As a vegan, it’s easy to eat A LOT of soy. Actually, these days, it’s easy to eat a lot of soy even if you’re an omnivore. It’s in so many things.

A popular source of protein for vegans and vegetarians is, of course, tofu. And while I love tofu and all varieties of it, I am trying to be very conscious of the amount of soy I take in. I know the topic of the health and environmental impacts of soy is controversial and people stand on opposite sides of the issue (and a lot depends on the form of soy in question). But I don't like to overdo anything, and I say, “better safe than sorry.” Plus, I love a culinary challenge and welcome as many ways to take in my protein as possible.

I have become kind of obsessed with hemp seeds lately. They contain all essential amino acids and fatty acids, and are therefore a complete source of protein. In addition, hemp is not a common allergen, like soy or nuts. And, most importantly, they are delicious. They have a nutty, creamy taste. I put spoonfuls on my coconut yogurt in the morning. I make fresh hemp milk. So, I figured, why not make some hemp tofu? Hey, the Italians already do it commercially!

hemp seeds

I got inspiration for this recipe from a few sources, mainly from a forum member on Post Punk Kitchen, named “vegimator” who makes tofu out of pumpkin and hemp seeds, and from a Finnish blog named Mammi who calls the finished product "hefu." I took their advice, combined it with my knowledge of tofu-making, and started experimenting.

This recipe yields a more crumbly tofu than soy tofu. Soy tofu is usually made after straining liquid from the pulp (or okara). I tried this technique with hemp and not enough solids were left in the strained out liquid to coagulate. Using the milk as is, straight from the blender, did work (and a Vitamix helps create a very smooth milk). Hemp tofu is great seared, for a scramble, or a stir-fry, if you don’t mind having rustic, non-cube chunks. Or do what I did: simply drizzle with some sweet soy sauce (equal parts soy sauce and sugar, simmered until thickened) and sprinkle with nori strips. The sweet soy sauce and nori goes great with the creaminess and earthiness of the hemp!

Hemp Tofu (or "hemp-fu" or "hefu")

Total Time: 1 hour
Yield: a few blocks, depending on size of tofu mold

Ingredients
2 cups shelled hemp seeds
4 cups water
1 1/2 teaspoons powdered nigari (available at Rainbow Grocery), which will be dissolved in 1 additional cup of water (Note: I have seen recipes for hemp tofu where a coagulant is not even used, so feel free to skip this part. Although, you may get a more crumbly result.)

Instructions

1. Blend hemp seeds with water for one minute at high speed (I used a Vitamix) to make hemp milk.
2. Put hemp milk in a pot and, partially cover it and bring to a boil. You'll start to seeing curds forming.



3. When it reaches a low boil, turn the heat down to medium-low and boil the milk for four minutes, stirring constantly to make sure it doesn't stick to the bottom of the pot.

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4. Meanwhile, dissolve the nigari in a cup of warm water.



5. Remove the pot from the stove, wait until the temperature reaches 155F. Add half the nigari solution and stir briskly for a few seconds. Wait until the liquid stops moving. Then add the rest of the nigari solution and gently stir a few times. Let sit 15 minutes.



6. Place a cheesecloth over a colander and strain the curds out.



7. Take an amount of curd that will fit in your press (this recipe makes a good bit of curd), place in another piece of cheesecloth and twist to get ALL of the liquid out. If it’s too hot to squeeze, you can try squeezing with tongs.



8. Place the ball of curd, still in the cloth, into a tofu press/mold, and press the curd down. Stack a few bottles or cans on top as a weight. [I bought a cheap wooden press for four dollars at Daiso in Japantown, but I think I’m going to invest in a TofuXpress so that I don’t have to worry about stacking cans on the press.]




9. Let the press stay for 30 minutes. Then unmold the hemp tofu and enjoy!

Lactard, anyone? After dinner Phosphate? These are some of the questions we were met with upon strolling into Cole Valley's new soda fountain and ice cream shop, The Ice Cream Bar on Friday night. Now I'm an ice cream gal through and through, so I've been waiting for the day when Ice Cream Bar would finally open. The time has come and I can assure you that what you'll experience once you step inside will be quite new to you.

Bustling, scooping, and smiling are the employees at The Ice Cream Bar

When you walk in the doors, things actually look quite familiar: there's an ice cream menu, folks sampling their favorite flavors, and talk of sundaes and housemade cones. Another high-end ice cream shop? Not so fast. The best way to think of Ice Cream Bar is almost like two different shops. There is the ice cream half of the shop which is just that: wonderfully rich homemade ice creams served on their own, blended into thick milkshakes, or layered into classic sundaes. So let's start there, as you probably will begin there when you visit for the first time. The young gentlemen helping us with our samplings mentioned that the pistachio, butterscotch, and honey buttermilk ice creams have been the most popular so far.

The truly wonderful banana split

But we decided to go all out with the House Banana Split: a classic sundae made with three different kinds of ice cream and topped with a caramelized banana, housemade sour cherry sauce, almonds, and whipped cream. They spend time with this sundae, caramelizing the banana in front of you with a sprinkling of sugar and a blow torch. "You can kind of crack the top just like creme brulee," we were told. And the sour cherry sauce is reason enough to order the banana split. It's tart, colorful, and refreshing -- a nice change from the creepy maraschino cherries that adorn many a dish of ice cream.

Getting the lowdown at The Ice Cream Bar

After our sundae, we wandered towards the back of the shop to the ice cream fountain. Here is where the magic really happens thanks to owner Juliet Pries' concept and Russell Davis' Soda Program. Davis, of Rickhouse, calls himself a "Beverage consultant, mixologist, and troubadour," and has created a soda fountain menu consisting of old-fashioned fountain drinks like fruit-based crushes, panaceas (healing tonics), egg creams, and build-your-own sodas using housemade extracts and tinctures. There are 13 syrups (including agave and chicory coffee), 24 house-made extracts (including birch, fennel seed, sassafras), and more than 75 tinctures all told and uncountable combinations for each. Enter the delight.

You'll scan the menu and see something familiar in a milkshakes or malts only to learn that even the milkshakes are a throw-back to the early 1900s when they weren't actually made with ice cream but, instead, a combination of egg, milk, ice and syrups. Nothing is expected or familiar at the soda fountain. You will ask lots of questions, you will sip something like nothing you've ever tasted, you will leave delighted with the experience, satisfied, and feeling like you'd just entered a whole new world.

