The company already gets many of its ingredients from nearby farms and producers, listing the day's sources on chalkboards in each of its stores. Yogurt from Pavel's, honey from Palamino Farms, fruits and nuts from Fiddyment Farms and B&B Ranch, among others, have become an integral part of Naia's offerings. As Morris notes,

"We opened our first store in 2002 and a year later decided to stop using the semi-finished ingredients we were importing from Italy. They tasted fine but it was a silly way to make gelato. Why buy chocolate from Italy when Guittard is right down the road? Why import pistachios when we can call and discuss different roasts with the grower in Roseville? And why would you ever use coffee flavoring when you can just use coffee beans?

But there's also the undeniable business sense of cross-branding with a company that already has its dedicated fans, as Blue Bottle does. Most important, though, said Trevor as he handed me yet another spoonful to taste, is the brainstorming and resource-sharing that happens when obsessive geniuses get together.

Instead of trying to learn everything about coffee in order to make a superlative coffee gelato, you go to a guy like Blue Bottle founder James Freeman, a man who probably spends most of his waking hours thinking about coffee. (Who needs sleep, when there's espresso?) And you sit down and talk, and by the time you get up from the table, you've hashed out a new cold-brewing method of getting big-bean flavor into your product without astringency or bitterness. Or you come back to the test kitchen with dozens of Numi teas, thinking you'll make one, two, maybe three tea flavors at the most. And then you taste tea after tea, each remarkable, each stunningly original, and you realize that you want to make a gelato out of almost every tea.

Same went with Tcho chocolate; to avoid the cloying heaviness that can weigh down some chocolate gelato, Naia gets pure chocolate liquor, without cocoa butter, for use in its version. Making gelato with high-proof alcohol is a dicey undertaking, since it resists freezing, but since their success with St. George's single-malt whiskey, they're now working on a similar gelato made with the company's popular Absinthe Verte.

Plans for other partnerships are in the works (Morris is already working with chocolate star Michael Ricchiuti on a few possibilities), and the new local flavors should be available in Naia's shops in early February. But those who can't wait can attend Naia's upcoming Pre-Release Gelato Tasting Benefit on Feb. 4, held from 6-9pm at the Berkeley store at 2106 Shattuck Ave. (The $5 fee goes to Doctors Without Borders.)

There will more than 20 brand-new flavors available featuring ingredients from TCHO Chocolate (TCHO Nutty, TCHO Chocolatey), Numi Tea (Earl Grey, Green Tea, Jasmine, Golden Chai, Rooibos), Blue Bottle Coffee (Bella Donovan, Hayes Valley Espresso, Sidamo), St George Spirits (absinthe, eau de vie) and Recchiuti Chocolate.

Get more information and buy tickets

A couple of weeks ago at work, our pastry chef, Guillermo, brought up a large, round cake from the pastry kitchen downstairs.

Everyone quickly descended upon it. It was devoured within minutes of its initial appearance.

"Tell me if you find the bean!," he said to the staff as they crowded around the cake.

Though I had never encountered a King's Cake in person, I had seen them eaten on occasion in European films during my college days. I knew that the lucky fellow or fellowess that found the bean would be crowned "King/Queen for a Day."

I wanted that bean.

I took a bite of the yeasty cake. I tasted cinnamon, I tasted orange water, but nothing that might chip my front tooth like a hard bean or a plastic baby, which are sometimes used. Then I took another bite...

There was no crunch, no cracking of enamel, just a hint of something with a little less give than the bready cake that surrounded it.

I found the bean. Though it was nearly 10 pm, I knew that I was going to be king for the next two hours. I wanted to make the most of it, issuing decrees to my fellow staff members. "We command you to run our drinks to table 41." "We feel that the emptying out of ice buckets is beneath us." How I longed to have a legitimate excuse to use the royal "we".

When I told Guillermo that I had found the bean, I wondered aloud where my crown was. "Sorry," he said, "no crowns."

"So what do I get then?" I asked.

Our executive chef looked at me, laughed, and said, "You get to buy Mexican coke and tamales for the entire kitchen staff." I learned the hard way how hard life must be for other royals, what with all that responsibility of feeding the masses and what not.

Fortunately, I learned that there were two other beans planted in that cake, which not only tied in nicely with the story of the appearance of The Three Kings, or Magi (which is how this whole Epiphany business got started), but cut my portion of the gifting down to one third. Delightful. And it's supposed to bring me good luck for the rest of the year.