Chris Simpson, bar manager, working his magic at the Soda Fountain

On the back of the soda fountain menus, Russell Davis explains:

"Soda fountains date back to the 1800s and served to replicate the 'healing' properties of the effervescent natural mineral waters that boil out of the earth. They were more like pharmacies than just places to get soda, and the soda experts were just as much healers as they were beverage crafters. We are reviving the lost art of mixing these specialty drinks, along with their ingredients."

Extracts & Solutions: How the Magic Happens

And reviving the lost art they are. Truly. At one point I saw Simpson glancing at a book with handwritten notes. Inquiring as to whether those are the recipes, he mentioned that they're his personal notes for concocting special off-menu drinks for customers who ask. We decided to go the more traditional route and opted for a root beer soda, asking him to make it with whatever extracts he thought would be really delicious. The result? A root beer soda with sassafras, wintergreen and peppermint extracts.

Extracts & Our Root Beer Soda

It was strangely refreshing and boasted a marriage of flavors I would have never thought to join. For our second foray into soda-land, we chose the Breakfast Soda, a drink with muddled fresh oranges, powdered sugar, maple syrup, and thyme extract. It was mild, pleasant, and only slightly sweet--a good starter soda for those wanting to try something but unsure how to dive right in.

The employees at Ice Cream Bar will be quick to tell you that everything is housemade, from the cones to the syrups to the marshmallows and candies. Their future plans involve rolling out savory items focusing on classic comfort food. Hot dogs and grilled cheese sandwiches are rumored to be in the mix. The delight is understandable: kids and adults alike are enjoying cones, sundaes, floats, and egg creams in a sweet, vintage-styled ice cream shop. What's not to like? The befuddlement arises from the fact that soda fountains are such a thing of the past that many of us will have little context for understanding how they were much more of a pharmacy than a dessert spot. You could tell the soda jerk what ailed you and he would fix up something to help relieve your symptoms. To most of us this invites questioning, curiosity, and an entirely new landscape of discovery. Go see for yourself.

The Ice Cream Bar
815 Cole Street @ Carl, San Francisco
(415) 742-4932
Hours: 12pm-10pm Everyday
Like them on Facebook or Follow on Twitter

Chefs MikeC and Olivier Said strike a pose in the kitchen. Images courtesy of KoF

Turns out that a financial meltdown can be a good thing for a cooking school -- even one that charges $70 a class and $799 for a 12-week series of instruction.

Classes at the Gourmet Ghetto-based Kitchen on Fire in the Epicurious Garden are in such demand that the business now boasts a second, larger facility -- at 2,500 square foot twice the size of the original location -- in West Berkeley. The public can check out the new culinary classroom at its grand opening on Saturday night.

Back in 2005, chefs Olivier Said and MikeC teamed up to offer cooking classes both practical and playful. Their mission: To take the mystery out of kitchen techniques and culinary language, make cooking accessible to anyone who wanted to learn how to use a knife, and have fun putting food on a plate. (Read a recent review of one class and what a hundred or so Yelpers have to say.)

Like the original location, KoF2 offers a range of classes, including knife-skills, regional and ethnic cuisine, couples cookery, seasonal and farmers' market fare, and specialty food preparation (everything from cocktail party soirees to one-pot family meals for weeknights). All that, plus their signature 12-week basic cooking series taught in a space decked out with state-of-the-art equipment.

(Word to the recession weary: The kitchen is currently not accepting any new culinary assistants, which has proven a popular way for cash-strapped wannabe cooks to hone their skills. In exchange for helping prep before classes and clean up after, culinary assistants attend for free.)

In addition to showing off their new digs, serving food, and talking up the school's calendar of classes, MikeC and Said will sign copies of their recent book, Kitchen on Fire: Mastering the Art of Cooking in 12 Weeks (or Less), a step-by-step, technique-driven tome designed to offer new skills for the complete novice to the accomplished home cook.

Kitchen on Fire plans to offer longer classes at their new satellite site.

BAB checked in with Chef MikeC to find out what's cooking at the new Kitchen on Fire location.

Why did you decide to open a second Kitchen on Fire site and what drew you to this location?

Our classes were filling up so quickly (and many had large wait lists) so we needed more space to handle the demand. Our new location offers close access to the freeway, Berkeley Bowl West is in walking distance, and it's attached to a restaurant and home chef retail store, Rocket Restaurant Resource. Those three things made it a perfect match for us.

How has the continuing economic downturn and renewed interest in the D.I.Y. Domestic Arts impacted your business?

Oddly enough we have thrived through the recession. More people seem to think learning to cook is a great idea right now, whether to save money, eat healthier, change career, or just for the love of food. People want to come into the kitchen and create enticing, delicious, nourishing experiences at home for family and friends.

How is the new location different from the Gourmet Ghetto site?

It is a larger facility with two kitchens. It is also a blend of home chef and restaurant cooking equipment, so we can offer classes for both the home and professional chef.

What can folks look forward to at the new school in terms of classes, instructors, and events?

We will offer longer (four or more hours compared to our typical three-hour) classes, as well as more series-style classes on both cooking techniques and ethnic cuisines, including Thai, Indian, and French. We're also working with an ever-growing roster of guest chef instructors that are experts in their cuisines. On the event side, we can now hold larger private and corporate parties.

What's unique about your cooking school?

We are one of only a few independent (not part of a retail, grocery, cooking appliance) cooking schools in the country that has a focus on teaching home chefs. We have a vibrant atmosphere, with expert instructors who engaging. We explain the inner workings of food and its cookery to help students become confident cooks.

We're also involved in community outreach programs with non-profit partners such as Three Squares and St. Vincent de Paul's Kitchen of Champions. We help teach people living on welfare how to feed their families healthy meals on limited budgets or learn cooking skills they can use to find work in the food service industry.

What are the fundamental cooking techniques a novice should learn first?

Knife skills: If the food isn’t cut to the proper (and uniform) shape and size, it won’t cook evenly. Sautéing and stir frying would be next. Both are quick and easy techniques to make a meal and also the first step for many other techniques, such as making a soup or stew.

If you had to name three dishes that every home chef should know how to prepare, what would they be?

A roasted chicken and vegetables, veggie stir fry, and frittata.

A sneak peek inside the new Kitchen on Fire culinary classroom.

Details:

Kitchen on Fire West Grand Opening
Saturday, January 28, 7 p.m.-9 p.m.
Address: Map
(Inside Rocket Restaurant Resource)
2940 7th Street, Berkeley (between Potter St. and Anthony St.)
510-548-2665

There is a relatively new bar in town. But this isn't just a bar. More accurately: there is a small, unassuming cafe and bar that's successfully blending elements from numerous concepts (small plates, cocktails, draft beer, brunch, book-lending library, book club) with style, comfort and grace. The place is Two Sisters Bar and Books and the story goes something like this: two sisters, Mikha Diaz and Mary Elliott decide to travel before settling down into the job market. In graduate school, Mikha studied continental philosophy and Mary studied Russian language and literature; they decided Poland was a good place to start their journey and they quickly stumbled across Massolit Books in Krakow and fell in love. After just one week in Krakow, the sisters knew they wanted to recreate a similar place in San Francisco. Mary stayed on in New York City (where the gals went to school) and worked from afar helping curate the books for the space. Mikha set to work with her business partners, her husband and parents, on finding a storefront in a desirable neighborhood in the city -- no easy feat.

The bar at Two Sisters

It took Mikha one year to find the old Marino's space in Hayes Valley; getting it into ship-shape took some elbow grease and dealing with city permits always takes a whole lot of time and patience, but Two Sisters had their soft opening on Oct 12, 2011 and things have been growing and evolving ever since. When I walked in, I saw old volumes of books lining the wall to my left, tables full of folks reading, chatting, eating and drinking to my right and a welcoming bar towards the back. I asked Mikha to tell me more about the space: are they an actual bookstore? Do they do coffee or is it really more of a bar? They serve dinners, too? In talking to folks around the city, there seems to be a little confusion about the identity of the spot, and after visiting, I think that's actually part of its charm. You need to go and visit to really see for yourself.

But I did learn that it is a charming bar and restaurant, serving wine and beer, specialty cocktails and fermented sodas, snacks and charcuterie plates. They do a $20 fixed-price brunch on Sundays. The rest of the time they serve a few daily plates, such as pork meatballs and kabocha squash bread pudding. Alex Smith is the kitchen manager at Two Sisters, and she and Mikha describe how the price of the plates really reflects the little-bit smaller portions (right inbetween a tapas plate and an entree). They're all particularly excited about the house-smoked blue cheese they've been doing, and the spring menu that will be unveiled towards the end of February. It seems, all around, there's a lot to be excited about.

Book-lending library at Two Sisters

Before I left, Mikha and I were just casually talking about the neighborhood and what kind of folks Two Sisters is attracting. She beamed and said it's truly becoming a neighborhood spot where locals come when they don't really feel like cooking. It's not as big of a financial commitment as a true sit-down restaurant so you can just dabble with a few snacks and a small plate. It's also a big day-time hangout with the book-lending library and the (genius) Books and Booze Reading Club where a monthly book is paired with an appropriate cocktail.

Folks can stroll in and pick up a book they're interested in and take it home, replacing it with a book they've decided to leave behind. Mikha described an interesting phenomenon of people wanting to get rid of books but feeling like they were too special to drop off at a nameless donation center, so the lending library has been growing quickly as more and more people want a special home for their books.

And it's clear from the crowd on a cold Saturday afternoon that many San Franciscans are claiming the actual space as a home, too. Just what the sisters had envisioned. Each element (good cocktails, books, and seasonal food) have truly come together in perfect harmony. There's a lot to discover here. It's the kind of spot that makes we wish I, too, lived in the neighborhood. For now, I'm eager to come back when I have a little more time to sit, swap a book, and try a nibble.

Two Sisters Bar and Books
579 Hayes Street (between Laguna and Octavia)
San Francisco, CA 94102
(415) 863-3655
Hours: Tuesday - Thursday 4 pm - 11 pm; Friday 4 pm - 12 am
Saturday 1 pm - 12 am; Sunday 11 am - 10 pm

Happy Hour: 4 pm - 6 pm Tuesday - Friday & 1 pm - 4 pm Saturday
Brunch: Sunday 11 am - 4 pm
Follow them on Facebook or Twitter

So, like other food preservationists and kitchen tinkerers, I love to dry things -- fruit slices, fruit leather, cheese, beef jerky, etc. In the heat of summer the sun does the work for me. But the other ten months of the year in Northern California, however, I usually rely on my oven on a low setting, door slightly ajar to release moisture, to do the job. And while effective, each bite contains the residual taste of enviro-guilt that comes from leaving the oven on and the heat blowing upward for several hours. The results are excellent, but I cannot help but be haunted by the fossil fuel energy loss necessary for a homemade Fruit Roll-Up.

Certainly I could buy a food dehydrator (and I still may), but my gas oven runs therms, plug-in dryers run watts, and I’m not science-geeky enough to know if they are truly more energy efficient. Plus, I thought, I already own a large piece of heating equipment that dries sopping wet clothing in record speed (also fueled by gas), that spins with convection-like capability.

The Newton’s apple (orange?) that struck me with the idea was a perfectly shriveled piece of orange peel found at the bottom of the clean laundry basket. Had I been sitting on (and ignoring) the world’s best food dehydrator next to the washing machine and not taking advantage of its power? Is it possible to more efficiently dry fruit, vegetables, and meat in the high-heat, high-motion clothes dryer in one round of Permanent Press? Sadly, at least in my scientific exploration, the answer is no.

I quickly sliced a navel orange into 1/8-inch slices. My hope was that a regular high heat setting would yield chewy, moist results. I didn’t want the fruit to touch the walls of the dryer directly, as I feared a future of sticky laundry as I scraped orange sauce from the inside of the machine’s barrel. I thought fabric assistance would help wick moisture and hold the fruit in place, so I grabbed a clean cotton dishtowel. Oh, and a knee sock. Everything’s better with knee socks.

I laid a dishtowel out into a rectangle shape and then arranged two rows of orange slices horizontally across the middle. I folded up the bottom and folded down the top, making sure fruit was tucked into towel completely. Then I folded one encased row over another to sandwich both rows of oranges together.