According to some traditions, since I found the bean, it is now my turn to make a King's cake. Some cultures only make them for the Feast of the Epiphany, others, like the notoriously celebratory denizens of New Orleans, see Epiphany as more or less the kick-off to a month of parties that lead up to Mardi Gras. I'm siding with New Orleans here, since that means I'm well within the King's Cake zone.

Three Kings

When thinking about this cake, I realized something significant-- January is rather king-heavy in its celebrations. At the beginning of the month, we've got the baby Jesus, who some call the King of Kings; right after that comes the birthday of Elvis, the King of rock and roll; and, finally, there is Martin Luther King, Jr. Holiday. Three kings. Count 'em.

It was all too perfect to pass up.

Rather than make a straightforward, Jesus-oriented King's cake cake, I could celebrate all three kings (Sorry, Carole King was born in February) by adding three different kinds of beans.

Ideally, I would have liked one of those plastic babies to stand in for Jesus, a quaalude for Elvis, and a little peace sign for Dr. King. However, I had concerns about them melting/dissolving and causing those who ate of the cake all sorts of problems and I can't afford another lawsuit this year, so I stuck to beans.

How to Play the Cake Game

I suggest you tell those who would consume this cake precisely which bean represents whom (It's your choice. Mix it up a little. I'm sure Dr. King, for example, would get awfully tired of always having to be the black bean. There should be no grey areas and no trading allowed.

Once all three beans are found, each lucky finder will then be obligated to spend the rest of the day emulating the king he or she has found. For example, if one person finds the Jesus bean, she might take a stab at practicing forgiveness (especially to the baker of this cake, who is the person what got them into this situation in the first place). If another finds the Dr. King bean, he might perform an act in the name of civil rights. I do not recommend, however, that the finder of the Elvis bean start dating underage girls. Perhaps a song or a little swiveling of the hips would be more appropriate. Do what you want-- you baked the cake, so you get to set the rules, king maker.

How's that for absolute power?

Three Kings' Cake

This is my own, made-up version of the Mexican King Cake, Rosca de Reyes, but done Sicilian style, because, well, I'm Sicilian. More correctly, I am slightly less that 1/4 Sicilian, but that's the part of the family which dominated family holidays, so that's what I'm going with. To my knowledge, no one in my family has ever bothered with such a dessert before. Not even the mass-attending, fish-on-Fridays older generations. Hell, I didn't even know what 12th Night was until I was old enough to run for president.

One of the things I liked about the Rosca de Reyes that my friend Guillermo made was its subtlety, both in flavor and in decoration-- all the other King Cakes I've tried have been either sickeningly sweet or frightfully/delightfully garish, like the ones that come out of New Orleans.

King cakes come in so many styles and flavors that there is no one correct way to go about it. Experiment a little, why don't you? That's what I did.

Ingredients

5 to 6 cups all-purpose flour, sifted

3 eggs, plus 1 egg for glazing, all room temperature

3/4 cup granulated sugar

1 cup milk, scalded then cooled to lukewarm

1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, melted

1/4 ounce dry active yeast (1 packet)

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 teaspoon almond extract

the zest of 1 orange

1 tablespoon anise seed

1 tablespoon orange flower water

slivered almonds for garnish

dried figs, slivered, for garnish

Turbinado sugar for garnish. Turbinado-- I remember a friend of mind telling me in a low, throaty voice, that it would be his drag name, but that is another story.

AND THREE BEANS, your choice.

Preparation:

1. Scald milk and let cool down to luke warm. Sprinkle yeast over the milk and let sit for about ten minutes to let it "bloom." Melt butter and let cool to warm, too.

2. In the bowl of your electric mixer (it can, of course, be done by hand, too, but why bother if you can avoid it?), combine the butter and sugar using the paddle attachment that should have hopefully come with your machine. Add the three eggs and beat well-- until light, but not too frothy. Add vanilla and almond extracts, orange zest, and orange blossom water. Replace paddle attachment with dough hook.

3. In a separate bowl, combine flour, salt, and anise seed. Gradually add these dry ingredients to the wet ones and knead until the dough forms a loose, sticky ball. Place dough in a large lightly oiled, clean bowl, cover it with a moistened (clean) cloth and let sit somewhere warm until it has doubled in size (about an hour and a half). I prefer the inside of my turned-off oven myself. And you?