I used rubber bands to cinch the sides of the towels together and to keep the fruit from falling out. I had first tried this with clothespins, but they banged around too much and some of them broke. Safety pins work, too.

Then -- my genius move -- I cut the toe from an old knee sock (don’t worry, I’ll still wear it!) and wiggled the sock down like a tube over the entire length of the towel and fruit to secure it. Note that I first tried this with a polyester sock, a fiber known for keeping moisture in. Rookie error! Go with all cotton.

I moved the whole fruit-towel-sock contraption to a mesh laundry bag. If my experiment worked, my hope was that I could put several batches of fruit into the laundry bag and dry them all at once.

After 70 minutes on Permanent Press, the good news is that I managed to contain the fruit and I didn’t have to clean the machine. The bad news, however, is that the fruit was still very, very wet. I tried one more cycle but then gave up, because after two hours, it wasn’t drying nearly as quickly as it does in the oven. If you try a different method and you have any success, please let me know!

In the interim, I’ll go back to drying fruit the old-fashioned way in the oven (OK, modern old-fashioned, because true old-fashioned would be drying it over a fire).  Here’s how I usually do it.

Chewy Dried Orange Slices

Time: About 3 hours

Despite my continuous protests, my mother mails me Honeybell oranges from Florida every year. They cost her a fortune. Some of them always arrive moldy. They’re not organic. And, uh, I live in California where the oranges nearby are outrageously good. I feel bad just using them all for juice, so I dried them with just a touch of sugar to balance out the tanginess of the dried fruit. The finished results are far more complex than they appear: moist, sticky, and chewy, super tangy and super flavorful -- like a slice of the best marmalade or orange candy you’ve ever had. Eat them straight up, or use their jewel-like demeanor to stunningly top iced cookies, cupcakes, or cakes. Of course, you can also do this with navel oranges or any other sweet variety.

Ingredients
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 4 large Honeybell oranges
• 1 tsp. flaked sea salt (like Maldon)
• Crushed black pepper, to taste

Instructions
1. Preheat the oven to 200 degrees.
2. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper, and pour the sugar into a bowl or small plate.
3. Using a serrated knife, slice the rind and pith from the bottom and the top of the oranges. Stand the fruit straight up and cut off all of the skin -- first cut from top to bottom and then flip the orange over and slice from top to bottom again to remove it all. Thinly slice the well-peeled fruit into horizontal rounds about 1/8-inch thick and move them onto a clean dish towel in a single layer. Once all oranges have been cut, lay another clean towel on top and press on it gently to absorb some of the juice.
4. Dip one side of the orange into the sugar and place it onto the baking sheet sugar side down. Follow suit with all of the oranges until the tray is full -- it’s okay if the oranges touch one another, but don’t let them overlap.
5. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Place them in the oven on a low rack, and leave the oven door ajar with a wooden spoon.
6. Check the oranges after about three hours. They should be tacky on top and may pool some syrup, but not fully dry. If not, check them every half hour for doneness.
7. Eat them warm or pack the oranges in a single layer separated by sheets of wax paper in an airtight container. Store refrigerated for several months.

Plow is not new. But there are some spots in the city that warrant constant discussion well after opening day; Plow is one such place. In April 2010, Joel Bleskacek and Maxine Siu, ex-Oliveto folks, decided to take the plunge and open a small restaurant in their Potrero Hill neighborhood. It is a warm, bustling spot at the base of the hill with a handsome bar, a number of cozy tables and tons of natural light. The wait can be long on a Saturday or Sunday but the staff is upbeat and attentive and they do an amazing job of making everyone feel at home.

I visited Plow on a recent Saturday with a few friends. We dutifully put our names on the list, were told the wait would be an hour-and-a-half, and took a seat on one of the outdoor benches to catch up. When it seemed liked we were just at the hunger-breaking-point, our names were called and we headed inside to claim a table. The food at Plow is decidedly simple; most of the ingredients are sourced from local farms and it's the kind of menu that you curse at first because it makes deciding on just one dish incredibly difficult. From the French toast with poached pears and mascarpone to the lemon ricotta pancakes or cider-brined pork chop -- it's a very tough call. I say start with some Equator coffee and then leave the French toast and pancakes for one of Plow's remarkable egg dishes.

Soft Scrambled Eggs and Crispy Potatoes

Plow does eggs well. Really, really well. And after reading Ruth Reichl's piece in Gilt Taste on How to Make Better Scrambled Eggs, eggs have been on my mind lately. While I was truthfully shocked at the amount of butter Ruth Reichl describes (1 stick of butter/4 eggs), I have a hunch Plow's eggs follow suit. They are light and fluffy, the kind of scrambled eggs you know you just can't replicate at home.

Savory Bread Pudding with Kale and Leeks

The savory bread pudding has a little warning that it's only available "until it's gone." You know what that means: get there early to snag a piece because they do often sell out. And I can see why. Packed with kale and leeks and a touch of Gruyere, it's hearty but not in a cumbersome, soporific way. Instead, it's actually quite light and really celebrates the vegetables and cheese while avoiding a common mistake of adding too much salt or over-baking. We opted for crispy potatoes instead of the side salad that it's usually served with. Pleasantly salty and, true to their name, crispy as heck these are some of the best breakfast potatoes I've had in quite some time. There's nothing worse than waiting well over an hour in the San Francisco winter wind for a plate of soggy potatoes. That won't be the case here.

Eggs Benedict with Spinach and Mushrooms

And then we come to the ultimate in egg celebration: the Eggs Benedict with fennel pollen Hollandaise sauce. While the eggs are poached perfectly here, I did find the English Muffin to be a little spongy for my taste. But everything is thoughtfully done at Plow, from the finely chopped chives sprinkled on top of the eggs to the variety of mushrooms or the attentive coffee refills and warm service. And have I mentioned those crispy potatoes?

So in short, there are a lot of spots to get brunch in the city. There are the classics, like Brenda's, Foreign Cinema and Absinthe. And then quieter show-stoppers like 15 Romolo or Southern favorite Farmer Brown. But trust me when I tell you: if you're looking for some very special eggs in a very special atmosphere, Plow is where it's at.