4. Turn dough out onto a floured work surface. If the dough seems a little too sticky or loose to work with at this point, just add more flour. If you're adding a lot more flour, add a little more sugar, too while you're at it. The dough should be workable, but not dry.

5. Place some sort of heat-proof bowl or other such roundish item at the center of a parchment (or better, silpat) lined baking sheet. Brush or rub the bowl lightly with butter or oil to prevent sticking. Roll the dough with your hands to make a rather thickish rope and wrap it around the bowl, tucking one of the ends under the other. If there are strange little folds or creases, it doesn't matter-- they will work themselves out in the end. And don't fret about using all of the dough. I did not-- it won't all quite fit into a baking sheet, so there is some to discard of find other, novel uses for.

6. Let the dough rise again, just as one of these three kings as promised to do. Fortunately, one only has to wait about 40 minutes to an hour for the bread, not 2,000 years like the Christians have been doing.

7. When sufficiently risen, lightly brush the surface of your dough ring with an egg wash (the remaining egg beaten with about a tablespoon of water). Decorate with dried figs, almonds, and Turbinado sugar. Tuck the three beans into the underside of the dough at various intervals.

8. Bake in a 375° oven until done. I know this sounds vague, but it depends entirely upon how large you decide to make your cake. This particular cake will take anywhere from 40 minutes to an hour. Give it a little check at around minute 35 or so. Essentially, when it smells done, it's done.

9. When sufficiently cooled, inflict this cake upon your friends and loved ones, all the while preparing yourself for retribution.

I love living in San Francisco. In what other major city does the ouster of a sausage vendor at the farmers market become a platform for public debate?

First of all, a little background: This week, the Chronicle reported in a column by CW Nevius that the Aidells booth at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market was being asked to leave by the end of the month.

Aidells is the popular sausage company that was begun in 1983 by Bruce Aidells. In her book Comfort Me With Apples, Ruth Reichl recalls first meeting Aidells, having no idea that one day he would become the "sausage king of America." Fast forward nearly thirty years, and Aidell's is a $20 million operation with sausages available in your corner store. Aidells sold his interest in the company in 2002.

Each year, CUESA, the organization that oversees the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market, assesses the applications of all market vendors (they must reapply each year) and makes decisions about what vendors will participate in the market. Needless to say, a spot at the Saturday market -- one of the biggest and most lucrative markets in the country -- is highly sought after, and participation in the market can bring a farm or purveyor into the spotlight.

CUESA takes this responsibility seriously. The vendors who have come into the market recently -- Drinkwell Soda, 4505 meats, and Catalan Family Farm, for instance -- are small business with fantastic, sustainable products and a ton of potential.

The ouster of Aidells is causing a public outcry, replete with signature gathering and a threat of protest by a sausage-dressed human this Saturday.

All day, every day, I make difficult decisions about what I am eating: whether it is sustainably grown, whether it was produced well and whether the people who grew it were treated correctly. The Ferry Plaza Farmers Market is one place that I would like to go where I don't have to think about whether the food I am purchasing meets with my exacting standards -- I know that the vendors have been vetted by a full-time staff who has my best interest at heart.

This morning, I wrote an email to CUESA executive director Dave Stockdale (dave@cuesa.org) thanking him for making the tough decision:

"A 10-year market shopper here saying that I support your decision to move Aidell's out of the Saturday market, leaving space for smaller, more sustainably-run vendors. When I go to the FPFM, I want to know that you have done the work for me -- asked the tough questions of vendors -- and that I can trust everything I buy there. I appreciate your making sure that all vendors meet the strict FPFM standards."

I don't think that Aidells is a bad company, and neither does CUESA. An email from Stockdale stated,

"Aidells is a story of success. They started with us as a small local company. They are now a national brand with annual sales reported in excess of $20-million, whose products are available in 46 states, including 31 stores in San Francisco and several area farmers markets. We are proud to have been one of the early venues for the company's products and we're thankful to Aidells for helping our market becoming a success. We see our market as an incubator for local businesses, and we want to use our limited space to provide this same opportunity to other local companies."

CUESA is simply trying to stick to their own mission, which is to shine a light on impeccably produced food from the best our region has to offer.

Further reading:
If Aidells is out at the Ferry Plaza, shouldn't Scharffen Berger have to go too? SF Weekly, 01/21/10
CUESA makes its case against Aidells. SF Eater, 01/21/10
Hotdogging earns Ferry Plaza booth an ouster. SF Chronicle, 01/19/10