Plow
1299 18th street
(between Mississippi St & Texas St)
San Francisco, CA 94107
(415) 821-7569
Hours: Tues-Fri 7am - 2pm; Sat-Sun 8am - 2pm

The Year of the Dragon roars into town today, with two weeks of celebrations capped by the famous Chinatown Parade on February 11. Saturday, I attended a New Year’s themed buffet lunch and wok cooking demonstration by acclaimed cookbook author and San Francisco native, Grace Young, in Louie’s restaurant, a Chinatown institution.

Young —wearing a lucky red-colored top, as are many other attendees— greets her audience by reminding us that New Year’s is “the most important holiday in the Chinese calendar. It’s about renewal, rebirth and family togetherness.” Of all the animals in the Chinese horoscope, the mythical dragon is thought to embody power and success. Those born under its the sign are believed to be exceptionally intelligent, creative, charismatic, fearless, lucky, generous, confident, innovative, passionate but unpredictable. No wonder millions of Chinese people are waiting to get married, start businesses and have babies this year.

The powerful dragon is a good symbol for Grace Young, a determined woman on a mission. Her goal: to rejuvenate authentic Chinese home cooking by keeping the wok tradition alive. “For 2000 years, the wok has been the iron thread that has bound Chinese culinary culture.” she says. “Now is the first time in his history that it’s at risk of being lost.” Non-stick woks are destroying Chinese home cooking,” declares Young passionately. “The food doesn’t taste right, because you can’t get it to sear and caramelize properly. It ends up braised and soggy. Non-stick cookware is not meant for the high heat necessary for stir-fries.” She prefers a flat-bottom, 14-inch carbon steel wok, with a long wooden handle, which can be seasoned to a warm burnished gold, like the one she is using today to make spicy long beans with sausage and mushrooms, a dish her mother taught her.

Besides coming to celebrate the new year with her family in San Francisco, Young is on a tour to promote and sign copies of her latest book, Stir-Frying to the Sky’s Edge, winner of the James Beard International Cookbook Award, which has taken her to Chinese diaspora communities around the world and steeled her resolve to share the secrets of the wok with as many home cooks as possible.

Young demonstrates how to judge when the preheated wok is hot enough (as soon as a drop of water evaporates on contact) then swirls in the oil and quickly adds her vegetables. One tip she imparts is to listen to your food cook, “That sizzle is the wok talking to you. If you don’t hear it, it’s not hot enough.” Her green beans turn out crunchy with a delicate, smoky wok flavor, which Young says sets it apart from stir-fries made in a skillet or non-stick cookware.

Meanwhile, upstairs, a Chinese calligrapher inks lucky characters on red paper, and the guests line up to fill their plates with lucky foods. Wilma Pang, one of the organizers of today’s event, under the auspices of A Better Chinatown Tomorrow, explains the symbolism of the foods arranged on the buffet table.

Many dishes are considered lucky because their Chinese names are homonyms for auspicious goals; others insure a good year because of their shapes or colors.

“The word for celery (choi) is a homonym for hard work,” Pang explains, and it portends the monetary result of all that effort. Green onions stand for intelligence; the turnip cake signifies that things will keep getting better. The apple means smooth sailing ahead and the tangerine is considered lucky because its orange color connects to gold. Its leaves represent growth and prosperity.

Although, many Chinese New Years foods vary by family and village, the one universal dish is crescent shaped dumplings. Traditionally, dumplings are made on New Years Eve by all the members of the family, working together. Their shape represents gold ingots and so symbolizes good fortune for the upcoming year. “The more you make, it’s like putting money in the bank,” says Pang. “And often, we hide a coin in one dumpling for a lucky diner to find.”

Pang points out the chicken with its head and feet still attached. “Very important to cook an entire chicken, for family togetherness.”

“See these cookies that open up with a smiling face, they represent happiness,” says Pang.

During the meal, there is one dish that has even the Chinese diners stumped. What are those roundish starchy vegetables? “Arrowroot,” Pang answers and holds up a fresh one, slyly smiling as she explains, “See this shape, with the little part that sticks out – that’s for having boy babies.”

After lunch, I have a chance to chat with Grace Young and ask her a few questions.

She grew up eating the traditional Cantonese foods her parents prepared. But at age 12, discovered Julia Child on TV and became fascinated with French cooking, and its entirely different culinary vocabulary. After apprenticing with French chef Josephine Araldo in San Francisco, Young moved to New York in 1979, and worked writing and testing recipes for General Foods. Then she ran the test kitchen at Time Life Books for 18 years, and produced more than 40 cookbooks that spanned the globe.

A chance comment from a cousin ignited the spark of Young’s passion to explore her own family’s culinary culture. Her cousin said, ”When it comes to Chinese cooking, I don’t even try because you can’t beat the Chinese take-out in San Francisco.” Young feared that if most second generation Chinese shared her cousin’s indifference towards learning to make the food of their ancestors, a wealth of authentic recipes and foodways might disappear.

For three years, she made numerous visits to San Francisco to learn her parents’ and family’s recipes. This led to her parents sharing stories about customs and traditions associated with the food, as well as tales from their lives in China that she had never heard before. Young’s first book, The Wisdom of the Chinese Kitchen, was published in 1999 and won the IACP Best International Cookbook. Young is proudest of this book because she feels it preserves traditional Chinese home cooking.

Is the dish you made today special for Chinese New Year's?
Not specifically, but it has mushrooms which grow quickly and so symbolize prosperity. I made this dish today because it’s one of my mother’s favorites. Now that she’s getting older and doesn’t cook, I’m so grateful I have recorded her recipes in my book. When I go back and reread them, it’s as if I can hear her still talking to me through the recipes. For all these years, she always made the New Year’s Eve meal and now in the last few years I am able, through my book, to make it for her. It’s ironic because I always thought that I was writing for the next generation. And in a million years I never dreamed I would give this back to my mother. When I make her a special New Year’s dish, like turnip cake, her face lights up, because food is memory.

Is there a certain dish you always have for New Year's eve dinner?
Fish is the standard dish at the end of the meal. The word for fish “yu” means wish and signifies abundance. It is essential to serve the complete fish, with the head and tail attached to ensure a good beginning and end to the year. Traditionally purchased live from a tank where one can pick out a strong swimmer, the poached fish with scallions and ginger is served as the last course of the New Year’s Eve feast, but not completely consumed. The leftovers are eaten the next day, so that its abundance will spill over into the New Year. Lobster, as the king of the ocean, represents the energy of the dragon. But any seafood is auspicious. Shrimp, whose name ha sounds like laughter, represents happiness; the shells of clams and scallops resemble old Chinese coins and therefore portend prosperity. Also, the clam shells open as you stir fry them, signifying a new beginning.

What's the difference between the Chinatowns in San Francisco and New York?
For me, San Francisco Chinatown has such sweet memories. My father was a liquor salesman and so the owners of every restaurant and shop knew him and gave us a special welcome. Plus, the produce in California is so much more abundant and pristine in quality, especially the Asian vegetables. I love the hustle bustle and energy of shopping on Stockton Street. When a grocer brings out a new box of baby bok choy or snow pea shoots and rips it open, all of a sudden everyone lunges towards it with frenzied excitement and all these hands try to grab the freshest greens.

As we finish our interview, I accompany Grace on a short walk to The Wok Shop, a bustling little warren, filled chock-a-block with woks, gadgets and cooking accessories, whose owner Tane Chan graciously provided the seasoned wok for today’s cooking demonstration.

“This is the best wok store in the whole country,” says Grace as she leads me right to the tower of carbonized steel flat bottom woks (only $24.95). And I gladly buy one. No use resisting the power of the dragon.

Loyalties, divided! I'm a second-generation Jersey girl and the daughter of a dedicated New York Giants fan. Mostly when I think of my dad, I see him in a chair in the den, comfortably plowing through the Star-Ledger and the New York Times, section by section, smelling of Old Spice, coffee, and newsprint. But he was also a rabid sports fan, and basketball, horseracing, and football were his sports. He spent a lot of chilly winter afternoons huddled in the stands with me and my sisters, a blanket wrapped around our shoulders as he tried to explain what was going on between the wide-shouldered men scurrying like ants around the Astroturf. Yes, they were the New York Giants, but they played at the Meadowlands, on our turf, and everyone assumed that North Jersey, where we lived, was kind of a sixth borough of New York City anyway.

My sister Amy has come late to her birthright as a Giants fan. She doesn't have a lot of team fellowship out in Minnesota, where she lives; the recent triumph of the Giants over the Green Bay Packers was celebrated mostly for the whipping the Packers took, since any dedicated Minnesotan despises the Packers, longtime arch-rivals of the home-team Vikings. But she found a Giants jersey somewhere, and now she wears it around town in lonely pride. (She felt the same way when Obama won, four years ago. While Oakland erupted in cheers, cruising, and fireworks, her posh Minneapolis suburb tallied its Republican losses behind closed curtains.) "I hope you'll remember your roots!" she said about Sunday's game, only half-joking.

But I left New Jersey in 1990, settling in San Francisco for the next 12 years. Yes, there was a brief boomerang back to New York City for a few years in the mid-2000s, but I returned to Bernal Heights in 2008, full of a winter longing for backyard Meyer lemons and fresh Dungeness crab, convinced that this was my home. My girlfriend, a lifelong Californian and hometown-team fan of the Sharks, the 49ers, and the San Francisco Giants, swears by the five-year rule. After five years in a new place, she says, you have to leave old allegiances behind and adopt your new city's team as your own.

Mostly, I'll be rooting for the 49ers because I know everyone in the Bay Area will be super-excited if they win, and a Superbowl frenzy always gives a city a little lift, something to talk to strangers about in the supermarket check-out line. But I hope Eli Manning and the rest of the boys in blue give the Niners a good run, something worth munching through all those ads for Ram trucks and Coors Light.

Ah, yes, football and food. This year's 49ers are not the high-living Chardonnay-sippers of the Joe Montana era; in their blue-collar workshirts, they're following the working man's attitude of coach Jim Harbaugh. And Candlestick Park hardly offers the wine and sushi of AT&T Park, although there will be a clutch of local food trucks serving the tailgaters outside the park on Sunday (in Bud Light Plaza, naturally).

Never one to miss an East-vs.-West rivalry, food blog Serious Eats has a tongue-in-cheek scoreboard of NYC vs. SF eats, tallied in four quarters for burgers, sandwiches, pizza, and ice cream.

According to New York writer Ed Levine, NY bumps out SF in the burger category, thanks to a bunch of fancy-pants taverns and their dry-aged prime beef offerings; just hearing about the meaty glories of Marlowe, Zuni, Rosemunde's Tuesday special, and Joe's Cable Car doesn't sway a guy with Shake Shack in his backyard, apparently. There's a dual-city tie for sandwiches, with Bakesale Betty's fried chicken sammie scoring equal touchdowns with Katz's pastrami.

But wait, New York wins for "pizza diversity"? How can this be, when there's no mention made of San Francisco's great innovation, Indian pizza, the best meeting of East and West since Marco Polo brought back noodles from China? Sorry, New York, you may have an infinite number of greasy slice joints, but no one does garlicky, spicy, cilantro-y cauliflower on a cheesy crust like they do at the corner of Mission and Cortland.

We do get the edge for ice cream; even a Giants fan like Levine is forced to admit that "SF is one helluva ice cream town these days," thanks to Humphrey Slocumbe, Bi-Rite Creamery, Mr. & Mrs. Miscellaneous in Dogpatch, Three Twins, Ciao Bella, and Straus Creamery's excellent soft serve. And this in a place where the summer temperatures rarely cruise above 65 degrees--take that, you sweaty New Yorkers! His final foodie's score? New York wins burgers and pizza, San Francisco wins ice cream, and so New York nosh beats San Francisco eats by a single point.

For which I have one word for you, Mr. Levine: avocados. Ever tried to get a decent ripe avo in an NYC supermarket? Ever tried to find a saucer of guacamole for less than $12 in an NYC restaurant? I have, and you know what, New York City? Epic fail! Avocados grow on trees here, and it shows. Avocados, Meyer lemons, Casa Sanchez chips, Anchor Steam beer: Who's got it better than us? Nobody!

San Francisco 49ers Guacamole

Honestly, why would anyone settle for some questionable green goop in a tub when you can make your own in 10 minutes with nothing more than a bowl, a fork, and a few of our buttery, nutty California-grown avocados? If you want to go totally local, look for Bearss limes in the farmers' market. Green and lime-y when underripe, yellow and more lemony when ripe, makes a good locavore substitute for tropical-grown limes. This recipe is adapted from my kids' cookbook, Williams-Sonoma Fun Food: Kids in the Kitchen.

Photo by Stephane von Stephane

Prep Time: 10 minutes
Total Time: 10 minutes
Yield: 2 cups

Ingredients
2 scallions (green onions), chopped
3 ripe avocados, peeled and pitted
juice of 2 limes
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cumin
1 fresh jalapeno pepper, minced
5 or 6 sprigs of fresh cilantro

Preparation
1. In a medium bowl, mash the avocados roughly with a fork. I like my guac a little chunky, but if you like it smoother, just keep mashing. If you're making this in quantity, a flat, waffle-style potato masher is a good tool.

2. Mix in the lime juice, salt, and cumin. Add the chopped scallion and jalapeno. Taste for seasoning.

3. If not serving right away, press plastic wrap directly onto the surface of the mixture to cover and refrigerate. Taste for seasoning before serving, adding more salt or lime as needed.

4. Just before serving, pinch leaves off cilantro sprigs. Mix half the leaves into the guacamole, and sprinkle the rest on top. Serve with fresh raw vegetables and/or your favorite corn chips.

Del Popolo, a custom-mobile-pizzeria-on-wheels, is due to roll out next month from self-proclaimed “dough guy” Jon Darsky. The name Del Popolo means 'of the people' and represents the "simple and egalitarian nature of pizza." Darsky is most recently known to pizza fans for his gently blistered, thin-crust, award-winning pizzas from flour + water. He is the primary designer of this new Bay Area mobile pizzeria, which started as a transatlantic shipping container and will be morphed into a pizza kitchen on wheels, custom-tricked out in ways that are different from other food trucks. He employed a local designer to translate his ideas and “make the concept real on the computer,” as well as produce the detailed drawings and plans required to actually build it. Mclellan Industries, based in Hanford, California, handled the fabrication and production. Darsky said of his approach, “Most food trucks start from the same place, with a repurposed step van, and incorporate similar modifications, designs and equipment. I started with the idea that I wanted to use an unconventional appliance in a custom format that would expand the idea of what mobile food can be.”

Darsky hails from New York and currently lives in Noe Valley. He has worked locally at Pizzaiolo, Pizzeria Delfina and flour + water, after an initial career as a pro baseball scout. He is newly married and just back from his honeymoon.

Jon Darsky and his wife, Sara on their honeymoon. Photo courtesy of Del Popolo

How did you and your spouse Sara meet?
In late summer 2004, we were set up and went on a blind date at a bar in Manhattan. In 2007, she got a job with YouTube in entertainment marketing, and we moved from Brooklyn to San Francisco.

Do you have any children?
We have a six-year old named Rocco. He's a Jack Russell terrier.

Tell us about getting married.
We ran out of red wine half through the night, and were forced to hit Safeway in Pope Valley (Napa Valley) for some Woodbridge. Humphry Slocombe made us a custom flavor of sorbet -- peach moscato -- and Anastasia at Sweet Revolution made a small box of caramels for each guest.

How was the honeymoon?
We went to Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. In Bangkok's Chinatown, off the back of a pickup truck, we shared a plate of durian and sticky rice with a little condensed milk. On its’ own durian is difficult. It smells bad and is somewhere between savory and sweet. But with the sticky rice and the sweet condensed milk, it's delicious. We got a great photo of the woman preparing food in the truck.

Bangkok Chinatown food truck. Photo courtesy of Del Popolo

In Siem reap, I had an eggplant, pork and fermented soybean dish that was awesome. It was part of a $17 tasting menu that culminated with a black sticky rice creme brûlée.

In Hanoi, my two favorites were the pho I ate in the morning. It was the best food I've ever experienced on a stool a foot off the ground; invigorating and super flavorful. I also had fried fish with turmeric, dill, chili and rice noodles, and a papaya salad with air-dried beef.

How are things going with Del Popolo?
Swell. The project was born in June of 2010, a few months after my departure from flour + water. It's closer to launching now than ever before.

Did you have to get any sort of certification or training to operate your mobile?
There’s no certification and no training. Only a commercial drivers license, which requires that you pass the CDL test. It’s not that easy. I spent an entire day in Fresno. In addition to the road test, there's a test of your familiarity with the air brake system. I failed it the first time….

How did you begin working with Mclellan Industries?
I found them online. When I contacted them initially, business was slow and they were receptive. They're not in the food truck business, but they had the necessary expertise, facilities and tools to carry out the project.

What are your favorite Bay Area spots to shop for food?
I like to buy Twizzlers at Office Max on Harrison Street. They're always fresh. I feel sick, stupid and guilty afterwards, but the first ten are really good. Also, Thai eggplant, tamarind, and sweet basil from the Battambang market on Eddy Street. It's a Thai market owned by a Cambodian woman.
I also like Oscar's Deli on Cesar Chavez, for good, inexpensive falafel.

Where is your favorite date-night spot?
La Ciccia, where I like to order the spaghetti with bottarga. I go there for the spaghetti and the hospitality.

If you had to pick one pizza as your favorite, which one would it be?
In S.F., Una Pizza Napoletana.
In L.A., my brother-in-law makes delicious pizza at Sotto. Both are thoughtful in terms of process, ingredients and the tools they use. There is no randomness to what they do, and it is born out in the end product. Similarly, my style is built around asking as many questions as possible in order to really understand what I am doing.

What is your favorite meal to have with your family?
Beans. I like to make beans, with almost any kind from Rancho Gordo. It’s hands-down my favorite thing to make… add some herbs and some sherry vinegar.

What will you do for Valentine’s Day?
We're going to the SF ballet to see Chroma.

What’s your guiltiest food pleasure?
Anything with meat.

Del Popolo Website
Twitter: @pizzadelpopolo

The current adventure actually started ten years ago, when our friend Sylvia learned we were about to leave on a trip to Paris. She pressed $50 into my hand, begging, “You have to get me two kilos of vanille des îles at Thé Mariage Frères.” Sensing my hesitation at possibly transporting a couple of kilos of some unknown (controlled?) substance, she whispered, “Try some yourself, you’ll love it.”

Turned out my friend’s drug of choice was an intensely flavored black tea infused with incomparable vanilla from Madagascar. And to procure it, my family wandered the winding streets of the Marais district of Paris to a quaint teashop with an elegant tea salon that served swoon-worthy pastries. Our then 9-year old daughter, Lila, fell completely under the spell of Thé Mariage Frères, as did my husband and I.

Thanks to a recent work assignment of my husband’s, the three of us are back again in Paris for a week. But this time—because of Bay Area Bites—I have an appointment to interview Monsieur Loris Thibaud, the man in charge of Thè Mariage Frères, in my role as journaliste amèricaine, and 19-year old Lila (a college sophomore and art major) will be my photographer.

When we enter, the teashop is abuzz with last minute shoppers. The walls are lined with hundreds of large timeworn tins labeled with mysterious names like fleur de désir, thé des impressionnistes and rose de porcelaine, from which white-suited clerks scoop and weigh the aromatic mixtures on ancient scales.

Monsieur Thibaud greets us and leads us up the narrow staircase to the little museum where we can talk tea in relative quiet among antique pots, canisters and baskets. He shares a little history:

As the oldest beverage in the world, tea began its reign in China 5000 years ago and moved on to Japan, Persia, the Islamic world, Russia and then to Europe in the seventeenth century. In 1665, after King Louis XIV‘s doctors told him tea would benefit his digestion, the King sent brothers Nicholas and Peter Mariage to Persia and Madagascar, respectively, to sign trade agreements and gather up the magical stuff.

Several generations of Mariages stayed true to the trade of tea importing and finally in 1854, Henri and Edouard Mariage commenced wholesaling to the restaurants and hotels of Paris. But despite the venerable looking, colonial design of the tea counter, this charming retail shop only opened in 1984 and currently, there are no more Mariage family members in the business.

The French take their tea as they take their wine: quite seriously and Thè Mariage Frères prints up a list of essential rules to make their tea correctly, which might actually come in handy since their collection of teas include black, white and green varieties from over 30 countries. But their specialty is fragrant blends, created much like perfume, by combining aromas and tastes, selecting from hundreds of scents: including the leaves, flowers, bark, seeds, roots, leaf-oil and fruit of an entire arboretum of plants.

After a bit of a wait in line, Lila and I are seated in the elegant tea salon, with its custard yellow walls and potted plants, surrounded by stylish patrons and their tea-fueled chatter. We order sandwiches first: melted cheese with smoked salmon and a smoked chicken with creamy spread, both served on greenish matcha tea bread.

In fact, Mariage Frères has pioneered the art of cooking with tea and every dish on their menu incorporates some form of tea, from tea flavored jelly, to tea infused rice and vinaigrette to a tart topped with pears poached in hibiscus tea, and a chocolate cream pie featuring bergamot, the essence of Earl Grey.

Each table sports a few of their exclusively designed teapots, which encase the black or white porcelain in a silver shell to help keep the tea warm (without need for a British tea cozy). Over the years, I’ve enjoyed a number of their teas, (especially black teas with fruit, like peach, mango or black currant.) But today, Lila and I return to our first love, the intoxicating vanille des îles.

The next morning, we are up early, exploring vintage clothing shops in the cobblestoned Montmartre neighborhood where we are staying. Lila notices the welcoming window of an adorable tea spot called MILK, which stands for “Mum in her Little Kitchen.”

No way we’re going to pass that up. So we head in for a mid-morning tea and toast that eventually leads to a decadent pistachio and chocolate fondant. The table is set with pots of homemade jam in flavors like strawberry mint or spiced clementine, plus a banana, date and coconut spread. The cozy space feels exactly like we’re sitting in someone’s 1960s kitchen, with Formica dinette sets in crayola colors and flowered dishes. Owner, Deborah Habib makes all the goodies daily in her kitchen in the back of the room. Her father is our server. Habib also sells cute accessories, arranged in niches around the room, which include a motley collection of paisley aprons, mushroom magnets and kitchen elves. Luckily, Lila has her camera along to capture the photogenic bric-a-brac.

I thought this story was just going to be about Mariage Frères, but it seems to be expanding. So I tell Lila, “If we’re going do more than one tea salon, we need to do three or four.” Tea parties have actually been a recurrent theme in our lives. A china cabinet holding my grandmother’s collection of English bone china teacups and saucers resides in a treasured corner of my dining room. When she was little, Lila loved giving tea parties, first for her teddy bears and then for her friends. Sometimes, in the more turbulent teen years, a shared cup of tea from a flowery teapot could call a momentary truce on eye-rolling or nagging. Now that she is away at college in Canada most of the year, our tea sharing opportunities have dwindled. What could be better than a mutual quest for unique Parisian tea salons?

Lana, a Paris native and family friend, who is the same age as Lila, suggests our next destination, La Fourmi Ailée. The robin’s egg-blue exterior of this intimate restaurant stands out amidst the historic buildings nestled in the shadow of Nôtre Dame. Its interior resembles something out of a fairy tale, with a whimsical painted ceiling of clouds, plenty of book-lined shelves, and a row of pre-loved teapots along the windowsill. Although a full lunch menu is available, we arrive after the kitchen has closed. The tea is good, but I find the pastries a bit odd: apple streudel with mushrooms?! It’s a sweet, funky place to sit and sip tea, especially if you are in your twenties, but my taste in Parisian tea salons runs more to gracious elegance.

We end the week in style, with a visit to a glorious tea salon in the spacious dining room of a 19th century mansion that is now a museum—Musée Jacquemart-André. Nélie Jacquemart and Edouard André were avid Italian art collectors as well as husband and wife. The opulent rooms of their former residence, filled with exquisite paintings, sculptures and furnishings, provide an intimate opportunity for visitors to engage with the works of art.

In their former dining room, the walls are hung with tapestries and the space is dotted by huge flower-filled, burgundy vases, that match the floor-length drapery and thick carpet. When we are seated, the tea service is polite and refined.

I pick a luscious wedge of plum pie and Lila chooses a decadent raspberry cream tart. We drink Ceylon tea, perfumed with aromas of strawberry, cherry, raspberry and redcurrant. Outside the windows, massive stone lions guard the manicured garden. The tea is fragrant, the pastry perfect. Lila and I sigh contentedly. This is a moment to savor.

(All photos, except this one, by Lila Volkas)